10 Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and The Neuroscience of Emotions: Response To The Commentaries by Jaak Panksepp (Bowling Green, Ohio)

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Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and the Neuroscience

of Emotions: Response to the Commentaries by Jaak
Panksepp (Bowling Green, Ohio)
Jaak Panksepp
Department of Psychology, Bowling Green State University, 1001 East Wooster Street,
Bowling Green, OH 43403, e-mail:
Published online: 09 Jan 2014.
To cite this article: Jaak Panksepp (1999) Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and the Neuroscience of Emotions: Response
to the Commentaries by Jaak Panksepp (Bowling Green, Ohio), Neuropsychoanalysis: An Interdisciplinary Journal for
Psychoanalysis and the Neurosciences, 1:1, 69-89, DOI: 10.1080/15294145.1999.10773248
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/15294145.1999.10773248
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Response to Commentaries
- - - - - - Freeman, T. (1989), Development and Psychopathology: Studies in Psychoanalytic Psychiatry.
New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
69
Clifford Yorke
Fieldings South Moreton, Nr Didcot
Oxon OX]] 9AB
England
e-mail: scbyorke@aol.com
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Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and the Neuroscience of Emotions

Response to the Commentaries by Jaak Panksepp (Bowling Green, Ohio)
The neural analysis of emotions is slowly approaching

adolescence-full of hope and passion, with some telltale signs of scientific maturity. On the other hand, the
discipline of psychoanalysis grew up too rapidly, and
it must now consider whether its precocious growth
skipped over some critical developmental stages. Although psychoanalysis has traditionally shared a much
deeper and broader perspective on human emotionality than neuroscience, the latter now has the tools for
generating a more compelling scientific view of the
basic emotions and the infrastructure of the id than
was ever possible for Freud or his intellectual descendants. Although Freud always believed that psychoanalysis needed to be grounded on the natural
functions of the brain, psychoanalytic and neuroscientific approaches to the study of mind have kept their
distance for the better part of the twentieth century.
Some investigators, including those represented in the
present interchange, are now ready to challenge and
to mend those old schisms. This will be an important
undertaking if the resulting endeavors help us better
understand the foundations of human nature-to clarify the essential neuropsychological abilities that are
provided for us as birthrights. To make progress on
this problem, there has to be some type of reasonable,
empirically based specification of the basic emotional
values (i.e., id structures) that are genetically created
within the normal human brain. It is now evident that
there are more innate systems within the mammalian
brain than those devoted to the provisioning of nourishment and sexual passions, as early psychoanalytic
thought prescribed. The clarification of the various
basic emotional feelings within the human brain/mind
Jaak Panksepp is Distinguished Research Professor of Psychobiology,

Emeritus, Department of Psychology, Bowling Green State University,
Ohio.
can set the stage for a lasting science of human nature

and an elucidation of its intrinsic values.
First, let me admit to some impatience with the
slow and tortuous pace with which the study and discussion of emotions has been proceeding in modern
psychology, philosophy, and neuroscience. Of course,
the alexithymia of the neuroscience community is easy
to understand: Since we cannot directly observe the
internal feelings of other humans or animals, most investigators avoid talking about them entirely. By comparison, the more evident abilities of organisms to
behave and to integrate information through learning
and memorial abilities has received abundant experimental attention. However, we must occasionally
pause to recall that many of those behavioral and cognitive capacities evolved to serve the basic bodily and
emotional needs of organisms-anchoring processes
that are not as easy to address scientifically because
they are hidden within the realms of more ancient
brain dynamics. However, as physicists learned earlier
this century, it is within the relatively invisible underbelly of nature that the most profound scientific problems reside. Just as physicists cannot yet see
gravitation or electrons directly, the basic affective
processes of the brain must be measured indirectly
through neural analyses of human and animal behaviors. The importance of such studies in revealing human nature, consciousness, and its various affective
disorders is obvious, but the path to scientifically clarifying those genetically provided value-creating processes of the brain (i.e., the basic affects) is not.
To scientifically understand the neural nature of
affect, we may need some radical methodological and
conceptual departures such as accepting evidence from
brain research on other animals to illuminate the human condition. Just consider one simple bit of logic:
If affective feelings do exist in the minds of other
organisms and have causal consequences for their be-
70
haviors, we will never adequately understand their

brains, or our own for that matter, unless we incorporate various new functional concepts into our thinking.
Although neuroscientists rarely consider the potential
importance of such neuropsychological issues for understanding the functional organization of the brain,
such concepts are fundamental to the psychoanalytic
enterprise. The question before us now is whether the
perspectives of these disciplines can be fruitfully
blended. As Solms and Nersessian have summarized
and seven commentators have now appraised, many
of Freud's views on these issues can be seen to be
congruent with emerging lines of neuroscientific
thought. This, of course, does not mean that Freud's
early neurophysiological conjectures had much substance, but he may have perceived certain psychological dimensions with a clarity that was sufficient for us
to now consider how they might be related to brain
mechanisms. Obviously, in the absence of a respectable database, most of what we will have to say will
be conjectural and hence only the first step toward the
types of radical studies that are needed to evaluate the
intrinsic neural nature of affective processes.
I respect and admire the views of all the commentators who participated in the present discussion, and
let me now provide some critical feedback on key
points that have been raised. I will address successive
contributions in the order they arrived at my desk.
This type of serial processing will lead to some redundancies, but I hope they will at least be on major issues
that deserve reinforcement. I am thankful that there
was little call for me to readdress Freud's perspectives,
except for Yorke's and Green's grave concerns about
my seemingly hasty dismissal of the Freudian concept
of "drive." Accordingly, except for struggling with
the "drive" concept several more times, I shall largely
focus on nondoctrinaire issues, and will use the commentaries as departure points for elaborating ideas
about how a better understanding of emotions could
be cultivated from both neuroscientific and psychoanalytic perspectives.
Schore's Commentary
Schore provides a provocative commentary slanted
more toward the modern contributions of neuroscience
than those of psychoanalysis. In my estimation, this
is the proper emphasis: Perhaps for the first time, we
can interpret key psychoanalytic ideas in ways that
are testable in traditional scientific ways. Schore focuses on two key themes: the nature of the dynamic
Jaak Panksepp
Freudian unconscious and the development of affect.

He proceeds to strongly endorse the role of the right
hemisphere in the elaboration of both.
At the heart of his analysis, well-informed by the
recent neuroscience revolution, there is a dilemma-the existence of "unconscious primary process affect-laden cognition. ' , On the surface, this
concept appears burdened by a contradiction that has
become endemic in the field, namely the postulation
of emotions (and even affects) that are unconscious.
I tend to wince at this apparent contradiction. We are
currently in an era where there is an appropriate eagerness to grant unconscious processes such a vast role
in the economy of the mind, that we may at times
fail to see consciousness where it exists. Even though
Freud was the first to conceptualize the vast unconscious origins of anxiety and certain other feelings as
well as the information that triggers them, we still
need much better empirical criteria for conscious and
unconscious processes, and a greater recognition that
there may be several varieties of each.
The empirically based recognition of unconscious emotional processing in modern cognitive psychology is based largely on the abundant evidence that
ultrarapid exposure of individuals to emotional stimuli
(e.g., angry faces) can generate autonomic responses
without any apparent verbally accessible, conscious
decoding of the precipitating stimulus events (Ohman,
1993). Such effects are now commonplace, and it has
even been documented that certain emotional circuits,
including those of the right amygdala, are selectively
aroused when this type of unconscious emotional processing occurs (Morris, Ohman, and Dolan, 1998).
However, the critical emotional issue should not simply be whether individuals can or cannot cognitively
identify the external stimuli that provoked autonomic
responses, but whether they have some concurrent,
internally experienced affective consequences that can
be measured. This latter possibility is commonly ignored, as if the experience of affect itself were not
important to monitor empirically. I would suggest that
a careful probing of relevant phenomenological issues
may indicate that during such "cognitively unconscious" events, most subjects do have measurable affective responses.
We should certainly consider that there may really be no unconscious affects. Affects may only be
subconscious in specific experimental situations
where attentional and social desirability resources are
deployed otherwise. I do not mean to imply that there
are no unconscious neural processes that lead up to
the experience of affect. Of those there are bound to
be many, but all forms of affective arousal may at

least be potentially conscious. An individual may not
have good and clear language to describe such affects
or may wish to deny them for various personal reasons, but in appropriate settings (perhaps an ideal one
being a psychoanalytic couch) all affective processes
should be consciously retrievable. Perhaps in the experimental analysis of emotions we should also be devoting more effort to the study of strong emotional
situations as opposed to affectively modest stimuli.
Obviously, consciousness was designed in such a way
as to allow organisms to make better behavioral
choices, and if the affective components of an experiment have no consequences for outcomes, might it not
be wiser to leave them unattended and unreported?
If not explicitly evaluated, mild affective responses may tend to remain unreported. Perhaps
adults do not typically pay close attention to various
kinds of mild positively or negatively valenced
arousal, or due to lack of practice, they may no longer
have the skills or interest to communicate small waves
of affect on the stream of existence. Indeed, adult responses to the world may typically be so cognitively
streamlined, that they are habituated to the types of
modest affective arousal that are typically produced by
looking at pictures of emotional faces. Perhaps young
children would be more responsive since they have
not yet learned to repress affective processes and the
associated ideas.
A view of development endorsed by most insightful thinkers, including Freud and Schore, is that
organisms are born fundamentally affective but that
with maturation they become ever increasingly cognitive (also see York's elaboration of this point). As
one approaches adulthood, cognitive evaluations may
become so habitual that one can often appreciate the
emotional significance of external events without any
noteworthy affective arousal. Conversely, by being associated with powerful emotional situations, certain
lines of cognitive activity may become imbued with
the ability to rekindle affect. Thus each person's cognitive terrain or epigenetic landscape that emerges
gradually during development has surely been molded
by a variety of genetically provided affective processes.
Although some preliminary neuroscientific progress has now been made on how' 'value tagging" transpires in the brain (LeDoux, 1996; Schultz, 1998),
Schore provides other provocative ideas for us to consider, with a special focus on the probable role of
frontolimbic circuits which have long been known to
participate in the more subtle aspects of emotionality
71
(McLean, 1990). However, we remain remote from

