[ ... a variation on a pet theme of mine, written up a good little while ago, to be put up somewhere else. this never happened,
so here it goes.]
“Our thoughts ... were so far mainly focused on the subject of neurology, and more specifically the human nervous system, and there primarily the central nervous system. [...] We selected from prompt action the most complicated object under the sun – literally.”
These
second-thoughts – for, there might have been less complicated
objects, it seems, to think with - in late
November 1946 were making their way into the hands of mathematician
Norbert Wiener, the chubby MIT prodigy with a faible for
anti-aircraft-defense (as well as, evidently, the
central nervous system). To no avail, we must assume. Complicated or
not, Wiener famously would draw these various objects together,
notably in a 1948 treatise (equally famous), titled: Cybernetics.
Or Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine. And so would, despite the complications, the sender of above
soul-searching message, the physicist John von
Neumann. He too was a man of many
talents; his unfinished, posthumous The
Computer and the Brain
(1958) would only cap off a far-flung oeuvre.
Maverick thinkers both of them, both Wiener’s and von Neumann’s
names, to be sure, have come to stand for many things: dawn of the
information age, the invention of cyborg sciences, game theory, artificial
intelligence, ‘non-modern’ ontologies and more – in brief: a great many
narratives of departure, incision and transformation. The storyline that
interests me here is similarly dramatic; it has to do (if not quite)
with that most complicated object under the sun that was referred to in von Neumann's letter above: the brain. Or to be
precise, it has to do with its history. This history too, in one way or another,
is a story prominently featuring these two cyberneticists above,
whose scandalous equation of men and machines, of brains and
computers, has been eagerly embraced by a great many scholars in
order to – whatever the case may be - celebrate, castigate, frame,
or (at its best) historicize our own, contemporary condition: a
condition that has everything, or at least a lot, to do with the
brain – and its science.
This
at any rate is a notion that would appear quite inescapable for
anyone drawn, in some capacity or another, to the multiplying
discourses surrounding this (according to some) science of the 21st
century. It would seem quite inescapable as well should you be a
believer when it comes to pursuing things in their ‘neuro’-prefixed
variety (say, neuro-aesthetics or neuro-economics). And certainly the
histories of neuroscience that we tell, or that are being told, tend
to suggest this much: whether your choice is academic or
not-so-academic (‘popular’) history, whether you turn to
wikipedia or the BBC 4: it’s primarily the central nervous system that
will be featured.
Thus, while the genesis of the so-called ‘modern’ (ie. twentieth-century) neurosciences remains a largely uncharted territory, when it comes to accounting for how we may have arrived here, in a world that so seemingly is, or will soon be, replete with neuroscience’s profoundly biological vision of the human, not unlikely that the answer will be: we’ve been there before. The little episode recounted above, to be sure, picks up on only one, if rather influential, such cerebro-centric storyline: cybernetics - or the “study of control and communication in animals, machines, and Society” (in Wiener’s words). Historians know of many. You name it: the heretic doctrines of a Descartes or de La Mettrie; the science of phrenology in the early 19th century; the rise of the “double brain” in the Victorian era, or the spread of biopsychiatry in Wilhelmine Germany; the origins of the EEG and of neuro-transmitters in the interwar period; the stories of lobotomy, of psychopharmaceuticals or of the confluence of computational machinery and minds in the 1940s and 50s. What is more, as would all good and proper history of science, such (pre)histories of neuroscience largely spell “history-of-culture” today. And this too would be a notion which, for all practical purposes, implicates the brain; and more specifically it implicates the idea that we’ve already lived through so many cultures of the brain or “neuro-cultures” in the past: namely, all those that have preceded, shaped, and preconfigured the current one. Perhaps, then (or this would be the not entirely untypical gesture in this connection), let’s not get too excited. Because all knowledge is local, historical specific, and relative. Or perhaps then (if you are so inclined), let's do get excited: all this was just groping in the dark; we'd better worry about this new science of the 21st century (also a perfectly possible reading of the historical record). I wouldn’t know; and at any rate, my point will be a different one. My point will be that the thinkers/critics of neuroscience might do well in thinking twice before entangling neuroscience too emphatically and exclusively with heady concepts such as (especially) brains and minds, culture and human nature.
