Thanks! My perspective for this kind of thing is: if there’s some phenomenon in psychology or neuroscience, I’m not usually in the situation where there are multiple incompatible hypotheses that would plausibly explain that phenomenon, and we’d like to know which of them is true. Rather, I’m usually in the situation where I have zero hypotheses that would plausibly explain the phenomenon, and I’m trying to get up to at least one.
There are so many constraints from what I (think I) know about neuroscience, and so many constraints from what I (think I) know about algorithms, and so many constraints from what I (think I) know about everyday life, that coming up with any hypothesis at all that can’t be easily refuted from an armchair is a huge challenge. And generally when I find even one such hypothesis, I wind up in the long term ultimately feeling like it’s almost definitely true, at least in the big picture. (Sometimes there are fine details that can’t be pinned down without further experiments.)
It’s interesting that my outlook here is so different from other people in science, who often (not always) feel like the default should be to have multiple hypotheses from the get-go for any given phenomenon. Why the difference? Part of it might be the kinds of questions that I’m interested in. But part of it, as above, is that I have lots of very strong opinions about the brain, which are super constraining and thus rule out almost everything. I think this is much more true for me than almost anyone else in neuroscience, including professionals. (Here’s one of many example constraints that I demand all my hypotheses satisfy.)
So anyway, the first goal is to get up to even one nuts-and-bolts hypothesis, which would explain the phenomenon, and which is specific enough that I can break it down all the way down to algorithmic pseudocode, and then even further to how that pseudocode is implemented by the cortical microstructure and thalamus loops and so on, and that also isn’t immediately ruled out by what we already know from our armchairs and the existing literature. So that’s what I’m trying to do here, and it’s especially great when readers point out that nope, my hypothesis is in fact already in contradiction to known psychology or neuroscience, or to their everyday experience. And then I go back to the drawing board. :)
I see! Thanks for the thoughtful response. I think my problem is caused by not having brought enough neuroscience and psychology textbooks to my armchair, leaving me in too-many-plausible-hypotheses-land, rather than your too-few-. I’ll take another stab at this sequence if/when I collect more background knowledge!
Thanks! My perspective for this kind of thing is: if there’s some phenomenon in psychology or neuroscience, I’m not usually in the situation where there are multiple incompatible hypotheses that would plausibly explain that phenomenon, and we’d like to know which of them is true. Rather, I’m usually in the situation where I have zero hypotheses that would plausibly explain the phenomenon, and I’m trying to get up to at least one.
There are so many constraints from what I (think I) know about neuroscience, and so many constraints from what I (think I) know about algorithms, and so many constraints from what I (think I) know about everyday life, that coming up with any hypothesis at all that can’t be easily refuted from an armchair is a huge challenge. And generally when I find even one such hypothesis, I wind up in the long term ultimately feeling like it’s almost definitely true, at least in the big picture. (Sometimes there are fine details that can’t be pinned down without further experiments.)
It’s interesting that my outlook here is so different from other people in science, who often (not always) feel like the default should be to have multiple hypotheses from the get-go for any given phenomenon. Why the difference? Part of it might be the kinds of questions that I’m interested in. But part of it, as above, is that I have lots of very strong opinions about the brain, which are super constraining and thus rule out almost everything. I think this is much more true for me than almost anyone else in neuroscience, including professionals. (Here’s one of many example constraints that I demand all my hypotheses satisfy.)
So anyway, the first goal is to get up to even one nuts-and-bolts hypothesis, which would explain the phenomenon, and which is specific enough that I can break it down all the way down to algorithmic pseudocode, and then even further to how that pseudocode is implemented by the cortical microstructure and thalamus loops and so on, and that also isn’t immediately ruled out by what we already know from our armchairs and the existing literature. So that’s what I’m trying to do here, and it’s especially great when readers point out that nope, my hypothesis is in fact already in contradiction to known psychology or neuroscience, or to their everyday experience. And then I go back to the drawing board. :)
I see! Thanks for the thoughtful response. I think my problem is caused by not having brought enough neuroscience and psychology textbooks to my armchair, leaving me in too-many-plausible-hypotheses-land, rather than your too-few-. I’ll take another stab at this sequence if/when I collect more background knowledge!