Are Arguments Evidence? Yes—Here’s Why.

From the editor of JAT: This guest post comes from Eric Van Evans. Interested in contributing to the Journal of Absolute Truth? Click here for details.

Are Arguments Evidence?

Many popular level atheists have an uncharitable view of arguments. One of the most common claims they advance is that arguments are not evidence. This is meant to suggest that you need tangible, observable data to affirm a proposition—something you can touch, measure, or see. Arguments, they claim, don’t meet that criterion and therefore lead us nowhere.

For example, if I present the cosmological argument for the existence of God, an atheist might dismiss it by saying that such an argument doesn’t count as evidence. If there were real evidence for God, they say, we wouldn’t need arguments—we’d have direct, observable proof. But this line of thinking is confused in several ways.

I’ve identified five major points of confusion that often lead atheists down this mistaken path:

1. Confusion about what an argument is

2. Confusion about what evidence is

3. Confusion between evidence and proof

4. Assuming God should be a directly observable agent

5. An unhealthy admiration for scientism

If atheists better understood that arguments are a form of evidence, we’d see far less confusion in these conversations. The world is a deeply mysterious place, and all we can really do is approach its mystery by constructing arguments that help us discern what is most likely true or false.

What Is An Argument?

An argument is a set of premises that aim to support a conclusion. If I claim that God exists, I can’t just say it—I must provide reasons and evidence to support that claim. Otherwise, I’m just begging the question. Good arguments (i.e., sound arguments, where the premises are true and the reasoning valid) provide evidence for whatever claim we’re trying to support.

There are different types of arguments. Some are deductive, where the truth of the premises guarantees the truth of the conclusion. Others are inductive or abductive, where the premises make the conclusion more likely, even if not certain.

So when someone dismisses an argument as “not evidence,” they reveal a basic misunderstanding of what arguments are and how they function.

What Is Evidence?

“The problem,” Trent Horn once said, “is that we think of evidence as a neon sign that will tell me the way the world is, but it really isn’t like that. Evidence is just things that are out there—it’s stuff in the world—and then we interpret it to reach certain conclusions… people will interpret evidence differently and reach reasonable and unreasonable conclusions.”

Exactly. Evidence is anything that increases the probability that a given proposition is true. Not surprisingly, philosopher Timothy McGrew has argued that this is precisely what a good argument does: a good argument should raise one’s confidence that a proposition is true. If Dr. McGrew is right about that—and I certainly find reason to agree—then we can view arguments as a species of evidence: structured reasoning that, when successful, increases the likelihood that a claim is true.

Here are some examples:

Let’s say an atheist argues, “There’s so much evil in the world. If God existed, he wouldn’t allow it—therefore, God probably doesn’t exist.” That’s an argument. It presents premises and a conclusion. And those premises serve as evidence against the existence of God.

On the other hand, a theist might say, “Whatever begins to exist has a cause. The universe began to exist. Therefore, the universe has a cause—and that cause is God.” This is also an argument. The premises offer evidence for the existence of God.

But many atheists insist that only direct observation counts as evidence. If God existed, we should see him like we see clouds or trees. And science should be able to run lab experiments on him. Since we don’t see God and can’t experiment on him, they conclude he must not exist.

This assumes, of course, that God is the kind of being you could see or test for in that way. But there are many things we believe in without direct observation—numbers, abstract objects, historical figures, even quantum particles. We believe in them because of the effects they cause or the testimony about them—not because we can pick them up or put them under a microscope.

Confusing Evidence and Proof

Atheists often ask for evidence but are really demanding proof. These are not the same thing, and conflating them is a serious error.

We’ve already discussed the nature of evidence. Now consider proof. Proof, in the strictest sense, belongs to deductive logic and mathematics. Take this classic syllogism:

1. All men are mortal

2. Socrates is a man

3. Therefore, Socrates is mortal

If the premises are sound, the conclusion cannot be false. Similarly, mathematical proof gives you certainty: 2 + 2 = 4. We’d never say, “Let’s gather more empirical data and see if 2 + 2 might equal 57.” Proof is final. It is not provisional.

Evidence, on the other hand, is what we work with when proof isn’t available. This is how science, philosophy, and most other disciplines operate. You gather evidence to determine what’s most likely true, even if you can’t demonstrate it with absolute certainty.

So no, evidence doesn’t produce proof—it produces reasonable belief and justified confidence. Historically, “proof” often meant “demonstration,” as in an argument intended to show something to be the case. But the modern demand for proof as absolute, final, and unchallengeable is unrealistic. It’s also not how most fields of inquiry work.