Thus, while the genesis of the so-called ‘modern’ (ie. twentieth-century) neurosciences remains a largely uncharted territory, when it comes to accounting for how we may have arrived here, in a world that so seemingly is, or will soon be, replete with neuroscience’s profoundly biological vision of the human, not unlikely that the answer will be: we’ve been there before. The little episode recounted above, to be sure, picks up on only one, if rather influential, such cerebro-centric storyline: cybernetics - or the “study of control and communication in animals, machines, and Society” (in Wiener’s words). Historians know of many. You name it: the heretic doctrines of a Descartes or de La Mettrie; the science of phrenology in the early 19th century; the rise of the “double brain” in the Victorian era, or the spread of biopsychiatry in Wilhelmine Germany; the origins of the EEG and of neuro-transmitters in the interwar period; the stories of lobotomy, of psychopharmaceuticals or of the confluence of computational machinery and minds in the 1940s and 50s. What is more, as would all good and proper history of science, such (pre)histories of neuroscience largely spell “history-of-culture” today. And this too would be a notion which, for all practical purposes, implicates the brain; and more specifically it implicates the idea that we’ve already lived through so many cultures of the brain or “neuro-cultures” in the past: namely, all those that have preceded, shaped, and preconfigured the current one. Perhaps, then (or this would be the not entirely untypical gesture in this connection), let’s not get too excited. Because all knowledge is local, historical specific, and relative. Or perhaps then (if you are so inclined), let's do get excited: all this was just groping in the dark; we'd better worry about this new science of the 21st century (also a perfectly possible reading of the historical record). I wouldn’t know; and at any rate, my point will be a different one. My point will be that the thinkers/critics of neuroscience might do well in thinking twice before entangling neuroscience too emphatically and exclusively with heady concepts such as (especially) brains and minds, culture and human nature.
Taking
my cue from von Neumann above – the one apropos the main focus of
“our thoughts” - this little piece, then, aims to sketch a
slightly different way of looking at things. Not because I believe
that there isn’t much to learn from histories of the brain (indeed,
much remains to be done); but, because I believe that, being histories
with that particular and peculiar focus, they tend to be complicit
with the neuro-scientific discourses they profess to critically
engage. Not that all such histories do come with this critical
impetus; not that all such histories would share one single,
simplistic agenda. What stories of neuroscience tend to share however
– and that would be true not only for its histories, but most
analyses and appropriations of neurosciences - is that they usually,
typically, and at times very programmatically so, indeed are stories
of the brain; which, implicitly or explicitly, tend to be stories of
human nature in turn. And here resides the problem, I should think;
at least in so far the goal is to think through the present
neuro-vogue: because it is so charged, the brain, as von Neumann
feared, might not be the most productive object to thing to think
with. Take his own case: the ways that cybernetics - never exactly a
modest enterprise - has come to routinely frame accounts of
mid-twentieth century neuroscience, is a vivid example of how our
stories tend to reproduce, rather than question, the dramatic
categories prescribed by the neuroscientific discourses themselves:
revolutionary departure (or discontinuity), mind/body problem, (post)
human nature, grandiose topics such as language, life and memory -
it’s all prominently there; titles tend to speak for themselves:
Transformations
of the Human,
The
Mind’s New Science,
How
we came Posthuman,
or Sketches
of Another Future,
to cite just a few. The common reading, accordingly, of above message
is, that, however unhappy von Neumann might have been with the focus
of “our thoughts”, these cyberneticists still had their hands in
the making of a new science of the brain and mind; the implication
typically being that, of course, it is human nature that must have
been stake.
