Plato: The Apology
I went to a man who seemed wise: thinking that there, if
anywhere, I should prove the answer wrong, and be able to say to the oracle,
“You said that I am the wisest of men; but this man is wiser than I am.” So I
examined him—I need not tell you his name, he was a public man, but this was
the result, Athenians. When I conversed with him, I came to see that, though
many persons, and chiefly he himself, thought that he was wise, yet he was not
wise. And then I tried to show him that he was not wise, though he fancied that
he was; and by that I gained his hatred, and the hatred of many of the
bystanders. So when I went away, I thought to myself, “I am wiser than this
man: neither of us probably knows anything that is really good, but he thinks
that he has knowledge, when he has it not, while I, seeing that I have no
knowledge, do not think that I have.” In this point, at least, I seem to be a
little wiser than he is; I do not think that I know what I do not know. Next I
went to another man, who seemed to be still wiser, with just the same result.
And there again I gained his hatred. . . . After the public men I went to the
poets, tragic, dithyrambic [frenzied], and others, thinking there to find
myself manifestly more ignorant than they. So I took up the poems on which I
thought that they had spent most pains, and asked them what they meant wishing
also for instruction. I am ashamed to tell you the truth, my friends, but I
must say it. In short, almost any of the bystanders would have spoken better
about the works of these poets than the poets themselves. So I soon found that
it is not by wisdom that the poets create their works, but by a certain natural
power, and by inspiration, like soothsayers and prophets: for though such
persons say many fine things, they know nothing of what they say. And the poets
seemed to me to be in a like case. And at the same time I perceived that, because
of their poetry, they thought that they were the wisest of men in other matters
too, which they were not. So I went away again, thinking that I had the same
advantage over them as over the public men.
Finally I went to the artisans: for I was conscious, in a
word, that I had no knowledge at all, and I was sure that I should find that
they knew many fine things. And in that I was not mistaken. They knew what I
did not know, and so far they were wiser than I. But, Athenians, it seemed to
me that the skilled craftsmen made the same mistake as the poets. Each of them
claimed to have great wisdom in the highest matters because he was skilful in
his own art; and this fault of theirs threw their real wisdom into the shade. So
I asked myself on behalf of the oracle whether I would choose to remain as I
was, neither wise in their wisdom nor ignorant in their ignorance, or to have
both, as they had them. And I made answer to myself and to the oracle that it
were better for me to remain as I was.
This search, Athenians, has gained me much hatred of a very
fierce and bitter kind, which has caused many false accusations against me; and
I am called by the name of wise. For the bystanders always think that I am wise
myself in any matter wherein I convict another man of ignorance. But in truth, my
friends, perhaps it is God who is wise: and by this oracle he may have meant
that man’s wisdom is worth little or nothing. He did not mean, I think, that
Socrates is wise: he only took me as an example, and made use of my name, as
though he would say to men: “He among you is wisest, who, like Socrates, is
convinced that for wisdom he is verily worthless.” And therefore I still go
about searching and testing every man whom I think wise, whether he be a
citizen or a stranger, according to the word of the God [Apollo]; and whenever
I find that he is not wise, I point that out to him in the service of the God. And
I am so busy in this pursuit that I have never had leisure to take any part
worth mentioning in public matters, or to look after my private affairs. I am
in very great poverty by my service to the God.
And besides this, the young men who follow me about, who are
the sons of wealthy persons and with much leisure, by nature delight in hearing
men cross-questioned: and they often imitate me among themselves: then they try
their hand at cross-questioning other people. And, I imagine, they find a great
abundance of men who think that they know a great deal, when in truth they know
little or nothing. And then the persons who are cross-questioned are angry with
me instead of with themselves: and say that Socrates is an abominable fellow
who corrupts the young. And when they are asked, Why, what
does he do? what does he teach? they
have nothing to say; but, not to seem at a loss, they repeat the stock charges
against all philosophers, and say that he investigates things in the air and
under the earth, and that he teaches people to disbelieve in the gods, and “to
make the worst appear the better reason.” For I fancy they would not like to
confess the truth, that they are shown up as mere
ignorant pretenders to knowledge. And so they have filled your ears with their
fierce slanders for a long time, for they are zealous and fierce, and numerous:
they are well-disciplined too, and plausible in speech. .
Had Socrates been willing to compromise and to stop
teaching his philosophy, it is likely that he would not have received the death
penalty. However, for Socrates the pursuit of truth was the highest human
activity; it involved the person’s whole being. It transformed the individual, enabling
him to live in accordance with moral values that had been arrived at through
thought and that could be defended rationally.
