New ideas are held to much higher standard than old ones... Behaviorists, Freudians, and Social Psychologists all had created their own theories of "ultimate causation" for human behavior. None of those theories would have stood up to the strenuous demands for experimental validation that Ev. psych endured.

I'm not sure what you mean. Are you saying that standards of evidence for new ideas are higher now than they have been in the past, or that people are generally biased in favor of older ideas over newer ones? Either claim interests me and I'd like a bit more explanation of whichever you intended.

In general, I think scientific hypotheses should invite "strenuous demands for experimental validation", not endure them.

I agree (see, e.g., The Second Law of Thermodynamics, and Engines of Cognition for why this is the case). Unfortunately, I see this as a key inferential gap between people who are and aren't trained in rationality.

The problem is that many people-- dare I say most-- feel no obligation to gather evidence for their intuitive feelings, or to let empirical evidence inform their feelings. They don't think of intuitive feelings as predictions to be updated by Bayesian evidence; they treat their intuitive feelings as evidence.

It's a common affair (at least in the United States) to see debaters use unsubstantiated intuitive feelings as linchpins of their arguments. It's even common on internet debates to see whole chains of reasoning in which every link is supported by gut feeling alone. This style of argument is not only unpersuasive to anyone who doesn't share those intuitions already-- it prevents the debater from updating, as long as his intuitions don't change.

'Instinct,' 'intuition,' 'gut feeling,' etc. are all close synonyms for 'best guess.' That's why they tend to be the weakest links in an argument-- they're just guesses, and guesses are often wrong. Guessing is useful for brainstorming, but if you really believe something, you should have more concrete evidence than a guess. And the more you base a belief on guesses, the more likely that belief is to be wrong.

Substantiate your guesses with empirical evidence. Start with a guess, but end with a test.

Sure, but then the question becomes whether the other programmer got the program right...

My point is that if you don't understand a situation, you can't reliably write a good computer simulation of it. So if logical believes that (to use your first link) James Tauber is wrong about the Monty Hall problem, he has no reason to believe Tauber can program a good simulation of it. And even if he can read Python code, and has no problem with Tauber's implementation, logical might well conclude that there was just some glitch in the code that he didn't notice--which happens to programmers regrettably often.

I think implementing the game with a friend is the better option here, for ease of implementation and strength of evidence. That's all :)

If--and I mean do mean if, I wouldn't want to spoil the empirical test--logical doesn't understand the situation well enough to predict the correct outcome, there's a good chance he won't be able to program it into a computer correctly regardless of his programming skill. He'll program the computer to perform his misinterpretation of the problem, and it will return the result he expects.

On the other hand, if he's right about the Monty Hall problem and he programs it correctly... it will still return the result he expects.

I use entities outside human experience in thought experiments for the sake of preventing Clever Humans from trying to game the analogy with their inferences.

"If Monty 'replaced' a grain of sand with a diamond then the diamond might be near the top, so I choose the first bucket."

"Monty wants to keep the diamond for himself, so if he's offering to trade with me, he probably thinks I have it and wants to get it back."

It might seem paradoxical, but using 'transmute at random' instead of 'replace', or 'Omega' instead of 'Monty Hall', actually simplifies the problem for me by establishing that all relevant facts to the problem have already been included. That never seems to happen in the real world, so the world of the analogy is usefully unreal.

Your analogy doesn't hold, because each spin of the roulette wheel is a separate trial, while choosing a door and then having the option to choose another are causally linked.

If you've really thought about XiXiDu's analogies and they haven't helped, here's another; this is the one that made it obvious to me.

Omega transmutes a single grain of sand in a sandbag into a diamond, then pours the sand equally into three buckets. You choose one bucket for yourself. Omega then pours the sand from one of his two buckets into the other one, throws away the empty bucket, and offers to let you trade buckets.

Each bucket analogizes to a door that you may choose; the sand analogizes to probability mass. Seen this way, it's clear that what you want is to get as much sand (probability mass) as possible, and Omega's bucket has more sand in it. Monty's unopened door doesn't inherit anything tangible from the opened door, but it does inherit the opened door's probability mass.

As a tentative rephrasing, something that's "emotionally implausible" is something that "I would never do" or that "could never happen to me." Like you, I can visualize myself falling with a high degree of accuracy; but I can't imagine throwing myself off the bridge in the first place. Suicide? I would never do that.

It occurs to me that "can't imagine" implies a binary division when ability to imagine is more of a continuum: the quality of imagination drops steadily between trying to imagine brushing my teeth (everyday), calling 911 (very rare, but I've done it before), punching through a wall (never done it, but maybe if I was mad enough), and jumping off a bridge (I would never do that).

For all four, I can imagine the physical events as bare facts; but for the first two I can easily place myself in the simulation, complete with cognitive and emotional states. That's much harder in the third case; in the fourth, I'm about as confident in my imagination as I am in trying to imagine a world where 1+1=3.

If you've exercised before, you can probably remember the feeling in your body when you're finished--the 'afterglow' of muscle fatigue, endorphins, and heightened metabolism--and you can visualize that. If you haven't, or can't remember, you can imagine feelings in your mind like confidence and self-satisfaction that you'll have at the end of the exercise.

As for studying, the goal isn't to study, per se; it's to do well on the test. Visualizing the emotional rewards of success on the test itself can motivate you to study, as well as get enough sleep the night before, eat appropriately the day of, take performance enhancing drugs, etc.

Imagination is a funny thing. You can imagine things that could physically never happen--but if you try to imagine something that's emotionally implausible to you, you'll likely fail. Just now I imagined moving objects with my mind, with no trouble at all; then I tried to imagine smacking my mother in the face and failed utterly. If you actually try to imagine having something--not just think about trying--and fail, it's probably because deep down you don't believe you could ever have it.

The human experience of colour is not really about recognizing a specific wavelength of light.

True, but irrelevant to the subject at hand.

the qualia of colour are associated more with the invariant surface properties of objects than they are with invariant wavelengths of light.

No, the qualia of color have nothing to do with the observed object. This is the pons asinorum of qualia. The experience of color is a product of the invariant surface properties of objects; the qualia of color is a product of the relationship between that experience and other similar experiences.

A human looking at an optical illusion might say, "That looks red, but it's really white," acknowledging that spectral color is objective, but psychophysical color is more malleable. But compare that sentence to "that sounds good, but it's really bad." Statements about color aren't entirely subjective--to some extent they're about fact, not opinion.

Statements about qualia are about the subjective aspect of an experience: e.g., red is the color of rage; of love; the color that means 'stop.'