The
following is an excerpt from the book The New
Brain: How the Modern Age is Rewiring Your
Mind, by Richard Restak, M.D.; Published by
Rodale Books; October 2004.
The
Origins of ADD
by Richard Restak, M.D.
No Time to Listen
As the result of our "make it quick" culture,
attention deficit is becoming the paradigmatic
disorder of our times. Indeed, ADD/ADHD isn't so
much a disorder as it is a cognitive style. In
order to be successful in today's workplace you
have to incorporate some elements of ADD/ADHD.
You must learn to rapidly process information,
function amidst surroundings your parents would
have described as "chaotic," always remain prepared
to rapidly shift from one activity to another, and
redirect your attention among competing tasks
without becoming bogged down or losing time. Such
facility in rapid information processing requires
profound alterations in our brain. And such
alterations come at a cost -- a devaluation of the
depth and quality of our relationships.
For example, a patient of mine who works as a
subway driver was once unfortunate enough to
witness a man commit suicide by throwing himself in
front of her train. Her ensuing anguish and
distress convinced her employers that she needed
help, and they sent her to me. The hardest part of
her ordeal, as she expressed it, was that no one
would give her more than a few minutes to tell her
story. They either interrupted her or, in her
words, "gradually zoned out."
"I can't seem to talk fast enough about what
happened to me," she told me. "Nobody has time to
listen anymore."
The absence of the "time to listen" isn't simply
the result of increased workloads (although this
certainly plays a role) but from a reorganization
of our brains. Sensory overload is the
psychological term for the process, but you don't
have to be a psychologist to understand it. Our
brain is being forced to manage increasing amounts
of information within shorter and shorter time
intervals. Since not everyone is capable of making
that transition, experiences like my patient's are
becoming increasingly common.
"Don't tell me anything that is going to take
more than 30 seconds for you to get out," as one of
my adult friends with ADD/ADHD told his wife in
response to what he considered her rambling. In
fact, she was only taking the time required to
explain a complicated matter in appropriate
detail.
"The blistering pace of life today, driven by
technology and the business imperative to improve
efficiency, is something to behold," writes David
Shenk in his influential book Data Smog. "We often
feel life going by much, much faster than we wish,
as we are carried forward from meeting to meeting,
call to call, errand to errand. We have less time
to ourselves, and we are expected to improve our
performance and output year after year."
Regarding technology's influence on us, Jacques
Barzun, in his best-seller, From Dawn to Decadence,
comments, "The machine makes us its captive
servants -- by its rhythm, by its convenience, by
the cost of stopping it or the drawbacks of not
using it. As captives we come to resemble it in its
pace, rigidity, and uniform expectations"
[emphasis added].
Whether you agree that we're beginning to
resemble machines, I'm certain you can readily
bring to mind examples of the effect of
communication technology on identity and behavior.
For instance, cinematography provides us with many
of our reference points and a vocabulary for
describing and even experiencing our personal
reality.
While driving to work in the morning we
"fast-forward" a half-hour in our mind to the
upcoming office meeting. We reenact in our
imagination a series of "scenarios" that could
potentially take place. A few minutes later, while
entering the garage, we experience a "flashback" of
the awkward "scene" that took place during last
week's meeting and "dub in" a more pleasing
"take."
Of course using the vocabulary of the latest
technology in conversation isn't new. Soon after
their introduction, railways, telegraphs, and
telephone switchboards provided useful metaphors
for describing everyday experiences: People spoke
of someone "telegraphing" their intentions, or of a
person being "plugged in" to the latest
fashions.
Modern Nerves
In 1891 the Viennese critic Hermann Bahr
predicted the arrival of what he called "new human
beings," marked by an increased nervous energy. A
person with "modern nerves" was "quick-witted,
briskly efficient, rigorously scheduled, doing
everything on the double," writes social critic
Peter Conrad in Modern Times, Modern
Places.
In the 1920s, indications of modem nerves were
illustrated by both the silent films of the age,
with their accelerated movement, and the change in
drug use at the time, from sedating agents like
opium to the newly synthesized cocaine -- a shift
that replaced languid immobility with frenetic
hyperactivity and "mobility mania."
Josef Breuer, who coauthored Studies on Hysteria
with Sigmund Freud, compared the modern nervous
system to a telephone line made up of nerves in
"tonic excitation." If the nerves were overburdened
with too much "current," he claimed, the result
would be sparks, frazzled insulation, scorched
filaments, short circuits -- in essence, a model
for hysteria. The mind was thus a machine and could
best be understood through the employment of
machine metaphors. Athletes picked up on this theme
and aimed at transforming their bodies into
fine-tuned organisms capable, like machines, of
instant responsiveness. "The neural pathways by
which will is translated into physical movement are
trained until they react to the slightest impulse,"
wrote a commentator in the 1920s on the "cult" of
sports.
The Changing Rhythm of Life
In 1931 the historian James Truslow Adams
commented, "As the number of sensations increase,
the time which we have for reacting to and
digesting them becomes less . . . the rhythm of our
life becomes quicker, the wave lengths . . . of our
mental life grow shorter. Such a life tends to
become a mere search for more and more exciting
sensations, undermining yet more our power of
concentration in thought. Relief from fatigue and
ennui is sought in mere excitation of our nerves,
as in speeding cars or emotional movies."
In the 60 years since Adams's observation, speed
has become an integral component of our lives.
According to media critic Todd Gitlin, writing in
Media Unlimited, "Speed is not incidental to the
modern world-speed of production, speed of
innovation, speed of investment, speed in the pace
of life and the movement of images -- but its
essence . . . Is speed a means or an end? If a
means, it is so pervasive as to become an
end."
In our contemporary society speed is the
standard applied to almost everything that we do.
Media, especially television, is the most striking
example of this acceleration. "It is the limitless
media torrent that sharpens the sense that all of
life is jetting forward -- or through -- some
ultimate speed barrier," according to Gitlin. "The
most widespread, most consequential speed-up of our
time is the onrush in images -- the speed at which
they zip through the world, the speed at which they
give way to more of the same, the tempo at which
they move."
In response to this media torrent, the brain has
had to make fundamental adjustments. The
demarcation between here and elsewhere has become
blurred. Thanks to technology, each of us exists
simultaneously in not just one here but in several.
While talking with a friend over coffee we're
scanning e-mail on our Palm Pilot. At such times
where are we really? In such instances no less is
involved than a fundamental change in our concept
of time and place.
Dr.
Richard Restak, a neurologist and
neurophyschiatrist, is clinical professor of
neurology at George Washington Medical Center in
Washington, D.C. He has written the companion books
to several PBS specials on brain function,
including The Secret Life of the Brain. His
last book, Mozart's Brain and the Fighter Pilot:
Unleashing Your Brain's Potential was a
bestseller. An engaging science commentator, Restak
has appeared on NPR's Morning Edition, All Things
Considered, the Today Show, Good Morning America,
and the Discovery Channel. He lives and practices
in Washington, D.C.