What a Good Philosophical Argument Is (and Isn't): Part 1

I believe there are good philosophical arguments designed to prove their conclusions—but what exactly makes an argument good?

I believe there are good philosophical arguments, the function of which is to “prove” their conclusion—to show or demonstrate that the conclusion is true. But we must qualify—somewhat heavily—what is meant by this and, just as importantly, what isn’t.

For whatever it may be worth, I am inspired to undertake this investigation mostly in response to several positions that I find rather faulty. With respect to the existence of God, in particular, I think two extremes should be avoided. The first extreme is the idea that any attempt to make a good philosophical argument for God is effectively useless or—worse—blasphemous. That strikes me as nonsense and seriously out of step with the Christian tradition.

The second extreme is the belief that one can “prove” or “demonstrate” God in such a way that it will convince any and all intelligent and unprejudiced people, and that such demonstrations are based upon and proceed entirely from self-evident truths. No. That also seems just definitely wrong.

Before I attempt to positively answer the question of what makes a good philosophical argument—that is, what exactly the conditions are for a philosophical proof—let me first lay out some conditions that are either too strong or too weak to count as making something a good argument—or a demonstration, for that matter.

First (as already indicated), that an argument is convincing. Many good arguments are not convincing to many people, including many intelligent people who clearly understand the argument. Thus, we should not say a good argument is one that is convincing or even convincing to most ideal agnostics, as Van Inwagen suggests. What’s more, people can obviously understand an argument without seeing that it is sound—though, equally obviously, one cannot be convinced by an argument without knowing that it is sound. For an example, consider the simple arguments below. I doubt anyone would deny that either I, as a theist, or someone else, as an atheist, understands the other’s argument. Yet neither of us sees the other’s argument as sound, even though one of them must be.

Let me also say that it seems empirically obvious to me that very few people ever truly “convert” (to religious or other positions) because of arguments. How few? Hard to say, but I suspect the number is far smaller than most people are willing to admit—even about themselves. Sometimes, people are moved by arguments, but in many cases, the argument simply gave them permission to move in a direction they already wanted to go but felt intellectually blocked from pursuing.

So, arguments can absolutely play a supportive role in conversion, but conversion to a philosophical or religious position is often a far more complex process than just being persuaded by arguments. Many times, arguments lead people to have or undertake certain experiences, and those experiences then facilitate the conversion. In such cases, the argument played a role, but not nearly as direct a role as most people probably assume.

Second, that an argument is sound. There are many arguments that are sound but that we would clearly not count as good arguments. For example, let us assume God exists and that the second statement below is also true:

Theistic Argument:

1. If God made woodchucks, then God exists.

2. God made woodchucks.

3. Therefore, God exists.

Sound? Sure, given the assumptions. But is it a good argument? I certainly don’t think so—especially since someone who disputes God’s existence would strongly protest the decisiveness of this example.

Similarly, the atheist can just as easily construct a sound argument, at least given different assumptions:

Atheistic Argument:

1. If God did not make woodchucks, then God does not exist.

2. God did not make woodchucks.

3. Therefore, God does not exist.

Again, sound—given the assumptions.

Not only that, but because there is an infinite number of possible substitutions for "woodchucks," this results in an infinite number of sound arguments against the existence of God. (The same holds for sound arguments for the existence of God, for the same basic reasons.)

Now, here’s the real point. Since either the conclusion of one of these arguments is true, and since most philosophers would agree that either “God made woodchucks” is true or “God did not make woodchucks” is true, it follows that there is an infinite number of sound (valid, with true premises) arguments for some true proposition (i.e., either God exists or God does not exist).

So, it cannot be the case that a good argument is just a sound argument. Both the theist and the atheist have an infinite supply of sound arguments at their disposal—yet surely none of these are reasonably countable as proofs! That is to say, even if it is granted that one of these arguments is sound, neither would qualify as a good argument for its conclusion in the sense of functioning as a proof.

Therefore, there must be something more, or something else, that makes an argument good. Mere soundness is insufficient.

Of course, with respect to the above examples, someone might protest that these arguments aren’t good because they haven’t proven their major premises (e.g., “If God made woodchucks...”)—that is, they haven’t supported their major premises with good arguments. But we all know the response to this, and it goes back to Aristotle: if taken seriously, this complaint would vitiate any argument—first or last—that any philosopher has ever given for any conclusion whatsoever. It would render all finite chains of philosophical argument useless, since all must “begin” with an unproven premise.

Thus, the criterion of having no unproven premises cannot itself be a serious requirement for a good argument. (Of course, this does not mean that all arguments are equally good simply because they are finite; rather, it makes the, I think, obvious point that the quality of an argument must depend on other factors.)

OK.

So far, we’ve mostly discussed what doesn’t necessarily make for a good argument. I’ve got more to say along these lines in a subsequent post before, eventually, attempting to answer what does make for a good argument.

Until then, stay philosophically frosty, my friends,

- Pat