….But I know well that it is evil and base to do wrong and
to disobey my better, whether he be man or god. And I will never choose what I
know to be evil, and fear and fly from what may possibly be a good. And so, even
if you acquit me now, and do not listen to Anytus’
this prosecutor’s) argument that I ought never to have been brought to trial, if
I was to be acquitted; and that as it is, you are bound to put me to death, because
if I were to escape, all your children would forthwith be utterly corrupted by practising what Socrates teaches: if you were therefore to
say to me, “Socrates, this time we will not listen to Anytus:
we will let you go: but on this condition, that you cease from carrying on this
search, and from philosophy: if you are found doing that again, you shall die:”
I say, if you offered to let me go on these terms, I should reply:—“Athenians, I
hold you in the highest regard and love; but I will obey the God rather than
you: and as long as I have breath and power I will not cease from philosophy, and
from exhorting you and setting forth the truth to any of you whom I meet, saying
as I am wont, ‘My excellent friend, you are a citizen of Athens, a city very
great and very famous for wisdom and power of mind: are you not ashamed of
caring so much for the making of money, and for reputation and honour? Will you not spend thought or care on wisdom and
truth and the perfecting of your soul?’“ And if he dispute my words, and say
that he does care for these things, I shall not forthwith release him and go
away: I shall question him and cross- examine him: and if I think that he has
not virtue, though he says that he has, I shall reproach him for setting the
least value on the most important things; and the greater value on the more
worthless. This shall I do to every one whom I meet, old or young, citizen or
stranger; but especially to the citizens, for they are more nearly akin to me. For
know well, the God commands me so to do. And I think that nothing better has
ever happened to you in your city than my service to the God. For I spend my
whole life in going about persuading you all, both young and old, to give your
first and chiefest care to the perfection of your
souls: and not till you have done that to care for your bodies or your wealth. I
tell you, that virtue does not come from wealth, but that wealth and every
other good, whether public or private, which men have, come from virtue. If
then I corrupt the youth by this teaching, the mischief is great; but if any
man says that I teach anything else, he speaks falsely. And therefore, Athenians,
I say, either listen to Anytus, or do not listen to
him: either acquit me, or do not acquit me: but be sure that I shall not alter
my life; no, not if I have to die for it many times.
Do not interrupt me, Athenians. Remember the request which I
made to you, and listen to my words. I think that it will do you good to hear
them. I have something more to say to you, at which
perhaps you will cry out: but do not do that. Be sure that if you kill me, a
man such as I say I am, you will harm yourselves more than you will harm me. Meletus [another prosecutor] and Anytus
can do me no harm; that is impossible, for I do not think that God will allow a
good man to be harmed by a bad one. They may indeed kill me, or drive me into
exile, or deprive me of my civil rights; and perhaps Meletus
and others think these things great evils. But I do not think so: I think that
to do as he is doing, and to try to kill a man unjustly,
is a much greater evil. And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own
sake at all, as you might think, but for yours, that you may not sin against
the God and reject his gift to you, by condemning me. If you put me to death, you
will hardly find another man to fill my place. The God has sent me to attack
the city, if I may use a ludicrous simile, just as if it were a great and noble
horse, which was rather sluggish from its size and needed a gadfly to rouse it:
and I think that I am the gadfly that the God has set upon the city: for I
never cease settling on you as it were at every point, and rousing, and
exhorting, and reproaching each man of you all day long. You will hardly find
any one else, my friends, to fill my place: and, if you take my advice, you
will spare my life. You are indignant, as drowsy persons are when they are
awakened, and, of course, if you are persuaded by Anytus,
you could easily kill me with a single blow, and then sleep on undisturbed for
the rest of your lives. .
Perhaps someone will say, “Why cannot you withdraw from
Socrates is convicted and sentenced to death.
Perhaps, my friends, you think that I have been convicted
because I was wanting in the arguments by which I could have persuaded you to
acquit me, if I had thought it right to do or to say anything to escape punishment. It is not so. I have been convicted because I
was wanting, not in arguments, but in impudence and shamelessness—because I
would not plead before you as you would have liked to hear me plead, or appeal
to you with weeping and wailing, or say and do many other things which I
maintain are unworthy of me, but which you have been accustomed to from other
men. But when I was defending myself, I thought that I ought not to do anything
unworthy of a free man because of the danger which I ran, and I have not
changed my mind now. I would very much rather defend myself as I did, and die, than
as you would have had me do, and live....
And now I wish to prophesy to you, Athenians, who have condemned me. For I am going to die, and that is the time when men have most prophetic power. And I prophesy to you who have sentenced me to death that a far more severe punishment than you have inflicted on me will surely overtake you as soon as I am dead. You have done this thing, thinking that you will be relieved from having to give an account of your lives. But I say that the result will be very different. There will be more men who will call you to account, whom I have held back, though you did not recognize it. And they will be harsher toward you than I have been, for they will be younger, and you will be more indignant with them. For if you think that you will restrain men from reproaching you for not living as you should, by putting them to death, you are very much mistaken. That way of escape is neither possible nor honorable. It is much more honorable and much easier not to suppress others, but to make yourselves as good as you can. This is my parting prophecy to you who have condemned me.