We don’t need 100% proof to reasonably hold a belief. In fact, no competent scientist would ever claim to have proven something in the strict sense. Science doesn’t deal in proof—it deals in models, theories, and probabilities. Science can be confident in its conclusions, but never final.

I’m reminded here of Albert Einstein, who was initially resistant to the Big Bang theory—a theory which, if true, implies a beginning to the entire physical universe. And if the universe had a beginning, then (very plausibly) the prior causal state behind it would transcend space, time, matter, and energy altogether. Einstein initially favored a static model of the universe, and whether this preference had anything to do with avoiding theistic implications, I’m not entirely sure. Nevertheless, to preserve a static universe, he introduced the cosmological constant into his equations of general relativity. Later, after Edwin Hubble’s observations confirmed the universe's expansion, Einstein reportedly referred to the cosmological constant as “the biggest blunder of my life.”

Even today, debate continues over whether the Big Bang marks the true beginning of the universe. Some scientists and philosophers suggest the universe may be eternal after all. But the point is this: when the “proof mentality” takes over—when we demand certainty instead of following the best available evidence—we close ourselves off to progress. Even Einstein struggled with this.

Proof says, “We’re done here.”
Evidence says, “Let’s keep thinking.”

Assuming God Can Be Seen

When atheists say that only the visible counts as evidence, they assume God is a being you could see with your eyes—an object among other objects. But if God is the infinite source of all that exists, why assume he should appear like a tree or a rock?

What if God has been present all along?

Maybe we don’t need flashy arguments or special visions to know that God exists. Maybe what we need is a deeper awareness of being itself. If God is the one who creates and sustains all being, then he is reflected in all things: in intellect, desire, will, and love. In you. In others.

Asking where God is—spatially—is like asking where air is. The question betrays a misunderstanding. God is not a localized object. He’s not “up there” or “over there.” He is the ground of all that is. So when atheists insist on seeing God in the same way they see chairs and clouds, they miss the point entirely.

An Unhealthy Admiration For Scientism

Scientism is the belief that every phenomenon can and must be explained by empirical science. I won’t go into every problem with this view here (though I tackle more of them elsewhere), but I do want to focus on the admiration problem.

Many people believe science suddenly emerged in the 17th century and replaced all previous methods of inquiry. They assume theology and philosophy were primitive guesswork, while science arrived and finally gave us objectivity.

But that’s historically false. Aristotle was doing science long before the 17th century. He made significant geological and biological observations and laid much of the groundwork for modern science. More importantly, he drew a key distinction between first philosophy (metaphysics) and second philosophy (empirical science). The former investigates causes and principles; the latter studies what is. They’re different, but deeply connected.

Knowing more about the world through science does not eliminate the need for philosophy or theology. Just because I understand how a plane works doesn’t mean there was no engineer. In fact, the more I understand the inner workings of a Boeing 747, the more likely I am to conclude that an intelligent mind designed it.

Science is a wonderful tool, but when we confuse it with scientism, we end up with bad philosophy and bad science. Scientism is a philosophical position about science—it’s not itself scientific. And it fails to account for all the questions science cannot answer.

Science can tell you what will happen if you jump off a cliff, but not why you shouldn’t jump. It can’t tell you why enslaving people is wrong or why sunsets are beautiful. It can’t explain consciousness, free will, morality, meaning, or love.

That’s the role of philosophy—and, yes, theology.

Final Thoughts

I used to believe everything I’ve just critiqued. I didn’t understand arguments, confused evidence with proof, misunderstood the nature of God, and had far too much confidence in science as the final judge of all knowledge.

But once I started taking philosophy and science seriously, the fog began to lift.

I’m not saying all atheists should become theists overnight. But I do believe that if they understood arguments as forms of evidence, they would at least see the discussion in a more charitable and nuanced way.

With a little patience and a willingness to communicate, we can all begin to see the world in deeper, richer, and more sophisticated ways.

About Eric Van Evans

Eric Van Evans is a professor, writer, and YouTube content-creator. He graduated from Rutgers University, with BAs in philosophy and psychology. Thereafter, he moved on to graduate school at Johns Hopkins University, where he obtained his MA in international affairs and global security. His graduate thesis explored Hungary’s democratic backsliding. Outside of academics, Eric enjoys traveling, spending time with friends and family, and watching hockey.