Plato’s Apology of Socrates: Philosophy, Religion, and the Gods in the Origins of Liberal Education Roger Barrus Hampden-Sydney College Liberal education is that form education appropriate for a free human being, who is both an individual with his own ends, and a citizen with purposes and responsibilities relating to the society to which he belongs. It aims not so much at acquiring the means useful for human life, as at the attainment of the fullness of that life, what the ancient Greeks called eudaimonía, which can be translated as “happiness” or perhaps better as “blessedness.” Liberal education addresses the human yearning for wholeness, overcoming the separation and even antagonism between the two essential spheres of human life (see Apology 20b.) The idea of liberal education in the West can be traced back to Socrates and his student Plato. Socrates in effect invented liberal education when, as Cicero says, he called “philosophy down from the heavens and set her in the cities of men and bring her to ask questions about life and morality and things good and evil.”1 There were philosophers before Socrates, but they were not interested in human affairs. Socrates himself began as such a philosopher, seeking “that wisdom, which they call the investigation concerning nature,” to know “the causes of each thing, through what each thing comes to be, and through what it is destroyed, and through what it exists” (Phaedo 96a.) At some point, however, he made a change, which he calls his “second sailing” It is this that brought him and his thought into the sphere of human affairs. Since Socrates did not write anything, his new philosophic approach would have disappeared with his death, if it were not for Plato, who wrote his dialogues. In a few dialogues, Plato goes beyond Socrates’ practice of the new approach—his questioning, which he calls his art of dialectic—to its origin, that is, to the transition from his 1 “pre-Socratic” to his “Socratic” phases. In most cases, what Socrates says is reported through others. In one case, the Apology of Socrates, Plato has Socrates speak directly about his turn. The dramatic situation of the Apology makes it the most comprehensive treatment of the subject. Socrates is on trial before a jury of five hundred Athenian citizens on potentially capital charges relating to his activity as a philosopher. The indictment compels him to do something he has never done before, which is to come before the “multitude” of the city (31c.) He promises to tell the “whole truth” about what he calls his “business” or “affair” (pragma, see 20c.) This is no simple task: he must explain his affair—what it is, how he came to it, and how it is beneficial—to people who have no experience with philosophy, and are predisposed to think of it as useless and even pernicious. There is a further complication: the Apology is the only dialogue in which Plato—at this time a young man with philosophic potential, as well as poetic talent—is specifically mentioned as being present (see 34a, 38b.) His presence means that Socrates has an obligation to explain his affair even beyond what is required by the indictment against him: Plato’s future, and perhaps even the future of philosophy itself, depends on his giving a theoretically adequate explication and defense of his turn. For these reasons, Socrates must employ a complex rhetoric in his defense speech, not to hide the truth but to make it as intelligible and persuasive as possible to both his audiences. Given what he says about his great age and the likelihood of his dying very soon whatever the court decides (see 17d, 38c), he is perhaps more interested in persuading Plato than the judges. Accordingly, the first issue that Socrates brings up in the Apology is rhetoric, comparing his accusers’ and his own (see 17a-18a.) 2 Socrates’ Accusers The most remarkable feature of his rhetoric is the cavalier way that Socrates treats the charges against him. He begins by mentioning the formal charges by the present accusers, Anytus, Meletus, and Lycon, but only to dismiss them as trivial in comparison with the charges by earlier accusers, nameless except for the comic poet Aristrophanes, who parodied him in the Clouds. Socrates characterizes the charges of the first accusers as “There is a certain Socrates, a wise man, a thinker on the things aloft, who has also investigated all things under the earth, and makes the weaker argument the stronger,” the problem being that people think that “those who investigate these things do not believe in gods” (18b-c.) Later he adds “teaching the same things to others” and “corruping the youth” to the charges (19b, 23d.) When asked how he corrupts the youth, he claims that his accusers only say the things that are are always “at hand” to say “against all who philosophize: the things aloft and below the earth, and not to believe in gods, and to make the weaker argument the stronger” (23d.) Finally, when he gets around to discussing the present accusers, he says that their charge is “something like this: Socrates does injustice by corrupting the youth and not believing