Phaedo (3/3) – the journey to the other side

1280px-David_-_The_Death_of_Socrates — Jacques-Louis David’s famous ‘The Death of Socrates’ (1787), depicting Socrates attitude to his death, and the pain suffered by his friends. Socrates points up, to the forms, just as Plato does in Raphael’s ‘School of Athens.’

Before you read this post, have you read about part 1 and part 2 of the Phaedo?

Socrates is in prison awaiting his death, and like the committed philosopher he is has chosen to spend his final hours engaging his friends in a discussion about the immortality of the soul and the afterlife. Hoping to go to a good afterlife himself, Socrates has presented some tricky and rather controversial arguments for the immortal soul, the forms, and the idea of learning as recollection. In his final hours, he now digresses in mythological terms about what he thinks actually happens to the soul in the afterlife, and how the universe is constructed, after which he bids his friends goodbye. Here in the Phaedo, Plato is at his weirdest: and also (towards the end of the dialogue) his most poignant!

Phaedo digested (part 3)

Socrates: Well if my arguments for the immortality of the soul are anything to go by, it should matter a lot what happens to the soul in life as well as death! If the soul has to be pure in order to go to a good afterlife, we need to take care of it in this life. This is handy, as it means that bad people get the punishments they deserve, and good people get their rewards. Surely one of the most psychologically fundamental notions in all of humankind!

So what happens exactly to the soul after death, depending on whether it had a pure life? Well, the myth goes that a person dies, their guardian spirit (or angel) leads him or her to a kind of judgement place, like a court, where their fate will be decided. After this, they are guided on the path to the underworld, and after having served their time, a bit like in prison, they return. The path between here and the underworld has many forks though, I think, and it’s important for souls to follow their guides along the right path. Those that ignore their guides and cling on to the physical world, with all its pleasures and distractions, and engage in bad behaviour will wander for a long time before reaching its destination. Those of a pure soul who have lived a pure and moderate life, however, will be guided to a good place.

Bartolomeu_Velho_1568 — The ‘geocentric’ model of the cosmos, with earth at the centre, was a common (yet understandable) mistake made from antiquity up to Copernicus in the 1500s.

There are many strange places that souls can go; and there are many strange places on the Earth too! Humour me whilst, in my final minutes, digress about how the universe is put together. The earth, by my reckoning, stands at the very centre of the cosmos, and this is why it stands still, and doesn’t need anything (like air, of whatever) to keep it in place. Furthermore, the earth is very large and sits with the stars within the mysterious substance called the ‘ether’. We actually dwell in the ‘hollows’ of the earth, you know, but mistakenly think we live on its surface. We think of the atmosphere, the air, as beyond the earth, but it is actually a part of it. The heavens, which lie far beyond the atmosphere itself, are infinitely more beautiful than the sky we see. We live like deluded creatures, not seeing clearly the nature of the world or the heavens, but believing that what we see around us is all there is.

Simmias: That’s a nice image, Socrates. This idea that we don’t see the world for how it really is, and are mistaken about the nature of things…. it reminds me of what you said in The Republic, when you spoke about the allegory of the cave…

Socrates: We will get on to that one in a later blog post! For now, let me continue my account of the heavens and the earth. When looked at from space, the earth is a colourful, spherical ball. Much that is beautiful grows on the earth: all of nature’s glories cover it. Just watch any of David Attenborough’s excellent nature documentaries if you don’t agree! The earth is also covered with living creatures on land, in the air and in the sea. But just as we live on land surrounded by sea, there are even people who live on islands surrounded by air. They are like a race of supermen; they have no disease, and can see the heavens for what they really are.

4869440_orig — Tartarus, the equivalent of ‘hell’ for the Greeks, and a place that was literally underground.

What about below the earth’s surface? Well I’ve heard that there are all these interconnected rivers of fire beneath us, all of which are interconnected, and lead into a giant pit which Homer calls ‘Tartarus.’ – a terrible place. The Titans are imprisoned down there, you know. The rivers above the earth are all connected to Tartarus too, via a large and mysterious underground lake called Acherusia. One of the rivers that flow into this lake is the Styx, which you may already have heard of.

So if you believe this account I have given of the earth, it seems that there is much more to existence than meets the eye: in fact you can believe this without subscribing to the mythological account I have just given.

