I find that for me, and I get the vibe that for many others as well, there's often a slight sense of moral superiority happening when conceptual rounding happens. Like "aha, I'm better than you for knowing more and realizing that your supposedly novel idea has already been done". 

If I notice myself having that slight smug feeling, it's a tip-off that I'm probably rounding off because some part of me wants to feel superior, not because the rounding is necessarily correct.

This policy is more likely to apply [...] if your existence is not publicly known.

How is "existence is publicly known" defined? Suppose it's public knowledge that "OpenAI has an AI agent project codenamed Worldkiller, though nobody outside OpenAI knows anything else about it". I'd think that the public knowing about OpenAI having such a project wouldn't change the probability of Worldkiller having something relevant to say.

I gave this comment a "good facilitation" react but that feels like a slightly noncentral use of it (I associate "good facilitation" more with someone coming in when two other people are already having a conversation). It makes me think that every now and then I've seen comments that help clearly distill some central point in a post, in the way that this comment did, and it might be nice to have a separate react for those.

Isn't the same true for pretty much every conversation that people have about non-trivial topics? It's almost always true that a person cannot represent everything they know about a topic, so they have to simplify and have lots of degrees of freedom in doing that.

This story from Claude 3.6 was good enough that it stuck in my head ever since I read it (original source; prompt was apparently to "write a Barthelme-esque short story with the aesthetic sensibilities of "The School"").

For six months we watched the pigeons building their civilization on top of the skyscrapers. First came the architecture: nests made not just of twigs and paper, but of lost earbuds, expired credit cards, and the tiny silver bells from cat collars. Then came their laws.

"They have a supreme court," said Dr. Fernandez, who'd been studying them since the beginning. "Nine pigeons who sit on the ledge of the Chrysler Building and coo about justice." We didn't believe her at first, but then we didn't believe a lot of things that turned out to be true.

The pigeons developed a currency based on blue bottle caps. They established schools where young pigeons learned to dodge taxi cabs and identify the most generous hot dog vendors. Some of us tried to join their society, climbing to rooftops with offerings of breadcrumbs and philosophy textbooks, but the pigeons regarded us with the kind of pity usually reserved for very small children or very old cats.

"They're planning something," the conspiracy theorists said, but they always say that. Still, we noticed the pigeons holding what looked like town halls, thousands of them gathered on the roof of the public library, bobbing their heads in what might have been voting or might have been prayer.

Our own civilization continued below theirs. We went to work, fell in love, lost keys, found keys, forgot anniversaries, remembered too late, all while the pigeons above us built something that looked suspiciously like a scaled-down replica of the United Nations building out of discarded takeout containers and stolen Christmas lights. Sometimes they dropped things on us: rejection letters for poetry we'd never submitted, tax returns from years that hadn't happened yet, photographs of ourselves sleeping that we couldn't explain. Dr. Fernandez said this was their way of communicating. We said Dr. Fernandez had been spending too much time on rooftops.

The pigeons started their own newspapers, printed on leaves that fell upward instead of down. Anyone who caught one and could read their language (which looked like coffee stains but tasted like morse code) reported stories about pigeon divorce rates, weather forecasts for altitudes humans couldn't breathe at, and classified ads seeking slightly used dreams.

Eventually, they developed space travel. We watched them launch their first mission from the top of the Empire State Building: three brave pioneers in a vessel made from an old umbrella and the collective wishes of every child who'd ever failed a math test. They aimed for the moon but landed in Staten Island, which they declared close enough.

"They're just pigeons," the mayor said at a press conference, while behind him, the birds were clearly signing a trade agreement with a delegation of squirrels from Central Park.

Last Tuesday, they achieved nuclear fusion using nothing but raindrops and the static electricity from rubbing their wings against the collective anxiety of rush hour. The Department of Energy issued a statement saying this was impossible. The pigeons issued a statement saying impossibility was a human construct, like pants, or Monday mornings.

We're still here, watching them build their world on top of ours. Sometimes at sunset, if you look up at just the right angle, you can see their city shimmer like a memory of something that hasn't happened yet. Dr. Fernandez says they're planning to run for city council next year. Given everything else, we're inclined to believe her this time.

The pigeons say there's a message in all of this. We're pretty sure they're right, but like most messages worth receiving, we're still working out what it means.

Thank you! People keep mentioning Panksepp's work but I had never gotten around reading it; this was a very nice summary. The described mechanisms felt very plausible and interesting.

primates (including humans) are innately afraid of snakes, spiders,

This has been disputed since then.

Something I think about a lot when I see hypotheses based on statistical trends of somewhat obscure variables: I've heard it claimed that at one point in Finland, it was really hard to get a disability pension because of depression or other mental health problems, even though it was obvious to many doctors that their patients were too depressed to work. So then some doctors would diagnose those people with back pain instead, since it sounded more like a "real" condition while also being impossible to disprove before ultrasound scans got more common.

I don't know how big that effect was in practice. But I could imagine a world where it was significant and where someone noticed a trend of back pain diagnoses getting less common while depression diagnoses got more common, and postulating some completely different explanation for the relationship. 

More generally, quite a few statistics are probably reporting something different from what they seem to be about. And unless you have deep knowledge about the domain in question, it'll be impossible to know when that's the case.

Thanks!

I think I'm also around 60-70% for the rough overall picture in the OP being correct.

Marc is saying that first you write out your points and conclusion, then you fill in the details. He wants to figure it all out while his mind is buzzing, then justify it later.

Whereas I learn what I think as I write out my ideas in detail. I would say that if you are only jotting down bullet points, you do not yet know what you think.

Might Marc's mind not work differently from yours? 

He could also have done a large part of his thinking in some different way already, e.g. in conversations with people.