On the way ...

Mr Jandial, your last book was about dreams; now you’re exploring desire – your new book will be called *Why We Want: The New Science of Your Brain’s Desire Circuits*. How did you come to choose this topic – and whilst we’re on the subject of wanting: how do you explain your own desire to explore it?

Well, I’m trying – probably just like you – to understand how everything is connected. Neuroscience often bombards us with individual details that tend to cause confusion, but if we pinpoint the ‘desire circuits’ – as the brain’s circuits of desire are called in the book – we are given a sort of blueprint. This gives rise to a comprehensive theory of how our minds can be captivated or motivated. Once you understand how these circuits work, the whole chaos of human behaviour becomes more comprehensible – and you realise what connects us all.

Your book is due to be published next year. Who should read it?

The book is aimed at ambitious people, addicts and those who have failed – in other words, everyone. Anyone who has ever wrestled with themselves or wondered why they are so determined to pursue a dream will recognise themselves in these pages.

You’re a neurosurgeon, which means that looking at an open brain is part of your everyday life.

Yes, and the exposed brain beneath the bright lights of an operating theatre is, for me, the most beautiful thing I can imagine. I see waves and convolutions, pale blue veins, deep red arteries that rise slightly with every breath. To this day, this sight still takes my breath away.

Your patients remain conscious during the procedure.

That’s right; it means I can witness how this physical tissue gives rise to a person’s mind. You’re not just looking at cells; here, biological mechanics become emotion, longing and thoughts. This closeness dissolves all that is abstract. And desire is not an ethereal feeling, but a physical, living spark that lies within our anatomy.

How do you define desire; how do you define longing?

Wishes, addictions, quiet hopes and powerful compulsions – for me, all of that falls under the term ‘Desire’. I deliberately capitalise the ‘D’ in the English word to make it clear: it is not merely about lust or wanting to possess something. This desire is our life force; without it, we are like driftwood washed ashore by the waves. Through desire, we gain the ability to act of our own accord. Longing, on the other hand, is for me a desire that stretches out over time: the painful hum of that same engine when the object of our desire remains far away or unfulfilled – or exists only as a precious memory.

And where in the brain is it located?

Not in a single place. The three circuits extend far and deep, from the area behind the mouth to beyond the forehead. Imagine three enormous tree canopies that have grown side by side. The trunks can be distinguished from one another. But the branches are so densely intertwined that no one can say where one tree ends and the next begins.

You’re talking about a neurological origin for the entire spectrum of desire. So does the brain make no distinction at all between longing and, say, an appetite for something?

Your question hits the nail on the head. When we talk about ‘appetite’, we usually mean food. From a biological perspective, however, appetite is the fundamental driving force behind all desire. The circuits of desire generate every form of appetite: the restless hunger for more, as well as the razor-sharp craving for a single goal. This could be a warm chocolate croissant, a Porsche 911 or inner peace. Language, poetry and philosophy distinguish between all these nuances. They differentiate a subtle longing from a physical craving. Yet underlying them all is the same shared neurological origin: the circuits of desire.

Whilst we’re on the subject of language: words such as ‘Sehnsucht’ and ‘Vorfreude’ are considered virtually untranslatable. 

They are wonderful terms, and as soon as one tries to translate them, they seem to slip away. Not because the feelings are alien to us. Longing and anticipation describe that elusive realm of human experience that also encompasses instincts, premonitions, déjà vu and auras. And yes, they possess a very real signature, located in a region whose role is to reconcile the competing demands of the three neural circuits and to translate the inner cacophony into a lived experience of mind and body: the insula, the insular cortex. In a sense, it forms the hub at which all the spokes converge.

Can longing or anticipation be linked to specific regions of the brain or patterns of activity?

The insula is situated roughly above the ears and translates abstract neural signals into physically experienced reality. When it is stimulated during surgery on awake patients, they describe precisely such elusive emotions: waves of spiritual connectedness, intense longing, pleasure or an overwhelming sense of being cradled by the universe.

In neuroscientific reward research, a distinction is made between ‘wanting’ and ‘liking’. Why do we often find the pursuit of something more intense than actually possessing it? And why is it that a sense of emptiness frequently sets in afterwards?

Let’s look back: the human brain evolved in a world of extreme scarcity and constant threat. Imagine our ancestors out hunting: exhausted, hungry, with no idea whether they would even catch any prey. What drives a person to keep running despite this? The hunt itself must become a rush. To ensure our survival, evolution has separated the signalling pathways of ‘wanting’ – which are primarily driven by dopamine – from those of ‘liking’, in which opioid systems play a key role. ‘Liking’ describes the satisfaction derived from consumption. ‘Wanting’ is the high-voltage engine of anticipation. It keeps us moving, regardless of whether we ultimately succeed. Yet this satisfaction was never meant to last long. Otherwise, our ancestors would have sat around content after a good meal and starved to death a month later. The emptiness following fulfilment is therefore not a flaw in our psyche. It is part of our biology. The system resets itself to zero so that we remain hungry – both literally and figuratively.

Can a person who no longer longs for anything be happy?

It is a mistake to regard happiness as a goal, and from a biological point of view, lasting happiness is an illusion. ( … )

→ Read the full interview in the new ramp #71 ‘Yabba Dabba Doo!’.

(Now available in German.)