Simmias: That’s…. all a bit weird Socrates. I’m not sure I agree (or understood!) all of it. But tell me: how does this mythical account of the earth that you just outlined link to what you were saying before about the afterlife?

Socrates: I’m glad you asked! Let’s get back to the dead, and their journey to the afterlife with their guardian angel, or guide. They’re being judged. The ones who have led an average life go and chill in Acherusia (that lake) for a bit, until they have been purified more. It’s a bit like purgatory in Catholic Christianity. Most people go here. However, the people who have led such wicked lives, however, that they cannot be redeemed (murderers, rapists and the like) are HURLED into Tartarus (that big pit I was telling you about) and stay down there. Those who are criminals, but aren’t THAT bad (for example, those guilty of crimes of passion) get chucked into Tartarus but one year later get magically swept back out again and back to the lake. Once there, they have to convince the souls of their victims to forgive them… otherwise they get put back in Tartarus again! It’s a neat little system, if you think about it!

Simmias: Riiight…..

Socrates: Finally, those who have led a holy and virtuous life are freed from the earth altogether. They go to that pure place I was telling you about, with no disease and superhuman people. The philosophers go to a particularly good part of this place: they live in this unimaginably beautiful place, with no bodies: perhaps a bit like Buddhist Nirvana! There’s not point trying to describe what it’s like though; you have to be there to understand.

Simmias: Socrates, after listening to all of this, I’m starting to think you’ve been smoking the waccy baccy again…

Socrates: Not so, Simmias! Let’s be honest: no sensible man would ACTUALLY insist that the myth I have described is the definite truth, but it’s worth taking the risk and believing it, I think, or something like it. We’ve all agreed that the soul is immortal, so it makes a certain degree of sense to think that something of this sort, good or bad, happens to it after death. I myself am in high spirits about the state of my own soul; I have pursued the pleasures of learning and wisdom to the very end, and have gained virtue. Here’s hoping I go to the good place when I die! Which is any minute now…

Picture_Natural_History_-_No_365_-_The_Hemlock — Socrates opts to drink hemlock to fulfil his death sentence. It produces violent and disturbing symptoms when eaten; Socrates’ death was most likely sanitised by Plato (see thoughts at end of post).

[Addressing his friends]: Now then; you will all take this great journey I have described at some point. But my own turn has finally come. I’ll be drinking poison: specifically, hemlock. I’ll have a bath first though: it will save them washing my corpse!

Crito: My dear friend. I tried to persuade you to escape from here, but … here we are, and you have made clear your decision. Do you have any instructions for me, concerning your family or anything else?

Socrates: Nothing, Crito. All I would say is take good care of yourselves: I really mean your souls! Live as I have taught: with integrity and virtue. This is what I want for you and all my friends.

Crito: We will, old friend! But how should we bury you?

Socrates: Any way you like! After I have drunk the poison, you’ll only be burying a lifeless corpse: you won’t be burying ME at all! Tell yourself you are burying ‘Socrates’ body’; Socrates himself, hopefully, will have gone to a better place!

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Phaedo: Well, we’re nearly at the end of our epic story. After Socrates said these things, he and his friends, myself included, stayed on. We discussed all that we had heard and were heartbroken, for we felt we were losing not just a friend but a father as well. After he had bathed, he said his last goodbyes to his family. Soon, the jailer came in to instruct Socrates to drink the poison, but even he had tears in his eyes. ‘You’re not like the other prisoners’ he said to Socrates. ‘You are the noblest and best man to ever come into this prison. You know what I am bound to tell you; I wish you well!’. With that, the jailer left with tears in his eyes.

Socrates: What a nice chap! He’s been nothing but agreeable to me since I came in here. Anyhow, on with the job. Bring me the poison!

Crito: (desperately) Wait, Socrates! The sun has still not set. We have more time… why not sit with us, eat and drink, and spend more time with your loved ones?

Socrates: There is no use in doing this, Crito. I do not cling to life: I have none left, so now is the time to die. Do not refuse me: bring me the poison!

Phaedo: With that, the poison was brought forth by a slave. Socrates asked him what the procedure was. The slave told him that he should drink the hemlock, and then walk around until his legs felt heavy; then he should lie down. He offered the cup to Socrates… and he took it quite cheerfully. There was no hint of change in his expression. Saying a quick prayer to the gods, Socrates drained the cup of poison.