any detailed understanding of how various affects and
their conscious ramifications are elaborated within the
brain-mind. I believe this is largely because so little
research is currently being conducted on affective issues. When this type of work is eventually done, we
may be surprised to find that many higher areas of
the brain process information more unconsciously or
subconsciously than the various lower brain systems
that directly mediate emotionality.
Schore may be only partially correct in suggesting that it is largely "the right brain-mind psychobiological system that processes emotional
information at levels beneath awareness," the implication being that the speaking hemisphere may be
more adept at the conscious perception of emotions.
In this type of analysis, we should not leave subcortical issues out of consideration. In line with Schore's
analysis, it may be worth considering that many of
the higher emotional cognitive-type functions of the
brain, such as the perceptual and expressive prosodic
skills of the right hemisphere, may in fact be more
unconscious than the lower affective functions,
namely those elaborated by the limbic system and its
brain stem connections (Panksepp, 1998a).
Although this may seem like turning common
sense, or at least accepted wisdom, on its head, there
should be great adaptive value in streamlining higher
cognitive abilities, so that they are able to anticipate
and regulate many emotional affairs without much affective deliberation. For instance, day-to-day predator-prey relationships may be more emotionally
unstimulating for the participants than we might be
prone to imagine. Each may be so well habituated to
each other's abilities, that there is little need to sustain
intense emotional arousal during pursuit or flight. Only
in extremis, where the thwarting of desires becomes
manifest, would a full affective response be recruited.
A case in point in humans is the fact that many voluntary emotional expressions are controlled independently of the instinctive ones that accompany true
emotions (Rinn, 1984). It is generally believed that
spontaneous emotions are more richly imbued with
affect than are voluntary displays. It is when the higher
regulatory abilities become deficient that unbearable
emotional distress begins to emerge, all too commonly
to the point where individuals desperately need the
support of others, and "the primary role of the psychotherapist is to act as an affect regulator."
Obviously, we need more research that focuses
on cortical-subcortical interrelations and their manifestations in consciousness. The felt intensity of emo-
Jaak Panksepp
72
tional experience may be largely a subcortical id

function. Indeed, the basic neurology for a primitive
form of affective consciousness within the brain stem
is a distinct possibility (Panksepp, 1998b). This may
be quite different from modes of cognitive consciousness generated by thalamocortical neural hierarchies
that allow us to be so acutely aware of the external
world (Baars, 1996; Newman, 1997). As Yorke
pointed out, Freud shared a similar belief in a fundamental duality of consciousness, as he asserted that
"The id, cut off from the external world, has a world
of perceptions of its own." In other words, affect can
be generated internally with no external precipitating
events. Many brain stimulation studies affirm that
view (Panksepp, 1985).
Thus, we may need to entertain several distinct
forms of consciousness (and varieties of unconsciousness) in the brain-at the very least, of cognitive and
affective varieties. This should not be too problematic
an assumption if we consider the number of brain
functions that have multiple parallel and hierarchical
controls-just consider. the dorsal and ventral routes
in the visual system. Likewise, there may be distinct
ventral affective (hypothalamic-limbic) and dorsal-exteroceptive (thalamic-neocortical) modes of
consciousness. If we accept the possibility of such dichotomies, resembling only superficially the well-accepted right and left hemisphere dualities, we may be
able to make better sense of the dilemmas that the
many seemingly unconscious brain processes provide
for our consideration: Perhaps the biggest one is the
continuing denial of consciousness to other species
that are genetically closely related to us (Budiansky,
1998). Although their dorsally driven rational-cognitive consciousness may be paltry compared to ours
(i.e., they may have comparatively few thoughts compared to us), they may, in fact, be equally conscious
at the more ventral affective levels. Although we cannot at present monitor their affects any better than we
can directly measure the affect of humans, we might
be wiser (and certainly more ethical in our various
"animal use" endeavors) to assume emotional sentience in all other mammals than to assume its absence.
Thus, from the perspective of cognitive consciousness, most emotional states appear to reflect unconscious processes. From the perspective of affective
consciousness, the cognitive contents of mind often
seem to emerge from unconscious processes. If only
one form of consciousness typically prevails at any
one time (perhaps because they do share attentional
"searchlights" driven by primitive self-representation
networks), and external events become ever more at-
tention grabbing as one matures, the epigenetic landscape of our adult lives may be developmentally
biased toward cognitive forms of consciousness and
various forms of ego-protective emotional repressions,
projections, and sublimations. This may help explain
why so much xenophobia prevails in scientific discussions of internal affective experiences. Special experimental procedures, perhaps variants of psychoanalysis
and subtle behavioral choice measures in animals,
need to be implemented to study affective experiences
more systematically than they have been in the past.
In sum, affective and cognitive streams of consciousness may be at center stage of attentional processes under different circumstances, leading to a
fluctuation of what is subconscious at anyone moment
of time. Most current scientific experiments are designed in ways that view consciousness largely from
the cognitive, higher information-processing perspectives. This may tend to make many affective processes
seem more unconscious than they really are. For instance, maybe our brains tend to shift spontaneously
from right hemisphere processing to left hemisphere
processing or dorsal brain to ventral brain processing,
and vice versa, during the ebb and flow of social and
various other world engagements. If this is so, then
the right hemisphere may not be as fundamentally unconscious as Schore postulates. It may simply be more
likely to be in the subconscious mode when we are
actively communicating with strangers and casual acquaintances. Friendly therapeutic environments, especially of the psychoanalytic sort, may help the
conscious functions of the right hemisphere to emerge
(e.g., for some relevant issues, see Ross, Homan, and
Buck, 1994).
Although we know very little empirically about
those possibilities, we do need to entertain all reasonable possibilities and to map out empirical predictions
of the various views. Schore's analysis highlighted for
me the potential. need to broaden our concepts of the
nature of consciousness in order to clarify the underlying dynamics of mind. We are fortunate to live in an
era where many scholars are challenging us to think
about consciousness in more naturalistic and organic
ways than has been traditional in cognitive psychology
(e.g., Dretske, 1995; Cairns-Smith, 1996; Romijn,
1997; Searle, 1998).
Shevrin's Commentary
Shevrin raises a variety of critical issues regarding
attempts to bring Freudian theory in line with the types
of neuroscience perspectives I shared. His analysis

also highlights the need to address issues related to
unconscious and conscious aspects of affective experience. While Schore entertained the possibility that the
right-brain "processes emotional information beneath
awareness," Shevrin highlights the fact that for Freud,
"affects cannot be preconscious or unconscious, but
are quintessentially conscious." To follow up points
already raised, the apparent disconnect between those
views could be understood by postulating the existence
of at least two distinct but interactive forms of consciousness-the raw, embodied feelings of primary affective consciousness (which, in their primary
genetically dictated form, are not propositional since
they do not represent the external world), and the exteroceptive awareness channels of cognitive consciousness (which are fundamentally propositional
and representational, and hence more computationally
instantiable). If this is so, we could easily envision
unconscious ideas (a cardinal concept in Freudian theory) which might activate consciously experienced affects.
Such a dichotomy of consciousness is marginally
supported by the demonstrated existence of distinct
spheres of consciousness in split-brain individuals. I
say "marginally" because the right and left hemisphere varieties may not truly reflect dramatically different forms, but merely the type of dichotomy that
is achievable by tearing holographic images in two.
However, since the divided hemispheres can be concurrently influenced by shared affective influences
(Gazzaniga and LeDoux, 1978), perhaps by subcortical emotional circuits from below, a distinction in consciousness along the lines of dorsal somatic-eortical
and ventral visceral-limbic functions remains an attractive way to view some of the major currents of the
mind. The parceling of consciousness into cognitive
and affective forms may allow us to generate conceptual coordinates that may help elucidate some of the
difficulties between the views I espoused and those
that Solms and Nersessian attributed to Freud regarding the qualitative and quantitative aspects of affective experience.
From the neuroscience view to which I subscribe,
the various emotional "command" systems of the visceral-limbic brain can be distinguished from each
other in qualitative terms (e.g., \vhich neuropeptides
and perhaps which types of neural resonances have
been aroused in the extended systems for SELF representation) but also in quantitative terms (e.g., how
intensely the underlying substrate is aroused in an
emotion-specific manner). Thus, the qualitative fea-
73
tures may emerge more from distinguishable emotional command systems (as well as social learning
processes), while many of the quantitative influences
may emerge not only from the degree of specific
arousal within each system, but also the degree of
more generalized arousal in those widely ramifying
norepinephrine and serotonin brain systems which
clearly modulate both cognitive and affective processes. Indeed, each of these systems has distinct limbs
which are more concentrated in cognitive and emotional areas of the brain.
Many of the difficulties that arise from the discussion of the functions of the mind postulated by Freud
will depend on how we define terms like consciousness, drive, pleasure, and unpleasure. Some of these
concepts may turn out to be little more than semantic
class-identifiers for a host of related neuropsychological processes, while others may represent processes
that are closer to the "natural kinds" that we hope to
obtain through a precise carving of nature at its joints.
Thus, I am prone to view the Freudian concept of
"drive" as a class-identifier, like the traditional psychological terms emotions and motivations, which
conceptually parse fairly broad domains of neuropsychological space. For instance, although there is no
unitary motivational system in the brain, there are a
variety of distinct interoreceptive systems that gauge
various bodily imbalances and contribute to specific
regulatory/motivational abilities of each organism. I
expended considerable effort earlier in my career seeking to characterize the brain systems that elaborate
the drive of hunger (Panksepp, 1974), and there are a
variety of interoreceptive inputs, both metabolic and
hormonal, that control these urges. Emotional systems
may have remarkably similar infrastructures, but instead of simply helping regulate bodily states, they
gauge internal brain homeostatic functions (i.e., how
well various circuits are reflecting and adapting to environmental challenges).
One now has to consider such complexities if
one is going to try to implement any global Freudian
concept like "drive" or "pleasure" in neuroscience
research. Shevrin provides a compelling analysis of
affect and "pleasure" with which I basically agree,
but to understand those from a neuroscience perspective, we may also need a more resolved concept of
"drive" than existed in Freudian theory. Psychobiologists who have tried to understand pleasure, recognize
that the intensity of hedonic experience in various situations is linked strongly to degrees of the specific homeostatic imbalances (Cabanac, 1971), which would
make the drive concept multidimensional, and perhaps
74
the pleasure principle also. Then again, it is sufficiently early in neuroscience research, that a generalized pleasure may yet emerge from brain areas such
as the shell of the nucleus accumbens which is important in mediating gustatory pleasure (Berridge and
Robinson, 1998). We must now determine whether
it is important in mediating other forms of pleasure
as well.
Hence, there are various maneuvers by which one
could try to make homogeneous "drive" and "pleasure" concepts compatible with the neuroscience data.
For instance, one emotional system participates in the
behavioral outputs of various regulatory-drive systems: The generalized "wanting" generated by
arousal of the lateral hypothalamic dopamine based
SEEKING system (Berridge and Robinson, 1998;
Panksepp, 1998a), is essential for organisms to become appetitively engaged with the world when they
have any of a variety of motivational urges, whether
eating, drinking, cruising for sex, retrieving lost babies, or seeking to play (Panksepp, 1981, 1986). This
emotional system has one or more distinct qualitative
dimensions-characteristic types of behavioral presentations as well as consciously accessible affective
feelings (e.g., energized eagerness)-but it also has the
quantitative dimension of "muchness" as reflected in
the overall degree of appetitive arousal an organism
exhibits. One could envision the arousal of this system
to generate psychic "drive," even though the system
obviously also mediates positive incentive functions-the energized appetitive engagement that leads
organisms to indulge in the various pleasures of consummatory activities.
However, there are many other basic emotive systems in the brain, presumably each having distinct behavioral outputs and feeling tones. Should we
incorporate all of them into a singular "drive" concept or should we distinguish among them? In anticipation of the comments made by Yorke and Green, I
favor the latter alternative. I do not believe the differentiation among these systems emerges simply from
ego or superego functions acting upon a single undifferentiated drive process. I would anticipate that the
various brain systems that contribute to distinct
"drives" and "pleasures" are mediated by distinct
genetic mechanisms. Even though social learning contributes enormously to how we utilize and experience
our affects in real life, social learning does not create
the various affects. In recognizing qualitatively different affects and brain emotional systems, we create
many opportunities for explaining the diversity of hedonic experiences in humans and the existence of sim-
Jaak Panksepp
ilar natural kinds in animals. Shevrin provides a

