One of the most subtle components of Socrates’ explanation for the hatred he has aroused is his point that people hide the shame they feel when they are unable to withstand his destructive arguments. His reputation as a corrupter of the young and as a Sophist and an atheist is sustained because it provides people with an ostensibly reasonable explanation of their hatred of him. No one will say, “I hate Socrates because I cannot answer his questions, and he makes me look foolish in front of the young.” Instead, people hide their shame and the real source of their anger by seizing on the general impression that he is the sort of philosopher who casts doubt on traditional religion and teaches people rhetorical tricks that can be used to make bad arguments look good. These ways of hiding the source of their hatred are all the more potent because they contain at least a grain of truth. Socrates, as both Plato and Xenophon confirm, is a man who loves to argue: in that respect he is like a Sophist. And his conception of piety, as revealed by his devotion to the Delphic oracle, is highly unorthodox: in that respect he is like those who deny the existence of the gods.
Socrates believes that this hatred, whose real source is so painful for people to acknowledge, played a crucial role in leading Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon to come forward in court against him; it also makes it so difficult for many members of the jury to acknowledge that he has the highest motives and has done his city a great service. Aristophanes’ mockery of Socrates and the legal indictment against him could not possibly have led to his trial or conviction were it not for something in a large number of his fellow Athenians that wanted to be rid of him. This is a theme to which Socrates returns several times. He compares himself, at one point, to a gadfly who has been assigned by the god to stir a large and sluggish horse. Note what this implies: the bite of the fly cannot be anything but painful, and it is only natural that the horse would like nothing better than to kill it. After the jury has voted in favour of the death penalty, Socrates tells them that their motive has been their desire to avoid giving a defense of their lives. Something in people resists self-examination: they do not want to answer deep questions about themselves, and they hate those who cajole them for not doing so or for doing so poorly. At bottom, Socrates thinks that all but a few people will strike out against those who try to stimulate serious moral reflection in them. That is why he thinks that his trial is not merely the result of unfortuitous events—a mere misunderstanding caused by the work of a popular playwright—but the outcome of psychological forces deep within human nature. Socrates’ criticism of democracy
Socrates’ analysis of the hatred he has incurred is one part of a larger theme that he dwells on throughout his speech. Athens is a democracy, a city in which the many are the dominant power in politics, and it can therefore be expected to have all the vices of the many. Because most people hate to be tested in argument, they will always take action of some sort against those who provoke them with questions. But that is not the only accusation Socrates brings forward against his city and its politics. He tells his democratic audience that he was right to have withdrawn from political life, because a good person who fights for justice in a democracy will be killed. In his cross-examination of Meletus, he insists that only a few people can acquire the knowledge necessary for improving the young of any species, and that the many will inevitably do a poor job. He criticizes the Assembly for its illegal actions and the Athenian courts for the ease with which matters of justice are distorted by emotional pleading. Socrates implies that the very nature of democracy makes it a corrupt political system. Bitter experience has taught him that most people rest content with a superficial understanding of the most urgent human questions. When they are given great power, their shallowness inevitably leads to injustice. The charge of impiety
Socrates spends a large part of his speech trying to persuade his fellow citizens that he is indeed a pious man, because his philosophical mission has been carried out in obedience to the god who presides at Delphi. It is remarkable that this is nearly the only positive argument he offers, in Plato’s Apology, to support his claim that he is a pious man. The only other evidence he supplies is introduced only because Meletus, upon cross-examination, asserts that Socrates believes that there are no gods or divinities at all, an accusation far more sweeping than—and indeed contradictory to—the official indictment, which asserted that Socrates did not acknowledge the gods recognized by the city but instead believed in different and new gods. Socrates quickly points out the absurdity of this new accusation. Meletus, he notes, has referred in his speech to a certain strange divinity (daimon) who comes to Socrates to give him advice. Presumably Meletus has offered this as evidence that Socrates believes in new gods that are different from the ones generally recognized in Athens. But if Meletus admits that Socrates is guided by a divine being, then he cannot be taken seriously when he also says that Socrates is a complete atheist.
SocratesSocrates, marble portrait bust; National Archaeological Museum, Athens.© Photos.com/Thinkstock
Socrates’ radical reconception of piety
These two modes of Socrates’ religiosity—serving the god by cross-examining one’s fellow citizens and accepting the guidance of a divine voice—are nothing like the conventional forms of piety with which Socrates’ contemporaries were familiar. The Athenians, like all Greeks in the ancient world, expressed their piety by participating in festivals, making sacrifices, visiting shrines, and the like. They assumed that it was the better part of caution to show one’s devotion to the gods in these public and conventional ways because, if the gods were not honoured, they could easily harm or destroy even the best of men and women and their families and cities as well. The Socrates of Plato’s Apology does not refer to his participation in these ceremonies and rituals. (The Socrates of Xenophon’s Apology does, however, and, in this and many other ways, Plato’s Socrates is the more unconventional and provocative of the two and a figure more likely to be hated and feared.) It is impossible to know whether the historical Socrates participated fully (or at all) in conventional forms of religious observance, but, if Plato’s account of his philosophy is accurate, then Socrates lacked the typical Athenian’s motives for doing so. He cannot believe that the gods might harm him, because he is confident that he is a good man and that a good man cannot be harmed. That is why he has no fear of other human beings. Even if the jury votes to banish him from Athens or to kill him, he will not be worse off, because his peculiar kind of wisdom and virtue—his acknowledgment of his ignorance and commitment to continual self-examination—will remain intact. That is also why he is sure that, when he dies, his affairs will not be neglected by the gods. They must be entirely benign in their attitude toward someone like him, who has served them so well, and so he has no need to offer them gifts, if gifts are a device for incurring their favour or protecting oneself from their destructive power.