Plato’s Apology of Socrates

Plato’s Apology of Socrates
How you, men of Athens, have been affected by my accusers, I do 17a
not know1
. For my part, even I nearly forgot myself because of
them, so persuasively did they speak. And yet they have said, so to
speak, nothing true. I wondered most at one of the many falsehoods
they told when they said that you should beware that you are not
deceived by me, since I am a clever speaker. They are not ashamed b
that they will immediately be refuted by me indeed, as soon as it
becomes apparent that I am not a clever speaker at all; this seemed to
me to be most shameless of them—unless of course, they call a clever
speaker the one who speaks the truth. For if this is what they are
saying, then I too would agree that I am an orator—but not of their
sort. So they, as I say, have said little or nothing true, while from me
you will hear the whole truth—but by Zeus, men of Athens, not 17b
beautifully spoken speeches like theirs, adorned with phrases and c
words; rather, what you hear will be spoken at random in the words
that I happen upon—for I trust that the things I say are just—and let
none of you expect otherwise. For surely it would not be becoming,
men, for someone of my age to come before you fabricating
speeches like a youth. And, men of Athens, I do very much beg and
beseech this of you: if you hear me speaking in my defense2
 with the
same speeches I am accustomed to speaking both in the marketplace at
the money—tables, where many of you have heard me, and else—
where do not wonder or make a disturbance3
 because of this. For d
this is how it is: now is the first time I have come before a law court,
at the age of seventy; hence I am simply4
 foreign to the manner of
speech here. So just as, if I really did happen to be a foreigner, you
would surely sympathize with me if I spoke in the dialect and way in
which I was raised, so also I do beg this of you now (and it is just, at 18a
least as it seems to me): leave aside the manner of my speech—for
perhaps it may be worse, but perhaps better—and instead consider
this very thing and apply your mind to this: whether the things I say
are just or not. For this is the virtue5
 of a judge, while that of an
orator is to speak the truth.
So first, men of Athens, it is just for me to speak in defense
against the first false charges against me and the first accusers, and
next against the later charges and the later accusers. For many have b
accused me to you, even long ago, talking now for many years and
saying nothing true, and I fear them more than Anytus6
 and those
around him, although they too are dangerous. But the others are
more dangerous, men. They got hold of the many of you from
childhood, and they accused me and persuaded you—although it
is no truer than the present charge—that there is a certain
Socrates, a wise man7
 a thinker8
 on the things aloft, who has 18b
investigated all things under the earth, and who makes the weaker
2
speech the stronger.9
 Those, men of Athens, who have scattered c
this report about, are my dangerous accusers. For their listeners
hold that investigators of these things also do not believe in gods.
Besides, there are many of these accusers, and they have been
accusing of a long time now. Moreover, they spoke to you at the
age when you were most trusting when some of you were children
and youths, and they accused me in a case that simply went
by default, for no one spoke in my defense. And the most unreasonable
thing of all is that it is not even possible to know and to say d
their names unless a certain one happens to be a comic poet.10
Those who persuaded you by using envy and slander—and those
who persuaded others, after being convinced themselves—all of
these are most difficult to get at. For it is also not possible to have
any of them come forward here and to refute him, but it is necessary
for me simply to speak in my defense as though fighting with
shadows and refuting with no one to answer. So you too must
deem it to be as I say: that there have been two groups of accusers,
the ones accusing me now, and the others long ago of whom I e
speak: and you must also suppose that I should first speak in
defense against the latter, for you heard them accusing me earlier
and much more than these later ones here.
Well, then, a defense speech must be made, men of Athens and
an attempt must be made in this short time to take away from you 19a
this slander, which you acquired over a long time. Now I would
wish that it may turn out like this if it is in any way better both for
you and for me, and that I may accomplish something by making a
defense speech. But I suppose this is hard, and I am not at all
unaware of what sort of thing it is. Nevertheless, let this proceed in
whatever way is dear to the god, but the law must be obeyed and a
defense speech must be made.
So let us take up from the beginning what the accusation is, from 19a
which has arisen the slander against me—which, in fact, is what b
Meletus11 trusted in when he brought this indictment against me.
Well, then. What did the slanderers say to slander me? Their
a sworn statement, just as though they were accusers, must be read:
“Socrates does injustice12 and is meddlesome, by investigating the
things under the earth and the heavenly things, and by making the
weaker speech the stronger, and by teaching others these same c
things.” It is something like this. For you yourselves also used to
see these things in the comedy of Aristophanes: a certain Socrates
was carried around there, claiming that he was treading on air and
spouting much other drivel about which I have no expertise, either
much or little.13 And I do not say this to dishonor this sort of
knowledge,14 if anyone is wise in such things (may I never be
prosecuted with such great lawsuits by Meletus!); but in fact I, men
of Athens, have no share in these things. Again, I offer the many15 d
3
of you as witnesses, and I maintain that you should teach and tell
each other, those of you who have ever heard me conversing and
there are many such among you—tell each other, then, if any of
you ever heard me conversing about such things, either much or
little, and from this, you will recognize that the same holds also for
the other things that the many say about me.
But in fact, none of these things is so, and if you have heard from
anyone that I attempt to educate human beings and make money
from it, that is not true either. Though this too seems to me to be e
noble, 16 if one should be able to educate human beings, like 19c
Gorgias of Leontini, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis.17
For each of them, men, is able, going into each of the cities, to
persuade the young—who can associate with whomever of their
own citizens they wish to for free—they persuade these young
men to leave off their associations with the latter, and to associate 20a
with themselves instead, and to give them money and acknowledge
gratitude besides.
And as for that, there is another man here, from Paros, a wise
man, who I perceived was in town; for I happened to meet a man
who has paid more money to sophists than all the others, Callias,
the son of Hipponicus.18 So I questioned him (for he has two sons):
“Callias,” I said, “If your two sons had been born colts or calves,
we would have been able to get and hire an overseer for them who
could make the two of them noble and good19 in their appropriate b
virtue, and he would have been someone from among those skilled
with horses or skilled in farming. But as it is, since they are two
human beings, who do you have in mind to get as an overseer 20
for the two of them? Who is knowledgeable in such virtue, that of
human beings and citizens?21 For I suppose you have considered it, 20b
since you possess sons. Is there someone,” I said, “or not?”
“Quite so,” he said.
“Who,” I said, “and where is he from, and for how much does
he teach?”
“Evenus,” he said, “Socrates, from Paros: five minae.”22
And I regarded Evenus as blessed if he should truly have this
art23 and teaches at such a modest rate. As for myself, I would be c
pluming24 and priding myself on it if I had knowledge of these
things. But I do not have knowledge of them, men of Athens.
Perhaps, then, one of you might retort, “Well, Socrates, what is
your affair?25 Where have these slanders against you come from?
For surely if you were, in fact, practicing nothing more uncommon
than others, such a report and account would not then have arisen,
unless you were doing something different from the many. So tell
us what it is, so that we do not deal unadvisedly with you.” d
In this, it seems to me, what the speaker says is just, and I will
try to demonstrate to you whatever it is that has brought me this
4
name and slander. So listen. Now perhaps I will seem to some of
you to be joking. Know well, however, that I will tell you the
whole truth. For I, men of Athens, have gotten this name through
nothing but a pearl of certain wisdom. Just what sort of wisdom is this?
That which is perhaps human wisdom; for probably I really am
wise in this. But those of whom I just spoke might perhaps be wise e
in some wisdom greater than human, or else I cannot say what it
is. I, at least, do not have knowledge of it, but whoever asserts
that I do lies and speaks in order to slander me.