in the gods the city believes in, but other spiritual beings (daimonia) that are new (24b-c.) Socrates thus makes clear that he is really confronted by a number of accusers, and that they make a variety of charges. The accusers, in chronological order, are the many who have an inchoate suspicion towards all philosophers, whose unconventional interests in what is above and below the earth show that they must be up to no good; the so-called first accusers—really Aristophanes in the Clouds, who charges Socrates with the offense of pretending to be wise, as a result of his scientific investigations; and the present accusers, who charge Socrates with the crime of subversion, by undermining the beliefs in the gods on which the city is founded. From Socrates’ point of view, the 3 most substantive accusation is Aristophanes’: it is deals with what is really important for him, the core of his being as a philosopher. The other accusations concern only the alleged moral and political consequences of his activity. Between the charges of the many—the real “first accusers”—and the present accusers, the former are more significant, because of the danger they present,: Meletus and the rest can not possibly prove their charges against Socrates in the one day allotted for the trial (see 37a-b), so they must be relying on public opinion to convict him. The one thing that all three accusations have in common is the concern for the belief in gods. The popular prejudice and Meletus’ criminal indictment more or less directly charge Socrates with atheism. Aristophanes’ charge is more subtle: Socrates’ activity leads people to think that he is an atheist. The accusations converge in the understanding, which is not questioned by Socrates, that the belief in gods is something essential for the moral decency and political stability of society. It is necessary because conventional morality needs the assistance of a supernatural guarantee to control the passions of the people. A profound unease about the stability of the social and political order is the root cause of a pious fanaticism that Plato illustrates in the Euthyphro, a short dialogue that he connects to the Apology by having it take place as Socrates is making arrangements for his trial. Euthyphro is registering an indictment against his father, for the accidental death of a slave who had killed another slave. Euthyphro claims that he is only carrying out the will of the gods, citing Zeus’ treatment of his father Kronos. Socrates engages Euthyphro in a discussion of the nature of piety, with the evident purpose of dissuading him from his action. He is able to demonstrate to Euthyphro that he does not know what piety is, but that has no effect on him, and he proceeds with his action (Euthyphro 3e-4e, 5d-6c.) 4 Aristophanes and the First Accusers With three separate groups of accusers, making different charges, Socrates presents a defense speech that is divided into three distinct parts. Given what he says about the substance of the accusations, it is not surprising that he takes up he addresses the first accusers before the present ones. Still, what he does is puzzling: to defend himself against the indictment, he does not need to bring up the earlier accusations at all, and in doing so he complicates his defense, by in effect prejudicing the.judges The explanation for his behavior is that Socrates is not really addressing the judges, but rather Plato. He is defending himself against Aristophanes’ charge that he is a boaster, claiming to be wise when he is not. More broadly, he is defending philosophy in what in the Republic he calls “the old quarrel between philosophy and poetry” (Republic 607b.) Socrates does not dispute the first accusers’ other charges: he does not deny that he studies the things above and below the earth, but only that he “understands” anything about them; nor does he deny that he teaches others, but only that he takes money for it (19c, e.) It is not even clear that these really are charges, for Aristophanes: he parodies Socrates’ studies and teaching, but he does not condemn them. One thing that Aristophanes does not charge Socrates with is corrupting the youth or anyone else: the characters in the play are corrupt before they ever come to him. The Socrates of the Clouds is a “pre-Socratic” natural philosopher whose main defect is that he is so carried away with his studies that he is oblivious to the effect that he has on the non-philosophers around him, which is to undermine the restraints of the conventional morality, supposedly enforced by the gods. Thus Strepsiades, an old man overwhelmed by debt, takes Socrates’ teachings about aerial phenomena to mean that Zeus has been dethroned, so he can safely break his oaths to his creditors (Clouds 1233-1241.) Aristophanes portrays Socrates’ indifference 5 to human affairs most forcefully in a scene in which two “speeches,” the “just” and the “unjust,” contend in a kind of political debate for the allegiance of Strepsiades’ son, Pheidippides (Clouds 888-1103.) The one speech champions the moderation of the old republican Athens, the