Up to this point, myself and his friends had held back their emotion; but after we saw him drinking the poison, we could do this no longer. I covered my face, and Crito was beside himself. Socrates himself seemed annoyed by this outpouring of emotion, and bid us control ourselves. His words made us feel ashamed, and we checked our tears.

After walking around for a while, and when his legs were heavy, Socrates lay down on his back. He gradually lost the feelings in his feet and legs; and as the numbing coldness crept up his stomach towards his heart, he whispered to Crito his final words: ‘Crito, sacrifice a cockeral to Asclepius, the god of medicine’. Crito promised him he would. ‘Is there anything else, Socrates?’ he asked through the tears. But there was no reply: the great philosopher’s eyes were fixed and unmoving.

Such was the end of our comrade Socrates: a man who, we would say, was of all those we have known the best, and also the wisest and most upright, we have ever known.

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What is this weird cosmological myth stuff all about? It makes no sense following on from Plato’s complex philosophical discussion about the soul!

O24.3Ganymedes — Socrates bids Crito to sacrifice a cock to Aesclipus. In ancient Greece, this is what sick people did in hope of a cure; did Socrates see life as a kind of ‘sickness’ from which we must be cured?

It is unclear how seriously Plato meant his readers to take the mythological proposals at the end of the Phaedo. The dialogue itself is much better known for its arguments concerning the soul, afterlife and forms, which formed the bulk of the dialogue up to this point. However, it is not the only dialogue that consists of serious philosophical discussion quickly followed by mythology; though the transition can seem jarring to modern readers, Plato uses this combination of philosophy and myth in the Republic and the Gorgias, two highly substantial and respected dialogues. Furthermore, his epic work the Timaeus consists almost in its entirety of the kind of seemingly proto-scientific cosmological theorising found first in the Phaedo. Many scholars, like many modern readers, have been tempted to bracket off these myths from ‘Plato’s serious thought’, and treat them as a historical curiosity or otherwise not take them seriously. However, Julia Annas argues that this isn’t the right approach, and suggests that the myths link more closely to the philosophical arguments than have been previously thought; for example, they often serve to add allegorical context or imagery to thoughts expressed in Plato’s philosophy. This can surely be seen in the Phaedo, where Socrates uses the mythological account of the soul’s journey to Tartarus, Acherusia or the heavenly realm as a means of explaining how justice is served in the afterlife. Futhermore, Socrates explicitly states in the dialogue that it would be foolish to assume that his theory represents knowledge of how the afterlife is really like. It’s more likely that Plato is here drawing on the myths of his day to give a mere suggestion of how the afterlife might operate, rather than a literal description. I this vein, it is more satisfying for the modern reader to read the mythical sections of the Phaedo not primarily as comology or proto-science, but an attempt to gesture towards something which Socrates happily admits cannot be fully understood or conceptualised.

Socrates’ last hours: would he have had SUCH a peaceful death?

Socrates has a rather peaceful death as described in the Phaedo (‘euthanasia’ means ‘a good death’ from the Greek). The way Plato, through Phaedo, tells the story of Socrates’ final moments is touching and poignant in the extreme, not just because it relates the death of one of philosophy’s greatest figures, but also because of the manner in which Socrates goes to his death, and the visibly emotional reaction of his friends and the prison jailer. It makes sense in the narrative context of the dialogue for Socrates to pass peacefully to the other side, given what has previously been said about his virtuous life and his supposedly pure soul. However, there is good reason to think that Plato made Socrates’ final hours sound a little more bearable than they might actually have been! Socrates drank hemlock, a poisonous flower whose symptoms, if eaten, include ‘trembling, burning and convulsions.’ Here is more reason to think, therefore, that Plato is not simply giving a straightforward report on what happened, but an idealised account that is consistent with Socrates’ philosophy and beliefs about a good death. Should this trouble us? No; we should not read Phaedo, or indeed any of Plato’s dialogues, as history. They are philosophical and literary creations designed to provoke thought on the biggest questions of philosophy. Still, we might well ask: where is Plato himself in all of this? Being a good friend and student of Socrates, we might expect him to be present in the prison. Phaedo, in part 1 of the dialogue, simply describes Plato as being ‘ill’ on the day Socrates died, which is unfortunate and more than a little mysterious.

Socrates is dead: is that it for Plato Digested?