provocative analysis of these issues in his discussion
of the relationship of affect to motivation. Whether
and how we should distinguish the class of experiences
that are motivational and those that are affective remains an important challenge for us to consider.
I would reemphasize, however, that the arousal of
such emotional systems does not faithfully represent
events in the world, but rather, the major evolutionary
passages in brain evolution through which our ancestors progressed. Only by interacting with the here-andnow worlds in which organisms find themselves do
these evolutionary representations become connected
or tagged to the ongoing exteroceptive experiences and
thoughts of organisms. The same presumably applies
for all of the basic emotional systems, even though
relevant facts remain scarce. Major inroads have been
made in analyzing higher regulatory components in
amygdala and other basal ganglia for the FEAR and
SEEKING systems (e.g., LeDoux, 1996; Schultz,
1998), but comparable work remains to be initiated
for most other emotional systems.
In analyzing value-tagging, it is regrettable that
the lower components of emotional systems (e.g., circuits below the amygdala for the FEAR system) have
commonly been viewed merely as output components.
It remains likely that a great deal of learning and plasticity occurs within the lower reaches of these emotional systems, for instance within the periaqueductal
gray (PAG). The lower components appear to be essential for coordinating and orchestrating the many
outputs of emotional arousal, including, I believe, the
generation of primal affective experience/consciousness (Panksepp, 1998a,b). Hence, the vast neural pathways between higher areas such as the amygdala and
lower areas such as the PAG are better conceptualized
as integrative systems rather than mere output
systems.
As Shevrin emphasizes, all these systems need to
be viewed in terms of hierarchical levels of control,
and hence, regardless of one's views on the multiplicities of consciousness in mammalian brains, the distinction between conscious and unconscious processes
may need to be more multidimensional than has been
traditional. For instance, cognitive and affective forms
of consciousness may each have several distinct levels
of hierarchic organization. To accommodate these
emerging views as well as new neuroscientific findings, Freudian theory certainly needs to be molded and
updated. At the risk of offending traditionalists, I tried
to point out several speculative ways by which this
might be done. New information and perspectives are
surely the only ingredients that can allow some of
Freud's original insights to be crafted into scientifically testable ideas that continue to evolve.
Of course, comparable conceptual needs exist in
modern neuroscience. One of the most poignant failures of neuroscience has been its inability to deal effectively with global state variables such as emotions
and other affective states of the brain. Traditionalists
in neuroscience, just like their behavioristic predecessors, are still trying to weed and discard affective concepts from brain research. This makes some of
Shevrin's questions even more meaningful: "Affect
informs us of what's doing in our minds and bodies.
But why do we need to be so informed? ... what evolutionary event made the development of affect adaptationally advantageous?" In a rigorous scientific
sense, we do not know the answers to these evolutionary quandaries. However, the revelations of molecular
biology and advances in population genetics during
the past half-century, in combination with the recognition of the deep neural homologies that bind us to
our animal ancestors, give us glimmers of potential
answers. Affects may be the ways that certain genes
and their various interactions inform us of fundamental evolutionary values that are not only the harbingers
of intended actions, but also the processes that allow
social creatures like mammals, who depend on each
other for survival, to communicate efficiently and urgently their needs, desires, and intentions to others.
I do not think it can be overemphasized that the
basic affects need not be learned: They emerge directly from the evolutionary epistemology of the brain.
And it is not just individual survival that is at issue
here. Affects help bind individuals spontaneously into
communities in ways that may dramatically facilitate
the survival of certain groups over others (Sober and
Wilson, 1998). If this analysis is on the right track,
the therapeutic enterprise needs to be imbued with a
much greater appreciation for affective processes
(e.g., Greenberg, 1993). In psychoanalysis, it may no
longer be sufficient for the therapist to be a passive
repository for the affective turmoil of clients, but he
or she may also take more active responsibility for
being mentors in the affective dynamics of clients'
lives. In any event, as Shevrin's provocative commentary makes clear, how we will scientifically categorize
and taxonomize the basic and derivative affects and
their relations to consciousness will remain a major
challenge for neuroscientific and psychoanalytic
thought for some time to come. My personal take on
such issues, recently summarized (Panksepp, 1998a),
75
may be one reasonable framework for further developments.
Yorke's Commentary
Yorke raises many critical issues for any substantive
rapprochement between psychoanalysis and neuroscience. He emphasizes the need for' 'a clear comprehension of each other's basic positions" and highlights
places where we may already have failed to see eye
to eye. Before I address those issues, let me first agree
with the didactic view Yorke ascribed to Freud which
is not sufficiently appreciated, namely that Freud
"himself always thought his ideas open to modification and even replacement in the light of further discoveries." Hence, we should not be doctrine-bound on
any issue. Since Freud's death, the number of relevant
neuroscientific discoveries has been so vast that it will
require concerted efforts, sometimes against the grain
of long-standing traditions, to bring psychoanalytic
thinking and practice in line with those findings, and
all interested parties should become skilled at navigating the brain as well as the mind. I will try to defend
some of my seemingly transgressive views that Yorke
so eloquently criticized.
Let me take Yorke's last concern first-that the
psychoanalytic situation is not the place where psychopharmaceutical agents (poisons?) can yield any
useful new knowledge. In this context, I would note
that one reason behaviorism fell into disfavor as a
major intellectual force in psychology was due to a
similar fencing-in of a discipline so that potentially
useful contacts with other fields of knowledge were
often arbitrarily precluded. Although we should all
question the wisdom of cavalierly using patients as
subjects in psychopharmacological experiments, I
think many ongoing drug studies in normal individuals, difficult as they are to implement, might greatly
benefit from the empirical application of new psychoanalytic tools. As Yorke indicates, psychoanalytic approaches have the potential to capture the mind in
deeper and more meaningful ways than the simple paper and pencil scales that are the preferred tools of
experimental psychologists. In this era of biological
psychiatry, we do need to probe more deeply how
the widely used psychotherapeutic drugs modify the
emotional dynamics of human personality and the
other dimensions of the human mind (e.g., Klein,
1987). Psychoanalysis could help craft the needed
tools.
76
This is not the place to try to detail relevant methodological issues, but to emphasize that there will soon
be a major new generation of psychotropics based on
the study of peptide systems which modulate specific
affects, moods, and other motivations (Panksepp,
1993). A demonstration of the efficacy of Substance
P antagonists in the treatment of depression, based on
animal work analyzing separation distress, has
emerged since I wrote my original commentary on the
present target article (Kramer et aI., 1998). It would
be a pity if the full complexity of human emotional
life were not explored as more and more novel chemical agents become available. The many drugs that have
much less specific effects on emotional processes (i.e.,
the current mainstays of biological psychiatry) also
deserve the careful experiential scrutiny of psychoanalytically oriented investigators. At proper doses, these
agents are simply not "poisons" but rather specific
modulators of neurochemical processes. Empirical
studies of how human minds respond to specific neuroactive agents in various emotionally interesting situations remain scarce (for an excellent recent example,
see Knutson et aI., 1997). It is now generally accepted
that low brain serotonin activity makes both animals
and humans more emotionally temperamental and
more likely to exhibit various antisocial acts (Coccaro,
1996). These types of studies could enrich the viewpoints of those who ascribe to either the "classical"
or the "romantic" approach to understanding the human mind.
Certain emerging views of the mind can be seen
as blends of the best findings of idiographic and nomothetic approaches. Indeed, I see my own integrative
effort in "affective neuroscience" as an attempt to
bridge the findings of those who would "split living
reality into its elementary components" and those who
recognize the importance of accepting the complexity
of the complete organism. The combination of these
views can lead to a materialism without any simpleminded reductive physicalism-a scientific view
where one does not simply try to reduce complexity
into "nothing but" the component parts but seeks
"supervenience" relationships among viewpoints. Supervenience is a philosophical concept of establishing
linkages between levels of analysis (see Kim, 1993;
Dretske, 1995, for thorough discussions). The stronger
those relationships, the better! However, weaker relationships, such as those that might typically be observed during the systematic study of human
subjective experiences following carefully selected biological interventions, should also be invaluable for
guiding our thinking into productive frames of refer-
Jaak Panksepp
ence. In my estimation, the study of the quantum properties of matter, as has become popular in certain
branches of consciousness research (e.g., Penrose,
1994), is unlikely to provide compelling relationships
at the present time. In any event, in these cross-disciplinary enterprises, we should remember that we must
initially seek necessary rather than sufficient communalities between levels of understanding.
The more quantitatively these supervenience relationships can be established, the more likely they are
to have impact on the broader intellectual community.
Indeed, experimental psychologists have taught us that
there is practically no aspect of human experience that
cannot be quantified through appropriately constructed scales, and psychoanalytic research should
not eschew these approaches simply because they are
not within their time-solidified traditions. Every approach to mind has to increase the breadth of its empirical nets in order to capture reality.
Since as Freud asserted, all of our ideas should
be "open to modification and even replacement in the
light of further discoveries," I entertained the radical
notion of discarding the "drive" concept, in practice if
not in principle. Obviously, it has caused considerable
confusion for many. Admittedly, my own understanding of the concept may not be sufficient and hence
subject to a host of potential misunderstandings.
Yorke gracefully clarified certain key issues, but difficulties seem to remain. Some may simply be semantic ones, but the problem goes deeper, especially if
Yorke is correct in concluding that "Freud held firmly
to the view that the nature of the drives cannot be
known." I hope that Freud only made this assertion
for his own intellectual era. The neurobiological nature
of certain' 'drives," at least as I understand them from
a neuroscientific view (namely, the homeostatic ones
related to body energy, water, temperature, and sexual
issues), have been clarified during the second half of
this century to a remarkable degree of precision. This
could also be said for a broader conceptualization of
"drive," if one is willing to view the basic emotional
systems not only as representatives of "drive" but the
very instantiation of the concept. Since no comparable
precision has emerged in the psychoanalytic conceptualization of drive, I will continue to be brash enough
to advocate the more restricted use of the drive concept and to distribute the essential strengths of the
concept under a larger array of constructs.
The key, and seemingly insoluble, problem is that
Freud used a monolithic drive concept in ways that
could be seen to be substantially compatible with neuroscientific knowledge but, in the final accounting, it
Response to. Commentaries