Now please, men of Athens, do not make a disturbance, not
even if I seem to you to be boasting somewhat. For “not mine is the
story”26 that I will tell; rather, I will refer it to a speaker trustworthy
to you. Of my wisdom, if indeed it is the wisdom of any kind and 20e
what sort of thing it is, I will offer for you as witness the god in
Delphi. Now you know Chaerephon, no doubt. He was my comrade from youth as well as a comrade of your multitude, and he 21a
shared in your recent exile and returned with you. You do know
what sort of man Chaerephon was, how vehement he was in whatever he would set out to do. 27 And in particular he once even went
to Delphi and dared to consult the oracle about this—now as I say,
do not make disturbances, men—and he asked whether there was
anyone wiser than I. The Pythia28 replied that no one was wiser.
And concerning these things his brother here will be a witness for
you, since he himself has met his end.
Now consider why I say these things: I am going to teach you b
where the slander against me has come from. When I heard these
things, I pondered them like this: “Whatever is the god saying,
and what riddle is he posing? I am conscious that I am not at all
wise, either much or little. So whatever is he saying when he
claims that I am wisest? Surely he is not saying something false, at
least; for that is not sanctioned for him.” And for a long time, I was
at a loss about whatever he was saying, but then very reluctantly I
turned to something like the following investigation of it.
I went to one of those reputed29 to be wise, on the ground that
there, if anywhere, I would refute the divination30 and show the c
oracle, “This man is wiser than I, but you declared that I was
wisest.” So I considered him thoroughly—I need not speak of him
by name, but he was one of the politicians31—and when I considered
him and conversed with him, men of Athens, I was affected 21c
something like this: it seemed to me that this man seemed to be
wise, both to many other human beings and most of all to himself,
but that he was not. And then I tried to show him that he supposed
he was wise but was not. So from this I became hateful both to d
him and to many of those present.
For my part, as I went away, I reasoned with regard to myself:
“I am wiser than this human being. For probably neither of us knows
5
anything noble and good, but he supposes he knows something
when he does not know, while I, just as I do not know, do not even
suppose that I do. I am likely to be a little bit wiser than he in this
very thing: that whatever I do not know, I do not even suppose I
know.”
From there I went to someone else, to one of those reputed to be
wiser than he, and these things seemed to me to be the same. And e
there I became hateful both to him and to many others.
After this, then, I kept going to one after another, all the while
perceiving with pain and fear that I was becoming hated. Nevertheless
it seemed to be necessary to regard the matter of the god
as most important. So I had to go, in considering what the oracle
was saying, to all those reputed to know something. And by the 22a
dog,32 men of Athens—for it is necessary to speak the truth before
you —I swear I was affected something like this: those with the best
reputations seemed to me nearly the most deficient, in my investigation
in accordance with the god, while others with more paltry
reputations seemed to be men more fit in regard to being prudent.33
.
Indeed, I must display my wandering to you as a performing of
certain labors34 so that the divination would turn out to be unrefuted.
After the politicians I went to the poets, those of tragedies
and dithyrambs, and the others, in order that there I would catch b
myself in the act of being more ignorant than they. So I would take
up those poems of theirs which it seemed to me they had worked
on the most, and I would ask them thoroughly what they meant,
so that I might also learn something from them at the same time. I
am ashamed to tell you the truth, men; nevertheless, it must be 22b
said. Almost everyone present, so to speak, would have spoken
better than the poets did about the poetry that they themselves had
made. So again, also concerning the poets, I soon recognized that
they do not make what they make by wisdom, but by some sort of c
nature and while inspired, like the diviners and those who deliver
oracles.35 For they too say many noble things, but they know nothing
of what they speak. It was apparent to me that the poets are
also affected in the same sort of way. At the same time, I perceived
that they supposed, on account of their poetry, that they were the
wisest of human beings also in the other things, in which they
were not. So I went away from there too supposing that I had
turned out to be superior to them in the very same thing in which I
was to the politicians.
Finally, then, I went to the manual artisans. For I was conscious
that I had knowledge of nothing, so to speak, but I knew that I d
would discover that they, at least, had knowledge of many noble
things. And I was not played false about this: they did have knowledge
of things which I did not have knowledge of, and in this way
they were wiser than I. But, men of Athens, the good craftsmen
6
also seemed to me to go wrong in the same way as the poets:
because he performed his art nobly, each one deemed himself
wisest also in the other things, the greatest things—and this discordant
note of theirs seemed to hide that wisdom. So I asked myself e
cm behalf of the oracle whether I would prefer to be as I am, being
in no way wise in their wisdom or ignorant in their ignorance, or to
have both things that they have. I answered myself and the oracle
that it profits me to be just as I am.
This is the examination, men of Athens, from which I have
incurred many hatreds, the sort that are harshest and gravest, so that 23a
many slanders have arisen from them, and I got this name of being
“wise.” For those present on each occasion suppose that I myself
am wise in the things concerning which I refute someone else,
whereas it is probable, men, that really the god is wise, and that in
this oracle he is saying that human wisdom is worth little or nothing.
And he appears to say this of Socrates and to have made use of
my name in order to make me a pattern, as if he would say, “That 23b
one of you, 0 human beings, is wisest, who, like Socrates, has
become cognizant that in truth he is worth nothing with respect to
wisdom.”
That is why even now I still go around seeking and investigating
in accordance with the god any townsman or foreigner I suppose
to be wise. And whenever someone does not seem so to me, I
come to the god’s aid and show that he is not wise. And because of
this occupation, I have had no leisure, either to do any of the
things of the city worth speaking of or any of the things of my
family. Instead, I am in ten—thousandfold poverty because of my c
devotion to the god.
In addition to these things, the young who follow me of their
own accord—those who have the most leisure, the sons of the
wealthiest—enjoy hearing human beings examined. And they
themselves often imitate me, and in turn they attempt to examine
others. And then, I suppose, they discover a great abundance of
human beings who suppose they know something, but know little
or nothing. Thereupon, those examined by them are angry at me,
not at themselves, and they say that Socrates is someone most d
disgusting and that he corrupts the young. And whenever someone asks them, “By doing what and teaching what?” they have
nothing to say, but are ignorant. So in order not to seem to be at a
loss, they say the things that are ready at hand against all who
philosophize: “the things aloft and under the earth” and “not
believing in gods” and “making the weaker speech the stronger.”
For I do not suppose they would be willing to speak the truth, that
it becomes quite clear that they pretend to know, but know nothing.
So since they are, I suppose, ambitious and vehement and
many, and since they speak about me in an organized and persuasive
7
way, they have filled up your ears, slandering me vehemently
for a long time.
From among these men, Meletus attacked me, and Anytus and
36 Lycon, Meletus being vexed on behalf of the poets, Anytus on
behalf of the craftsmen and the politicians, and Lycon on behalf of 24a
the orators. Therefore, as I said when I began, it would be a wonder
to me if I should be able in this short time to take away from
you this slander which has become so great. This is the truth for
you, men of Athens; I am hiding nothing from you either great or
small in my speech, nor am I holding anything back. And yet I 24
a know rather well that I incur hatred by these very things; which is
also proof that I speak the truth, and that this is the slander
against me, and that these are its causes. Whether you investigate b
these things now or later, you will discover that this is so.
So about the things which the first accusers accused me of, let
this be a sufficient defense speech before you. But against Meletus,
the “good and patriotic,” as he says, and the later accusers, I will
try to speak next in my defense. Now again, just as though these
were other accusers, let us take up their sworn statement. It is
something like this: it asserts that Socrates does injustice by corrupting