other the daring of the new Athenian empire. Both are irrational boasters and slanderers. They are also both corrupt, the main difference between them being that the unjust speech openly embraces the base passions that the just represses out of shame. Socrates, for his part, has so little interest in the proceedings that he simply walks away. In the end, Socrates is punished for his indifference by Strepsiades, who is outraged by the effect of his teachings on Pheidippides, and so urged on by Hermes, the messenger god of Zeus and the other Olympians, he leads a mob against him. Aristophanes’ point is that, in his indifference to human affairs, Socrates lacks self-consciousness, which means that he cannot be really wise, the first requirement of wisdom being—as the inscription on the temple of Apollo at Delphi enjoins—to “Know Thyself.” The philoopher Socrates the opposite of the poet Aristophanes, whose whole study is human nature, in particular the passions, and thus can legitimately claim to be wise (see Clouds 520.) As Aristophanes subtly indicates—by having the Clouds, the ultimate realities for Socrates and the deities that he worships, appear in human form, complete with noses (Clouds 342-343)— this problem is not only practical but also theoretical: without reflecting on the nature of his own activity, he runs the risk that his observations and theories will be nothing more than the reflection of his own opinions. Theoretically, self-consciousness is the ultimate proof of wisdom, no account of the whole of reality being complete if it cannot adequately explain the one giving the account. Socrates appears to have taken to heart Aristophanes’ critique of philosophy. While he admits in the Phaedo that he began as a traditional, naturalist philosopher; he does not say, what exactly led 6 him to change. Judging by Aristophnanes’ prominence in the Apology, it is very likely to be that critique. The recognition that the traditional philosophic approach is insufficiently self-conscious is the beginning of his second sailing. The direct investigation of things can cause what Socrates calls a kind of “blinding” of the intellect, equivalent to the anthropomorphism of the Clouds in the play. The safer approach is to investigate opinions about these things, questioning other people’s opinions as a way of elaborating and testing his own. The second sailing is not an abandonment of the ultimate aim of philosophy—knowledge of the whole, including the fundamental realities that define it—but rather the adoption of a more self-conscious means of attaining that end: He defends his new approach by arguing that one who “investigates the things that are through speeches is not doing so more through images than the one investigating through things” (Phaedo 99d-100a.) Socrates’ investigation through speeches—his art of dialectic—is delicate and nuanced. He does not simply debunk the opinions that he investigates, which would lead to nihilism, its own kind of psychic blinding. Socrates treats opinions respectfully, as intimations of reality. His method is to use the principle of contradiction, the self-evident truth that "The same thing cannot act or be acted upon in the same part or in relation to the same thing at the same time, in contrary ways" (Republic 4. 436b), to exclude the false in order to allow the true to appear. Socrates cannot explain all this to the judges, so he tells a story. He prefaces his story—which he tells in response to a hypotthetical question: “what is your affair, and where have the prejudices against you arisen from?”—by warning that what he says might sound like a joke (20c, d.) His story is that a friend asked the Delphic oracle if anyone was wiser than Socrates. The question is puzzling, because it implies that he is already doing something that has given him a reputation for wisdom. His story thus cannot be of how he came to philosophy, but rather of a change he made in his 7 philosophizing. The god answers that no one is wiser, which sets Socrates off on a new course: knowing that he is lacking in wisdom, he takes the god’s saying to be a challenge to find someone who really is wise. He therefore questions people who are thought or think themselves to be wise, including statesmen, poets, and artisans. The statesmen turn out to know little or nothing, but do not know that this is the case; the poets do not even understand what they write, but still think themselves wiser than anyone else; finally, the artisans have real knowledge of their arts, but take that to mean that they are “most wise with respect to the most important matters.” From all this, Socrates concludes that the god is right after all: he is the wisest, but only in a sort of “human wisdom,” that he knows that he does not know (21b-23b.) The joke in this story is Socrates’ claim that he is serving the god by trying to disprove the oracle. The serious point of the joke is that he is fulfilling the Delphic injunction to “know thyself.” Wisdom is in essence self-reflective understanding: knowledge that explains simultaneously the observed world and the observer