is at present incapable of being unidimensionally reconciled with it. Hence, I am at a loss on how to fit a
size 12 foot into a size 6 shoe. Perhaps the neuroscientific shoe could be enlarged, but it is not clear how that
can be achieved in empirically credible, nonstipulative
ways. Even though Freudian "drive" is much larger
than the neuroscientific view of drives to which I subscribe, I have no doubt that there is much substance
to the broader view: Who would deny that extreme
hunger and thirst are all-encompassing features of the
mind? Who would deny that excruciating pain causes
a comprehensive suffering in the mind, affecting every
thought and action? However, I still suspect that, at
best, Freudian' 'drive" can only serve as a class-identifier for the neuroscientific study of a diversity of key
neural processes as opposed to a label for any neurally
homogeneous "natural kind" within the brain.
Obviously, "drives," in their broader meaning,
can govern all brain and psychological activities, but
neuroscientists know little about those pervasive actions. Indeed, it is a great problem how we should
scientifically speak about the various "global state
controls" that the brain contains in abundance. It is
clear that the "organic forces" for some of the neuroscience types of "drives" (e.g., thirst, hunger, sex/
libido and even play) do build up in a "hydrauliclike" regulatory manner (probably by selective geneexpressions for selected neuropeptides and other neuroactive molecules [Panksepp, 1993], as well as dynamic morphologic/functional changes in the actual
neural circuits). But at present we know of no comparable "pressures" for many other instinctual "drives"
like separation distress, fear, or aggression (even
though those systems can probably also be permanently sensitized by early experiences). In any event,
I would personally tend to equate Freudian "drive"
issues with the broader problem of being more clear
about the internal structure of "the id," the study of
which, to my way of thinking, represents a challenge
to neuroscientists comparable to that which physicists
had to confront when they sought, a century ago, to
begin describing the internal structure of the atom.
We are now in a reasonably good position to begin conceptualizing the internal dynamics of the id, but
as already discussed, I suspect that Freud's concept of
"drive" will continue to haunt us unless we mold it
to fit better with current neuroscientific knowledge.
Perhaps mistakenly, my understanding has been that
Freud's drive concept was really a subset of the overall
id structure, and it is widely recognized that Freud
said remarkably little about the underlying details of
the ide That was, no doubt, because he did not have
77
the requisite neuroscientific knowledge. At present,
maybe a broad term such as id energies would be an
appropriate concept with which to start some useful
revisionism. Indeed, "affective neuroscience" has
now provided an empirically based set of neuropsychological conceptualizations by which some of the
subcomponents of the id can be more systematically
discussed (Panksepp, 1998a). These kinds of resolved
discussions were not possible when the id was simply
an amorphous psychic wellspring for everything else
that emerged along "developmental lines." By accepting the existence of a variety of affective brain
functions, we are in a much better position to describe
how various "epigenetic landscapes" of the mind unfold as organisms absorb the lessons of various life
experiences through the interplay of nature and
nurture.
It should go without saying that the underlying
neural issues and resulting psychobehavioral functions
need to be studied in some detail at the hard (i.e.,
nomothetic) scientific level. In no way should this type
of knowledge be deemed incompatible with idiographic views, as long as we acknowledge that we are
seeking supervenience relationships as opposed to the
types of nothing but radical reductionism that captivated physics-enthralled positivists of a previous generation. We now know that straightforward causal
simplicities are not likely to be found in the seemingly
infinite complexities of the brain-mind sciences. Most
simple psychological concepts are instantiated by
massive neural complexities.
In sum, I appreciate Yorke's lucid clarification
of Freud's views on drive. The concept contains issues
of great importance, as do the concepts of "motivation" and "emotion" in psychology. Unfortunately,
to the best of our current knowledge, there are no
unitary substrates for any of those concepts in the
brain. In an evolutionary ontological sense, these
broad concepts are little more than class-identifiers
or "intervening variables" that help us organize our
observations. I would not discourage anyone from
seeking to measure such entities empirically, but I suspect that as soon as they do, they will find multiplicity
(i.e., many drives or affects), with perhaps only a generalized aminergic arousal that accompanies all emotional states.
We should continue to aspire to "measure the
immeasurable," especially if our romantic insights
suggest there is truly something fundamental out there
to be discovered. By being willing to pursue these
goals with nomothetic approaches, we have recently
discovered what we believe is a form of primitive
78
laughter in "lower" animals (Panksepp and Burgdorf,
1998). We suspect that an understanding of the underlying neural circuitry may tell us a great deal about
the nature of human joy. Although radical work like
this is often hard to publish in conventional outlets,
we are committed to describing our findings in ways
that can be replicated by others (Panksepp and Burgdorf, in press). We are at present struggling with difficult neuropsychological concepts like the SELF
(Panksepp, 1998b), which may eventually lead us to
some interesting empirical measurements (Panksepp,
in press). These explorations of mind are always done
with the assumption that every conclusion in science
is provisional and "open to modification and even
replacement in the light of further discoveries." To
grow fruitfully, modern psychoanalytic thought and
research must embrace similar ground rules. Otherwise, it will remain isolated from the mainstream approaches to mind that are presently undergoing a
renaissance in our aspirations for understanding.
LeDoux's Commentary
LeDoux's cautious analysis emphasizes several potential linkages between neuroscience knowledge and
psychoanalytic insights with which I generally agree.
However, his brief comments on my overall views
regarding the study of affect also serve to remind us
that there is as much controversy left within neuroscientific levels of analysis as among the intellectual
intersections of neuroscientific and psychoanalytic
points of view. In short, neuroscientists simply do not
agree how affective states are generated by the brain,
and all three of the basic neuroscience commentators
participating in the present discussion have offered
distinct views on the matter: (1) Damasio (1994) has
suggested that feelings are created by "somatic markers," which reflect bodily changes that accompany
emotions (this is a modern variant of the James-Lange
perspective, with the added recognition that body representations also exist in the brain). (2) LeDoux (1996)
argues that feelings arise from various subcortical systems interacting with higher "working memory" systems. (3) Panksepp (1998a) suggests that feelings
emerge from the intrinsic neurodynamics of emotional
command systems interacting with a neurosymbolic
"virtual body" depicted in the brain (perhaps most
concentrated in the PAG), which may constitute a primordial representation of "the self,' , providing a
mechanism whereby basic values can interact with as-
Jaak Panksepp
cending reticular activating systems that control exteroceptive consciousness (Panksepp, 1998b).
I suspect that all three perspectives will contribute to future understandings of affective states, but it
is unlikely that all will be of equal importance in any
final synthesis. At present, we cannot partition the
variance among these perspectives, but we can indulge
in some forthright discussion of how all of the evidence stacks up and which avenues of research will
be most productive. Neuroscientists with divergent
perspectives will need to clearly enunciate the apparent problems with other views and possible solutions.
Through the resulting dialectics, we may eventually
be able to reach some consensus on how to resolve
critical issues empirically. Thus, even though I am
convinced that working memory has a lot to do with
human emotions, especially in the cognitive triggering
and regulation of affective states, I doubt if working
memory actually creates emotional feelings and the
associated forms of action readiness. Hence, let me
gently challenge some of LeDoux's ideas.
As I understand it, LeDoux suggests that consciously experienced emotional feelings are pieces of
information, quite comparable to other sensorial and
perceptual pieces of information, churned together
within the cauldron of working memory that presumably creates consciousness itself. The emotional inputs
presumably arise from the types of emotional command circuits that I have been conceptualizing for the
past several decades, as well as from various bodily
reafferents that have been the stock in trade for the
intellectual descendants of James-Lange type perspectives on felt emotionality. This is an eminently logical
perspective that gets around many conceptual difficulties (e.g., how an affect might be created by neural
processes within lower reaches of the brain). Although
I have little doubt that emotional systems constitute
core processes in memory systems, perhaps those
which help create various habitual psychobehavioral
structures of organisms, I think it is shortsighted to
see emotional systems simply as pieces of information
that operate in working memory. That view leaves us
with a host of problems and dilemmas and paradoxes
that would need to be addressed coherently. Let me
mention half a dozen that come quickly to mind. Unfortunately many come from folk psychology, rather
than a systematic experimental analysis of affective
experience-a lacuna that only goes to show how desperately modern cognitive-informational agendas of
brain organization still need to be supplemented with
more pervasive affective views.