the young, and by not believing in the gods in whom the
city believes, but in other daimonia37 that are novel. The charge is c
of this sort38 But let us examine each one of the parts of this charge.
Now he asserts that I do injustice by corrupting the young. But I,
men of Athens, assert that Meletus does injustice, in that he jests
in a serious matter, easily bringing human beings to trial, pretending
to be serious and concerned about things for which he never
cared39 at all. That this is so, I will try to display to you as well.
Now come here, Meletus, tell me: do you not regard it as most d
important how the youth will be the best possible?
[MELETUS]
40 I do.
[SOCRATES] Come now, tell these men, who makes them better?
For it is clear that you know, since you care, at least. For since you
have discovered the one who corrupts them, as you say, namely
me, you are bringing me before these men and accusing me. But
the one who makes them better—come, tell them and reveal to
them who it is.
Do you see, Meletus, that you are silent and have nothing to 24d
say? And yet does it not seem to be shameful to you, and a sufficient
proof of just what I say, that you have never cared? But tell,
my good man, who makes them better?
[MELETUS] The laws.
[SOCRATES] But I am not asking this, best of men, but rather what e
human being is it who knows first of all this very thing, the laws?
[MELETUS1 These men, Socrates, the judges.
[SOCRATES] What are you saying, Meletus? Are these men here
8
able to educate the young, and do they make them better?
[MELETUS1 Very much so.
[SOCRATES] All of them, or some of them, and some not?
[MELETUS] All of them.
[SOCRATES] Well said, by Hera,
41 and you speak of a great abundance
of benefits. What then? Do the listeners here make them
better or not?
[MELETUS] These too. 25a
[SOCRATES] And what about the Councilmen?
42
[MELETUSJ The Councilmen too.
[SOCRATES] Well, Meletus, then surely those in the Assembly,
43
the Assemblymen, do not corrupt the youth? Or do all those too
make them better?
[MELETUS] Those too.
[SOCRATES] Then all the Athenians, as it appears, make them
noble and good except me, and I alone corrupt them. Is this what
you are saying?
[MELETUS] I do say this, most vehemently.
[SOCRATES] You have charged me with great misfortune. Now
answer me. Does it seem to you to be so also concerning horses?
That all human beings make them better, while one certain one is b
the corrupter? Or is it wholly opposite to this, that one certain one
is able to make them better—or very few, those skilled with
horses—while the many, if they ever associate with horses and use
them, corrupt them? Is this not so, Meletus, both concerning
horses, and all the other animals?
Of course, it is, altogether so, whether you and Anytus deny or 25b
affirm it. For it would be great happiness for the young if one
alone corrupts them, while the others benefit them. But in fact, c
Meletus, you have sufficiently displayed that you never yet gave
a thought to the young. And you are making your own lack of
care plainly apparent since you have cared nothing about the
things for which you bring me in here.
But tell us further, Meletus, before Zeus, whether it is better to
dwell among upright citizens or villainous ones?
Sir, answer. For surely I am asking nothing hard. Do not the
villainous do something bad to whoever are nearest to them, while
the good do something good?
[MELETUS] Quite so.
[SOCRATES] Is there anyone, then, who wishes to be harmed by d
those he associates with, rather than to be benefited?
Keep answering, my good man. For the law orders you to answer.
Is there anyone who wishes to be harmed?
[MELETUS] Of course not.
[SOCRATES] Come then, do you bring me in here saying that I
voluntarily corrupt the young and make them more villainous, or
9
involuntarily?
[MELETUS] Voluntarily, I say.
[SOCRATES] What then, Meletus? Are you so much wiser at your
age than I at mine, that you have become cognizant that the bad
always do something bad to those who are closest to them, and the
good do something good; whereas I have come into so much e
ignorance that I am not even cognizant that if I ever do something
wretched to any of my associates, I will risk getting back something
bad from him? So that I do so much bad voluntarily, as you assert?
Of this I am not convinced by you, Meletus, nor, do I suppose, is
any other human being. But either I do not corrupt, or if I do
corrupt, I do it involuntarily, so in both cases what you say is false. 26a
And if I corrupt involuntarily, the law is not that you bring me in
here for such involuntary wrongs, but that you take me aside in
private to teach and admonish me. For it is clear that if I learn, I will
at least stop doing what I do involuntarily. But you avoided associating
with me and teaching me, and you were not willing to, but
instead, you brought me in here, where the law is to bring in those
in need of punishment, not learning.
But in fact, men of Athens, what I was saying is already clear,
that Meletus never cared about these things either much or little. b
Nevertheless, speak to us, how do you say that I corrupt the
youth, Meletus? Or is it clear, according to the indictment that you 26b
brought, that it is by teaching them not to believe” in the gods in
whom the city believes, but in other daimonia that are novel? Do
you not say that it is by teaching these things that I corrupt them?
[MELETUSI I certainly do say this, most vehemently!
[SOCRATES] Then before these very gods, Meletus, about whom
our speech now is, speak to me and to these men still more plainly. c
For I am not able to understand whether you are saying that I teach
them to believe that there are gods of some sort—and so I myself
do believe that there are gods and am not completely atheistic and
do not do injustice in this way—but that I do not believe in those in
whom the city believes, but in others, and this is what you charge
me with, that I believe in others. Or do you assert that I myself do
not believe in gods at all and that I teach this to others?
[MELETUS] This is what I say, that you do not believe in gods at
all.
[SOCRATES] Wondrous Meletus, why do you say this? Do I not d
even believe, then, that sun and moon are gods, as other human
beings do?
[MELETUS] No, by Zeus, judges, since he declares that the sun is
stone and the moon is earth.
[SOCRATES] Do you suppose you are accusing Anaxagoras,
45 My
dear Meletus? And do you so much despise these men here and
suppose that they are so inexperienced in letters that they do not
10
know that the books of Anaxagoras of Clazomenae are full of these
speeches? Moreover, do the young learn these things from me,
when it is sometimes possible for them to buy them in the orchestra
for a drachma,46 if the price is very high, and then to laugh at e
Socrates if he pretends that they are his own, especially since they
are so strange? But before Zeus, is this how I seem to you? Do I 26e
believe there is no god?
[MELETUS] You certainly do not, by Zeus, not in any way at all!
[SOCRATES] You are unbelievable, Meletus, even, as you seem to
me, to yourself. This man seems to me, men of Athens, to be very
hubristic and unrestrained, and simply to have brought this indictment with a certain hubris and unrestraint and youthful rashness.
He is like someone testing me by putting together a riddle: “Will 27a
Socrates the ‘wise’ recognize that I am jesting and contradicting
myself, or will I deceive him and the rest of the listeners?” For he
himself appears to me to be contradicting himself in the indictment,
as if he were to say, “Socrates does injustice by not believing
in gods, but believing in gods.” And yet this is the conduct of one
who jokes.
Now consider with me, men, how he appears to me to be saying
this. And you answer us, Meletus. But you others, as I begged of
you from the beginning, please remember not to make disturbances b
if I make the speeches in my accustomed way.
Is there any human being, Meletus, who believes that there are
human matters, but does not believe in human beings?
Let him keep answering, men, and let him not make disturbances
again and again. Is there anyone who does not believe in
horses, but believes in horse-matters? Or anyone who does not
believe in flute-players, but believes in flute-matters?
There is not, best of men. If you do not wish to answer, I say it
for you and for these others. But at least answer what comes next.
Is there anyone who believes that there are daimonic matters, but c
does not believe in daemons?
[MELETUS] There is not.
[SOCRATES] How helpful you were by answering reluctantly
when compelled by these men! Now then, you say that I believe in
and teach daimonia; so whether they are novel or ancient, at any
rate, I do believe in daimonia according to your speech, and you also
swore to this in the indictment. But if I believe in daimonia, then
surely there is also a great necessity that I believe in daimons. Is
this not so?
Of course, it is. I set you down as agreeing since you do not
answer. And do we not believe that daimons are either gods or d
children of gods? Do you affirm this or not?
[MELETUS] Quite so.
[SOCRATES] Therefore if I do believe in daimons, as you say, and
11
if, on the one hand, daimons are gods of some sort, then this
would be what I say you are riddling and jesting about, when you 27d
