Does an excessive adherence to first principles overlook the value of experience?

Of course. To put it plainly, it's like a martial arts master insisting on deriving every single move and stance from "the law of conservation of energy" and "the principles of human muscle exertion," completely disregarding the martial arts manuals compiled by their predecessors.

Let's use an analogy:

Experience is like a "cookbook." If you want to make Kung Pao Chicken, the fastest way is to find a reliable recipe that clearly states: the chicken cubes should first be mixed with egg white and starch, peanuts should be added later to stay crispy, and what the ratio for the sweet and sour sauce is. This recipe is the optimal path summarized after countless people have cooked, failed, and improved upon it. If you follow it, even if you're not a master chef, you can make a dish that's pretty close to perfect. This is the value of experience: it's efficient, stable, helps you quickly solve 80% of common problems, and allows you to avoid pitfalls others have already encountered.

First principles, on the other hand, are "culinary chemistry." They tell you at what temperature proteins denature (why chicken cooks), what the principle of starch gelatinization is (why mixing it makes it tender), and the difference between the Maillard reaction and caramelization (why the sweet and sour sauce develops its unique flavor and color). Mastering this allows you not only to make Kung Pao Chicken but also to create "Kung Pao Beef" or "Kung Pao King Oyster Mushrooms," and even invent entirely new dishes. This is the source of innovation.

So, what happens if you overly adhere to first principles? It's like the person who wants to make Kung Pao Chicken but refuses to use a recipe, insisting on starting their research from "culinary chemistry." They might spend a lot of time experimenting with "how chicken cubes taste differently at 60, 70, or 80 degrees Celsius," or calculating "what ratio of sugar and vinegar best suits the human palate for sweetness and sourness."

What's the result? Perhaps they spend a year and finally "invent" Kung Pao Chicken, but it tastes exactly the same as the one in the cookbook. They have merely, with extremely low efficiency, re-traced a path that their predecessors had already completed and mapped out.

Therefore, these two are never enemies. A truly capable person "carries culinary chemistry in their pocket and a family recipe in their hand."

• When encountering a new problem, such as "how to cook a dish in outer space?", where the recipe is useless, they will then activate first principles for analysis.
• But when hosting a dinner party at home, they will not hesitate to pull out the cookbook and quickly and efficiently prepare a table full of delicious dishes.

Overly relying on first principles can make one pedantic and inefficient, falling into the trap of being "profound for profundity's sake." Essentially, it shows a disrespect for the wisdom and experience accumulated by humanity. True wisdom lies in knowing when to use a recipe and when to delve into culinary chemistry.