Nova: Asoiso, I want to start with a tough question today: Are monsters born, or are they made?

Asoiso Lee: Wow, starting strong. You know, my instinct has always been that it's more about nurture than nature. That our environment and experiences have to be the deciding factor. But I don't think I've ever seen it laid out... well, as systematically as this book does. It’s less a philosophical question and more of an engineering one, almost.

Nova: That is the perfect word for it. It’s a question that feels like it belongs in a late-night dorm room debate, but the book we’re talking about today, 'The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog' by Dr. Bruce Perry, gives a terrifyingly logical, biological answer. And that's what we're exploring. We're looking under the hood at the architecture of the human soul.

Asoiso Lee: The architecture of the soul. I love that.

Nova: It fits, right? So today we'll dive deep into this from two powerful perspectives. First, we'll explore the dark side—how a lack of connection can create a broken system, leading to a complete absence of empathy. It's a chilling deconstruction.

Asoiso Lee: Okay.

Nova: But then, we'll pivot to the light. We'll uncover the logical, step-by-step process for healing and rebuilding that very system. It’s a story of reconstruction and hope. So, are you ready to get into the blueprints?

Asoiso Lee: Absolutely. Let's do it.

Nova: Alright, let's start with that dark side, with a case from the book that reads like a blueprint for creating a sociopath. Dr. Perry calls this chapter 'The Coldest Heart,' and it's about a sixteen-year-old boy named Leon.

Asoiso Lee: I remember this one. It was deeply unsettling.

Nova: It really is. So, Leon is on trial for the brutal murder of two teenage girls. He'd propositioned them, they rejected him, and he followed them and killed them. The crime is horrific, but what's even more disturbing is Leon himself. He shows zero remorse. Absolutely none.

Asoiso Lee: Right. The only thing he said he’d do differently was get rid of the bloody boots that got him caught. Not the act itself, just the evidence. It's a purely logical, self-interested response. There's no emotion there.

Nova: Exactly. And the question for Dr. Perry was, why? How does a human being get to this point? So he digs into Leon's history. Leon’s parents, Maria and Alan, were immigrants. His older brother, Frank, was a handful as a toddler. So when Leon was born, his mother, who had some cognitive limitations and was completely overwhelmed, fell back into her old routine. Every day, she’d take Frank for long walks to the park.

Asoiso Lee: And she left the baby, Leon, at home. Alone.

Nova: For hours at a time. She’d make sure he was fed and dry, but for huge stretches of his infancy, Leon’s world was just the four walls of his crib. No cooing, no rocking, no eye contact. No human connection. He received basic physical care, but zero relational or emotional input.

Asoiso Lee: It’s like a fundamental requirement was missing in the initial 'build' of the product. The system that processes human connection, that develops empathy… it just isn't there. It never got the data it needed to form.

Nova: That's precisely Dr. Perry's point. He explains that the brain develops sequentially, from the bottom up. The brainstem first, for basic survival, then the limbic system for emotion and attachment, and then the cortex for complex thought and empathy. For Leon, those early, repetitive experiences of being held, soothed, and engaged are what build the neural pathways for attachment. Without that, the higher-level capacity for empathy—the ability to feel what others feel—simply cannot be installed.

Asoiso Lee: So it's not that he's actively choosing to be evil in the way we might think of it. It's that the capacity for what we call 'good' was never constructed in the first place. The hardware is literally missing. That's a profoundly different, and frankly more terrifying, way to look at it.

Nova: It is. He can intellectually understand that other people have feelings—he can use that to manipulate them—but he can't feel it himself. There's no shared emotional resonance. It’s a void. A system built without its most critical component.

Asoiso Lee: And it all started with those silent hours in a crib. It’s the butterfly effect, but for human development. A small, repeated pattern of neglect in infancy creates a hurricane of violence sixteen years later. That’s an incredibly powerful and sobering thought.

Nova: It is. And it raises that terrifying question you just touched on: if the hardware is missing, can it ever be installed? If a system is that broken, is it a lost cause? That brings us to our second story, which offers a powerful glimmer of hope. It's about a boy named Connor and what Dr. Perry calls the Neurosequential Model.