1. The working memory hypothesis would have
great difficulty in explaining why it is so hard to resurrect emotional feelings simply through the act of thinking. This has been a classic dilemma: Although
emotions in humans are commonly caused by cognitive conflicts, emotions can also overwhelm us globally without much prior thought. Indeed, in the
absence of the right environmental triggers, it is quite
difficult to voluntarily instigate strong emotional states
in oneself (which makes laboratory research in the
area so difficult). By comparison, it seems much easier
to image the flow of everyday events that one has
experienced in the past. Further, simply by modifying
the mood of an individual with modern antidepressants, the concurrent cognitive ruminations of individuals commonly resolve spontaneously (Kramer, 1993).
In short, in the absence of instigating world events,
emotional memories appear to be remarkably weak
precipitants of affect within the "parliamentary lobbies" of working memories. However, when passions
are aroused, they commonly prevail over thought.
2. Related to the above is the issue of why it is
so hard to simply remember the felt intensity of emotional episodes, even though we can easily remember
the facts that surround those episodes. I suspect that
is because felt emotions require much more neural
processing, of a globally embodied kind (e.g., release
of long-acting neuropeptides through widespread brain
systems), that simply cannot be patched together by
information transfers in higher working memory circuits.
3. One of the most attractive aspects of the working memory hypothesis of emotional feelings, is the
need to have neural mechanisms that can sustain feelings in time. However, this could also be explained
by the existence of executive molecules for emotional
arousal (e.g., various neuropeptides, which are not rapidly degraded by enzymes), which can allow feelings
to linger as long as the molecules persist at relevant
synapses (Panksepp, 1993). My reading of the available evidence is that many of the relevant synapses are
quite low within the neuroaxis (Panksepp, 1998a,b).
Cognitive views of emotion often tend to disregard
this arena of research, perhaps because those types of
neural influences are hard to conceptualize in terms
of rapid cognitive-type information flow.
4. If working memory were critical for generating affect (as opposed to just regulating affect), we
should be able to evoke affective feelings quite readily
by direct neural activation (e.g., electrical stimulation)
of working memory tissues, but that is not the case.
The strongest affective experiences and corresponding
79
behaviors in humans, as in animals, are evoked by
direct electrical stimulation of subcortical emotional
circuits (Panksepp, 1985; Gloor, 1997). The specific
stimulation sites in humans and animals match remarkably well. Although one could claim that these
affects are achieved only because we are stimulating
the input systems to working memory, that remains
an enormous supposition. If that were simply the case,
direct stimulation of working memory fields should
produce stronger affective effects than has yet been
achieved.
More recently, there has been some success in
global activation of frontal areas of the brain with
rapid Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (rTMS;
George, Kettner, Kimbrell, Steedman, and Post, 1996),
but because of the strong connectivities of frontal
brain areas with emotion integrators of the PAG
(Shipley, Ennis, Rizvi, and Behbehani, 1991), it remains possible that those affective effects require subcortical patterns of arousal to be recruited. In my
estimation, it remains most likely that lower systems
in the brain, especially areas such as the PAG and
surrounding tectal and tegmental tissues, are essential
for creating the fundamental neurodynamics that constitute affective consciousness (Panksepp, 1998b).
Of course, the full mental spectrum of an emotional episode must recruit an enormous amount of
the brain, including, most certainly, working memory
tissues of the frontal lobes (Goldman-Rakic, 1995),
but I believe those tissues primarily help regulate and
channel emotional episodes. It is an obvious fact of
human life that when an emotional state has been
aroused, the mind has great difficulty in dwelling on
anything else than how to resolve the affective tension,
whether via truthful, existential actions in the world
or the many deceits and subterfuges in which the human mind becomes so skilled. i also believe that this
is where repression mechanisms enter if the emotional
conflicts are too large for straightforward cognitive
processes to resolve. It may be more adaptive to suppress some of the ideas and feelings that cannot be
accommodated in waking life than to continue to dwell
on them. In dreaming, as frontal lobe inhibition diminishes, such repressed .material may leak out both affectively as well as cognitively (i.e., symbolically). It
seems to me that those cognitive--emotional strategies
and interactions may require a great deal of neurocomputational space, but I would be surprised if they actually create feelings rather than using them as an artist
uses paint. In other words, there appears to be no sustained line of evidence to suggest that the fundamental
integrative mechanisms for emotional feelings reside
80
in those higher brain tissues that generate ideas and
external perceptions.
5. If cortical working memory were so important
in generating affective feelings, we would expect frontal cortical damage to have much more dramatic effects on the capacity of individuals to get emotionally
aroused.. If anything, the evidence suggests that humans and animals that have suffered frontal damage
get emotionally aroused more easily than before. Although their emotional episodes are psychologically
more shallow and of shorter durations (suggesting a
childlike lack of regulation by cognitive deliberations), this only affirms the importance of higher brain
areas in sustaining the object-related patterning of
emotions in space and time. In other words, frontal
lobe damage diminishes the desire and ability of individuals to dwell on their emotional troubles in complex and persistent ways. In contrast, damage to limbic
cortical and subcortical areas has much more dramatic
and sustained effects on the emotional arousal of animals and humans (Panksepp, 1985; Gloor, 1997).
6. If the basic emotional feelings were created
from working memory, we might expect adults to have
much stronger emotional feelings than children. It is
well established that young children cannot maintain
information in working memory as readily as adults,
but it seems evident that they also become emotionally
aroused more easily, albeit for shorter periods, than
adults. This highlights an issue on which LeDoux and
I agree-working memories help sustain and regulate
emotions in time and space, often in inhibitory, repressive ways, perhaps via direct connections to the more
primitive emotion-generating systems of the brain
stem (Shipley, Ennis, Rizvi, and Behbehani, 1991).
Higher brain areas surely blend and modify basic emotions so as to markedly increase the subtlety and complexity of emotional life, giving us. the ability to have
cognitive types of feelings like sh:ame, guilt~ and jealousy. However, to my knowledge there is at present
no evidence that the affective qualities of those more
subtle socially constructed feelings are created within
the cortical working-memory banks of the brain. Perhaps only the naturally associated thoughts of those
socially derived emotional states require working
memory.
In sum, working memory has a great deal to do
once emotions are aroused. It helps us ruminate on
the various conflicts of life, to formulate plans for
dealing with emotional episodes, for blending the information from specific circumstances with possible
regulatory maneuvers, and for many other important
interactions between internal emotional feelings and
Jaak Panksepp
the cognitive details of real life events. It is a major

place where ego- and superego-type functions assert
their influence. It seems to me excessive to put the
additional burden of creating the basic feelings on
these higher brain processes, especially when abundant evidence suggests that the lower processes
suffice.
Although LeDoux admits to being ambivalent
about the "affective neuroscience" view, he has also
explicitly recognized that historically behaviorism and
the rise of cognitive psychology tended to retard work
on emotions. However, his own influential perspectives may now be delaying the emergence of a broad
and realistic view of emotions-----one that does not simply accept the traditional cognitive neuroscience assumption that everything of psychological importance
in the brain reduces ultimately to information processing that can be simulated by digital algorithms. In
fact, to really understand emotions and moods, we
may need to cultivate conceptions that deal with primitive global state variables, which are far more embodied and fundamentally analog, than is easy to envision
in traditional information-theoretic terms. Perhaps
that is one reason cognitive science is having such
difficulty in conceptualizing the nature of primaryprocess consciousness in the brain. At its roots, primary-process consciousness may be fundamentally affective.
If the basic emotional feelings turn out to reflect
global-state processes of the brain, as an increasing
number of investigators believe (e.g., see Watt, 1998,
for recent, in-depth discussion), then we may need
affective neuroscience as a healthy sibling, rather than
as an impoverished foster child, within the grand
scheme of a comprehensive brain-mind science that
many of us are trying to build. Emotions may have a
logic of their own (some call it an irrationality) which
is distinct from that normally seen in cognitive systems. Certainly bottom-up "affective neuroscience"
is not intended simply as an antidote to cognitive
views, but as an equal working partner with the more
established top-down cognitive perspectives to mind.
I believe the affective view also permits much stronger
coordination of research strategies and priorities to
human psychiatric issues. Thus, while cognitive-memorial approaches to mind are more likely to illuminate the superego-type emotion regulatory aspects of
mind, the basic emotional-affective program perspectives are more likely to illuminate the id functions-the genetically provided internal value systems
of an organism-where major psychopathologies are
more likely to emerge.

