Crito – the social contract and the nature of justice

After the events of the Apology, Socrates awaits his execution in a prison cell. His friend Crito, who previously (and unsuccessfully) tried to pay for Socrates’ acquittal, arrives to try and persuade Socrates to escape. Though Crito’s arguments are persuasive, and he makes clear that escape would be a relatively safe and sure option for Socrates to avoid death, Socrates refuses, claiming that ‘justice’ demands that he face his own demise instead. Is Socrates mad? Read on to find out…

Crito digested

Socrates: (to Crito): *yawn*, I just woke up. I’m surprised you managed to blag your way in here!

Crito: I’ve actually been here a while, Socrates, watching you sleep. I’m amazed that you’re so happy, given that you’re a man staring his own death in the face. Did you know that your execution is scheduled for tomorrow?

Socrates: Perhaps it is for the best… you know though, I had a dream in which a woman in white approached me, and suggested that it would be the day after.

Crito: Riiight… but whenever it happens, I cannot (as your good friend) just stand by to see you executed! I’m afraid that people won’t realise that Plato and I tried to bail you out with our offer of €70,000 … they’ll think we abandoned you! In fact, the majority of people would surely agree that you should be freed!

Socrates: Well who cares what ‘the majority’ of people think? Why should I be bothered with the views of the majority?

Crito: Never mind all that now! Myself and your other friends are prepared to sacrifice our money, property and safety to bail you out! Take our advice: let us help you escape. Don’t be afraid to ask: we have the money, and places we can take you where I have friends, and you’ll be safe.

Socrates: ….

Crito: (Angry and impatient) What are you waiting for?!? But hold on…. aha, I see. You don’t think it will be just for you to escape from this prison … well I say that it would! By staying here, you allow your enemies the pleasure of killing you, and you’re abandoning your sons to a life without a father. How could you?! You claim to be good and virtuous, but a good and virtuous man would come with us, and not take the easy route and lounge around in prison like you are. I am ASHAMED of you, Socrates, both for that pathetic attempt at a defence speech in the court, and your apparent decision to resign yourself to death. Give up this stubbornness, and come with me now, and out of here!

Socrates: Calm down! Let’s just examine what the right course of action is here, and go where the arguments take us. Let’s start with whose opinions we should value in this matter. Presumably we should value some opinions, but not others?

Crito: Well yes, seems so…

Socrates: So I guess we should value the good opinions, those of the wise men, and disregard the bad opinions, those of idiots?

Crito: Can’t disagree with that!

5249a8fc5a0871655974f3352810acbb — Socrates improves by listening to his coach

Socrates: Let’s be specific then: footballers, for example. Whose opinion should they value: everybody’s, or those of their coach?

Crito: The coach, obviously.

Socrates: Good, so a footballer should do what the coach tells him to, otherwise he’ll get injured on the pitch, or otherwise come to harm. I’m sure my favourite footballers, Socrates and Sokratis, would agree with me! And so it is with justice too: we should disregard the opinion of the majority, and focus only on the opinion of those we think the wisest; if we don’t, we will corrupt our very selves! The wise man is to our soul what the coach is to the footballer.

Crito: Ok, I’m with you so far.

Socrates: There we go then: all those people who say this or that about whether what I’m doing is just or unjust can be disregarded: we should only listen to the wisest people with regard to doing what is just. YOU said before that I should heed all those people who would bid me be set free, but we have a reason to ignore that majority now.

Anyway, let’s look at whether it really is just for me to escape from this prison, ignoring those things that the majority of people would think relevant: money, reputation, children and all that stuff you mentioned earlier. If we do establish that escaping is the unjust and wrong thing to do, then it doesn’t matter if I die or suffer as a result not not doing it! Because staying here was the right thing to do.

Crito: I guess I agree. But what is the right thing to do in this situation?

Socrates: Well, we can agree right away that we should never do what is wrong. And so we are never justified in doing something wrong in return for being wronged: that is, we can’t hit back or retaliate against somebody who has hurt us. The majority of people, on the other hand, say that we should retaliate! But they’re wrong. Not to compare myself to Jesus or anything, but, you know, I think he’d agree with this point.

Crito: Well, I agree.

Socrates: But DO you though? Do you really seriously believe this important point about harming a person being wrong, even in retaliation? Will you stick by it?

Crito: I will!

Socrates: Good. The question is, then, are we harming anybody by escaping from this prison? Well, let’s imagine we were caught during our escape by a policeman, who represents the Athenian society. Let’s imagine a conversation, which might go something like this:

9780140442014_p0_v2_s1200x630 — Philosophers Rousseau and (earlier) Hobbes are most famous for the ‘social contract’ idea, but Plato got there first, 1000 years earlier.

Police: Stop right there! You’re completely ignoring the law by doing this! If everybody ignored the law, the whole of society would collapse!

Socrates: The city wronged me, so I am right to escape!

Police: Well you might be a bit cheesed off with your death sentence, but what you’re actually doing here is harming the whole of society by escaping! So ungrateful! You’ve been born here, grown up here, had a job here, made a life here… you’ve signed a kind of contract with Athens, you see, and with its laws, and you’re harming society if you break this contract, particularly in retaliation against your death sentence. You can accept the law, or you can persuade us to let you off (and you’ve already tried that one!) and that’s it. In fact, by trying to escape, you are extremely unjust!

Socrates: What? Why?! I never signed a contract!