And
no doubt that the brain did get “complex” at the time, and
imagined and made accessible by wholly new terms and means. Quite
certainly that was the message that, for one, cyberneticists were
expertly communicating (and by all means successfully): until very
recently the “living brain” had been beyond the reaches of
science - for lack of appropriate technologies and concepts - as
another prominent such specimen, the British neuropsychiatrist Grey
Walter, styled it in 1953; and even so, he added, one did not “accept
the brain as a proper study for the physiologist” (who merely
“carried to the extreme” the study of nerve, muscle, and other
peripheral things: the brain, at best, had been a case for morbid
anatomy). These were heady days, to be sure, and there is something
to be said, of course, about such ways of retelling things. We
must already be tuned to the significance of brains, however, to find
them entirely persuasive. And looking more closely, above second thoughts can easily point us to another, quite uncerebral reading of
such constructions: it will lead us off now into the direction of
somewhat less complicated objects – said muscles, nerves and other
such peripheral, rather bodily and mindless things. Quite undramatic
objects, in short. And we might dwell as well a little longer with
Norbert Wiener above to see the point I wish to make plausible here -
that it might be worthwhile trying to deflate the accounts of the
neuroscientific past that are in circulation; not least, in order to
consider in a more sanguine fashion (and in less dramatic terms) the
present.
Less
appreciated, in any case, than the message apropos the central
nervous system which Wiener had received (von Neumann, it should be
said, really was interested in coming to terms with calculation
machinery), is that Wiener in fact had already made up his own mind
in the connection of complicatedness. Indeed it were such second
thoughts that made him decamp to Mexico at the time where he and his occasional collaborator, the neurophysiologist Arturo Rosenblueth, were to study
(“rigorously”) a number of other and simpler objects,
particularly heart “flutter” and the spike potentials of single
nerve fibers. Curiously enough, even these seemingly more benign
objects turned out to exhibit quite complicated, because
“non-linear”, behavior. (Very much to Wiener’s excitement, in
fact). More relevant here is that they nevertheless, and utterly,
failed to impress Wiener’s contemporaries; or, more properly,
certain contemporaries and, for that matter, posterity. Tellingly,
for example, the cybernetician-cum-anthropologist Gregory Bateson
politely declined having them at the Macy Conferences, that (in the
view of one its frequenters, the physiologist Ralph Waldo Gerard)
“most provocative” cybernetic think tank, asking Wiener to please
supply something more provocative instead. Wiener ardently obliged. And he
himself, soon to be drawn into the vortex of public fame, never made
much of these forays into the non-linearities of the heart, to be
sure (as one well-meaning journalist advised him at the time, one
better had used ‘channel[s] ... [that] would make the implications of
CYBERNETICS amenable to presentation in dramatic and concrete terms
with meaning for the average man.”). Well, so what, you may think; poor
Norbert Wiener, perhaps he should have kept his hands off cardiology.
Perhaps.
And perhaps we need not worry much weren’t it case that Wiener and
Rosenblueth had been toying here with objects that were, as far as
the sciences of the nervous system were concerned, rather typical;
not to say, paradigmatic and mainstream: hearts, and even more so,
muscle and nerve – in brief, peripheral nervous systems and not
central
ones. There was some truth, in other words, in Grey Walter’s
cerebro-proselytizing above, that no one, certainly not the
physiologists, had bothered much about the “living brain”. And
not even about dead brains, we might add, but about its peripheries:
the muscles and nerves, the spines and hearts; or, to put things more
emphatically, it were neuromuscular bodies that bothered folks. It
was this latter subject - smoothly moving, efficiently performing,
skillfully labouring bodies - not the living brain, that had been
made salient in those years - by, and in, the factories and offices,
the sporting grounds, battlefields, and modern machines of mass and
high-speed transportation and communication; and hence, the
laboratories: “The fitness and the physique and the beauty ... of
men and women in their prime”, as muscle-physiologist turned
Britain’s foremost biomedical spin-doctor, Walter Morley Fletcher,
then defined the object of modern physiology, and of those “living
in submarines below the sea, mining far into the earth, or flying to
great heights in the air.”