In short, despite its exquisitely simple logic, I
find it difficult to mesh corticocentric and computational ideas of affect generation with a great deal of the
empirical evidence accumulated during the twentieth
century (Panksepp, 1998a). The idea that the globally
experienced affective states of the nervous systems
could simply be informational consequences of the
highest memorial reaches of the brain appears to yield
various conceptual paradoxes, which may be most easily solved if we view a rudimentary form of affective
consciousness to be a fundamental and an embodied
property of brain stem circuits in action (Panksepp,
1998a,b).
A vigorous dialectic between affective and cognitive approaches may be healthy for enhancing intellectual progress in understanding the fundamental nature
of emotions and how they interact with higher mental
processes. The ancient evolutionary processes that established priorities in the brain, prior to the emergence
of more subtle and sophisticated cognitive abilities,
are just being conceptualized in neuroscience for the
first time (e.g., Panksepp, 1998a; Watt, 1998). To slay
the' 'affective neuroscience" infant at this early stage
of development, without fully dealing with its premises, will, I believe, only help further retard the development and implementation of the types of novel
research strategies (which focus on the global integrative functions of the brain) that have a substantive
chance of clarifying the deeper neurobiological processes of brain systems that create affects, affective
disorders, primary-process consciousness, and hence
many of the shared features of human and animal natures.
Green's Commentary
I was moved by Green's passion to maintain Freudian
traditions in their original form, resembling LeDoux's
desire to keep affective issues out of animal behavioral
brain research. This reflects a key human dilemma-how do we refurbish and refresh intellectual
traditions that offer some powerful insights but lack
the wherewithal to convince the rest of the scientific
world that the insights truly reflect animate reality.
In the act of censoring his own Project, Freud surely
realized that neurobiological knowledge of his time
could not convince others of the clarity of his vision.
Still, he believed in that clarity, and he left us a psychology that, in order to survive as a scientific tradition, must now establish empirically defensible
supervenience relationships with modern neurosci-
81
ence. Conversely, neuroscience must try to deal with
psychological subtleties for which its tools are ill-prepared. The establishment of relationships between
mental views and neural views will be the most difficult theoretical task that both neuroscientific and psychoanalytic thought must face. Too many on both
sides are still willing to deny that such relationships
can or should be sought. Having been a participant at
the Society for Neuroscience meetings since its inaugural gathering in 1971, I realize how resistant neuroscientists remain to even discussing the existence of
psychologically meaningful global-state variables in
the brain. In a sense, Green's commentary reflects a
comparable type of denial from the other side.
Thus, I resonate in perplexity with Green's frustration when he says "almost everything Freud wrote
seems in fact doubtful in the light of neuroscience."
I choose to take this declamation tongue-in-cheek, as
was my juxtapositioning of E. O. Wilson's (1998) call
for consilience with his rather harsh and unconciliatory quote concerning Freud's theory. Perhaps Green
missed my intent in using that quote, and my intent
on some other key issues as well. My highlighting of
the Freudian drive concept was to help emphasize the
types of problems we must face in trying to retain, in
their original form, all the insights that Freud shared.
At the risk of repeating my response to Yorke, let me
again emphasize that something like "drive" surely
exists in the brain. However, in the crucible of neuroscience it may fragment into many subsidiary processes, so that it only becomes a class-identifier like
"motivation," retaining no more unified brain substance (at least at the neuroscientific level) than many
other psychological concepts. In other words, all too
many of the concepts of psychology are the cultural
creations of our minds rather than the creations of
nature. I, like the young Freud, am much more interested in the latter, and believe that will provide a solid
foundation for understanding the former. Of course,
there is no final word on any of these questions, so
my aim was only to highlight the types of concerns we
must face if there is to be any substantive consilience
between psychoanalysis and neuroscience. It is a major conceptual dilemma on both sides. If most are
struggling with learning and various cultural inventions while only a few are focusing on the neurally
ingrained nature of evolutionary processes within the
brain, we will miss many opportunities for fruitful hybridization. The idea that there are important relationships to be clarified among very different levels of
analysis is one that we must learn to cultivate among
all the relevant views.
Jaak Panksepp
82
In neuroscience, we at present find ourselves in

the rather awkward position where many investigators
still deny (at a logical level) the potential causal efficacy of emotional feelings in the governance of animal
behavior. In contrast, as Solms and Nersessian have
highlighted in their synopsis of Freud's theory, psychoanalytic thought is impossible without affective
concepts. Thus, some of the major bridges between
the two would presumably arise from our conceptions
of how emotional feelings actually emerge from brain
matter, and it is hard to imagine that these kinds of
mechanisms can be revealed without animal research
(see Panksepp, in press, for an in-depth discussion of
such issues). At present, we need to establish measurable relationships between affective states and neural
dynamics. Scientifically, this is a nightmarish problem
since the brain mechanisms we must understand can
only be readily studied in animals, but obviously animals cannot give us verbal reports of their feelings
(even though some of us believe that the emotional
sounds they make, as well as various other behaviors,
can inform us of those states). My proposed strategy
is to put the study of behavioral changes, brain functions, and psychological processes on an equal footing,
and to see if a theoretical triangulation among these
lines of evidence can reveal credible predictive relationships across species. I believe the results are promising (Panksepp, 1998a). Indeed, I believe this strategy
will work even in the unlikely possibility that most
other mammals have no feelings: An understanding of
their instinctual emotional behavior systems will still
inform us of the underlying causes of human feelings.
As Green emphasizes, this triangulation strategy
can only work for certain processes. Obviously, we
cannot, in animals, study specific mental contents and
general psychological processes for which they have
no relevant brain substrates. Thus, we will have little
success in studying shame and guilt in rats. Indeed,
some still believe that we will not have much success
in studying practically any of their affective feelings,
since feelings may emerge from higher frontal cortical
regions which are quite paltry in most of the animals
commonly used in behavioral neuroscience research
(see LeDoux's commentary). Of course, I disagree
with that dire an assessment, and I think the evidence
affirms that the primal executive controls for affective
mental qualities emerge largely from lower reaches of
the brain, which should allow us to establish robust
supervenience relationships between human affective
experience and behavioral brain research in animals
(e.g., see Berridge and Robinson, 1998; Schultz,
1998). Fortunately, this is an empirically resolvable
issue, but only if we allow certain animal behaviors

to provisionally constitute valid self-reports of internal
psychodynamics. Indeed, as already mentioned, a
study of vocalizations may be an outstanding way to
get reasonably accurate self-reports of emotional feelings (Panksepp, 1981; Panksepp, Newman and Insel,
1992; Knutson, Panksepp, and Burgdorf, 1998a). The
pursuit of such theoretical vistas may open up subtle
territories of animal mind for empirical investigation.
I am delighted that Green resonated with my preliminary and highly conjectural struggle to conceptualize
the SELF, and would indicate that this idea is more
fully developed in Panksepp (1998b).
At early stages of these pursuits, some illuminating metaphors may help us to penetrate the darkness.
However, the dialectic of theory and evidence must
lead to a modification and refinement of our metaphors. Perhaps Freud's drive concept was such a seminal concept, but now it needs to be refreshed in various
neuroscientific ways. As already discussed, only in
this practical sense do I feel that the overall concept
of drive may have become superfluous.
I am committed to the view that important predictive relationships between basic mental and brain
processes can be established through behavioral brain
research. Many other investigators, perhaps the majority in behavioral neuroscience, still remain unconvinced of, and at times hostile to, this kind of
perspective. Green also is dubious of this venture.
That is regrettable from my utilitarian perspective. I
think the single most important joint problem for both
neuroscience and psychoanalysis is to provide a true
and lasting understanding of affective processes and
their fundamental role in behavior and the nature of
consciousness. I personally do not think those goals
can be achieved without animal brain research or a
vigorous attempt to make first-person experiences
open to analysis by third-person approaches. The types
of knowledge that can be harvested at the present time
from kindred creatures and cooperative humans, especially if our wark is permeated by a simple and natural
cross-species and cross-individual humanism, are
bound to have profound and beneficial influences for
the emergence of a deeply scientific psychology as
well as on clinical practice-psychoanalytic, biopsychiatric, and otherwise.
Damasio's Commentary
The constructive remarks by Damasio promote the
kind of attitude that should be increasingly cultivated

