People engaged in or looking for a debate often make a big fuss about who has the burden of proof. Atheists say that theists exclusively have the burden of proof, and theists say either that atheists shoulder all the burden of proof or at the very least share it. At least some do. Either way, it often seems that no one on either side is ready to come out and say, “Yep, the onus is all mine.”
Now, I’m sure I could go research any number of authorities on the subject of who owns the burden of proof in debate, but not every exchange is a debate, and going around to everyone who makes any kind of statement saying saying “Oh yeah? Prove it!” strikes me as rather untoward, anti-social, even childish. Perhaps the issue is not so much who has the burden of proof, but when is the very notion of a burden of proof even relevant to begin with. Dwelling on who has the burden of proof in a discussion (rather than a debate) can be anticlimactic and even counterproductive to the goals of a discussion. Contention for contention’s sake will only close doors that would be better off if left propped open. So some wisdom is certainly due here.
Now, I’m sure I could go research any number of authorities on the subject of who owns the burden of proof in debate, but not every exchange is a debate, and going around to everyone who makes any kind of statement saying saying “Oh yeah? Prove it!” strikes me as rather untoward, anti-social, even childish. Perhaps the issue is not so much who has the burden of proof, but when is the very notion of a burden of proof even relevant to begin with. Dwelling on who has the burden of proof in a discussion (rather than a debate) can be anticlimactic and even counterproductive to the goals of a discussion. Contention for contention’s sake will only close doors that would be better off if left propped open. So some wisdom is certainly due here.
All this is to say, in a nutshell, that I’m not too concerned about what others might say about the burden of proof. Rather, I’m more concerned about (a) what I think about the topic, and (b) preserving any opportunity for an open exchange without attributing obligations on others that would damage such opportunities. This of course does not mean that I think a thoughtful theist should be prepared to give an account for his theism, but I do realize that theists really can’t do this in a rational manner to begin with. They need help, just as many of us do.
From the theist’s point of view, expecting him to prove the existence of the god he worships is almost like expecting him to compose a four-movement symphony on the spot. Who can do that? This is not to provide the believer with a ready excuse of being saddled with too tall an order, but rather to appreciate the enormous complexity of what may in fact be involved in religious devotion for a believer who has invested himself emotionally, psychologically and philosophically in his faith. There’s just a lot of detail to be managed there.
Then again, many composers both big and small have demonstrated the ability to compose symphonies, so it’s not as though the non-believer were calling for a feat of super-human prowess, given of course allowance for time constraints, creativity, careful analysis, a desire to do so, etc. This is where apologists come in: haven’t those who have taken on the challenge of defending the faith taken on the burden of proving the existence of a universe-creating consciousness and settled the question of “God’s existence” once and for all? Indeed, if there were such a thing as a supernatural consciousness which could create matter simply by thinking it into being, and some human beings had discovered and validated such a discovery, should this really be so difficult, this onus of proof, this burden to prove the existence of “God”? One would think that after all the hundreds of thousands of man-hours poured into vindicating theism, by now we’d have seen some sort of insurmountable proof. But we haven’t. In fact, I’d say there’s an argument to be made that the centuries of effort devoted finding a once-and-for-all knock-down proof of the existence of such a being, sort of speaks against the goals of such efforts in a very profound and humbling (if not humiliating) way.
As for who has the burden of proof in a conversation (mind you, not a formal debate as such), my view is pretty simple: is there a desire to persuade one’s audience, or not? If so, then be prepared to defend your position. If there’s no expectation or insistence that others accept the claim, then why bother?
For example, if I made the claim that I have a million dollars in my bank account and I want to convince someone that this is the case, I have the burden of proof – it is incumbent upon me to produce evidence in support of this claim. If I claim that I can pass through locked doors without opening them and I want to convince someone that I can do this, I have the burden of proof – I need to provide a demonstration of such an ability. If I claim that Bernie Sanders’ “democratic socialism” would be good for the future of America, and I want to convince someone of this, I have the burden of proof – I need to present solid arguments and stable definitions and produce an economic and political analysis to support such a claim. Get the picture? It’s not simply having a position that inherits a burden of proof; it is not merely affirming a claim that automatically bestows a burden of proof – though doing so can get very close! Rather, the lynchpin here is the expectation that someone accept the position or claim in question when they don’t already accept it.