Indeed
the obsession of the interwar period especially with the performance
of bodies implicated in all these modern situations is all too easily
forgotten – thanks, not least, to the (by now) usual focus of “our
thoughts” in the matter, and thanks not least to a new generation
of brain-ideologues such as Wiener or Grey Walter. Seen through the
lens of a later, more brain-aware age, at best it was/is construed as
an aberration, a kind of primitive proto-neuroscience not quite ready
yet for its true, and truly complicated object. “After World War I,
popular demand ... ha[d] reinforced the popular notion limiting
physiology of its application relative to the functioning human
body,” above Ralph Waldo Gerard would lament in his (very
uncybernetic) Mirror
to Physiology: A Self-Survey of Physiological Science (1958).
And sure enough that this other, bodily and un-cerebral focus was
systematic, as Gerard in fact was acknowledging here, and the
enterprise correspondingly huge (as might, in fact, not surprise you,
if you are versed in the clichés of interwar history). Bodies
counted. And what I’d like to sketch below now is an argument as to
why one might care - not because it might improve our understanding
of Wiener’s thinking or of cybernetics’s pre-history (if
anything, the suggestion would be to by-pass, marginalize them in our
accounts altogether); not because I want to suggest that neuroscience
was really prefigured there and then; not even in order to pit ‘the
body’ against ‘the brain’ (though there might be some
justification in doing that, given the brain-centredness of today’s
discourses apropos “human nature”). The goal would be, as
mentioned, to deflate.
Alas,
“the body” itself is a category much abused and, not
infrequently, romanticized in this connection; as when, for example,
theorists of “affect”, “emotion”, or of bodily “flows”
tend to flirt with forms of biologism that we might find worrisome in
its typically uncritical and selective embrace of (neuro)science. As
shall become clearer now as we turn, however briefly, to the
peripheral nervous system, ca. 1930, it’s not “bodies” in this
sense I wish to remind ourselves of. What I wish to remind ourselves
of is the, by and large, banality of its science or, indeed, of the
sciences of the nervous, generally. The case at hand – focused as
it was on the peripheral nervous system – simply conveys that point
quite vividly: Poking a frog’s muscle or the eggs of sea-urchins
with an electrode; frightening decerebrated cats; measuring the
processes of fatigue of Olympic runners, steel workers or office
girls; determining the reaction times and hand-eye coordination of
pilots or motorists. There were few things infusing the interwar
sciences of the nervous body that would seem to have implicated the
brain and/or mind; and fewer still, that would have affected “human
nature”. Or if they did, it wasn’t because of “science”, but
because “bodies” (and “science”, too) were transforming,
anyway. Pick your (brute) cause: taylorism, capitalism, fascism,
communism.
There
are many ways to make this point; here, let’s have a
slightly closer (if much too brief) look at the subject of “skills”, something, it
turns out, very bodily indeed (but especially then). While this might not
strike you as particularly neuroscientific, its potential relevance
in matters of managing dexterous bodies in the (proverbial)
“machine-age” is self-evident enough; and it sure does illustrate
very nicely the broadly uncerebral “neuroculture” of the interwar
period. For, that was an affair that was being played out not least
on “the
fields of sport and of war, the factory and the farm, the desert, the
jungle and the mountains,” as one so-called nerve-and-muscle
physiologist had it, writing in 1936 (mind you, the concept
“neuroscientist” didn’t even exist at the time). And
in this connection, skills, even the certain “subtler” and
“high-grade” skills such as those displayed by the stage dancer,
motorist, aviator or speed-skater, were a matter too obviously
important so as to be “left alone” - or so ventured the
physicist-turned-industrial-psychologist Tom H. Pear, operating out
of Manchester. For his part author of the seminal Skill
in Work and Play -
devoted to “the problems in
the acquisition of muscular or bodily skill” - Pear
belonged
to those numerous investigators of bodily performance who, sure
enough, did not plan to leave them alone. Though they were not easily
communicable - the muscular sense, or kinesthetics, “possesse[d] no
usable language”, as Pear noted - fortunately, such muscular
pursuits no longer eluded the “higher form[s] of thought analysis”:
“making”, that was, “the paths of rapid bodily movements
visible or of adequately symbolizing them in verbal formulae”.
