Most scientists learn early in their career that progressing science is about being skeptical 60%, and I agree.
Skepticism is a call to be curious, to be open to all ideas, and to take nothing for granted.
Briefly stated, a skeptic is one who is willing to question any claim to truth, asking for clarity (…)
— Paul Kurtz in The New Skepticism, 1992, p. 9
Skepticism is a provisional approach to claims. It is the application of reason to any and all ideas—no sacred cows allowed.
— The Skeptics Society
But this virtue is often misinterpreted as “be wary and defensive to prevent being wrong” 80%. Here’s what this misinterpretation feels like:
We got into pairs, and one partner would tell the other about the most meaningful and exciting thing in their lives. In the first round, the listener was supposed to listen “skeptically,” without using overt facial expressions or body language. In round two, they did the same thing, this time listening with an attitude of approval and acceptance.
The difference between the two conversations was striking. As the speaker, I experienced the other person’s emotions deep in my own belly, as if I was reading their mind. Their doubt was heart-wrenching; their approval was like sunshine in the winter.
— Tiago Forte, Groundbreakers
The pervasiveness of this doubt and dismissiveness is one of the major reasons why grad school is worse for public health than STDs 50%.
Many scientists have an ever-present feeling of vigilance when they interact with their peers, fearing they’ll say something incorrect and be found out. In their discussions, and (of course) academic publications, they only share their most air-tight arguments, minimizing adversarial attack surface area.
But conversations and writing aren’t only a place to display ideas, they're generators of ideas. By only allowing polished ideas into these environments, it’s not just that you’re not sharing your inklings, but you’re not having them. And all big ideas were once inklings.
Dismissive scientists think their approach guides them towards being more correct, but it doesn't 30%. Luckily there’s a way to work towards correctness while still engaging with both inkling ideas and polished ones: probabilities.
By letting readers how confident you are in your claims, as I have, you can safely share your ideas unadulterated without fearing that your peers will think you believe your hunches are backed by rock-solid evidence. You can even put them in papers without worrying about it leading to your doom.
But what do probabilities feel like — what's the visceral difference between 15% and 25%? This must not have been useful for survival 80% because we’re terrible at this naturally. But you can improve your calibration to probabilities in general in just a few hours 80%, and that’s a big deal.
Unlike the tactic of being doubtful and hoping this leads to increased correctness, delibately practicing prediction trains your correctness directly, and gives you the Brier score and cash to prove it.
The cost of only publishing bullet-proof arguments is substantive 80%. Look in the notebook of any great scientist and inklings are scattered everywhere — but when was the last time you saw a 15% confidence idea in a paper? You don’t because they informally go through and edit out every idea they have less than 90% confidence in 40%.
Scientists who viciously attack fledgling ideas think they’re being scientific but they’re actually yielding authority to the polished ideas of the past by judging them as if they’re at analogous stages of development. Let’s aim for skepticism instead.
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Thanks to Ben Mann and Taylor Rogalski for reviewing drafts of this essay.