say that I do not believe in gods, and again that I believe in gods,
since in fact I do believe in daimons.
On the other hand, if daimons are certain bastard children of
gods, whether from nymphs or from certain others of whom it is
also said they are born, then what human being would believe that
there are children of gods, but not gods? It would be as strange as if e
someone believed in children of horses or asses—mules—but did
not believe that there are horses and asses.47 But, Meletus, there is
no way that you did not bring this indictment either to test us in
these things, or else because you were at a loss about what true
the injustice you might charge me with. There is no device by which
you could persuade any human being who is even slightly intelligent,
that it is not the part of the same man to believe in both
daimonia and divine things, and further that this same man believes
in neither daimons nor gods nor heroes.48 28a
But in fact, men of Athens, that I do not do injustice according to
Meletus’ indictment, does not seem to me to require much of a
defense speech, but even this is sufficient. But what I was saying
earlier—than I have incurred much hatred, and among many
men—know well that this is true. And this is what will convict me,
if it does convict me: not Meletus or Anytus, but the slander and
envy of the many. This has convicted many other good men too,
and I suppose it will also convict me. And there is no danger that it b
will stop with me.
Perhaps, then, someone might say, “Then are you not ashamed,
Socrates, of having followed the sort of pursuit from which you
now run the risk of dying?”
I would respond to him with a just speech: “What you say is
ignoble, fellow49 if you suppose that a man who is of even a little
benefit should take into account the danger of living or dying, but 28b
not rather consider this alone whenever he acts: whether his actions
are just or unjust, and the deeds of a good man or a bad. For
according to your speech, those of the demigods who met their c
end at Troy would be paltry, especially the son of Thetis. Rather
than endure anything shameful, he despised danger so much that
when his mother (a goddess) spoke to him as he was eager to kill
Hector—something like this, as I suppose: ‘Son, if you avenge the
the murder of your comrade Patroclus and kill Hector, you yourself
will die; for straightway,’ she says, ‘after Hector, your fate is ready
at hand’—he, upon hearing this, belittled death and danger, fearing
much more to live as a bad man and not to avenge his friends. d
‘Straightway,’ he says, ‘may I die after I inflict a penalty on the
doer of injustice, so that I do not stay here ridiculous beside the
curved ships, a burden on the land.’ Surely you do not suppose
12
that he gave any thought to death and danger?”50
This is the way it is, men of Athens, in truth. Wherever someone
stations himself, holding that it is best, or wherever he is stationed
by a ruler, there he must stay and run the risk, as it seems to me,
and not take into account death or anything else compared to what 28d
is shameful. So I would have done terrible deeds, men of Athens,
if, when the rulers whom you elected to rule me stationed me in e
Potidaea and Amphipolis and at Delium,
51 I stayed then where
they stationed me and ran the risk of dying like anyone else, but
when the god stationed me, as I supposed and assumed, ordering
me to live philosophizing and examining myself and others, I had
then left my station because I feared death or any other matter 29a
whatever.
Terrible that would be, and truly then someone might justly bring
me into a law court, saying that I do not believe that there are gods,
since I would be disobeying the divination, and fearing death, and
supposing that I am wise when I am not. To fear death, men is in
fact nothing other than to seem to be wise, but not to be so. For it is
to seem to know what one does not know: no one knows whether
death does not even happen to be the greatest of all goods for the
a human being; but people fear it as though they knew well that it is
the greatest of evils. And how is this not that reproachable ignorance b
of supposing that one knows what one does not know? But I,
men am perhaps distinguished from the many human beings also
here in this, and if I were to say that I am wiser than anyone in
anything, it would be in this: that since I do not know sufficiently
about the things in Hades,52 so also I suppose that I do not know.
But I do know that it is bad and shameful to do injustice and to
disobey one’s better, whether god or human being. So compared to
the bad things which I know are bad, I will never fear or flee the
things about which I do not know whether they even happen to be
good.
So that not even if you let me go now and if you disobey Anytus — c
who said that either I should not have been brought in here at
the beginning, or, since I was brought in, that it is possible not
to kill53 me (he said before you that if I am acquitted, soon your
sons, pursuing what Socrates teaches, will all be completely corrupted 29c
—if you would say to me with regard to this, “Socrates, for
now we will not obey Anytus; we will let you go, but on this
condition: that you no longer spend time in this investigation or
philosophize; and if you are caught still doing this, you will die — d
if you would let me go, then, as I said, on these conditions, I would
say to you, “I, men of Athens, salute you and love you, but I will
obey54 the god rather than you; and as long as I breathe and am
able to, I will certainly not stop philosophizing, and I will exhort
you and explain this to whomever of you I happen to meet, and I
13
will speak just the sorts of things I am accustomed to: ‘Best of men,
you are an Athenian, from the city that is greatest and best reputed
for wisdom and strength: are you not ashamed that you care for
having as much money as possible, and reputation, and honor, but e
that you neither care for nor give thought to prudence, and truth,
and how your soul will be the best possible?’ And if one of you
disputes it and asserts that he does care, I will not immediately let
he go, nor will I go away, but I will speak to him and examine and
test him. And if he does not seem to me to possess virtue, but only
says he does, I will reproach him, saying that he regards the things 30a
worth the most as the least important, and the paltrier things as
more important. I will do this to whomever, younger or older, I
happen to meet, both foreigner and townsman, but more so to the
townsmen, inasmuch as you are closer to me in kin.
“Know well, then, that the god orders this. And I suppose that
until now no greater good has arisen for you in the city than my
service to the god. For I go around and do nothing but persuade
you, both younger and older, not to care for bodies and money b
before, nor as vehemently as, how your soul will be the best possible
I say: ‘Not from money does virtue come, but from virtue
comes money and all of the other good things for human beings
both privately and publicly.’ If then, I corrupt the young by saying
these things, they may be harmful. But if someone asserts that
what I say is other than this, he speaks nonsense. With a view to
these things, men of Athens,” I would say, “either obey Anytus or
not, and either let me go or not, since I would not do otherwise,
not even if I were going to die many times.” c
Do not make disturbances, men of Athens, but abide by what I
begged of you, not to make disturbances at the things I say, but to
listen. For, as I suppose, you will even be helped by listening. For
in fact, I am going to tell you certain other things at which you will 30c
perhaps cry out, but do not do this in any way. To know well that
if you kill me since I am the sort of man that I say I am, you will
not harm me more than yourselves. For Meletus or Anytus would
not harm me—he would not even be able to—for I do not suppose
it is sanctioned that a better man is harmed by a worse. Perhaps, d
however, he might kill or banish or dishonor55 me. But this man no
doubt supposes, and others too, that these are great evils, while I
do not suppose that these are, but much rather doing what this
man here is now doing: attempting to kill a man unjustly.
So I, men of Athens, am now far from making a defense speech
on my own behalf, as someone might suppose. I do it rather on
your behalf so that you do not do something wrong concerning
the gift of the god to you by voting to condemn me. For if you kill e
me, you will not easily discover another of my sort, who—even if it
is rather ridiculous to say—has simply been set upon the city by
14
the god, as though upon a great and well-born horse who is rather
sluggish because of his great size and needs to be awakened by
some gadfly. Just so, in fact, the god seems to me to have set me
upon the city as someone of this sort: I awaken and persuade and
reproach each one of you, and I do not stop settling down everywhere 31a
upon you the whole day. Someone else of this sort will
certainly not easily arise for you, men. Well, if you obey me, you
will spare me. But perhaps you may be vexed, like the drowsy
when they are awakened, and if you obey Anytus and slap me,
you would easily kill me. Then you would spend the rest of your