Such
higher forms of analysis now were easily performed indeed, thanks to
modern high-speed cinematography, artfully crafted notation systems,
and all manner of psycho-physical and physiological methods. Quite
apart from Pear’s crusade for the recognition of the muscular sense,
prominent clues in the matter were provided by the nature of the
tonic and postural reflexes, for example – a surprisingly
complicated thing even though it was, primarily, a problematic
reaching no further than the spinal cord (hence, too, the popularity
in those years, next to factory workers, soldiers and other such
“mass material”, of the “decerebrate animal” as a subject of
study); clues were also provided by the discharges - strangely
patterned and issuing from the body’s peripheries - from the
proprioceptive receptors that were hidden away, it turned out,
aplenty in
the muscles, tendons and ligaments; or again, they were provided by
investigations into the then popular subjects such as biomechanics,
psychomotorics, or oxygen consumption - the latter a sure sign of
“the economy (“skill’’)” with which people consumed their
bodily energies (and on which they might want to improve). Both
“industrialists” (who, Pear above allowed, might prefer to “skip
the illustrations taken from games”) and “open-air athletes”
(who, in turn, may “avoid ... those paragraphs containing the word
industry”) thus better took notice – here was exposed the
elusive, mindless and bodily substrate of what was “an endless
variety and complexity of movements”.
Unlike
the Wieners and Grey Walters, then, Pear and his allies were not in
the habit, in other words, of wasting a lot of thought on the central
nervous system. What is more, it was them, and their forays into the mysteries of the muscular sense, or those of the sense-organs, or those of the biophysics of nerve, that defined and shaped what the nervous system in the
early twentieth century was all about. And if
all this simply smacks of behaviorism to you, or of dodgy Psychotechnik,
think twice. At stake weren’t crude reflex-mechanisms and not
the raw muscular machines that populated nineteenth century factories
and imaginations, as the Psychologie
der Arbeitshand
[Psychology of the Laboring Hand] helpfully explained - another such telling title
(this one penned by the German applied psychologist Fritz Giese who,
we might add, traded not simply in psychology here but in a rather more
eclectic, and insofar typical, mix of psychophysics, nerve-muscle
physiology, and biomechanics). Theirs
was a rather more inclusive, complicated and, if you will, de-centred
notion of the nervous system and its behaviors: “Nothing”, as
Pear’s sometime colleague, Archibald Vivian Hill, wrapped it up on
the occasion of the 1933 Century of Progress Exhibition in Chicago,
“perhaps can better illustrate nervous action than a short
discussion of muscular skill:” “What
does a skilful muscular movement feel like to the performer himself;
how does he control it as it proceeds; how does he learn it; how does
he remember it; how does he reproduce it? [...] How is this done?”
Dashing, sun-tanned and athletic himself (as admirers liked to point out), Hill in his illustrations, here as elsewhere, was fond
of gesturing not, as we might be inclined to assume, towards the
mysteries of the brain, but the “interplay” of “all moving
parts of the body, muscles, tendons and joints” and, to be sure,
the “system of nerves” guiding and controlling it (“as accurate
and as well-coordinated as may be”). No doubt that his complicated
machinery, “fearfully and wonderfully made”, had some sort of
“steersman”, as Hill conceded; and nevertheless, coordination,
control, or skill (its “economy”) for the likes of Hill were an
assemblage of very bodily things: a matter of their actual
manifestations, a question of energetic resources, a problem
foregrounding the intricate interplay of muscles and nerves:
“displayed to perfection [it was] ... in the gracefulness of the
expert dancer or figure skater.” And Hill and his numerous
assistants (Ralph Gerard above having been one of them), too, spared
no effort to elucidate that gracefulness: “vigorous male subjects”,
they exerted themselves preferably outdoors or, if need be, on
bicycle ergometers; methodologically innovative, they liked to hang
up athlete-dummies in wind tunnels or to travel abroad researching
Olympic athletes; not liking their all-too-modern London surroundings
very much, as often as possible they escaped to the idyllic seashores
of Southern England in order to study the phenomena of nervous
action, exhaustion and fatigue in spider crabs and other such
unlikely partners of the laboring body. Indeed to Hill was due the
(then) groundbreaking notion that the very processes underlying
“nervous action” themselves were essentially a variation of
muscular activity, which in turn was best conceived as a scaled-down
version of athletic, efficient motion: violent “exercise”,
fatigue, exhaustion, restoration, their economy and coordination:
these were universal, neuromuscular phenomena; and, as Hill said,
“the problem [was], in a sense, a single one in all these cases.”
