Neurotechnology on the Consumer Market
- Nicole Less
- 14 minutes ago
- 5 min read
When most people hear neurotechnology, they think of implantable brain-computer interfaces (BCIs): Black Mirror-esque devices touted by the likes of Elon Musk or Blackstone. Tech moguls promise products engineered to restore bodily autonomy for those living with paralysis or enduring neurodegenerative diseases such as Dementia and Parkinson’s Disease. While BCI technology has accomplished indisputably impressive feats; like the cochlear implant, which has assisted millions of hearing impaired individuals, the development of these technologies began years before permeating consumer markets. It took the FDA over a decade to approve the commercialization of cochlear implants for adults, with an additional ten years to determine the safety for implants among children. While most neurotechnology interventions require rigorous testing and refinement, a new mode of therapeutic mediation is readily available to consumers–no prescription (or FDA approval) needed. The multi-trillion dollar wellness industry and persistent allure of self-optimization has expanded and redefined what kinds of gadgets now qualify as neurotechnology.
Electroencephalography (EEG) technology, employed medically since the mid-twentieth century, measures and collects real time brain activity data with the intent of evaluating neurological health and formulating therapeutic regimens. One popular consumer product, Muse Headbands, personally invites consumers to “sharpen your attention”, “push your cognitive limits”, and recharge with “digital sleeping pills [to] help optimize recovery and relaxation”. Muse replaces clinician evaluation of EEG data with software algorithms that display in-app lifestyle suggestions and automatically prompt auditory feedback, such as deciding if bird song or ocean waves have greater user benefit in that moment.
Curiously, Muse’s website boasts endorsement by top university and research centers, featuring carouseling logos of Yale, MIT, Harvard, University of Toronto, NASA, and IBM. Directly below these logos, a link encourages users to view their research, providing hyperlinks to sixty-one studies, of which only a handful have ties to the University of Toronto and one to Harvard Medical Center while the rest of the research centers remain unaccounted for. After investigating every provided source, it became obvious that none of the studies actually examine Muse’s claims of neurofeedback and brain training. Instead of independent analysis, researchers use Muse headbands for data collection in lieu of expensive lab sequestered EEG machines that lack portability for at home use. Researchers and clinicians praise Muse Headbands for its EEG accuracy, affordable pricing, and easy mobility rather than its independently-used therapeutic value as the website seems to suggest.
Muse, among other consumer-ready, unregulated neurotechnologies, capitalizes on science-adjacent terminology to frame products as medical-grade tools for self-improvement. Corporations dangle sleekly designed gadgets with seductive technical rhetoric that leverages an illusion of scientific authority to sell products and pricey subscription services without formal medical oversight or scientific evaluation. While EEG, when used in conjunction with other evidence-based tools (such as Transcranial magnetic stimulation (TMS)), has shown potential in clinical trials working to address neurodegenerative, chronic pain, and psychiatric disorders, the validation of a stand-alone corporate gadget cannot compare to rigorous clinical trials . Even with these items on the market, our knowledge of self-administered neurotechnology and algorithmic therapeutic suggestions is fairly limited. New and improved versions of Muse Headband have been released, further supporting the notion that we’re still in early stages of software-based recommendations for neurological and psychological health. Furthermore, it’s doubtful that the training data used to code the Muse headband encompasses abnormalities in neurological conditions, known or unknown.
The wellness industry, including neurotechnology devices like Muse, largely operates on the precarious tightrope of medical-sounding benefits and lifestyle enhancements. The market propagates its products as important for well-being without the necessity that might encourage insurance to at least recognize hefty costs. The ethical implications of making health-improvement promises at steep costs reinforces inequitable systems that anchors the type and quality of healthcare in financial privilege rather than a universal right.
Why are these devices selling?
Despite opaque marketing promises, a number of people have reported enhanced meditative states, sleep, focus, and relaxation after use of these devices. Can we credit these reports to the specialized technologies or do they stem from the consumer’s own belief in their effectiveness (a placebo effect)? The implementation of an external device, trust in its success, and habitual use could all combine to evoke a kind of mindfulness. Whether the devices themselves are responsible or the intentional ritual of its use increases mindfulness independent of the device remains unclear. Are these devices a modern consumer-hungry analogue to venerable meditation techniques? Ancient civilizations and communities of monks have used rhythmic breathing, sound bowls, and repetitive chanting for similar meditative results for thousands of years. An abundance of cognitive research and literature has demonstrated the benefits of meditation on practitioner health. The mechanism and branding may differ in form, but the creation of an intentional, structured technique for mental regularity remains strikingly similar.
The spread of consumer-based neurotechnology provides information on current population health goals/trends, while also raising numerous ethical concerns. The existence and growth of the market indicate that people are open to new, unconventional, technology-based interventions to achieve enhanced sleep quality, improve their attention capacity, and regulate stress. Products such as the Muse headband suggest all three are attainable through diligent product use and a steep subscription fee. What are the ethical implications of marketing with the credibility of unchecked science? As mentioned earlier, misleading marketing tactics prey on the general public’s lack of specialized scientific knowledge. In terms of artificial intelligence, 2025 has documented numerous instances of people relying on large language models (LLMs), such as Chat GPT, to fill a therapist-like role that ultimately deteriorates the user’s psychological health and inducing AI psychosis. Does unregulated neurotechnology pose the same risks to users who overestimate LLM software’s medical competence? The United States, where many of these companies are based, doesn’t currently have any framework to protect to account for misinformation or device deployment gone wrong. Who bears responsibility in the face of negative consequences? The company? Researchers? Government regulatory agencies? The consumer? As neurotechnology evolves it remains crucial to discuss the ethical concerns of unregulated technology with little scientific validation and misleading taglines making promises of an enhanced self.
Nicole Less is a neurological researcher and writer from UC Berkeley and Mount Sinai Icahn School of medicine and is originally from California. While she was initially interested in psychology, she was introduced to the more neurological side of science at UC Berkley where she pursued biomedical research and its ethical consequences. She is passionate about accessible science communications, research integrity, and investigating the brain. Based in New York, Nicole writes about the intersection of cognition, technology, environmental factors, and aging. In her spare time, Nicole loves hiking, travelling, and volunteering with local animal shelters.