We started with Plato’s early dialogues, which serve as a great introduction to the character Socrates and follow more of a quasi-historical / narrative structure. Now Socrates the character has been introduced, we can see him as a kind of permanent mouthpiece for Plato’s ideas from now onwards. I will now be working through Plato’s many other dialogues on this blog, which include The Republic, The Symposium and many others, in which Socrates plays a central role. Stay tuned!

maxresdefault — Socrates calmly kills himself, showing an impressively (or chillingly?) measured attitude to his own demise. His friends are not so sanguine about it.

Disclaimer

This dialogue has been abridged and re-worded, with some silly bits added, to make the key arguments more accessible and engaging. It doesn’t represent a totally accurate re-telling of Plato’s original (which can be read here). However, it is designed to preserve the key basic thoughts and arguments, as well as giving a sense of some of the fascinating philosophical issues that Plato addresses in this dialogue.

The Apology (2/2) – Socrates’ verdict

After making his not-very-apologetic apology to the Athenian jury and audience, Socrates prepares to face their verdict, on charges of blasphemy and corrupting the young. He tries and fails to appeal against their decision, and then like a true philosopher, prepares to face his fate…

Before reading this… have you read the Apology digested (part 1)?

**The Apology digested: part 2**

Athenian jury: Our verdict is…. guilty of all charges!

Meletus: Excellent! I recommend for Socrates the worst punishment of all… death!

Socrates: (sighs) Well this was not unexpected. I suppose I deserve it for being such a lousy speaker. I did warn you… but hey! I was expecting the verdict given to have a much greater majority!

(To the Athenians): Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Meletus recommends death. So be it. What alternatives do we have, now that you have decided me (wrongly, by the way) to be guilty as charged? Well, I deserve to be treated like a man who has neglected the usual pleasures of wealth, a job and social status in favour of caring for the thing that truly matters: the state of my soul, and teaching others to think the same. I’ll tell you: free dinner every night in the town hall! That’s what I truly deserve. I have literally spent my life trying to make other people – YOU – better. So that’s my recommendation. Instead of the death penalty: free meals for life! Digest that for a minute.

I presume you’re thinking even nastier thoughts about me than you already were, people of Athens. If only we had more time… I could easily convince you of my innocence. This trial has only lasted a day! But it’s irrelevant now. Shall I protest going to my death, the certainty of which we’re already seen is no reason to be afraid? Or shall I plead for a miserable life in prison or in exile, which will certainly be fearful? No, of course I won’t. Prison is miserable, and if I live out my last few days in exile, I’m damned either way: both for turning people away, and for continuing to teach them how to live, I’ll be hunted down. Could I live a quiet life away from it all? No. I can’t keep quiet when I am convinced that the only way to live is a life of virtue, a large part of which involves constantly talking about it to anybody who’ll listen! The un-examined life is surely not worth living at all.

But hey; let’s have one last go. I’ve made it pretty clear that I don’t deserve any punishment, still less the harsh punishment recommended by Meletus. So how about I pay my way out of this? I’d say that… hmnn….€2,300 seems about right for me. I don’t have this money, of course, but wait … my mates Plato and Crito say that they’ll round this up to what they suggest is a more persuasive sum of €70,000. They’re good for it, so how about… you….set me free? Please?

Athenians: The sentence is death!

Socrates: You will regret this day! You will all regret it, and you will feel the incurable guilt that comes with the knowledge that you have killed me, Socrates, the wisest man in Greece! Even those who don’t actually think I’m very wise will say so now, as you will make a martyr out of me with this ridiculous verdict! You have convicted me today not because I failed to persuade you, but because I didn’t lie down like a dog and tearfully Image result for a pig satisfied accept your demand to live a boring, quiet and obedient life, like a pig. Well, I would rather die than live this kind of life. It is hard to avoid death, but it is even harder to avoid wickedness, which I see has caught up with you idiots as quickly as death has caught up with me.

Maybe it was always going to be this way. But as I’ve said: by killing me, you make my philosophy stronger. Now even more people will bother you like I did, and you’ll understand that it’s always better to bettering yourselves rather than discrediting others.