in neuroscience if we are ever going to understand
emotions. In Damasio's view, as in my own, "the
emotions are genomically present and largely innate"
(although they are developmentally modified in various ways, most obviously by learning). He challenges
neuroscientists to start with the premise "that complex
nonhuman creatures have feelings" -an attitude
which, as already highlighted, has not been cultivated
in behavioral neuroscience. He emphasizes the immensity of the work that lies ahead of us if we are
going to really understand emotions and interface our
findings with other intellectual traditions such as psychological and psychoanalytic thought. He focuses as
much on the subtle but important representations of
the body within the brain as well as the organic inputs
to the brain from the corporeal soma.
Our ability to distinguish these kinds of interacting dynamics, partitioning the influence of each in
the creation of affect, will be an important chapter for
future emotion research. Although some wor k with
patients having high spinal cord injuries indicates that
the intensity of certain emotional feelings is influenced
by bodily states (Hohmann, 1966), the basic ability to
have emotional feelings remains intact. This suggests
that bodily inputs to emotions may largely be quantitative rather than qualitative, even though the enteric
nervous system certainly provides enough complexity
for us to entertain more specific functions for the viscera in the instigation and regulation of moods (Gershon, 1998). Indeed, it must be emphasized that this
complexity of reticulating circuits and neuropeptide
chemistries is matched within the visceral-limbic tissues of the brain. It is especially through the study of
these neuromodulatory peptide systems that we are
beginning to see the glimmers of specific emotional
systems that have enormous implications for understanding normal affective processes as well as their
various imbalances (Panksepp, 1993, 1998a).
Damasio discourages neophrenological attempts
to simplify complex issues, for they may only provide
the illusion of understanding. At the same time, it
needs to be emphasized that certain brain circuits and
certain neurochemistries are much more important for
mediating specific emotions than others. Thus, even
though the whole brain is certainly involved in emotions, there are executive structures that are essential
for synchronizing specific emotional tendencies. Recent brain imaging work on anger from Damasio's
own lab highlights the importance of subcortical and
lower brain stem structures in elaborating the experience of this emotion (Damasio et aI., 1998). In order
to make further progress, we need discrete, simplified
83
hypotheses that can be confirmed or disconfirmed.
Otherwise important empirical work will be impeded.
However, we should not delude ourselves that an understanding of the essential executive structures begins
to fully depict the consequences of emotions as they
percolate, perhaps chaotically, through many brain areas, as well as individual lives and cultural activities.
The neuroscience work in animals can only clarify the
necessary substrates of mammalian emotions; it has
little to say about what is sufficient to construct the
many other complexities of our emotional lives. Psychoanalytic theught is much more attuned to those endeavors.
We will gradually have to develop conceptual
structures that can handle the full complexity of emotions in the brain, and we may eventually have to implement dynamic systems approaches to the study of
emotions (Freeman, 1995; Lewis and Granic, in
press.) At that level, there has been much talk but
little empirical action; adequate data sets for nonlinear
analyses are notoriously difficult to harvest (see Panksepp, in press). In pursuing such difficult computational goals, we should also remember that it is equally
important to have accurate depth psychological descriptions of individual lives and to study how early
experiences lead to different life trajectories. In any
event, Damasio encourages us to clearly envision the
magnitude of the empirical and conceptual tasks before us. We are like children, playing on the shores of
yet unimagined complexities and confronted by depths
that will take many generations of arduous research
to fathom. Our ideas, like our modern PET and MRI
images of the functioning human brain, are like cartoon toys that barely resemble reality. Accordingly,
we must remain open to new ideas even as we cultivate
critical attitudes in our evaluation of the evidence.
As Yorke emphasized more than anyone in these
discussions, Freud would also have agreed that in our
attempts to understand the internal dynamics of the id
and the resulting affective complexities, the doors to
further understanding, most especially a neuroscientific understanding, should never be closed. Freud quietly sustained his love affair with the brain throughout
his life, but only occasionally explicitly proclaimed
his continued devotion to the Project (1950): "The
theoretical structure of psychoanalysis that we have
created is in truth a superstructure, which will one day
have to be set upon its organic foundation. But we are
still ignorant of this" (Freud, 1916-1917, p. 389, as
cited by Kitcher, 1992, p. 53). It is a pity that Freud
did not continue to link his thinking credibly to the
emerging findings of neuroscience, but we are now in
84
a much better position to do just that. Thus, it would be
a greater pity if we do not capitalize on the wonderful
opportunities that are available to us.
Affects and Levels of Scientific Analysis

Ultimately, the only way we recognize the importance
of affective states in living processes is through our
human ability to subjectively experience emotional
feelings and to communicate them to others. This is
the level at which psychoanalysis excels, although
there is abundant room for empirical development.
Unfortunately, the experiential level only informs us
of the existence and importance of certain brain processes, it tells us very little about the types of brain
mechanisms which help create those states of being.
The latter are bound to be much more complex than
the former. The issue of what is the most fruitful level
of synthesis for linking these levels of analysis, for
truly understanding emotions, is rarely discussed in
modern science.
As one could easily document, much of presentday cognitive-type emotion research is working in the
traditional millisecond time-frames of classical conditioning. Cognitive science is entranced with response
latencies, which can be subjected to computational
modeling, while ignoring the much longer ruminative
time-frames in which the real-life emotions and affectgenerating neuropeptides operate. This skews our research enterprises and understanding of essential issues in dramatic ways. Thereby, brain scholars who
like to think in the time-frames of synaptic latencies,
all to often tend to ignore many other fertile approaches to understanding emotions, from autobiographic to zoophilic. Although action potentials surely
help stitch together the representational aspects of
mental activity, that is not as clear for the more ancient
fabric of mind that appears to generate primary-process affect. At these lower reaches we may need more
integrative global concepts (focusing on the widely
broadcast, population dynamics of nerve cells) in order
to comprehend what the brain tissues are doing.
To understand how emotions truly operate, we
must learn to think and work within the more tidal
hormonal and paracrine time-frames within which our
moods and other organic bodily processes normally
operate. Indeed, in my estimation the neuroscientific
analytic level that has the greatest potential for interfacing with human emotional issues is the study of
how the brain neurochemical systems, shared by all
mammals, function to create mood states (Panksepp,
Jaak Panksepp
1993). Also, as noted, an empirical focus on the coordinated activities of subcortical cell ensembles rather
than the firing rates of individual neurons may turn
out to be the most informative for understanding how
emotional integration and affective states are generated by neural tissues. Indeed, the sustained dendritic
potentials from large groups of neurons, reflected in
EEG measurements, still has great potential to clarify
emotional neurodynamics (Panksepp and Bekkedal,
1997), even though the issue of how electrodes need
to be oriented within relevant systems and how the
exceedingly rich data streams need to be computationally handled remain to be resolved (Panksepp, in
press).
I do not think it can be overemphasized that there
has been an enormous bias during the twentieth century to view practically everything of importance in
the mind as being constructed from the projectile experiences and memories of organisms. This is because
humans and other mammals are obviously information hungry organisms with a great capacity to remember what has happened to them. Although an
understanding of memory formation is essential for
understanding most major psychological issues (explaining the popularity of that focus), it is not simply
through memorial abilities that most animals survived
during the early evolutionary emergence of mind, especially when the instinctive (periconscious?) emotion
coordinating systems of the brain stem first evolved.
The refinement of rapid-fire cortical and cerebellar
response abilities, presumably became highly useful
only when the values represented by more global behavioral-state capacities had already emerged in
brain evolution.
To some extent the millisecond view of traditional cognitive psychology is being countered by
modern evolutionary views, but even those new approaches have yet to come to terms with the genetically provided, global-state epistemology of the lower
reaches of the nervous system. The critical issue for
understanding affect is simply: What is the most accurate conception of all the relevant underlying neural
organizations? If both humans and other animals share
similar primitive brain substrates for organizing neurobiological values, even though we are not yet able to
empirically monitor the resulting internally experienced affects directly, we must still try to implement
the indirect strategies that are available to us (Panksepp, in press). Too many neuroscientists remain skeptical of the potential fruitfulness of these possibilities
on the basis of a traditional denial of emotional sentience to other animals (e.g., Budiansky, 1998). I think
we need to move past such perennial and epistemologically unresolvable polarities to accepting multiple
points of view as logically reasonable and pluralistically desirable starting points for our inquiries, and
thereby to integrate all of the fruits of our various
research endeavors.
To my way of thinking, the critical issue is
whether credible predictions-both of human feelings
from animal behavior, and conversely, animal behaviors from a careful analysis of human feelings-ean
be made by accepting the potential reality of animal
feelings. On the basis of a great deal of research, I
believe they can (Panksepp, 1998a), and emerging
new strategies to treat psychiatric disorders are affirming this view (Panksepp, 1995; Kramer et aI.,
1998). If it were not for the existence of deep neural
homologies and our ability to access human subjective
experience through verbal self-reports, then I would
not be willing to speak of affective processes in other
animals. If no cross-species predictions could be made
in the broad arena of affective processes, especially
from the neural causes of animal emotional behaviors
to the causes of human feelings, then all of us who
have a commitment to the scientific worldview, might
be best advised to abide by the traditional type of scientific skepticism that many neuroscientists continue
to advocate. If, on the other hand, we find that our
emerging knowledge concerning certain brain circuits
and neuromolecules help us to generate reasonably
accurate predictions from animal behaviors to human
feelings (which has certainly been my overriding experimental goal since I started to conceptualize the
possibility of an affective neuroscience 30 years ago),
then we should persist in our efforts to span the transspecies gulf concerning the existence of affective experience in other animals. Of course, these kinds of
scientific undertakings are bound to be difficult as well
as conceptually risky and initially fuzzy, but no more
so than the attempts of particle physicists to estimate
the mysteries hidden in the underbelly of the visually
evident material world.
Fortunately, many of these issues, perhaps for the
first time, can now be approached empirically, but the
critical work remains scarce. Partly this is because so
many human investigators, including some neurobiologically oriented ones, still believe that all human
emotions are fundamentally socially constructed
(Brothers, 1997). Obviously some are, but others are
not. Although the human mind is certainly rich enough
to construct practically anything it can imagine, in my
estimation, those kinds of constructionist biases continue to retard some important scientific lines of work
85
on essential foundation issues, such as the basic nature