Take another example: if my co-worker says to me, “My husband and I vacationed in Reykjavik over the weekend,” I am perfectly at liberty to ignore it and go about my business; I’m not immediately demanding proof that this might have happened. I am at liberty to ignore the statement and go about my business, and very often I do just that. And I probably would in this case: after all, I just saw her the Friday afternoon before – when she said nothing of such plans for her weekend when we exchanged small talk about our upcoming days off, and here it is Monday morning on the west coast of the USA; they must have flown out Friday night, arrived there sometime late Saturday and pretty much immediately boarded a plane back to show up at work on time. I kinda don’t think it’s true. But if my co-worker insists and says, “No, it’s really true! You gotta believe me!” Well, I’m not inclined to simply *believe* something that on the face of it seems outlandish – and yes, I reserve the right to judge what strikes me as outlandish as, well, outlandish! Firsthand testimony is not entitled to indiscriminate acceptance. Now, if she shows me pictures, airline ticket stubs with appropriate dates, stamps in her passport showing her entry into Iceland, and also provides a plausible explanation about the nature of her whirlwind trip, then she’s doing her part to meet her burden of proof, a burden she clearly accepts given the tall-order nature of her claim.
Of course, none of this prevents anyone from challenging a person who makes a claim that is not readily accepted, but I’d advise some prudence in determining when and how calling a person’s assertions and positions into question. There are times when views should be challenged, and there are times when it’s best to just leave them be. Numerous variables would factor into such determinations, such as the nature of the claim, the impact it might make in a social or political context, the circumstances in which the claim has been offered, even the relationship one has with the individual making the claim. If a stranger standing in line behind you at the grocery store insists to the person with him that the earth is flat and that the rest of us are all deluded into thinking it’s spherical (I actually heard this at a 7-11 earlier this year), why insert yourself and say, “Oh yeah? Prove it!”? I tend to treat such conversations as private and really none of my business; if people want to advertise their stupidity in public, they have that right and I will not violate it. Everyone needs to learn to let other people be wrong.
With that as prologue, I recently came upon a blog entry from some years ago, a piece of writing addressing this topic from a theistic perspective. Simply titled The Burden of Proof, the entry is even tagged with a label devoted to yours truly, though it’s not clear why.
The author of the entry begins as follows:
From the theist’s point of view, expecting him to prove the existence of the god he worships is almost like expecting him to compose a four-movement symphony on the spot. Who can do that? This is not to provide the believer with a ready excuse of being saddled with too tall an order, but rather to appreciate the enormous complexity of what may in fact be involved in religious devotion for a believer who has invested himself emotionally, psychologically and philosophically in his faith. There’s just a lot of detail to be managed there.
Then again, many composers both big and small have demonstrated the ability to compose symphonies, so it’s not as though the non-believer were calling for a feat of super-human prowess, given of course allowance for time constraints, creativity, careful analysis, a desire to do so, etc. This is where apologists come in: haven’t those who have taken on the challenge of defending the faith taken on the burden of proving the existence of a universe-creating consciousness and settled the question of “God’s existence” once and for all? Indeed, if there were such a thing as a supernatural consciousness which could create matter simply by thinking it into being, and some human beings had discovered and validated such a discovery, should this really be so difficult, this onus of proof, this burden to prove the existence of “God”? One would think that after all the hundreds of thousands of man-hours poured into vindicating theism, by now we’d have seen some sort of insurmountable proof. But we haven’t. In fact, I’d say there’s an argument to be made that the centuries of effort devoted finding a once-and-for-all knock-down proof of the existence of such a being, sort of speaks against the goals of such efforts in a very profound and humbling (if not humiliating) way.
As for who has the burden of proof in a conversation (mind you, not a formal debate as such), my view is pretty simple: is there a desire to persuade one’s audience, or not? If so, then be prepared to defend your position. If there’s no expectation or insistence that others accept the claim, then why bother?
For example, if I made the claim that I have a million dollars in my bank account and I want to convince someone that this is the case, I have the burden of proof – it is incumbent upon me to produce evidence in support of this claim. If I claim that I can pass through locked doors without opening them and I want to convince someone that I can do this, I have the burden of proof – I need to provide a demonstration of such an ability. If I claim that Bernie Sanders’ “democratic socialism” would be good for the future of America, and I want to convince someone of this, I have the burden of proof – I need to present solid arguments and stable definitions and produce an economic and political analysis to support such a claim. Get the picture? It’s not simply having a position that inherits a burden of proof; it is not merely affirming a claim that automatically bestows a burden of proof – though doing so can get very close! Rather, the lynchpin here is the expectation that someone accept the position or claim in question when they don’t already accept it.