Considering
that at the time Hill was one of the world’s foremost experts on
the physiology of muscle and nerve, indeed pioneering a physiology of
athletic movement, such views - cementing the near-identity of
muscle, nerve and human bodies - might not strike you as very
surprising; they might strike you even less surprising in light of
the fact that his patrons (just like Pear’s) – the British,
so-called Industrial
Fatigue Research Board
– had chosen as their express mission the psycho-physiological
elucidation of man’s
“industrial surroundings”. In practice this meant, next to some
industrial psychology and statistics, researches into the physiology
of muscular work, the physiology of ventilation and heating, the
physiology of vision; or in more concrete terms: studying the effects
on bodily performance of heat, noise, atmospheric conditions,
lighting, dust, and machinery (ie, its design as well as the “bodily
and mental adaption” to it). In brief: so many lines of forces
converging on the body, its reactions, its performances, its skills.
The brain, while not wholly absent, was nothing like central, not in
their discourses and certainly not in practical terms; and the
situation would not have differed much elsewhere, whether we had
looked into Russia, Germany, France or the USA.
Much
more, of course, would need to be said about this, the brain’s
absence. But something of this other,
uncerebral
and
bodily
neuroculture
might have transpired no less; and in this connection, one could
certainly do worse than end here on Hill – by any criterion a
towering figure in matters of neuromuscular objects (at the time).
Hill is also one of those figure who nevertheless cannot be said to
have deeply impressed the chroniclers of neuroscience. If so, we may
suspect among the reasons the somewhat brain-and-mindless nature of
Hill’s entire oeuvre; he, let alone his many rather less
distinguished comrades and allies, do not quite seem to fit, that is,
the stories we tell, or want to tell about, well, the brain and the advent of its science. Their common object and focus of thought,
if there was one, was the peripheral, not the central, nervous
system. And gone with that mystified center,
I would argue, are many of the subjects we like to invest with
significance in this connection, blurring them with implicitly
philosophical or anthropological accounts of human nature: mind,
memory, language, personhood, free will, the nature of art or
literature, and so forth. At any rate, once we discard the
assumption that “neuroscience” is, should be, or ultimately will
be about the brain/mind, it would seem rather less
inevitable that narratives of neuroscience need to fall into the
dramatic genre, invariably. The bodily story I have sketched here
- periphery-centred as it is - simply was to make
plastic, how, more often not, we’re prone to reach too quickly
perhaps towards the overly dramatic categories in analyzing the
significance of neuroscience, past or present. It might not be
warranted; certainly there is a lot of room for less pathos-laden,
more nuanced, and indeed, less brain-centered narratives of
neuroscience’s genealogies. And it’s little more than this - the
relative, actual banality of (most of) neuroscience’s objects -
what I was aiming at here; it wasn’t to rehabilitate the Hills or
Pears or Gieses, to be sure, or be disrespectful to Wiener and his
cybernetic friends. And neither was it to point up, to repeat, some
undue neglect of the body in the contemporary neuroworld. The point
was to remind ourselves, by way of heeding von Neumann’s advice, as
it were, that the brain isn’t all there was (or is); and by
implication, that what the stakes involved might be a little lower
than what our brain-centred narratives tend to suggest.