lives asleep unless the godsends you someone else in his concern
for you.
That I happen to be someone of this sort, given to the city by the
god, you might apprehend from this: it does not seem human, on b
the one hand, that I have been careless of all my own things and
that for so many years now I have ensured that the things of my
family be uncared for; and on the other hand, that I always do your
business, going to each of you privately, as a father or an older
a brother might do, persuading you to care for virtue. If I was getting
something out of this, and if I was receiving pay while I exhorted
you to these things, it would be somewhat reasonable. But as it is,
even you yourselves see that the accusers, who accused me so
shamelessly in everything else, in this have not been able to become so utterly shameless as to offer a witness to assert that I ever 31c
took any pay or asked for it. For, I suppose, I offer a sufficient
witness that I speak the truth: my poverty.
Perhaps, then, it might seem to be strange that I do go around
counseling these things and being a busybody in private, but that
in public, I do not dare to go up before your multitude to counsel
the city. The cause of this is what you have heard me speak of
many times and in many places, that something divine and daimonic56
comes to me, a voice—which, of course, is also what d
Meletus wrote about in the indictment, making a comedy over it.
This is something which began for me in childhood: a sort of voice
comes, and whenever it comes, it always turns me away from
whatever I am about to do, but never turns me forward.
This is what opposes my political activity, and its opposition
seems to me altogether noble. For know well, men of Athens, if I
had long ago attempted to be politically active, I would long ago
have perished, and I would have benefited neither you nor myself.
Now do not be vexed with me when I speak the truth. For there is e
no human being who will preserve his life if he genuinely opposes
either you or any other multitude and prevents many unjust and
unlawful things from happening in the city. Rather, if someone
who really fights for the just is going to preserve himself even for a 32a
short time, it is necessary for him to lead a private rather than a
15
public life.
I for my part will offer great proofs of these things for you—not
speeches, but what you honor, deeds. Do listen to what happened
to me, so that you may see that I would not yield even to one man
against them just because of a fear of death, even if I were to perish
by refusing to yield. I will tell you vulgar things, typical of the law
courts, but true. I, men of Athens, never held any office in the city b
except for being once on the Council. And it happened that our
tribe, Antiochus, held the prytany57when you wished to judge the
ten generals (the ones who did not pick up the men from the naval
battle) as a group—unlawfully, as it seemed to all of you in the time 32b
afterward. I alone of the prytanes opposed your doing anything against
the laws then, and I voted against it. And although the orators were ready
to indict me and arrest me, and you were ordering and shouting, I supposed
that I should run the risk with the law and the just rather than side with you
because of fear of prison or death when you were counseling unjust things.58
Now, this was when the city was still under democracy. But
again, when the oligarchy came to be, the Thirty summoned five of
us into the Tholos, and they ordered us to arrest Leon the Salaminian and bring
him from Salamis to die.59 They ordered many others to do many things of this sort,
wishing that as many as possible would be implicated in the responsibility. Then,
however, I showed again, not in speech but indeed, that I do not even care d
about death in any way at all—if it is not too crude to say so — but
that my whole care is to commit no unjust or impious deed. That 32d
government, as strong as it was, did not shock me into doing anything
unjust. When we came out of the Tholos, the other four went to Salamis
and arrested Leon, but I departed and went home. And perhaps I would
have died because of this if that government had not been quickly overthrown.
And you will have many witnesses of these things. e
Do you suppose, then, that I would have survived so many years if I
had been publicly active and had acted in a manner worthy of a good man,
coming to the aid of the just things and, as one ought, regarding this as most
important? Far from it, men of Athens; nor would any other human being.
But through all my life, if I was ever active in public at all, it is 33a
apparent that I was the sort of man (and in private I was the same) who never
conceded anything to anyone contrary to the just—neither to anyone else nor to
any of those who my slanderers say are my students.60 I have never been anyone’s
teacher; but if anyone, whether younger or older, desired to hear me speaking and
doing my own things, I never begrudged it to him. And I do not 33a
converse only when I receive money, and not when I do not receive it: rather, I offer myself to both rich and poor alike for questioning,
and if anyone wishes to hear what I say, he may answer
me. And whether any of them becomes an upright man or not, I
would not justly be held responsible, since I have never promised
or taught any instruction to any of them. If someone says that he
has ever learned from me or heard privately anything that every-
16
one else did not know well that he does not speak the truth. But
why, then, do some enjoy spending so much time with me? You
have heard, men of Athens; I told you the whole truth. It is because c
cause they enjoy hearing men examined who suppose they are
wise but are not. For it is not unpleasant.
I have been ordered to practice this by the god, as I affirm, from
divinations, and from dreams, and in every way that any divine
allotment ever ordered a human being to practice anything at all.
These things, men of Athens, are both true and easy to test.
Now if I for my part am corrupting some of the young, and have d
already corrupted others, and if any of them, when they became
older had recognized that I ever counseled them badly in anything
while they were young, then now, no doubt, they should have
come forward to accuse me and take their vengeance. If they themselves were. not willing to, then some of their families—fathers and
brothers and their other relatives—should now have remembered
it and taken their vengeance if their families had suffered anything
bad from me.
In any event, there are present here many of them whom I see:
first of all Crito here, of my age and deme, the father of Critobulus e
here; next, Lysanias the Sphettian, the father of Aeschines here;
further, here is Antiphon the Cephisean, the father of Epigenes.
Moreover, there are others whose brothers have spent time in this
way: Theozotides’ son Nicostratus, the brother of Theodotus (and
Theodotus has met his end, so that he, at least, would not beg him
not to), and Demodocus’ son Paralus, whose brother was Theages.
And here is Ariston’s son Adeimantus, whose brother is Plato 34a
here, and Aeantodorus, whose brother is Apollodorus here.61
And I can tell you of many others, from among whom Meletus should 34a
particularly have offered someone as a witness during his own speech.
If he forgot then, let him offer one now—I will yield —and let him say if he
has anyone of this sort at all. But you will discover that it is wholly
opposed to this, men; that everyone is ready to come to aid me, the corrupter,
the one who does evil to their families, as Meletus and Anytus say. Now the
corrupted ones themselves would perhaps have a reason to come to my aid. b
But the uncorrupted ones, their relatives, are now older men, so what
other reason would they have to come to my aid except the correct
and just one, that they are conscious that Meletus speaks falsely,
while I am being truthful?
Well then, men. These, and perhaps other such things, are about
all I would have to say in my defense. Perhaps someone among
you may be indignant when he recalls himself, if, in contesting a c
trial even smaller than this trial, he begged and supplicated the
judges with many tears, bringing forward his own children and
many others of his family and friends, so as to be pitied as much as 34c
possible, while I will do none of these things, although in this too I
17
am risking, as I might seem, the extreme danger. Perhaps, then,
someone thinking about this may be rather stubborn toward me,
and, angered by this very thing, he may set down his vote in
anger. If there is someone among you like this—for I, at least, do
not deem that there is, but if there is-to me it seems decent for me
to say to this man, —I, best of men, surely do have some family; for
this is also just what Homer says: not even I have grown up ‘from
an oak or a rock/ but from human beings.”62 So that I do have a
family, and sons too, men of Athens, three of them, one already a
youth, and two still children. Nevertheless, I will bring none of
them forward here in order to beg you to vote to acquit me.
Why, then, will I do none of these things? Not because I am
stubborn, men of Athens, nor because I dishonor you. Whether I e
am daring with regard to death or not is another story; but at any
rate as to reputation, mine and yours and the whole city’s, to me it