And with this prophecy, my apologia ends. But let’s stay and chat awhile, you bastards! Nothing prevents us from talking, and I am determined to do this until the very end. And to my friends, I say that it is some comfort that the fate to which I now go seems best. Let’s hope that death is a blessing, rather than a curse, though as I’ve said, we don’t rightly know which one it is, good or bad. I know one thing: either death means no perception of anything at all (like a dreamless sleep), or it means going to another place, like an afterlife. If it’s nothingness, well, I can live with that. A dreamless sleep is better, as you know than most nights, and even some days! And if there is an afterlife, where everybody who has died is not living, well what a great thought THAT is! The underworld, if a place like heaven, would contain all the Greek heroes from the myths, and wouldn’t it be nice to hang out with them. And if instead the underworld is like a kind of hell, I could question and annoy all the people there who have suffered unjust punishment, just like me. Either way, I could carry on my philosophical questioning of people free from punishment by all of you arseholes! Who wouldn’t want to meet all their heroes in heaven or hell? So actually, it’s all looking quite good…

So to conclude, things are actually looking up. Now the hour to part has come. I go to die, you all go to live. Which of us goes to the better lot is known to no one, except God.

art-in-detail-the-greek-underworld-part-1-deities-25-638 — What kind of afterlife will Socrates go to? And will he meet others there to question and annoy?

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Is Socrates really convinced that his death is the best option?

Following on from his thoughts about death in the previous part of his speech, Socrates seems to have convinced himself that it’s better off for him to die rather than grovel with the authorities and lead the kind of inauthentic and ultimately meaningless life that they might expect of him. Plato’s Apology thus turns out to be a rather passionate and moving treatise on the meaning of life, the nature of death and how to come to terms with it, and the importance of never giving in to those who would deny you an authentic existence, whatever the cost. This thought is later brought up in the Phaedo, in which Socrates faces his own demise and muses that the proper aim of philosophy is the ‘art of dying well’, rather than primarily the art of living well. We may well agree with him, and this is one of many passages in Plato that has a striking timelessness to it. The great insight here is that we rarely choose how and under what circumstances we die; the only thing we can do is to face our death with courage and without fear, knowing that we really don’t know what’s beyond the grave, and that we should try to be happy for the life that we’ve lived.

However, it could be argued that this is a noble but rather idealistic account of the proper way to approach one’s death. Could Socrates really have convinced himself that his death was welcome, to the extent to which he went to it gladly, and with no horror or fear at all? Is it even psychologically possible for a person to engage in reason and argument (as Socrates seems to do) to achieve such a sanguine and admirable outlook on one’s death? And if he was so prepared to meet his fate in this way, why did Socrates even bother to give the Apology at all, much of which seems laced with disdain and righteous indignation at the Athenians who brought the charges against him? These points, coupled with Socrates’ lame attempt to pay his way out of his punishment, suggest that perhaps the great philosopher wasn’t as ready to meet his own death as he made out. And we can hardly blame him, consoling though his words certainly are.

Image result for hemlock

Disclaimer

The Apology (1/2) – the battle-cry for philosophy

p01128tw — Socrates attempts to argue / bullshit / insult / brag his way out of a death sentence

Socrates has been brought before the court of Athens on the charges of impiety (blasphemy) and corrupting the youth of the city. Whilst you might expect that a man who is in danger of being sentenced to death might plead with the jury, or proclaim his innocence in ‘apologetic’ terms, Socrates does just the opposite, and launches a passionate speech accusing his own accusers of hypocrisy and not caring for justice or virtue. But is it the right approach, and will it get him off the hook?

The Apology digested: part 1

Socrates: People of Athens! I have no idea how those that have accused me of these charges have got into your heads and tried to set your hearts and minds against me. I expect they warned you to be careful of the fact that I’m an accomplished speaker, and that I might trick or deceived you! But sorry to disappoint: I’m a terrible speaker. All I speak is the truth, and I’m here to tell it to you.

I’m an old guy for god’s sake: 70 years old, and this is my first time in court. I’m just going to tell it like it is. People around here have been slagging me off for years; all falsely, by the way. For example, that bastard Aristophanes, in his ridiculous play The Clouds, has tried to slate me in a load of nasty ways. Some people have been doing it for years; others more recently. I’ll start with the first lot first.

Aristophanes and other like him accuse me of talking a load of rubbish about a load of things, like which end a gnat farts out of. Fascinating, I’m sure, but I know nothing about farting. Really! Also, they have accused me of peddling my supposedly nonsense teachings for money in the city, like those arsehole ‘Sophists‘ that you hear so much about. Well, good for them if that’s how they want to earn their money. I myself couldn’t do this even if I wanted to: because I know nothing!

