My understanding of psychology comes from popular books, magazines, my time as an undergraduate decades ago, and internet columns. While I was good at psychology, I was not so outstanding that anybody made a fuss, if that makes sense. My late father encouraged me to study psychology. One aspect of the neuroscience module in the psychology course was the name Santiago Ramon y Cajal, a scientist who should rightfully be up there with Newton, Pasteur, Darwin, Pavlov, Einstein and Hawking.

Santiago Ramón y Cajal (1852 – 1934), co-winner of the 1906 Nobel prize for Physiology or Medicine, is responsible for our current understanding of neurons, single discrete cells which, via axons and dendrites, communicate and make up the human nervous system. The discovery of the neuron as the fundamental unit of the nervous system was a crucial scientific breakthrough, because it laid the basis for the emerging field of neuroscience.

The birth of the neuron doctrine was not all smooth sailing. It had to confront, and eventually overthrow, the reticular theory of the nervous system. Today, we all understand the nervous system to be composed of neurons. The axons carry signals via neurotransmitters to the dendrites of the next neuron.

However, Cajal’s findings flew directly in the face of the prevailing orthodoxy of the time; reticular theory. The latter held that the nervous system was one, singular connected network. He fought tooth and nail to have his findings discussed and accepted. Using the metaphor of a tangled thicket, his illustrations of the intricate network of neurons are considered not just scientific breakthroughs, but also works of art in their own way.

He was not only interested in the physical structure of the brain and nervous system, but also in the workings of the mind. He was responding to the predominant theory of vitalism. The latter held that mental life was dominated by an immaterial force, a soul, which guided the psyche. Cajal, by demonstrating his discovery of the pyramidal cell – his initial name for the neuron – provided an anatomical basis for the activity of the brain. He was striving for a material explanation of the mind – consciousness.

Santiago Ramon y Cajal challenged Freudian analysis, by demonstrating that humans have a very physical – what we now call electrochemical – network of neurons and nerve connections. He opposed the inherent mysticism of orthodox Freudian doctrine – how can we comprehend the unconscious? Denouncing Freud’s analysis as pseudoscience, he maintained a strong rivalry with the Viennese author, which was Cajal’s reference to Freud.

Cajal was definitely not the first to wrestle with the thorny issue of consciousness – how can the human mind study itself? Indeed, the examination of consciousness goes back thousands of years. The Upanishads, the ancient Hindu texts, deal directly with the topic of consciousness. Does that make the Upanishads correct? No, but it does demonstrate how deeply ingrained the study of consciousness is.

Let’s not go down the path of surreptitiously introducing immaterial, metaphysical concepts into the study of mind – Deepak Chopra’s labyrinthine twists and turns of modern scientific findings into Hindu-adjacent concepts is a prime example of this institutional absurdity.

While I do not propose to solve the entire mystery of consciousness in one article, I would venture a suggestion. Lev Vygotsky (1896 – 1934), and his colleague Alexander Luria (1902 – 1977) recognised the importance of a physiological basis of brain activity, but also closely studied cultural socialisation and labour activity as crucial determinants in the emergence of consciousness. They avoided the twin pitfalls of biological reductionism, and the drift into metaphysical immaterialism. Labouring activity is indeed vital to the production and maintenance of human consciousness.

What makes us tick? How can we better understand human behaviour? It is not only psychologists who are asking this question, but giant tech companies as well. What am I talking about? Surveillance capitalism.

What is surveillance capitalism? Professor Shoshanna Zuboff wrote that our personal data, our shopping preferences, purchases, individual searches and choices, are now commodities for big data corporations. Why? To analyse our consumer behaviour, and predict our future habits. Driven by the profit motive, our private lives and personal information is a valuable commodity, to be bought and sold, and exploited. The large corporations want to modify our behaviour by understanding what is going on inside our heads.

The digital economy is a scenario of mass surveillance and data collection that Orwell could not possibly have imagined. The dystopian future of 1984 outlined a world where political surveillance was paramount. For instance, in communist Albania, prior to 1991, the state apparatus kept files on people’s political opinions. The ubiquitous secret police surveilled the population for political dissent.

In the post-1990 world with the rise of the neoliberal economy, the private sector amasses and exploits our personal data in a way unthinkable in Orwell’s time. Indeed, the post-Communist transformation in Albania turned out from a seemingly sweet transition into a sour and lethal social experiment.

The monetisation of our behavioural data and its conversion into profit has been done in the name of freedom. The tech giants have replaced the metaphorical Big Brother. Nearly every area of our lives – retail, finance, health care, travel – is in some way part of the surveillance capitalist paradigm. Back in 1986, former Soviet historian Dmitri Volkogonov wrote about Psychological War in the west, and how our social consciousness is impacted by the propaganda efforts of the ruling class in the sociocultural sphere. It is an early book on the battle for our minds – perhaps he was not exaggerating.