The Defence of Socrates, Coursework Example

At the time of his trial, Socrates had become a popular culture phenomenon in ancient Greece, turning aside emergent theories of the day with aplomb, wit, and a complete disregard for the humiliation he caused some very powerful people. As such, he attracted disenfranchised thinkers and spawned enemies who would claim that his popularity corrupted his followers. From the Delphic oracle’s words, Socrates eventually agreed that he was the wisest man alive, because “he did not think he knew what he really did not know”, concludes the introduction by Santirocco. True to this pattern of knowledge formation, Socrates’ learning developed as a result of dialogue and the ignorance of others. True to Socratic form, his trial provided ample opportunities to explain his philosophies without claiming that “he knew what he really did not know”—or without justifying his trial with definitive answers or an explicit incitement to action. Thus, his ‘apology’ functioned more as a dramatic monologue, a mass appeal to ethos, than as recognition of any wrongdoing.

Knowing this background allows the reader to understand the dynamics of the trial. It was a test of Socrates’ wit and of his commitment to his philosophies—a test which allowed this man of the people direct access to a mass audience in a public arena. It never panned out the way that Socrates’ accusers seemed to hope it would. They presented a strong case, a fact which Socrates condemned as evidence of their uniform falsehoods, because, according to him, philosophers could study under a master but should not conform to the assertions of another. Knowledge is experiential. Socrates’ apology really consisted of a carefully-worded argument against the excess and presumption with which the ‘right’ beliefs were furthered by the accusers. Socrates points out that he argues against a unified mass of people, largely sheltered by their collective anonymity and spurred on by the fictions created of him while his audience was still young. To illustrate this point, he even quotes the fictionalized version of himself. Eventually, it  becomes clear that Meletus spear-heads the accusers; he asks Socrates to speak simply and tells the court that Socrates must be an atheist. Later in his apology, Socrates states his belief that he is ordered by God to make philosophical inquiry.

Socrates answers his accuser’s questions and admits his flaws and errors. However, the use of the word ‘apology’ in the context of his responses could only be used in an ironic sense. This is the ancient equivalent of interrogating Benjamin Franklin during the precursor to the American Revolution, a step which allowed that patriot a public arena for the explanation of continental grievances against Great Britain. However, the crucial difference between these two men, their approaches, and their fates is one that Socrates himself acknowledges: he believes that knowledge cannot be gained through diplomacy or forms of group-think. His accusers seek to use the large number of his philosophical followers against him, ignoring the fact that Socrates frequently states that knowledge cannot be sufficiently gained in great numbers—only the process through which it was found can be revealed. Although clever, his words also tended to incite more than inspire, as his contemporaries just did not possess the same quick intelligence and natural speaking abilities. Socrates emphasizes this tragic irony by calling his trial an ‘entertainment’, and it is certainly not difficult to imagine his trial as the figurative three-ring circus, complete with monkeys swinging their weight and screeching at the effects produced.

In the final point of his speech, Socrates reminds the court that he based his defense upon logical arguments only. Ironically, Socrates inspired new schools of thought, a consolidated mass of people ascribing to the same basic tenets of knowledge but differing on individual conceptualizations and perspectives regarding specific issues. He attracted hordes of followers throughout his years of denouncing group-think, and these masses could have saved him at the cost of some of his integrity. This integrity had made enemies throughout the long years of Socrates’ human studies, but his pursuit of knowledge remained unique for his refusal to yield. He pointed out that he had not conspired with friends and family to pressure the decisions of the court or to appeal to their sympathy or their fears, dragging weeping mothers and children to throw themselves upon the floor.

Tragically, Socrates forgot one of the most important necessities of being the idealized philosopher-king: with power comes the leash of diplomacy. Socrates would not allow himself to be leashed, and his accusers saw in him the rabid potential of sedition, straining to bite into more passers-by. Socrates was not oblivious. In his trial, he said: “I know only too well how many are the enmities which I have incurred, and this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed”. The wisest of men sees his destruction where other men often yield to pride and instincts of self-preservation. The Oracle of Delphi named him the wisest, so today’s readers face their own philosophical dilemmas as they study his ‘apology’. If the wisest man chose to sacrifice himself for his moral and intellectual beliefs, is worthy sacrifice the greatest of the continuum of human virtues? Socrates confronted death, concluding his speech with the observation that the overwhelming avoidance of death dishonors the state of life.

Socrates’ accusers made the mistake of underestimating him during the trial and no doubt expected him to collapse under the death sentence which they passed down (by a narrow margin). Plato tells us that prior to the punishment being finalized, so to speak, prisoners would customarily make a plea for leniency. In Socrates’ case, banishment in lieu of the death sentence would have been an expected compromise. The greatest ironies of his apology lay in the way which he met his end. Many of his accusers probably would have preferred to see him banished. A martyr is a dangerous thing, especially a martyr with devoted, intellectual, revolutionary followers. The trial had been a farce designed to humble Socrates before their authority and separate him from the influence he exerted in Greece. Socrates said at the end of his trial that he did not fear death, but men had said that before and come to the courts weeping for mercy. Instead, Socrates pardoned and apologized for his accusers, excusing them of their obvious wrongdoing and explaining that they were merely sending him to a better place earlier than God had intended. The accusers had condemned him to death for eliciting resistance and trouble, but in his final words Socrates admits only that trouble seems to find him and that death would free him from its pursuit of him- not his pursuit of trouble, as the accusers had claimed.

No doubt the accusers had expected the trial to drag on and for Socrates to make compelling speeches and embarrass them (for the last time), yet they were short-sighted. He had not stooped to betray his integrity by using the numbers of followers, as he was accused of, and had not begged for mercy even when standing at death’s door. He would not justify their hatred or their assertions that his outspoken nature created sedition in his wake. He died a godlike martyr of reason, saying nothing directly against his accusers but nonetheless having the last laugh. His words became immortal as any epic poem, and his accusers, such as Meletus became footnotes in his history. The ‘apology’ of Socrates absolved any guilt which may have existed, implicitly condemned his accusers, and preserved the legacy of dissenters who can speak volumes without a single direct answer. Such was his wit, that his apology is viewed with shame by the government who condemned and executed him.

Works Cited

Plato. Great Dialogues of Plato. Signet Classics: USA. W.H.D. Rouse (trans). 2008. Print.