Socrates: With Apologies

Socrates found himself in quite the predicament when Plato introduces him to us. Yet something about Socrates' recorded arguments and actions in the face of adversity made a profound impact on those who witnessed it, and on the entire course of western thought. Among historically unremarkable peers, Socrates has kept us pondering for centuries. He was not the first person to wrestle with questions of reality and truth, but even those before him are grouped in light of him as "pre-socratics." I am approaching Socrates' words in two ways. The first is the examination of his pursuit of what is true and what is best. The second is the examination of his personal characteristics that inspired the thought, imaginations, and respect of those who would choose to stand on his shoulders.

Having never been in a courtroom his entire life, a 70-year old Socrates finds himself accused of corrupting the youth and blasphemy, both punishable by death. Many have testified against him, and now is his chance to defend himself to a group of men who will cast votes concerning his life. His defense is known as his apology, but it was not apologetic in the normal sense. The term 'apology' is used here as a synonym for a defense, just as apologetics is the term used for the systematic, logical defense of religious or ideological beliefs.

Through his defense we learn why many are so upset with Socrates. The Oracle at Delphi, a priestess bringing messages from Apollo, told a friend of Socrates that no man living was wiser than Socrates. Socrates thought this was nonsense, and he decided to prove the oracle wrong:

I went to one of those who have the character of being wise, thinking that there, if anywhere, I should confute the oracle, and show in answer to the response that this man is wiser than I, though you affirmed that I was the wisest. Having, then, examined this man (for there is no occasion to mention his name; he was, however, one of our great politicians, in examining whom I felt as I proceed to describe, O Athenians!), having fallen into conversation with him, this man appeared to be wise in the opinion of most other men, and especially in his own opinion, though in fact he was not so. I thereupon endeavored to show him that he fancied himself to be wise, but really was not. Hence I became odious, both to him and to many others who were present. When I left him, I reasoned thus with myself: I am wiser than this man, for neither of us appears to know anything great and good; but he fancies he knows something, although he knows nothing; whereas I, as I do not know anything, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I appear to be wiser than he, because I do not fancy I know what I do not know.

Socrates goes on to conjecture that the oracle had given him a mission to show that human wisdom is worth little or nothing by questioning those who appear to be most wise and showing them to be foolish. The irony that Socrates is now considered the starting point for western philosophy, the raising of human intellect to a place of honor and power, is overwhelming. I can’t help wondering how western culture would be different if it had held fast to Socrates’ message instead of his impressive rhetoric. For instance, how would politics be different if humility was prized over the appearance of wisdom? Would teachers teach differently? Would judges judge differently?

Humility is not what our culture looks for in leadership. We want our leaders to know definitively what is best, and our leaders gladly oblige us with hubris and their sunny predictions of the future consequences of their decisions. Perhaps confident leadership is comforting in an unpredictable world, but Socrates cared more about truth than comfort. If the self-proclaimed wise are not truly wise, the comfort that their confidence brings is a false sense of security. It would be better to know the truth.