does not seem to be noble for me to do any of these things. For I am
old and have this name; and whether it is true or false, it is reputed
at least that Socrates is distinguished from the many human beings 35a
in some way. If, then, those of you who are reputed to be distinguished, whether in wisdom or courage or any other virtue at
all will act in this way, it would be shameful. I have often seen
some who are just like this when they are judged: although they
are reputed to be something, they do wondrous deeds since they
suppose that they will suffer something terrible if they die—as
though they would be immortal if you did not kill them. They seem
to me to attach shame to the city, so that a foreigner might take it
that those Athenians who are distinguished in virtue—the ones b
whom they pick out from among themselves for their offices and
other honors-are not at all distinguished from women. For those
of you, men of Athens, who are reputed to be something in any
way at all, should not do these things; nor, whenever we do them,
should you allow it. Instead, you should show that you would
much rather vote to convict the one who brings in these piteous
dramas and makes the city ridiculous than the one who keeps
quiet.
Apart from reputation, men, to me it also does not seem to be 35b
just to beg the judge, nor to be acquitted by begging, but rather to c
teach and to persuade. For the judge is not seated to give away the
just things as a gratification, but to judge them. For he has not
sworn to gratify whoever seems favorable to him, but to give judgment
according to the laws. Therefore we should not accustom you
to swear falsely, nor should you become accustomed to it. For
neither of us would be pious.63
So do not deem that 1, men of Athens, should practice such
things before you which I hold to be neither noble nor just nor
pious, and certainly, by Zeus, above all not when I am being prosecuted d
18
for impiety by Meletus here. For plainly, if I should persuade
and force you by begging after you have sworn an oath, I
would be teaching you not to hold that there are gods, and in
making my defense speech I would simply be accusing myself of
not believing in gods. But that is far from being so. For I believe,
men of Athens, as none of my accusers do. And I turn it over to
you and to the god to judge me in whatever way it is going to be
best both for me and for you.
[The jury votes on Socrates’ innocence or guilt, and a majority finds
him guilty as charged. Meletus then makes a speech proposing the death
penalty, and Socrates must offer a counterproposal.]64
Many things contribute to my not being indignant, men of Athens, e
at what has happened —that you voted to convict me and 36a
one of them is that what has happened was not unexpected by me.
But I wonder much more at the number of the votes on each side.
For I at least did not suppose it would be by so little, but by much.
But as it is, as is Rely, if only thirty of the votes had fallen differently, I would have been acquitted. So as it seems to me, I have
even now been acquitted as far as Meletus is concerned; and not
only have I been acquitted, but it is clear to everyone that if Anytus
and Lycon had not come forward to accuse me, he would have had
to pay a fine of a thousand drachmae since he would not have b
gotten a fifth of the votes.65
At any rate, the man proposes death as my desert.66 Well, then. 36b
What counterproposal shall I make to you, men of Athens? Or is it
not clear that it should be whatever I am worthy of? What then?
What am I worthy to suffer or to pay because I did not keep quiet
during my life and did not care for the things that the many do—
moneymaking and household management, and generalships,
and popular oratory, and the other offices, and conspiracies and
factions that come to be in the city—since I held that I myself was
really too decent to survive if I went into these things? I did not go c
into matters where, if I did go, I was going to be of no benefit either
to you or to myself; instead, I went to each of you privately to
perform the greatest benefaction, as I affirm, and I attempted to
persuade each of you not to care for any of his own things until he
cares for himself, how he will be the best and most prudent possible,
nor to care for the things of the city until he cares for the city
itself, and so to care for the other things in the same way. What,
then, am I worthy to suffer, being such as this? Something good, d
men of Athens, at least if you give me what I deserve according to
my worth in truth—and besides, a good of a sort that would be
fitting for me. What, then, is fitting for a poor man, a benefactor,
who needs to have the leisure to exhort you? There is nothing more
fitting, men of Athens, than for such a man to be given his meals in
the Prytaneum, much more so than if any of you has won a victory
19
at Olympia with a horse or a two— or four-horse chariot.67 For he
makes you seem to be happy, while I make you be so; and he is not
in need of sustenance, while I am in need of it. So if I must propose
what I am worthy of in accordance with the just, I propose this: to 36e
given my meals in the Prytaneum. 37a
Perhaps then, when I say this, I seem to you to speak in nearly
the same way as when I spoke about lament and supplication —
quite stubbornly. It is not like that, men of Athens, but rather like this,
I am convinced that I do not do injustice to any human being voluntarily,
but I am not persuading you of this. For we have conversed with each other
a short time. Since, as I suppose, if you had a law like any other human beings,
not to judge anyone in a matter of death in one day alone, but over many, b
you would be persuaded.68 But, as it is, it is not easy in a short time to do
away with any great slanders.
I, being convinced indeed that I do not do injustice to anyone,
am far from doing injustice to myself, and from saying against myself that
I myself am worthy of something bad, and from proposing this sort of thing as
my desert. What would I fear? That I might suffer what Meletus proposes for
me, about which I say that I do not know whether it is good or bad? Or instead
of this, should I choose something from among the things that I know well is
bad and proposes that? Should it be a prison? And why should I live in jail,
enslaved to the authority that is regularly established there, the Eleven? 69
Or money, and imprisonment until I pay? But for me, this is the same as
what I was saying just now, for I have no money to pay.
Well, should I propose exile, then? For perhaps you would grant
me this as my desert. I would certainly be possessed by much love
of soul,70 men of Athens, if I were so unreasonable that I were not
able to reason that you who are my fellow citizens were not able to
bear my ways of spending time and my speeches, but that instead d
they have become quite grave and hateful to you so that you are
now seeking to be released from them: will others, then, bear them
easily? Far from it, men of Athens. Noble indeed would life be for
me, a human being of my age, to go into exile and to live exchanging
one city for another, always being driven out! I know well
that wherever I go, the young will listen to me when I speak, just
as they do here. And if I drive them away, they themselves will
drive me out by persuading their elders. But if I do not drive them
away, their fathers and families will drive me out because of these 37e
same ones.
Perhaps, then, someone might say, “By being silent and keeping
quiet, Socrates, won’t you be able to live in exile for us?” It is
hardest of all to persuade some of you about this. For if I say that
this is to disobey the god and that because of this it is impossible to
keep quiet, you will not be persuaded by me, on the ground that I 38a
am being ironic.71 And on the other hand, if I say that this even
happens to be a very great good for a human being—to make
20
speeches every day about virtue and the other things about which
you hear me conversing and examining both myself and others—
and that the unexamined life is not worth living for a human being,
you will be persuaded by me still less when I say these things. This
is the way it is, as I affirm, men; but to persuade you is not easy.
And at the same time, I am not accustomed to deeming myself
worthy of anything bad. For if I had money, I would have proposed b
as much money as I could pay, for that would not harm me.
But as it is, I do not have any—unless, of course, you wish me to
propose as much money as I am able to pay. Perhaps I would be
able to pay you, say, a mina of silver. So I propose that much.
But Plato here, men of Athens, and Crito and Critobulus and
Apollodorus bid me to propose thirty minae 72 and they will stand
as guarantors. So I propose that much, and they will be trustworthy
guarantors of the money for you.
[Voting between the penalties proposed by the accuser and the accused, the jury
condemns Socrates to death. He has time to make some further remarks before he
 is taken away to prison to await execution.]
For the sake of a little time, men of Athens, you will get a name c
and be charged with the responsibility, by those wishing to revile
the city, for having killed Socrates, a wise man. For those wishing