Very interesting posting, Stephen. It may interest your readers to learn that Emil du Bois-Reymond discussed the relationship between peripheral neuroscience and exercise way back in the day:
ReplyDelete“Sports like gymnastics, fencing, swimming, riding, dancing, and skating are primarily exercises of the central nervous system, of the brain and spinal marrow. It is true that these activities involve a certain degree of muscular power. But we can conceive of a man having the muscles of a Farnese Hercules, who would nevertheless be unable to stand or walk, to say nothing of executing more complicated movements…. Exercise trains the nerves as much as it does the muscles.”
Source: Emil du Bois-Reymond, “Über die Übung. Zur Feier des Stiftungsfestes der militärärztlichen Bildungsanstalten am 2. August 1881 gehaltene Rede,” Reden (Leipzig: Veit, 1912), 2: 99-140, on 111-113. This passage is reprinted from du Bois-Reymond’s previous essays, "Über das Barrenturnen und über die sogenannte rationelle Gymnastik. Erwiderung auf zwei dem konigl. Ministerium der Geistlichen, Unterrichts-u. Medicinal-Angelegenheiten abgegebene ärztliche Gutachten" (Berlin: Reimer, 1862), 21-23, and "Herr Rothstein und der Barren. Eine Entgegnung" (Berlin: Reimer, 1863), 31.
*Max - apologies, Gabriel.
ReplyDeletethank you, Gabriel. and you're certainly right, that kind of thing would have been in the air for a while, as people familiar with, say, Rabinbach's work will know. it doesn't surprise me either, from what i remember reading in Sven Dierig's "Maschinenstadt". if i emphasized the interwar years, in parts that's why - there's a strong historiographical tendency i think to associate all things "energetic"/"thermodynamic"/"muscular" with the 19th century (rather than the 20th). at any rate, looking forward to your biography!
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افضل شيخ لفك السحر
افضل المعالجين بالقران
افضل شيخ يفك السحر في السعوديه
شيوخ العلاج بالقران في مصر
شركة مكافحة الصراصير بدبى
شركة مكافحة حشرات بدبى
شركة مبيدات حشرية في دبي
افضل شركة مكافحة الحشرات في الامارات
مكافحة بق الفراش فى دبى
شركة مكافحة الفئران بدبى
شركة مكافحة النمل الأبيض بدبى
شركة مكافحة الرمة بدبى
شركة مكافحة حشرات دبى
مكافحة حشرات فى دبى
افضل شركة مكافحة حشرات بدبى
شركة تسليك مجارى بالاحساء
تسليك مجارى بالاحساء
نفخ المجارى بالاحساء
رقم مصلحة المجارى بالاحساء
طوارىء الصرف الصحى بالاحساء
المثالية لتسليك المجارى بالاحساء
شركة عزل اسطح بالاحساء
شركة عزل حرارى بالاحساء
شركة عزل فوم بالاحساء
شركة عزل مائى بالاحساء
شركا ت عزل الاسطح بالاحساء
فيلا للعوازل بالاحساء
شركة مكافحة حشرات بجازان
شركة رش مبيدات بجازان
شركة مكافحة النمل الابيض بجازان
شركة مكافحة الفئران بجازان
شركة مكافحة القوارض بجاران
شركة كشف تسربات بجازان
شركة كشف تسربات المياه بجازان
كشف تسربات المياه بجازان بدون تكسير
شركة تنظيف خزانات بجازان
تنظيف خزانات بجازان
شركة عزل خزانات بجازان
غسيل خزانات بجازان
شركة تنظيف بجازان
شركة تنظيف منازل بجازان
شركة تنظيف شقق بجازان
شركة تنظيف موكيت بجازان
افضل شركة مكافحة حشرات ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة حشرات ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة الرمة ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة الصراصير ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة الفئران ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة البق ابو ظبى
شركة مكافحة النمل الابيض ابو ظبى
مكافحة حشرات ابو ظبى