himself. In his questioning—which he says leads to some animosity toward him on the part of those he questions—Socrates is able to test his own opinions against those of others, and thus improve them. More importantly, he is able to test his way of life against others that are reputed to be good for a human being, and proves that it is best. He wonders whether it is better for him to be like others, “neither being a bit wise with respect to their wisdom, nor ignorant with respect to their ignorance, or to have both things they have,” and hw answer that “it would profit me to be just as I am “ (22e.) His activity leads Socrates to a rational being’s highest virtue and greatest good—wisdom—in the form that is appropriate to such a being who is not a god. His wisdom—”I know that I do not know”—is identical to his self-knowledge, which is the mark of his superiority to all other human beings, and demonstrates the superiority of his way of life to theirs. 8 Meletus and the Present Accusers From his discussion of the first accusers’ charges, Socrates turns to the present accusers’.Given what he says about his present accusers, it might be expected that he would deal with them last. His decision to take up their charges after those of the first accusers has the puzzling effect of putting his response to them at the center of his whole defense speech. Even more puzzling, this is the only part of his defense that he conducts as a dialogue, the method of questions and answers that is his customary form of philosophic investigation. Perhaps a hint as to why he takes this approach can be found in the way that Socrates deals with the present accusers: even though there are three—Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon—he treats Meletus as the first and almost the only one, and he questions only him (compare 23e and 24b; see19b) The only specific thing he says about the accusers is whom they represent: Meletus the poets, Anytus the artisans and politicians, and Lycon the orators. The significance of his examining the poet appears from something Socrates says during his defense against the first accusers, that “it is not possible to have any of them come up here nor to examine him,” so he must make his defense as if “fighting with shadows” (18d.) It is easy to imagine exactly whom he would like to call up and question: Aristophanes himself, who was very much alive at the time of the trial, and almost undoubtedly would have been in the audience.2 Socrates cannot call Aristophanes up because he is not among the present accusers, so Socrates does the next best thing: he examines Meletus, as a kind of stand-in for Aristophanes. In essence, the central part of Socrates’ defense speech is his critique of poetry, his rejoinder in the old quarrel between philosophy and poetry. Since he is defending himself against the present accusers, Socrates must in some way address their charges, that he corrupts the youth and does not believe in the city’s gods, but other new daimonia. These are not Aristophanes’ charges, however, 9 which concern Socrates’ claim to wisdom. What he does, therefore, is raise questions that are only tangentially related to Meletus’ charges, but are fundamental to Aristophanes’.The first question is, who makes the youth better? He raises this question supposedly to show that Meletus—whose name means “care”—does not really care, and in fact is “joking,” about the matter over which he makes his accusation. Socrates argues that if he knows who corrupts the youth, he must also know who makes them better. He then demands that Meletus name the people who do so, and gets him to agree that they include the judges, the audience, the councilmen, the assemblymen, and indeed everyone in Athens except Socrates alone. Socrates then comments on the absurdity of Meletus’ position, comparing the improvement of the young to the training of horses, in which the one—the skilled horse trainer—knows how to make them better, while the many are likely to make them worse (24e-25b.) While his argument has a surface plausibility, the example Socrates gives shows how it is defective: it is possible to recognize one who is making horses worse, without knowing who is able to make them better. Socrates is able to humiliate Meletus because he does not realize the flaw. Humiliating his accuser is not the real purpose of Socrates’ argument, however, which makes an important point, that is perhaps apparent only to Aristophanes, along with Plato. It is not carelessness that makes Meletus agree with Socrates, but rather something about his art: as a poet, his success depends on his acceptance by the public, and he therefore cannot afford to offend it. In particular, he cannot offend its vanity. If he expects to influence the public, he cannot diverge too far in his art from its opinions and tastes. Thus the poet as poet lacks the intellectual independence necessary for the real pursuit of the truth. If the poet does happen to hold unconventional views, he is not able to communicate them through his art, which requires him to echo and even affirm common beliefs. 10