Timothy E. Brown

Barnes et al. (2025) emphasize the need for current biobanking consent models to more deeply engage participants who want to determine how their data are used. Despite agreeing with the authors on wanting to make biobanking data more private and secure, we identify deep moral difficulties with their article on two levels. On one level, we worry that the authors have not engaged deeply enough with many of the central challenges debated in the AI literature. And on a different level, rather than critically examining the use of novel technological methods for managing biobanking data, the article instead comes across as the authors trying to market the underlying technology under the guise of an ethics paper.

Phenomenological interview methods (PIMs) have become important tools for investigating subjective, first-person accounts of the novel experiences of people using neurotechnologies. Through the deep exploration of personal experience, PIMs help reveal both the structures shared between and notable differences across experiences. However, phenomenological methods vary on what aspects of experience they aim to capture and what they may overlook. Much discussion of phenomenological methods has remained within the philosophical and broader bioethical literature. Here, we begin with a conceptual primer and preliminary guide for using phenomenological methods to investigate the experiences of neural device users.To improve and expand the methodology of phenomenological interviewing, especially in the context of the experience of neural device users, we first briefly survey three different PIMs, to demonstrate their features and shortcomings. Then we argue for a critical phenomenology—rejecting the ‘neutral’ phenomenological subject—that encompasses temporal and ecological aspects of the subjects involved, including interviewee and interviewer (e.g. age, gender, social situation, bodily constitution, language skills, potential cognitive disease-related impairments, traumatic memories) as well as their relationality to ensure embedded and situated interviewing. In our view, PIMs need to be based on a conception of experience that includes and emphasizes the relational and situated, as well as the anthropological, political and normative dimensions of embodied cognition.We draw from critical phenomenology and trauma-informed qualitative work to argue for an ethically sensitive interviewing process from an applied phenomenological perspective. Drawing on these approaches to refine PIMs, researchers will be able to proceed more sensitively in exploring the interviewee’s relationship with their neuroprosthetic and will consider the relationship between interviewer and interviewee on both interpersonal and social levels.

When the character of Black Panther first appeared in Fantastic Four no. 52 in July 1966, legendary creators Stan Lee and Jack Kirby didn't just write a story about another hero with extraordinary powers, they birthed the first Black superhero. For Lee, "it was a very normal thing," because "A good many of our people here in America are not white. You've got to recognize that and you've got to include them whatever you do." While it might've seemed normal to Lee, Black Panther's (and Wakanda's) significance cannot be overstated. After all, the first Black superhero isn't just a Black superhero, he's the King of an African nation endowed with otherworldly powers, and Wakanda isn't just an African nation, it's the most advanced civilization the Earth has ever seen. Indeed, it shouldn't be lost on us that when Black Panther was introduced (during the Civil Rights era of the 1960s) the thought of a Black President-or an advanced, futuristic African society-would have been, well, unthinkable for too many people.

Black Panther, even with the deep problems in how it represents Black American men, grapples with messy histories directly, in plain sight of white audiences. The motivations and struggles of the characters Shuri and Erik "Killmonger" Stevens, in particular, show us how Black Panther's blend of Africanfuturism and Afrofuturism is meant to teach us how our memories of the past must connect with our visions of the future. Black Panther presents a vision of a distinctly African future that not only affirms that there are in fact Black people in the future, but also gives us a glimpse of how Black people make it to the future and what kind of home we make there. Ruha Benjamin describes how our technologies coalesce to support anti‐Blackness and white supremacy – sometimes inadvertently, oftentimes explicitly. African/Afrofuturist works like Black Panther help us calibrate our walking canes, in a way.

Neural devices have the capacity to enable users to regain abilities lost due to disease or injury – for instance, a deep brain stimulator (DBS) that allows a person with Parkinson’s disease to regain the ability to fluently perform movements or a Brain Computer Interface (BCI) that enables a person with spinal cord injury to control a robotic arm. While users recognize and appreciate the technologies’ capacity to maintain or restore their capabilities, the neuroethics literature is replete with examples of concerns expressed about agentive capacities: A perceived lack of control over the movement of a robotic arm might result in an altered sense of feeling responsible for that movement. Clinicians or researchers being able to record and access detailed information of a person’s brain might raise privacy concerns. A disconnect between previous, current, and future understandings of the self might result in a sense of alienation. The ability to receive and interpret sensory feedback might change whether someone trusts the implanted device or themselves. Inquiries into the nature of these concerns and how to mitigate them has produced scholarship that often emphasizes one issue – responsibility, privacy, authenticity, or trust – selectively. However, we believe that examining these ethical dimensions separately fails to capture a key aspect of the experience of living with a neural device. In exploring their interrelations, we argue that their mutual significance for neuroethical research can be adequately captured if they are described under a unified heading of agency. On these grounds, we propose an “Agency Map” which brings together the diverse neuroethical dimensions and their interrelations into a comprehensive framework. With this, we offer a theoretically-grounded approach to understanding how these various dimensions are interwoven in an individual’s experience of agency.

Implantable neurotechnology devices such as Brain Computer Interfaces and Deep Brain Stimulators are an increasing part of treating or exploring potential treatments for neurological and psychiatric disorders. While only a few devices are approved, many promising prospects for future devices are under investigation. The decision to participate in a clinical trial can be challenging, given a variety of risks to be taken into consideration. During the consent process, prospective participants might lack the language to consider those risks, feel unprepared, or simply not know what questions to ask. One tool to help empower participants to play a more active role during the consent process is a Question Prompt List. QPLs are communication tools that can prompt participants and patients to articulate potential concerns. They offer a structured list of disease, treatment, or research intervention-specific questions that research participants can use as support for question asking. While QPLs have been studied as tools for improving the consent process during cancer treatment, in this paper, we suggest they would be helpful in neurotechnology research, and offer an example of a QPL as a template for an informed consent tool in neurotechnology device trials.

Novel neurotechnologies, like deep brain stimulation and brain‐computer interface, offer great hope for treating, curing, and preventing disease, but raise important questions about effects these devices may have on human identity, authenticity, and autonomy. After briefly assessing recent narrative work in these areas, we show that agency is a phenomenon key to all three goods and highlight the ways in which neural devices can help to draw attention to the relational nature of our agency. Drawing on insights from disability theory, we argue that neural devices provide a kind of agential assistance, similar to that provided by caregivers, family, and others. As such, users and devices participate in a kind of co‐agency. We conclude by suggesting the need for developing relational agency‐competencies—skills for reflecting on the influence of devices on agency, for adapting to novel circumstances ushered in by devices, and for incorporating the feedback of loved ones and others about device effects on agency.