Take another example: if my co-worker says to me, “My husband and I vacationed in Reykjavik over the weekend,” I am perfectly at liberty to ignore it and go about my business; I’m not immediately demanding proof that this might have happened. I am at liberty to ignore the statement and go about my business, and very often I do just that. And I probably would in this case: after all, I just saw her the Friday afternoon before – when she said nothing of such plans for her weekend when we exchanged small talk about our upcoming days off, and here it is Monday morning on the west coast of the USA; they must have flown out Friday night, arrived there sometime late Saturday and pretty much immediately boarded a plane back to show up at work on time. I kinda don’t think it’s true. But if my co-worker insists and says, “No, it’s really true! You gotta believe me!” Well, I’m not inclined to simply *believe* something that on the face of it seems outlandish – and yes, I reserve the right to judge what strikes me as outlandish as, well, outlandish! Firsthand testimony is not entitled to indiscriminate acceptance. Now, if she shows me pictures, airline ticket stubs with appropriate dates, stamps in her passport showing her entry into Iceland, and also provides a plausible explanation about the nature of her whirlwind trip, then she’s doing her part to meet her burden of proof, a burden she clearly accepts given the tall-order nature of her claim.
Of course, none of this prevents anyone from challenging a person who makes a claim that is not readily accepted, but I’d advise some prudence in determining when and how calling a person’s assertions and positions into question. There are times when views should be challenged, and there are times when it’s best to just leave them be. Numerous variables would factor into such determinations, such as the nature of the claim, the impact it might make in a social or political context, the circumstances in which the claim has been offered, even the relationship one has with the individual making the claim. If a stranger standing in line behind you at the grocery store insists to the person with him that the earth is flat and that the rest of us are all deluded into thinking it’s spherical (I actually heard this at a 7-11 earlier this year), why insert yourself and say, “Oh yeah? Prove it!”? I tend to treat such conversations as private and really none of my business; if people want to advertise their stupidity in public, they have that right and I will not violate it. Everyone needs to learn to let other people be wrong.
With that as prologue, I recently came upon a blog entry from some years ago, a piece of writing addressing this topic from a theistic perspective. Simply titled The Burden of Proof, the entry is even tagged with a label devoted to yours truly, though it’s not clear why.
The author of the entry begins as follows:
Most atheists will affirm the burden of proof lays on the christian since he or she asserts a positive claim, namely God exists. However, no claims can be made in a vacuum. Both the atheist and christian make truth claims either explicitly or implicitly. For example, the atheist affirms metaphysical naturalism and the christian affirms metaphysical supernaturalism. Therefore, both stand in positions of taking on a burden of proof.
The problem with the writer’s retort here is that it suffers from the very fault which he projects onto the atheist, namely by ignoring the fact that the insistence that the theist has the burden of proof is itself not made in a vacuum, but in fact arises out of a specific type of context. Consider for example the context in which believer and non-believer encounter one another and the topic of god-belief is raised as a point of contention, and debate consequently ensues. In such a context, the atheist is not asserting the existence of said god, so he certainly has no onus to present proofs that said god exists; the theist, on the other hand, is asserting the existence of a god – and it’s probably pretty clear that he expects the atheist to accept this assertion, so the theist naturally inherits the burden of proof, whether he likes it or not, whether he can meet it or not.
Meanwhile, given that there was a conversation that led up to the dispute, it should be obvious that both believer and non-believer both accepted many assumptions mutually, assumptions even more fundamental that the believer’s god-belief, as part of a common ground that, up to that point, neither party had questioned. One could enumerate these, but what’s the point? Wouldn’t that just invite the manufacture of more debate? If, for example, I pointed out that both I as a non-believer and my believing sparring partner accepted implicitly the fact that existence exists, would the believer – in his zeal to contend – react with, “Nope! Existence doesn’t exist!”? Well, it has been said (see for example here). If I pointed out that both I as a non-believer and my believing sparring partner accepted implicitly the fact that wishing doesn’t make it so, would the believer contest this? Bring it on, I says!
But theistic apologists are notoriously uncomfortable with this analysis. Rather than playing the good sport and acknowledging, “Yes, I do affirm something which you don’t accept and which I think you should accept it, therefore I’m going to assemble some proofs in the hope of convincing you of the truth of what I have asserted and see where that leads,” apologists instead seek to jerry-rig a debate of sorts in which the atheist shoulders at the very least an equal burden in the give-and-take of ever-calescent exchange. The believer, you see, doesn’t want to go down alone; he insists on taking others with him. That’s evidenced by any instance when a non-believer might say something to the effect of, “Well, you might believe that, but I don’t,” hoping to stave off an unwanted conflagration, only to find the theist insisting all the more that his beliefs are true.