to reproach, you will assert that I am wise, even if I am not. At any
rate, if you had waited a short time, this would have come about
for you of its own accord. For you to see that my age is already far
advanced in life and close to death. I say this not to all of you, but
to those who voted to condemn me to death. d
I also say the following to these same ones. Perhaps you suppose,
men of Athens, that I have been convicted because I was at a 38d
the loss for the sort of speeches that would have persuaded you, if I
had supposed that I should do and say anything at all to escape the
penalty.73 Far from it. Rather, I have been convicted because I was
at a loss, not however for speeches, but for daring and shamelessness
and willingness to say the sorts of things to you that you
would have been most pleased to hear: me wailing and lamenting,
and doing and saying many other things unworthy of me, as I e
affirm—such things as you have been accustomed to hear from
others. But neither did I then suppose that I should do anything
unsuitable to a free man because of the danger, nor do I now regret
that I made my defense speech like this: I Much prefer to die
having made my defense speech in this way than to live in that
way.
For neither in a court case nor in war should I or anyone else
devise a way to escape death by doing anything at all? In battles it 39a
often becomes clear that one might escape death, at least, by letting
21
go of his arms and turning around to supplicate his pursuers. And
there are many other devices to escape death in each of the dangers
if one dares to do and say anything at all. But I suspect it is
not hard, men, to escape death, but it is much harder to escape
villainy. For it runs faster than death.74 And now I, since I am slow b
and old, was caught by the slower, while my accusers, since they
are clever and sharp, are caught by the faster, by evil. And now I
go away, condemned by you to pay the penalty of death, while
they have been convicted by the truth of wretchedness and injustice. And I abide by my penalty, and so do they. Perhaps these
things even had to be so, and I suppose there is due measure in
them.
After this, I desire to deliver oracles to you, 0 you who voted to c
condemn me. For, in fact, I am now where human beings particularly
deliver oracles: when they are about to die.75 I affirm, you
men who condemned me to death, that vengeance will come upon
you right after my death, and much harsher, by Zeus, than the sort
you give me by killing me. For you have now done this deed 39c
supposing that you will be released from giving an account76 of
your life, but it will turn out much the opposite for you, as I affirm.
There will be more who will refute you, whom I have now been d
holding back; you did not perceive them. And they will be harsher,
inasmuch as they are younger, and you will be more indignant. For
if you suppose that by killing human beings you will prevent
someone from reproaching you for not living correctly, you do not
think nobly. For that kind of release is not at all possible or noble;
rather, the kind that is both noblest and easiest is not to restrain
others, but to equip oneself to be the best possible. So, having
divined these things for you who voted against me, I am released.
But with those who voted for me, I would be pleased to converse e
or behalf of this affair which has happened, while the officials are
occupied and I do not yet go to the place where, when I do go, I
must die. Please stay with me, men, for this much time; nothing
prevents our telling tales77 to one another as long as it is possible.
For I am willing to display to you, as to friends, whatever this 40a
thing means which has occurred to me just now. For to me, judges —
for by calling you judges I would address you correctly78
 —
something wondrous has happened. My customary divination
from the daimonion was always very frequent in all former times,
opposing me even in quite small matters if I were about to do
something incorrectly. Now, you yourselves see what has occurred
to me, these very things which someone might suppose to be, and
are believed to be, extreme evils. But the sign of the god did not b
oppose me when I left my house this morning, nor when I came up
here to the law court, nor anywhere in the speech when I was
about to say anything, although in other speeches it has often
22
stopped me in the middle while I was speaking. But as it is, it has
nowhere opposed me either in any deed or speech, concerning this
action. What, then, do I take to be the cause of this? I will tell you.
Probably what has occurred to me has turned out to be good, and
there is no way that those of us take it correctly who suppose that
being dead is bad. In my view, a great proof of this has happened. c
For there is no way that the accustomed sign would not have
opposed me unless I were about to do something good.
Let us also think in the following way how great a hope there is 40c
that it is good. Now being dead is either of two things. For either it
is like being nothing and the dead man has no perception of anything,
or else, in accordance with the things that are said, it happens to be a
sort of change and migration of the soul from the place
here to another place.
And if in fact there is no perception, but it is like a steep in which d
the sleeper has no dream at all, death would be a wondrous gain.
I suppose that if someone had to select that night in which he
slept so soundly that he did not even dream and had to compare
the other nights and days of his own life with that night, and then
had to say on considering how many days and nights in his own
the life he has lived better and more pleasant than that night, then I
suppose that the Great King79 himself, not to mention some private
man, would discover that they are easy to count in comparison e
with the other days and nights. So if death is something like
this, I at least say it is a gain. For all time appears in this way
indeed to be nothing more than one night.
On the other hand, if death is like a journey from here to another
place, and if the things that are said are true, that in fact all the
dead are there, then what greater good could there be than this,
judges? For if one who arrives in Hades, released from those here 41 a
who claim to be judges, will find those who are judges in truth —
the very ones who are said to give judgment there, Minos and
Rhadamanthys, and Aeacus, and Triptolemus,
80 and those of the
other demigods who turned out to be just in their own lives —
would this journey be a paltry one? Or again, to associate with
Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiod and Homer,
81 how much
would any of you give? I am willing to die many times if these
things are true since especially for myself spending time there b
would be wondrous: whenever I happened to meet Palamedes and
Telemonian Ajax,
82 or anyone else of the ancients who died because
of an unjust judgment, I would compare my own experiences
with theirs. As I suppose, it would not be unpleasant. And
certainly, the greatest thing is that I would pass my time examining
and searching out among those there—just as I do to those here who among them is wise, and who supposes he is but is not. How
much would one give, judges, to examine him who led the great
23
army against Troy, or Odysseus, or Sisyphus,83 or the thousand c
others whom one might mention, both men and women? To converse and to associate with them and to examine them there would
be inconceivable 84 happiness. Certainly those there surely do not
kill on this account. For those, there are happier than those here not 41c
only in other things but also in that they are immortal henceforth
for the rest of the time, at least if the things that are said are in fact true.
But you too, judges, should be of good hope toward death, and
you should think this one thing to be true: that there is nothing worse
for a good man, whether living or dead and that the gods are not d
without care for his troubles. Nor have my present troubles arisen
of their own accord, but it is clear to me that it is now better, after
all, for me to be dead and to have been released from troubles. This
is also why the sign did not turn me away anywhere, and I at least
am not at all angry at those who voted to condemn me and at my
accusers. And yet it was not with this thought in mind that they
voted to condemn me and accused me: rather, they supposed they
would harm me. For this they are worthy of blame. e
This much, however, I beg of them: when my sons grow up,
punish them, men, and pain them in the very same way I pained
you, if they seem to you to care for money or anything else before
virtue. And if they are reputed to be something when they are
nothing, reproach them just as I did you: tell them that they do not
care for the things they should, and that they suppose they are
something when they are worth nothing. And if you do these
things, we will have been treated justly by you, both I myself and 42a
my sons.
But now it is time to go away, I to die and you to live. Which of
us goes to a better thing is unclear to everyone except to the god.
85
Reprinted (with revisions) from Thomas G. West, Plato’s Apology of Socrates: An Interpretation,
with a New Translation. Copyright by Cornell University, published by Cornell University Press.