of emotions, and hence constitute the continuation of
a major intellectual tragedy of our times (i.e., that of
a radical behaviorism which expunged innate feelings,
first from the lexicon of psychology and more recently
from mainstream brain sciences). Psychoanalytic and
affective neuroscientific thought may help counter
those shortcomings in our neuropsychological endeavors. However, even as I say this, I would hasten to
affirm that most of our adult cognitive activities are
reflections of our individual epigenetic landscapes, a
great deal of which has been created by our emotional
experiences (Konner, 1982).
The careful listening approaches of traditional
psychoanalysis could provide the systematic data that
are needed to speak more clearly about those deeper
dynamics of subjective life. Neural clarification of
these issues can help us make progress in understanding the fundamental nature of emotions and perhaps
consciousness itself. Many of the brain complexities
that create both are bound to be fundamentally unconscious, but with the proper experimental focus, we
may be surprised to find how much is not. To really
make progress on such neurodynamics, we will need
to focus on fairly complex levels of neural integration
for which we are just developing the conceptual and
empirical tools.
Summation
As in all human intellectual affairs, there are those
who would claim that our glass of knowledge is rapidly becoming half full and those who say that it will
never be more than half empty. No doubt, this has
something to do with one's emotional temperament-whether one is fundameritally outgoing and optimistic or introverted and pessimistic (the brain
substrates for which are gradually beginning to be understood: e.g., Gray and McNaughton, 1996; Depue
and Collins, in press). In my chosen arena of empirical
and conceptual inquiry, I tend to side with the yeasayers, for they are the ones that open up new and
important vistas of empirical work and conceptual investigation. There is now strong evidence that the basic affective processes can be studied scientifically,
even in animals. However, anyone who has done any
substantial empirical work on the brain knows full
well how seemingly infinite are the complexities that
need to be faced. The brain mechanisms which underlie simple psychological concepts are remarkably
complex. Likewise, those who have journeyed deeply
86
Jaak Panksepp
in the human mind, know how slippery are the con-
Bringing all the relevant perspectives together
cepts that we must use to understand the psychodynamics that emerge from those special tissues that
reside behind our eyes and between our ears. Unless
the fundamental psychological constructs are linked
to brain matters, they will always remain as slippery
as ever.
Since the brain is hierarchically organized, I believe we must workout the more ancient foundation
issues before we can really see how more recent evolutionary developments emerged. For this reason, I have
been attracted to the subcortical domain that we still
share homologously with the other mammals. Clarification of the organizing principles within the lower
substrates, a task that can only be accomplished
through animal research, may be essential for understanding the regulatory functions of higher cortical areas. Indeed, we must remember how much longer it
took for evolution to construct the foundations than
the mushrooming of the surrounding cerebral canopies. This should inform us and warn us of the difficulties that may emerge if we disregard those
foundation issues. As Freud appeared to have realized,
the higher functions depend critically on the integrity
and nature of the lower functions, but the reverse is
not as true. Of course, the higher functions, especially
in humans, now provide a subtle as well as insistent
cognitive texture to the emotional mind, almost seamlessly, from our internal subjective perspective.
Although it has become attractive to view emotions as little more than another type of cognitive
structure within the vastness of our mental lives (e.g.,
Gray, 1990; LeDoux, 1996), this type of homogenization may impede an emergence of a true understanding
of the deep nature of emotionality (Panksepp, 1990a,
1998a). It is equally misguided, I believe, to deny the
likelihood that other mammals are emotionally sentient. Unfortunately, we have few integrative frameworks in neuroscience where the ancient mysteries,
that took so long for evolution to create, are given
their due. Perhaps a greater acceptance of the likelihood that an understanding of animal emotions can
clarify the nature of our own passions, perhaps more
clearly than any other available research strategy, may
provide that framework. In any event, powerful valenced states, of positive and negative affect of various
forms, are built into our brains. First we need to know
into a conciliatory synthesis was not a goal of any of

the intellectual traditions in which I was immersed as
a student. My education was permeated by the behaviorist perspective, which I admired for its rigorous
scientific methodology, and despised for its craftily
cultivated narrowness of mind (for overview, see Panksepp, 1990b). Indeed, both the behavioral revolution,
and its nemesis, the cognitive revolution, have shared
a common flaw: Both have effectively prevented us
from developing vigorous and realistic scientific approaches to understanding the nature of emotions and
consciousness (Panksepp, 1988). Freud shared a view
that could have been an antidote to the remarkable
shortsightedness and rigidity of those perspectives.
However, Freud abandoned his emerging neuroscience views, for good reason, to focus exclusively on
psychodynamics. In the process, his ideas became hard
to evaluate scientifically. Thereby, his influence on the
development of modern neuropsychological thought
gradually diminished. In retrospect, we could claim
that the shift of Freudian thought from a Naturwissenschaft perspective to an exclusively Geisteswissenschaft focus, was more extreme than desirable. An
empirically balanced synthesis of the two is the path
that now needs to be taken.
Classical Freudian metaphysics, without the anchoring of the emerging neuroscience evidence, had
the flexibility to explain practically everything. This
gradually put "Freud's dream" outside the province
of mainstream science (Kitcher, 1995). A more vigorous systems neuroscience during the earlier part of the
century could have reversed that trend. Indeed, since
no substantive neuroscience research program has ever
attempted to actively integrate Freudian thought, our
comments in the present discussion have had to be,
by necessity, highly conjectural. However, by trying
to link his theoretical views to brain systems, the testability and falsifiability of his ideas become more feasible. Thus, the richness of Freud's thoughts on affect,
brought together for the first time by Solms and Nersessian, provides many opportunities for us to view
brain processes in ways that may lead to provocative
new lines of inquiry. This type of pluralism is, to my
way of thinking, an intellectually sound and stimulating course to pursue. As Watt (1990) eloquently stated
in an earlier effort along these lines, "if psychoanalytic theory (despite all of its metapsychological prob-
how many of them there are, then their precise neural
lems and convolutions) has guided countless therapists
causes, then their interactions and consequences for

consciousness, thought, and other mental activities.
This scientific journey has just begun.
in understanding the relationships between their patients' suffering, affect, cognition, and behavior, and
if good psychotherapy alters the brain, then psycho-
analysis must contain vital insights into how the brain

works as a whole that neurology needs to understand
better" (p. 523).
In my estimation, every intellectual tradition, in
order to remain viable, has to remain a living protoplasmic thing, willing to reach out its pseudopodia to
new forms of empirical and theoretical nourishment.
If psychoanalytic theory tries to retain all of its traditional Freudian icons, unmodified by the new evidence, then it will surely become a mummified
reminder of how we should not proceed. If neuroscientific empiricism tries to retain its aloofness from the
true nature of the human-animal psychological condition, unaccepting of those primal brain states and experiences we call basic emotions, then it will
increasingly resemble an ecclesiastic tradition that can
document the smallest molecular angel dancing
through the smallest ionic gate in millisecond framewor ks, without informing us of the various intrinsic
(i.e., evolutionarily dictated) psychic realities that
emerge through the complex interactions of many
brain parts.
If all the relevant frames of reference can be superveniently joined together in productive dialectics,
growing and changing with the evidence, then we will
have created an intellectual tradition that truly nourishes our need to understand who we are and what we
can become. It would be a most interesting exercise
to see how different neuropsychoanalytically attuned
investigators would try to conceptualize all of the major Freudian concepts of mind in neuropsychologically
testable ways. For instance, can sublimation occur
with the affective energies of all the basic emotional
systems, or is it restricted more to some (e.g., sexuality) than others? To what extent are those kinds of
mental adaptations culture specific? I suspect such intellectual exercises can help us better estimate the immensity of the work that lies before us. But to pursue
such inquiries well, we will require the intellectual
guidance of individuals that have read Freud thoroughly and carefully, and to provide fine synoptic target articles similar to the one Solms and Nersessian
have just provided for our consideration. The time is
ripe for such intellectual exercises, but the emerging
ideas will have to be matched by a new generation of
empirical work.
Fortunately, a new naturalism, recognizing that
long taboo issues, including emotions and consciousness, are solvable neuropsychological problems, is
now moving through our intellectual times (Dretske,
1995; Damasio, 1998; Searle, 1998). Both psychoanalysis and neuroscience, not to mention our everyday
87
conceptions of ourselves as creatures of the world may

be changed, in the next century, by these new voices
of reason. I look forward to seeing many examples of
the resulting intellectual openness and vigorous conceptual and empirical cross-fertilization within the
pages of this seminal journal.
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Jaak Panksepp
Department of Psychology
Bowling Green State University
1001 East Wooster Street
Bowling Green, OB 43403
e-mail: jpankse@bgnet.bgsu.edu

10 Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and The Neuroscience of Emotions: Response To The Commentaries by Jaak Panksepp (Bowling Green, Ohio)

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Neuropsychoanalysis: An Interdisciplinary Journal

Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and the Neuroscience

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Drives, Affects, Id Energies, and the Neuroscience of Emotions

The neural analysis of emotions is slowly approaching

Jaak Panksepp is Distinguished Research Professor of Psychobiology,

can set the stage for a lasting science of human nature

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haviors, we will never adequately understand their

Freudian unconscious and the development of affect.

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be many, but all forms of affective arousal may at

(McLean, 1990). However, we remain remote from

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tional experience may be largely a subcortical id

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of neuroscience perspectives I shared. His analysis

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ilar natural kinds in animals. Shevrin provides a

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Response to. Commentaries

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Response to. Commentaries

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the cognitive details of real life events. It is a major

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Response to. Commentaries

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In neuroscience, we at present find ourselves in

issue, but only if we allow certain animal behaviors

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Response to. Commentaries

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Affects and Levels of Scientific Analysis

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Response to. Commentaries

on essential foundation issues, such as the basic nature

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in the human mind, know how slippery are the con-

Bringing all the relevant perspectives together

into a conciliatory synthesis was not a goal of any of

how many of them there are, then their precise neural

lems and convolutions) has guided countless therapists

causes, then their interactions and consequences for

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Response to. Commentaries

analysis must contain vital insights into how the brain

conceptions of ourselves as creatures of the world may

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tions. Neuropsychiatry, Neuropsychol. & Behav. Neurol.,7:1-19.

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