The theist can be expected to make an effort to define the terms of the debate in an effort to give himself an advantage, for all things being equal, he has the toughest uphill climb and the most to lose. After all, if he cannot persuade the non-believer, he risks a blow to the security of his faith, and if the non-believer ends up walking away even more convinced that his non-belief in theism is philosophically unassailable, then the theist suffers a defeating blow that will likely reverberate in his conscience for months. “I should have said X!” will repeat in his mind over and over and gnaw at any joy he might be capable of experiencing.
What a waste!
by Dawson Bethrick
Meanwhile, given that there was a conversation that led up to the dispute, it should be obvious that both believer and non-believer both accepted many assumptions mutually, assumptions even more fundamental that the believer’s god-belief, as part of a common ground that, up to that point, neither party had questioned. One could enumerate these, but what’s the point? Wouldn’t that just invite the manufacture of more debate? If, for example, I pointed out that both I as a non-believer and my believing sparring partner accepted implicitly the fact that existence exists, would the believer – in his zeal to contend – react with, “Nope! Existence doesn’t exist!”? Well, it has been said (see for example here). If I pointed out that both I as a non-believer and my believing sparring partner accepted implicitly the fact that wishing doesn’t make it so, would the believer contest this? Bring it on, I says!
But theistic apologists are notoriously uncomfortable with this analysis. Rather than playing the good sport and acknowledging, “Yes, I do affirm something which you don’t accept and which I think you should accept it, therefore I’m going to assemble some proofs in the hope of convincing you of the truth of what I have asserted and see where that leads,” apologists instead seek to jerry-rig a debate of sorts in which the atheist shoulders at the very least an equal burden in the give-and-take of ever-calescent exchange. The believer, you see, doesn’t want to go down alone; he insists on taking others with him. That’s evidenced by any instance when a non-believer might say something to the effect of, “Well, you might believe that, but I don’t,” hoping to stave off an unwanted conflagration, only to find the theist insisting all the more that his beliefs are true.
The theist can be expected to make an effort to define the terms of the debate in an effort to give himself an advantage, for all things being equal, he has the toughest uphill climb and the most to lose. After all, if he cannot persuade the non-believer, he risks a blow to the security of his faith, and if the non-believer ends up walking away even more convinced that his non-belief in theism is philosophically unassailable, then the theist suffers a defeating blow that will likely reverberate in his conscience for months. “I should have said X!” will repeat in his mind over and over and gnaw at any joy he might be capable of experiencing.
What a waste!
by Dawson Bethrick
Dawson,
ReplyDeleteGreat!
To paraphrase a snippet from your latest entry: "Yet another reason why my non-belief in theism remains philosophically unassailable."
Thanks again!
Ydemoc
Thanks for the interesting post. I do have a question: if you insisted your coworker *didn't* go on vacation, would you have any burden whatsoever, and would you be obligated to give any reason? (I mean regardless of whether that is normal to do)
ReplyDeleteAnd also, by way of clarification, when you say, "if the non-believer ends up walking away even more convinced that his non-belief in theism is philosophically unassailable," do you mean to imply that *all* non-belief in God is philosophically unassailable? Or are you speaking of - if you will - "Objectivist" atheism.
I ask because different people can believe, or refuse to believe, things for oftentimes contradictory reasons.
Thanks
Hello Matthias,
ReplyDeleteSorry for not replying sooner – I’ve had house guests for the past week or so, and have more coming! My life has suddenly become socially claustrophobic!
Regardless, thanks for your questions, which are very thoughtful! I’m happy to clarify.
You asked: “if you insisted your coworker *didn't* go on vacation, would you have any burden whatsoever, and would you be obligated to give any reason? (I mean regardless of whether that is normal to do)”
Insisting would signify that I want to change someone’s mind. In essence, if I insisted on something, my objective would be to persuade someone to accept what I understand to be the case, and therefore I would have a burden to validate my position in such a case. Similarly, if I insisted that a thinker accept Objectivist principles, I would have the burden of proof, just as if a theist insisted that I accept his god-belief claims, he would have the burden of proof.
You asked: “And also, by way of clarification, when you say, ‘if the non-believer ends up walking away even more convinced that his non-belief in theism is philosophically unassailable,’ do you mean to imply that *all* non-belief in God is philosophically unassailable? Or are you speaking of - if you will - "Objectivist" atheism.”
I certainly do not mean to imply that all reasons offered for rejecting a position, whether theistic or otherwise, are philosophically unassailable. Certainly not! There can be and certainly are bad reasons for rejecting theism – e.g., emotional reasons (e.g., “God let my friend die, and now I’m so angry at Him that I’ll disbelieve in him!”). As important as emotions are, they are not a means of validation.