Analysis of Plato's Apology
The Apology is Plato's recollection and interpretation of the Trial of Socrates (399 BC). In this dialogue, Socrates explains who he is and what kind of life he led. The Greek word "apologia" means "explanation" -- it is not to be confused with "apologizing" or "being sorry" for one's actions. The following is an outline of the 'argument' or logos that Socrates used in his defense. A hypertext treatment of this dialogue is also available.

I. Prologue (17a-19a)

The first sentence sets the tone and direction for the entire dialogue. Socrates, in addressing the men of Athens, states that he almost forgot who he was. The speeches of his accusers had led him to this point. The dialogue will thus be a kind of "recollecting" by Socrates of who he is. That is to say, the Apology will become Socrates' answer to the question: "WHO IS SOCRATES?"
II. The First False Charges (19a - 24a)
A. The Charges and Their Assignment (19a-20c)

The first "charges" against Socrates arose from GENERAL PREJUDICES that surrounded him over the years. These general accusations were that Socrates was: (1) a PHYSICALIST and (2) a SOPHIST. The charge of "investigating things beneath the earth and in the skies" belongs to a physicalist like Thales and Anaxagoras. The charge of "making the weaker argument appear the stronger" belongs to sophists like Gorgias, Hippias, and Evanus. In truth, Socrates IS NOT a Physicalist and Socrates IS NOT a Sophist.
B. Socrates' Art and the Delphic Oracle (20c-23c)
The false images of Socrates arose because people misunderstood his true activity. Socrates explains this activity by relating a story about the Delphic Oracle.

The Saying of the Delphic Oracle -- A friend of Socrates' went to the Oracle and asked the priestess "Who is the wisest of mortals?" and the priestess replied: "Socrates is the wisest."

When Socrates heard this he was surprised, since he thought of himself as "most ignorant."

The Testing of the Delphic Oracle -- After some hesitation, he sought to show the saying wrong by finding someone wiser than he. He began to question various people, including politicians, poets, and craftsmen.

In each encounter, the person made a claim that he was in possession of some kind of wisdom or absolute knowledge. The knowledge relates to the spheres of what might be called value e.g., the problems of God, the Good, and the Beautiful.

The Truth of the Delphic Oracle -- After "testing" the saying of the god, Socrates became aware of the truth of the saying that "Socrates is most wise" -- it can be expressed as follows: Socrates was most wise because he was AWARE of his ignorance. (This is how Socratic Wisdom is related to Socratic Ignorance.)

And, in a profound sense, those around Socrates, those who claimed a "knowledge" in the sphere of values, were ignorant of their ignorance.

C. How the Charges Arose (23c-24a)

In the course of Socrates' verification of the Delphic Oracle, many people had their beliefs and values questioned and cast into doubt.
The response of many to this experience was confusion and anger. Over the years, this anger took the form of a general RESENTMENT against Socrates.

III. The Specific Charges (24b - 28a)
The charges made by Meletus and Anytus were that Socrates was guilty of:

A. CORRUPTION OF THE YOUTH;
B. IMPIETY.

They demand the DEATH PENALTY.

Regarding the Charge of Corruption of the Youth -- Socrates begins a dialogue with his accuser Meletus. He defends himself by practicing his art.

1. Meletus says that Socrates is the person in Athens who is responsible for the corruption of the youth. Yet it is absurd to say that only Socrates corrupts the youth. This implies that everyone else helps the youth. But just as there are few horse trainers, so there are few who are in a position to really "train" the youth. And, contrary to what Meleteus asserts, Socrates is one of these "trainers."
2. Who would voluntarily corrupt the youth? (25c-26a) If Socrates voluntarily harmed the youth, then (since evil begets evil) they would harm him. And no rational person voluntarily harms himself.

But if he harmed the youth involuntarily, then he should be instructed (educated) -- not punished.

Regarding the Charge of Impiety

Socrates next takes up the charge of Impiety. Could a person believe in things like clothes and yet not in human beings who wear them? So too with divine things: Since Socrates believes in a Diamon (a divine thing), it follows that he believes in divinities.
IV. Socrates' Interpretation of his Art (28b - 32e)

Socrates, far from being an impious corruptor of the youth, is actually a blessing sent by the gods.
To show this, Socrates likens himself to a GADFLY (a horsefly). Just as a gadfly constantly agitates a horse, preventing it from becoming sluggish and going to sleep so too Socrates, by (moving through the City) stirring up conversations in the marketplace, prevents the City from becoming sluggish and careless and intolerant (thinking it knows something when it doesn't).

Ultimately, Socrates' whole life had been a service to the City begun out of a pious response to the saying of the gods. This is the deeper refutation of the charges. It is also another positive image of Socrates: He IS a gadfly.

V. Socrates Answers the Charges (33a-34b)
[Notice the general movement of the defense --
Who Socrates IS NOT: He is NOT a Physicalist; he is NOT a Sophist.

Who Socrates IS: He IS someone who is AWARE OF HIS IGNORANCE.

Who Socrates IS NOT: He IS NOT a corruptor of the Youth; he IS NOT Impious.

Who Socrates IS: He IS like a Gadfly, helping the City out of a pious response to the Delphic Oracle.]

He asks, finally, if any present in the court felt that he had corrupted them. Plato and others indicate that, to the contrary, they have been helped by Socrates. Hence "those around him" also say that Socrates does not corrupt the youth.

VI. Epilogue (34c-35d)

Socrates tells the "men of Athens" that he wants to be judged according to his account of himself and not by any other standard -- such as appealing to his old age or the fact that he has children.
Thus Socrates wishes to be judged and not "forgiven" or let off for any other reason than that it is JUST to do so.

At this point, a vote is taken and Socrates is found guilty by a margin of some 30 votes).

VII. The Conviction and Alternate Penalties (36a - 38c)

Socrates is found guilty by a margin of some 30 votes. The penalty proposed is death by hemlock. At this point, Socrates has the opportunity to propose an alternate penalty.
Socrates argues that since the penalty should be something he deserves, and since he has spent his life freely offering his service to the City, he deserves FREE MEALS for the rest of his life.

VIII. Final Speeches (38c-42a)

There are two sets of final speeches. The first is to those who voted for his death; the second is for those who voted for his acquittal. It is only in the latter speech that Socrates uses the term "judges."

To those who voted for his death (38c-39d)

1. At the age of 70, death would have soon arrived naturally. But now these people will bear the responsibility for it -- and they will have allowed Athens to be condemned for its condemnation of Socrates.
2. Socrates notes that he could have won his case if he had appealed to their emotions (i.e., if he had practiced Sophistry), but he chose instead to speak the Truth.

3. He prophesizes that there will be others to take his place. After all, it is not the particular person of Socrates which is at issue here, but the activity of Philosophy itself.

To those who voted for his acquittal (39e-42a)
Socrates notes that his Diamon never attempted to dissuade him from anything that he said. So this outcome must be for the good. After all, death is either one of two things: a DEEP SLEEP or a CHANGE OF PLACE.
A night of deep sleep is quite peaceful, more so than most of our waking days.

If he were to enter Hades, on the other hand, he would have the opportunity to meet all of the great Greek thinkers and heroes. And here he could ask them the same questions that he asked the men of Athens.

So he has in no way been harmed, for he will either sleep soundly or continue talking.