Image result for i know nothing That’s right: you heard me. Just like Manuel in Fawlty Towers: I know nothing! But I’m very wise though. Perhaps the wisest in the land! You might think I’m boasting, but the Oracle at Delphi said I was the wisest, on behalf of all the gods. And if you don’t believe me, ask my mate Chaerephon. Well, actually you can’t do that because he’s dead … but anyway, ask his brother or something.

But you know, I didn’t believe my own brilliance and wisdom at first, even thought the Oracle had told me. So I tried to find some people who were wiser than me. But when I spoke to each, I realised that really, they were all idiots! They knew as little as me: which was to say: nothing! But at least in my case, I was aware of my own ignorance, whereas they actually thought they were wise! So that proves it: I really WAS wiser than them, and the Oracle was right. Which just goes to prove my favourite saying: the wise man (i.e. ME, obviously) knows he knows nothing. So I can have my cake and eat it too.

Anyway, all this questioning people’s wisdom has, I admit, made me a bit unpopular. I get it: it’s really annoying. And I’ve done it everywhere: I’ve questioned politicians, poets and craftsmen, and it turns out they’re all idiots! Especially those with the best reputations for being wise. But I get it: being brilliantly wise as I am makes me really annoying. But I can’t help it! It’s how I am, and it’s how I will continue to be, because it’s what the gods want me to do. And how can you argue with that! And it’s clear that the people I expose for being idiots resent me, and are the source of these accusations against me. So on the accusations from them that I ‘corrupt the young’, I rest my case that it’s a load of bollocks, and that’s that.

Now for the people who have been accusing me more recently. Meletus, for example… oh actually, here he is in this court! Well this could get awkward … Meletus, you’d say that it’s important that the young men of Athens are good and as well off as possible, right?

Meletus: (slightly taken aback that he’s been picked out by Socrates) Well, yeah, I guess…

Socrates: And who or what makes these men better off in our society?

Meletus: Well, these people of the jury here for a start….

Socrates: Ok, and what about the audience here too?

Meletus: Yep, them as well…

Socrates: And everybody else too, right? All the inhabitants of this city all make the young men of Athens better off. Everybody except me, I suppose?

Meletus: Actually, yes! You are the problem! That’s why we’re going to have you put to death!

Image result for socrates horse — Horses: only made better off by horse breeders?

Socrates: Well THAT’S a load of bollocks, because with everything else, for example horses, only one person (the horse breeder) makes them better off, and most other people corrupt them! And the same is true of all other animals, and humans. So you’re obviously talking out of your … hat.

Meletus: Umm….

Socrates: And following on from this, do you think that any man intentionally wishes to be harmed by another?

Meletus: Well, obviously not.

Socrates: Well you’ve disproved your own case then, since if I really WAS going around corrupting the young, I would be running the risk of being harmed in return, and as you’ve said, no person would deliberately do that. [Turning to the crowd]: People of Athens! It’s clear (from the extremely convincing and water-tight argument that I’ve just presented) that Meletus is talking a load of rubbish when he accuses me of corrupting the young. He also, by the way, accuses me of being an atheist of all things! But this doesn’t make sense, for I am well known for believing in spirits, as Meletus knows. Isn’t that right, Meletus?

Meletus: Well, that’s what I’ve heard.

Socrates: Well the idea of an atheist believing in spirits is absurd, since as everybody knows, spirits are the children of the gods! Come to think of it, the idea of an atheist being spiritual at all is itself absurd! Just look at Richard Dawkins: he’s cold inside. And what about Alain de Botton: isn’t he a so-called ‘spiritual atheist’? Well, yes: so it follows that he is absurd. Which of course, as everybody knows, he is.

So I have proven beyond doubt that I am neither a corrupter of youth, nor am I a blasphemous atheist. But seriously now: it’s tragic that in this world, standing up for your beliefs can lead to danger, and even death. Look at me: here I stand in court, possibly facing a death sentence for simply living according to the highest ideals of virtue, truth and wisdom. But it is always better to live authentically and carry on sticking to your principles in times of danger than to bow down to those who try and bring you down, and live a pathetic existence because of it. Partly because to fear death is irrational: we simply don’t know what death involves. It is not wise to fear death: it might be good, it might be bad, we just don’t know. So you see, out of ignorance comes wisdom: the wise do not fear death, BECAUSE they are ignorant of it. So don’t think about acquitting me on the condition that I change my annoying, questioning philosophical ways. I will NEVER do this. I will continue to teach people that the best thing to do in life is to care for your soul and live a life full of virtue, rather than pursue money or anything else. I will do this regardless however dangerous it is for me to do so or how much I am threatened.