The statement you quote from my blog above is not intended to make any indication (let alone evaluation) of what specifically convinces the non-believer in question that his non-belief in theism is philosophically unassailable, whether it is for Objectivist reasons or otherwise. Rather, the focus of my hypothetical here is on the state of confidence the non-believer has when coming away from a exchange with a theist on the topic of god-belief, so as to say: if the theist’s efforts to dissuade the non-believer from his atheism not only fail, but have the opposite effect of fortifying the non-believer’s conviction that theism is false, untrue, arbitrary, irrational or what have you, that is likely to compound the theist’s internal anxieties on the matter, which he’ll likely actively seek to calm down somehow.
You wrote: “I ask because different people can believe, or refuse to believe, things for oftentimes contradictory reasons.”
Yes, absolutely!
Regards,
Dawson
Hi Dawson,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the reply, no apology necessary.
I understand what you're saying. It doesn't make sense to insist on something without being willing to give a reason for it.
So, generally, the types of Christians who would espouse a VanTilian approach to apologetics would be the ones who also believe persuasion ultimately comes down to, in their words, the "Holy Spirit." Meaning it really shouldn't cause a Christian such internal strife. But not even we Christians can be consistent 100% of the time, I suppose. I wonder if you've considered that.
If someone were to insist that God does not exist, do you believe there is a case to be made? I'm somewhat familiar with Objectivist thought, but I'm wondering what you would say, in light of your post here. Indirectly your post sounds like it's more advisable that a person be agnostic, instead of ...shall we say, an insistent atheist.
To be clear, I don't need any of these things to be the case. I really wondering what your thoughts are.
Thanks again,
Matthias
Hello again, Matthias.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your thoughtful questions! I’m just seeing this now – I still have one houseguest (two left yesterday) and of course work is consuming much of my time these days as well. Blogging has taken a definite back seat, but I have another one in the works I hope to get posted up soon!
You wrote: “It doesn't make sense to insist on something without being willing to give a reason for it.”
In essence, that’s my overall point here in regard to the issue of the burden of proof. If you want others to be persuaded to accept whatever you’re claiming and they’re not already sympathetic to it, be prepared to argue for it, or accept the very real potential that they won’t accept it.
You wrote: “So, generally, the types of Christians who would espouse a VanTilian approach to apologetics would be the ones who also believe persuasion ultimately comes down to, in their words, the ‘Holy Spirit’."
Yes, many have intimated basically just this, which I understand to mean that some imperceptible force is needed to overwhelm and compel a person’s mind in order to change it. I take that as a tacit admission that the belief in question is in fact not rational (voluntarily following the evidence won’t do the trick), but rather the result of the use of force against which no human being can defend himself. Of course, I don’t think there is such an imperceptible force; rather, I think it would be very easy for someone who believes something irrational to imagine that his acceptance of that irrational belief is motivated by forces which he is merely imagining. This also makes for a convenient copout when apologetic efforts are unsuccessful at convincing non-believers.
You wrote: “Meaning it really shouldn't cause a Christian such internal strife. But not even we Christians can be consistent 100% of the time, I suppose. I wonder if you've considered that.”
Sure, I’ve considered it, and I’ve observed inconsistencies between what an individual says and what he does, whether intentionally or due to some kind of compartmentalization, many times before. Some time ago I posted about Christian doubting. There I quote Gary Habermas as saying “I don’t know any malady that is more common among Christians than doubt.” But if someone truly believes that there is a god, that this god has taken an interest in him, that his beliefs are the result of supernatural forces, and that said god has actually saved him from eternal torment, what accounts for the nagging doubts and depression that many Christians have openly confessed to? No doubt, this is a huge topic! (Sorry for the unintended pun!)
You asked: “If someone were to insist that God does not exist, do you believe there is a case to be made?”
If I wanted to change the mind of someone who believes there’s a god about his god-belief, it would be on me to present reasons to for disputing and rejecting that belief. I see this as akin to presenting reasons for rejecting the notion of square circles (see here). In other words, I would point out the performative inconsistencies involved in allegiance to theism. That said, I know many believers and really don’t give a damn what they believe. If the topic comes up and my input is invited, you could say I have a few points to share.
You wrote: “Indirectly your post sounds like it's more advisable that a person be agnostic, instead of ...shall we say, an insistent atheist.”
Actually no, I would not endorse agnosticism, which I take to mean the view that certainty on the matter is unobtainable. I don’t think that’s the case at all. I am as certain that no gods exist as I am that square circles do not exist. Certainty on many things is available to anyone who really wants it.
Regards,
Dawson