Evidence and Understanding: Excerpt from Humanism from the Heart: Building Bridges Beyond Belief

When we discuss evidence, especially in the context of deeply personal topics like religious belief, it’s easy to see how quickly conversations can veer into heated debates—or worse, dismissive shouting matches. But at the core of this division lies a universal question: “What counts as good evidence?”

Good evidence is reliable, consistent, and repeatable. It’s grounded in reality, withstands scrutiny, and doesn’t crumble under the weight of contradictory findings. Scientific evidence, for example, relies on observation and experimentation. It is strengthened when people with opposing perspectives arrive at the same conclusions through independent testing. This kind of evidence builds bridges, unites disciplines, and offers a common language of understanding.

But evidence isn’t just about the hard sciences. In everyday life, we weigh evidence all the time. We trust someone’s character because of their past actions, not because of one grand gesture. Similarly, we judge the credibility of claims by examining the patterns that support or undermine them.

When it comes to religion, however, the nature of evidence changes. Religious beliefs often rely on personal experiences, tradition, or sacred texts rather than the empirical methods that govern science. This difference doesn’t make religious beliefs inherently invalid—it just means that they exist within a framework where subjective evidence, like feelings of transcendence or community, plays a more significant role.

It’s impossible to talk about evidence without addressing the obstacles to rational conversation, and many of these are rooted in logical fallacies. Consider the appeal to authority. “This must be true because a pastor, priest, or imam says so.” While expertise can be valuable, it’s not infallible. Or the ad hominem fallacy, where someone dismisses an argument by attacking the person making it. “You’re just an atheist, so your opinions don’t count.” One of the most common pitfalls in religious discussions is the appeal to ignorance. “You can’t prove God doesn’t exist, so God must exist.” This is a reversal of how evidence works. Just as we wouldn’t accept, “You can’t prove there aren’t fairies, so they must be real,” the same principle applies to claims of divine existence.

However, atheists and skeptics aren’t immune to fallacies either. The strawman argument, where one misrepresents a belief to make it easier to dismiss, often rears its ugly head. For example, reducing religious faith to “a belief in fairy tales” ignores the depth and nuance many believers find in their traditions. Evidence, while vital, doesn’t exist in a vacuum. People don’t just hold beliefs because they’re true—they hold them because they’re meaningful. For many, religious belief offers comfort, purpose, and community. For others, skepticism offers clarity, freedom, and a drive to pursue truth.

These motivations aren’t inherently in conflict. We can bridge the gap between believers and non-believers by focusing less on winning arguments and more on fostering understanding. This doesn’t mean compromising on reason or evidence. It means being considerate of the human need for meaning.

Take the idea of morality. Many religious people believe that morality is divinely given, while humanists argue it’s a product of empathy and societal evolution. Instead of dismissing one view outright, we can explore the shared understanding that helping others, fostering kindness, and reducing harm are universal goals, regardless of their origin.

The division between religious and non-religious people often stems from misunderstanding, not malice. Too often, atheists are painted as nihilists without morals, while religious people are dismissed as dogmatic zealots. Neither caricature reflects reality. By asking better questions and listening with genuine curiosity, ala Street Epistemology, we can find common ground. “What gives your life meaning?” is a far better conversation starter than, “Why do you believe in myths?” Similarly, acknowledging our own uncertainties—whether about the universe, ethics, or the future—can open doors to dialogue.

In the end, the goal isn’t to convert or deconvert but to coexist. Evidence is a tool, not a weapon. It can guide us toward understanding, but it’s empathy that helps us walk across the bridge. By respecting each other’s humanity, we take the first steps toward a world where belief, disbelief, and everything in between can coexist without hostility.