When scientists first described rosehip neurons in 2018, the neuroscience world reacted with a mix of surprise and fascination. It isn’t often that researchers discover an entirely new type of brain cell—especially one that appears to exist only in humans. Hidden deep in the cerebral cortex, these neurons may hold clues about what makes the human mind so complex, so adaptable, and so uniquely capable of abstract thought.
Named for their bulb-like shape that resembles a rosehip fruit, these neurons are small, intricate, and densely wired. Unlike typical cortical neurons, which connect across large regions of the brain, rosehip neurons create extremely localized, precise control circuits, as if they are fine-tuning small pockets of brain activity with incredible accuracy. This precision and exclusivity have led some scientists to speculate that these neurons might be part of the biological foundation for higher-order thinking.
What makes rosehip neurons especially intriguing is how different they are from the brain cells of mice—our most common neurological research animal. In mice, nothing similar has ever been found. This means that some cognitive processes we take for granted may not be easily replicable or testable in animal models. The discovery hints at a type of neural machinery unique to human evolution, perhaps contributing to our advanced reasoning, memory formation, or self-awareness.
Rosehip neurons sit in the first layer of the cortex, where they act like sophisticated gatekeepers. They regulate how signals pass through neural circuits, dampening or modulating activity with unusual finesse. Rather than producing big, sweeping changes, they seem designed for precision—fine adjustments that might shape the subtle qualities of perception or thought. Imagine editing a photograph not with broad filters, but with microscopic adjustments to contrast and tone. That is what rosehip neurons appear to do for neural communication.
Although their function remains partially mysterious, one theory stands out: these neurons might be responsible for some forms of cortical inhibition that govern our ability to control impulses, refine motor movements, or maintain focused attention. Another possibility is that they contribute to uniquely human cognition—the ability to use introspection, language, imagination, or complex emotional reasoning. Because they are absent in other mammals, rosehip neurons may be a hidden ingredient in the recipe that makes human consciousness distinct.
Their rarity, however, also creates challenges. If rosehip neurons malfunction, they could potentially contribute to neurological disorders that are difficult to model in animals, such as schizophrenia, autism spectrum disorders, or certain forms of depression. Without similar neurons in mice, traditional research tools may miss critical pieces of the puzzle. Some scientists believe this could explain why certain psychiatric treatments work inconsistently—perhaps they’re targeting systems only humans possess.
Yet the mystique of rosehip neurons goes beyond disease research. Their existence raises deeper questions about evolution and identity. What exactly changed in the human brain over the last several million years? Why did these neurons appear in us, but not in our closest relatives? And how much of what we call “intelligence” or “selfhood” is tied to the wiring of these tiny, flower-shaped cells?
We don’t have the full answers yet. But what is clear is that rosehip neurons bring us closer to understanding the architecture of the human mind. They are a reminder that the brain—despite centuries of study—still holds secrets capable of reshaping our entire understanding of cognition.
Some discoveries revolutionize biology because they reveal something vast. Others, like rosehip neurons, revolutionize it because they reveal something exquisitely small. Hidden in the quiet folds of our cortex, these tiny rose-shaped cells may be one of the keys to what makes us human.