Police: Oh yes you did. You chose to live here and benefit from this society. You were free to leave at any time if you didn’t like how it was run, but you didn’t: you stayed and made a living here! You had your kids here … you signed your contract with us, for sure. And then when you were sentenced, you could have pleaded for exile, but you didn’t! And now you try to run away, which goes against everything in our little agreement.

Socrates: Well, I can’t help but agree, actually. You have a point! I DID ‘sign up’ to live in this society, and am now being a hypocrite by unjustly acting against it.

Police: Damn right. And also, think about your friends. By breaking out of here, you endanger them. And you’ll be hunted down wherever you go, as you’ll have a reputation for being a lawbreaker, and your reputation will be ruined, even more than it already is! Will you go live in another lawless society instead, like where Crito’s friends live? I don’t think so. Your children won’t thank you for it: they’ll get no education, and be worse off. You’ll be known as an unjust man, and Hades won’t take kindly to THAT in the underworld when you get there! Better to ignore Crito, and stay right where you are.

Socrates: So you see Crito, in escaping with you, I would be acting unjustly, breaking my social contract, and therefore wronging not just you and our friends, but the whole of society. I won’t be persuaded on this!

Crito: I…… I….. I have nothing to say to this, Socrates. I can see that your mind is made up.

Socrates: Indeed it is, my old friend. Let it be this way: justice demands it.

Socrates prison — An ancient prison cell in Athens in where (possibly) Socrates was held. Whilst Plato’s dialogue-based accounts of the events of Socrates’ death are almost certainly fictionalised, there is no doubt that in general, it all happened.

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Is Crito right in arguing that Socrates is unjust by remaining in prison?

It may sound odd to argue that by escaping from prison, a person might be doing what is good and just, but this is precisely the view that Crito argues for in this dialogue, and he makes a persuasive case. Crito’s arguments concern the duties Socrates has to his family and his friends, as well as to philosophy as a whole: his argument is that in failing to take advantage of Crito’s escape plan, Socrates is giving in to his enemies, neglecting his sons, and allowing the state to triumph in its attack on the pursuit of virtue and wisdom, to which Socrates and his friends are devoted. The idea of moral duties was not new in the time of Plato, but has been influential in ethics ever since: Crito seems to be saying that we have moral duties to those close to us, and also to fulfilling meaningful goals in life, that may outweigh the dictates of the law. But Crito’s argument also leans on the consequences of Socrates’ escape: he doesn’t understand why Socrates is unwilling, given that he could in all likelihood make a safe and easy escape, aided by his friends. Crito also appeals to the ‘majority’: he says that many people would agree with him that Socrates is acting unjustly by giving up his duties to his loved ones and languishing in prison. But to what extent does the majority opinion matter when it comes to morality?

Does the opinion of the majority matter?

Socrates is very quick to dismiss the opinion of the majority, and favours instead a kind of ‘expert’ view on morality, where one’s moral action should be guided by those who are wise. This is a key theme in Plato, and anticipates famous discussions of justice and society in Plato’s masterwork, The Republic: the just society is the one in which the philosophers (those who are the wisest, and the experts on morality) rule, and the idea of a democracy (where the majority vote dictates morality) is rejected. We’ll return to this one again soon, when the Republic gets digested.

Socrates ‘social contract’ argument

Plato’s Crito is renowned for featuring an early version of the ‘social contract‘ theory of political morality, which later came to be associated with Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau. The idea is that by voluntarily living in a society, we form implicit moral and political agreements with that society (a ‘contract’), which form the basis of one’s existence. The idea that we owe something to the society in which we live is a common one, because it is often impossible to imagine our lives, with all their benefits and opportunities, being the same without the society in which they were made possible. For Socrates, the Athenian society made it possible for his parents to meet and marry, and for him to be educated and grow up to live a full life. Furthermore, this situation was not forced on him: Socrates could have left at any time, but didn’t. Breaking out of prison would therefore represent a violation of this contract, and therefore would be unjust. A further implication is that by breaking the contract, society is ‘harmed’, in a similar way in which a person is harmed when they are wronged, which Socrates and Crito agree can never be right.

Did Plato himself mean to approve of the social contract theory in this passage? And is the fact that it is attributed to Socrates suggestive that Socrates himself advocated the view? Probably not. In The Republic, Plato presents a rival view of justice as harmony of the soul. In this view, justice is worth having for its own sake, rather than (as in the social contract theory) having for the sake of an agreeable life in society and a good relationship with its laws. This is the big question: is justice merely a contract with one’s society, which would seem to imply that since each society has different laws, the demands of justice can vary, or is it something more objective and binding, independent of society? Given everything else we know about Plato, it’s almost certain that he would opt for the second if pressed. We shouldn’t assume, then, that everything Socrates utters in Plato’s work is a straightforward picture of Plato’s own views.

So, who is right? Socrates or Crito?

Both men make a compelling case, and their disagreement turns on where the most important duties of a person lie: with our families and friends, or with society? Crito proposes a view of justice which focuses on family and friends; in particular, Socrates’ sons. Socrates ignores this view, and focuses on society at large, offering a more impersonal view of justice. How these two views fit together, and which one we should prefer, is one of philosophy’s most enduring questions. By placing the demands of society over the demands of his loved ones, Socrates is satisfied that he will go to a virtuous death; but was this really the right thing to do?

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

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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?

Image result for socrates sorry — Socrates: a corrupter of youth?

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