Neurons communicate electrochemically, functioning essentially as switches that are either on or off at any given moment. Signals are sent when electrical impulses travel over the synapses from one neuron to another. At the neuronal level, then, the total amount of information that can be transmitted by a single nerve cell at one time should be one bit. If a thought can be said to be finite, meaning that it is a discrete entity with a beginning and an end, there are finitely many neurons activated during the course of that thought sufficient to render it within our brains.
Thoughts, then, have fixed information content. I believe that we can learn much from analyzing the mechanics of thought, basing our interpretations not only on the location of neuronal activity within the brain but also on the total information content transmitted by the neurons.
This turns out to be a challenging task. No living brain is ever truly quiet. Even while we are in a deep, dreamless sleep, neurons continue to fire within our brains without any conscious thought being the result. An effort therefore needs to be made to establish a baseline of neuronal activity for a normal, resting brain (and, for the moment, we will cautiously ignore what it means to be both normal and resting). Building up from this baseline, we can observe the neuronal activity of conscious thought and begin to quantify the information content of individual thoughts.
One of the stalwart methods of measuring electrical activity in the brain is the electroencephalograph (EEG), a machine that produces the familiar images of brainwaves that we see in textbooks. The different types of brainwaves (alpha, beta, theta, delta, etc.) correspond to different levels of electrical activity in the brain, and we can usually make fairly sound judgments about the state of consciousness of the person whose brainwaves are being monitored.
What these brainwaves don’t tell us, however, is where in the brain the activity is taking place or exactly how many neurons are involved. For the location of activity within the brain, a typical method of measurement is positron emission tomography (PET), which employs sugar molecules built with radioactive carbon atoms to measure glucose consumption in the brain. When the carbon atoms go through radioactive decay, the gamma rays they produce show up on the scanning equipment, and the results can be displayed graphically to give a picture of which areas of the brain are eating the most sugar at any given moment. The idea is that the area of the brain that is most hungry is the area that is most active. The use of PET has greatly advanced our knowledge of what areas of the brain are responsible for particular tasks.
It is tempting to perform a thought experiment—and a bit of imaginary engineering—in order to get a better picture of the internal activity of the brain. All electrical impulses, no matter how transient, produce an electromagnetic field. Considering active neurons as single point sources of fixed charge, it is possible to apply Coulomb’s law to determine the field produced by a single neuron’s firing. The field produced by multiple neurons would simply be the vector sum of the fields produced by individual neurons.
Could we, then, with sensitive enough equipment, map with precision the neuronal firing patterns of individual thoughts? It is tempting to think that we could, and the imaging technique known as magnetoencephalography comes closest to the application of the idea I mention above. But it is even more tempting to perform the following hypothetical experiment.
With our “baseline field” information handy, we would establish the neuronal firing patterns that result from fixed stimuli. For instance, what is the brain’s neuronal response to a single image of a black dot on a white background, displayed for one second? Assuming this response is uniform (and this is a hefty assumption), we can create first principles from which we can expand a greater theory of human thought and cognitive science.
For example, if we discover that the neuronal response to the aforementioned stimulus spans, say, ten neurons, then we know that the processing of that image or concept requires ten bits of information within the brain. By building an informational vocabulary with stimuli of increasing complexity, we can then begin to analyze thoughts of unknown content by mapping and quantifying their corresponding neuronal activity and comparing that content to the responses engendered by known stimuli.
Do we have thoughts that stream megabytes of information? Is our processing of images fundamentally different from our processing of concepts? Is it even possible to construct a theoretical vocabulary of neuronal patterns? I don’t know the answers to any of these questions, but I do surmise that this is a case wherein the advance of technology and a solid application of theory can serve to unlock some of the most profound mysteries about what makes us uniquely human.