Asoiso Lee: This is the reconstruction part. I'm ready for some hope.

Nova: We need it after Leon. So, Connor's story starts with a similar foundation of neglect. He was cared for by a nanny during his first year of life who, unbeknownst to his busy parents, basically just left him alone all day. Now, at fourteen, Connor is a mess. He's on five different psychiatric medications, he has this awkward, uneven walk, he rocks and hums constantly, and he has no friends. He’s a target for bullies.

Asoiso Lee: So, another case of early neglect leading to major functional problems later on.

Nova: Exactly. But here's where the approach changes. Instead of just trying to treat the symptoms—the anxiety, the social awkwardness—with more pills or just talk therapy, Dr. Perry's team takes a step back. They say, "Let's look at the brain's sequence." They see his awkward gait, his rocking, his humming, and they realize the problem isn't in his higher-level thinking. The problem is deep down, in his brainstem and midbrain—the parts that regulate rhythm, movement, and the core stress response.

Asoiso Lee: That’s brilliant. So they didn't just try to patch the 'user interface'—his social awkwardness. They went back to the 'operating system' level. The brainstem. It’s like realizing your app is crashing not because of a faulty button, but because the underlying database is corrupt. You have to fix the foundation first.

Nova: You've nailed the analogy. That is the Neurosequential Model in a nutshell. They stopped his medications and started at the bottom. What does the brainstem need? Regulated, rhythmic, sensory input. So, they started him with therapeutic massage. Just safe, predictable, patterned touch.

Asoiso Lee: To give his brain the sensory data it missed in infancy.

Nova: Precisely. After a few months of that, they moved up the sequence. They put him in a music and movement class. Not for performance, but to help his brain consciously learn to keep a beat, to experience rhythm in a group. He was literally re-training his brainstem.

Asoiso Lee: So, touch, then rhythm. It's so logical.

Nova: And only after he mastered that, after his body was more regulated, did they move to the next level: social skills. They used something called parallel play therapy, where a therapist would just do an activity alongside him, slowly building his capacity for social interaction. They rebuilt him, layer by layer, in the same order the brain is supposed to develop in the first place.

Asoiso Lee: And the outcome?

Nova: It was a slow process, but it worked. Over a year, his rocking and humming faded. His walk became normal. He started making friends. He graduated high school, went to college, and became a computer programmer. He was rebuilt, from the brainstem up.

Asoiso Lee: Wow. That's incredible. It shows that healing isn't just about willpower or talking about your feelings. It's a biological process. It requires the right inputs, in the right order, at the right time. It makes you think about what 'rhythmic inputs' we all need. Predictability, safety, connection... these aren't just 'nice-to-haves.' They're biological necessities for a well-functioning system, whether you're a child or an adult on a team.

Nova: That’s the perfect takeaway. So we have these two powerful, opposing stories from the book. We have Leon, where the absence of patterned, relational connection created a void of empathy. And we have Connor, where the methodical, application of patterned, relational connection filled that void and rebuilt a life.

Asoiso Lee: It really drives home Dr. Perry's central idea that the brain is a historical organ. The past isn't just the past; it's the literal architecture we're running on today. And for me, as someone who thinks about systems, understanding that architecture is the first step to real empathy. Whether it's for a criminal like Leon, a struggling colleague, or even for ourselves. It shifts the question from "What's wrong with you?" to "What happened to you?"

Nova: That is such a powerful and compassionate shift. It's moving from judgment to curiosity.

Asoiso Lee: Exactly. And it’s a much more useful question if you actually want to solve a problem, rather than just assign blame.

Nova: I couldn't agree more. It’s the core of what makes this book so important. So, to wrap this up, the question we want to leave everyone with is this: What 'relational nutrients'—what small, consistent acts of connection, predictability, and kindness—can you introduce into your own systems, be it your family, your team, or your community, to help build and maintain a healthier architecture for everyone?

Asoiso Lee: A fantastic question. It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about the small, repetitive inputs that build a strong foundation. Thank you, Nova. This was a fascinating discussion.

Nova: Thank you, Asoiso. It was a pleasure.