And if you, people of Athens, do put me to death, you’ll only be harming yourselves. I’m a gift to this city! I only follow the truth, and the voice in my head, my ‘divine sign’ that guides me away from things I shouldn’t do, like deliberately cause a stir in public with my ideas. In all of my public and private dealings, I have acted justly: and by the way, I’m not responsible for those looneys who have heard my words and done things that I never said were ok! Because I feel I am increasingly being held guilty through my association with these people.

OK; so I have established that whilst I am an extremely annoying philosopher, I am not guilty of any of your charges, and am both wise and committed to living a perfectly just life. Look at all these people here who have enjoyed my conversation over the years; I must be wise, or else they would have abandoned me years ago, since I am simply unbearable to be around at the best of times. There must be something in it for them! I’m the most irritating man in Athens!

So, to sum up for now, some of you may be wondering why I haven’t come in here pleading my innocence, or meekly promising to ‘be good’ from now on on your terms. ‘My poor children, won’t somebody think of the children!’ I could have begged. THIS would have truly been unholy and impious, which is the very thing I’ve been accused of. But as you can see, I am neither. And having proven this, I expect you’ll all just… let me off now? Please?

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What kind of ‘apology’ is this?!?

Though we might expect the ‘apology’ of Socrates to be a grovelling attempt to get out of what could be a death-sentence at the hands of the Athenian court, what Socrates produces is anything but. ‘Apologia‘ in Greek just means a ‘defence speech’, though this is no ordinary one. Though the language of my re-imagining of the first half of Socrates’ defence speech is adapted, the tone has (honestly) been kept pretty similar. Socrates moves quickly and unpredictably from sincerely proclaiming his innocence of the charges, to throwing accusations back at the jury and audience, and furthermore to openly insulting his accusers and at points even giving the sense that he is resigned to his fate. This has been taken as evidence that what we have here is a highly idealised account of the actual historical event, in which Plato attributes to Socrates a range of views and opinions which he either held but did not utter in such terms, or which Plato wish he had. Curiously, some of Socrates’ arguments and attempts to logically disprove his accusers, particularly Meletus, are hopelessly weak. This speaks to the real aim of the ‘dialogue’ being to simply put forward in an engaging way the ethos of Socrates himself: a passionate, unconventional but ultimately heroic philosopher who vows to live an authentic life and refuses to abandon his principles even when faced with death.

Wisdom consists of being ignorant

The Apology is one of the sources of a phrase often attributed to Socrates: ‘the wise man knows he knows nothing.’ This is perhaps deliberately playful and paradoxical on the part of Plato, but has a serious message behind it. True wisdom, for Socrates, consists of being conscious of what you don’t know; it is to see the world as a sea of complex and competing opinions, ideas and principles which need to be carefully distinguished and sifted through in order for a person to reach the truth and live a meaningful life. The world is not black and white for Socrates, and people who claim knowledge where they have none (for example politicians, whose sole aim is to propound the flawed ‘black-and-white-ist’ world view) are the truly ignorant ones.

Should we fear death? Does Socrates fear his sentence?

Socrates presents an interesting argument in this section of the Apology for why death should not be feared. Riffing off the ‘wisdom from ignorance’ idea, he argues that it is irrational to fear death, as this would be to presume that we know that death is a bad thing, and therefore claim knowledge where we have none. Since we are ignorant of what happens after death, we should not entertain such fears. As Socrates states in the actual dialogue:

“No one knows whether death may not be the greatest of all blessings for a man, yet men fear it as if they knew that it is the greatest of evils.” Source

I wonder whether the reader of this post is comforted by Socrates’ insistence that death shouldn’t not be feared. And I wonder whether this argument gives a clue as to how Socrates could predict his trial would end. Come to think of it, is the Apology so far an attempt to be acquitted in any real sense at all? And is it obvious at this point (for those who don’t know the story) whether the jury will acquit Socrates or not?

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