This sounds similar to what David Chapman wrote about in How to think real good; he’s mostly talking about solving technical STEM-y research problems, but I think the takeaways apply more broadly:
Many of the heuristics I collected for “How to think real good” were about how to take an unstructured, vague problem domain and get it to the point where formal methods become applicable.
Formal methods all require a formal specification of the problem. For example, before you can apply Bayesian methods, you have to specify what all the hypotheses are, what sorts of events constitute “evidence,” how you can recognize one of those events, and (in a decision theoretic framework) what the possible actions are. Bayesianism takes these as given, and has nothing to say about how you choose them. Once you have chosen them, applying the Bayesian framework is trivial. (It’s just arithmetic, for godssakes!)
Finding a good formulation for a problem is often most of the work of solving it. [...]
Before applying any technical method, you have to already have a pretty good idea of what the form of the answer will be.
Part of a “pretty good idea” is a vocabulary for describing relevant factors. Any situation can be described in infinitely many ways. For example, my thinking right now could be described as an elementary particle configuration, as molecules in motion, as neurons firing, as sentences, as part of a conversation, as primate signaling behavior, as a point in world intellectual history, and so on.
Choosing a good vocabulary, at the right level of description, is usually key to understanding.
A good vocabulary has to do two things. Let’s make them anvils:
1. A successful problem formulation has to make the distinctions that are used in the problem solution.
So it mustn’t categorize together things that are relevantly different. Trying to find an explanation of manic depression stated only in terms of emotions is unlikely to work, because emotions, though relevant, are “too big” as categories. “Sadness” is probably a complex phenomenon with many different aspects that get collapsed together in that word.
2. A successful problem formulation has to make the problem small enough that it’s easy to solve.
Trying to find an explanation of manic depression in terms of brain state vectors in which each element is the membrane potential of an individual neuron probably won’t work. That description is much too complicated. It makes billions of distinctions that are almost certainly irrelevant. It doesn’t collapse the state space enough; the categories are too small and therefore too numerous.
It’s important to understand that problem formulations are never right or wrong.
Truth does not apply to problem formulations; what matters is usefulness.
In fact,
All problem formulations are “false,” because they abstract away details of reality.
[...]
There’s an obvious difficulty here: if you don’t know the solution to a problem, how do you know whether your vocabulary makes the distinctions it needs? The answer is: you can’t be sure; but there are many heuristics that make finding a good formulation more likely. Here are two very general ones:
Work through several specific examples before trying to solve the general case. Looking at specific real-world details often gives an intuitive sense for what the relevant distinctions are.
Problem formulation and problem solution are mutually-recursive processes.
You need to go back and forth between trying to formulate the problem and trying to solve it. A “waterfall” approach, in which you take the formulation as set in stone and just try to solve it, is rarely effective.
(sorry for the overly long quote, concision is a work in progress for me...)
This sounds similar to what David Chapman wrote about in How to think real good; he’s mostly talking about solving technical STEM-y research problems, but I think the takeaways apply more broadly:
(sorry for the overly long quote, concision is a work in progress for me...)