“You. Us. Anyone but them.”
“Let me phrase the question differently. Do we believe that the law, even an unjust law, must be obeyed? Or may the individual take it on himself to decide which laws are just and which unjust, which worthy of obedience and which not?”
I protested that it was not justice which Socrates had received, and thus its disallowance was legitimate.
“Let us hear your opinion, Jason. Is it better to perish through injustice inflicted upon one by others, or to live, having inflicted injustice on them?”
I had lost patience with this and remonstrated vehemently.
Socrates inflicted injustice on no one by taking to flight. He must live! And by the gods, each of us would move heaven and earth to secure this!
“You forget one, Jason, upon whom I would be inflicting injustice. The Laws. Suppose the Laws sat among us now. Might they not say something like this: 'Socrates, we have served you all your life. Beneath our protection you grew to manhood, married, and raised a family; you pursued your livelihood and studied philosophy. You accepted our boons and the security we provided.
Yet now, when our verdict no longer suits your convenience, you wish to put us aside.' How would we answer the Laws?”
“Some men must be set above the laws.”
“How can you strike this posture, my friend, who argued with such fervor, that day, the contravening course?”
Again abashment took me. I could not stand in the face of his conviction.
“Let me restore your memory, my dear Jason, yours and those of our friends who stood present that day, and bring to these here, who were then too young, enlightenment afresh.
“After Alcibiades' banishment following the defeat at Notium, the city sent out Conon to assume command. That authority not be concentrated in the hands of one man, however, the Council compassed him within a corps of ten generals, among whom were our friends Aristocrates and the younger Pericles. Under this collegial command, the fleet engaged the enemy in a great battle at the Arginousai Islands, destroying seventy of their warships, including nine of ten Spartan vessels, while losing twenty-five of our own. You were there, Jason. Do I recite accurately? Correct me please if I miscarry.
“At this hour, the close of fighting, all fortune had favored the Athenians. But in battle's aftermath a blow arose with terrible swiftness, as storms do in those seas at that time of year, so I am told, and the men in the water-our men, from those ships holed and sunk-could not be recovered. Those assigned by the generals, among them Thrasybulus and Theramenes, proven leaders, could not master the tempest. All in the water were lost. These comprised the crews of some twenty-five vessels, five thousand men. The city, when it learned of this, was riven in conflicting directions, the first in rage and horror clamoring for the blood of those who had failed to rescue the shipwrecked seamen, the second straining to absorb the calamity as one must all in war, acknowledging the severity of the storm, which was ratified by all reports, nor failing to recollect the greatness of the victory.
“It chanced, however-you who were there cannot but recall-that the Feast of the Apaturia fell proximately after the battle, that customarily joyous season when the brotherhoods assemble to rededicate their bonds and enroll the youths entering their fraternities. It happened, I say, that so many were the gaps in the ranks vacated by those sailors and marines lost at sea, that men broke down to behold the magnitude of the loss. And this despair, inflamed by the rhetoric of certain individuals, some of legitimate motive, others seeking to deflect blame from themselves, erupted to a conflagration. The city clamored for blood. Six of the generals were arrested (four received warning and fled first). The people proceeded against them at once, trying them not individually as the law prescribed, but in a block, as one. Pericles, Aristocrates, and the other four were made to defend themselves in chains, as traitors. Do I say true, Jason? And you, Crito and Cebes, who were there, draw me up if I narrate imprecisely.”
All concurred that Socrates' depiction was faithful in spirit and fact.
“The generals were tried in open Assembly. My tribe held the prytany; the lot of epistates chanced to have fallen to me. I was president of the Assembly, the lone occasion of my life on which I have held so lofty a post, and for one day only, as the laws prescribed.
“The prosecutors spoke first; then the generals, one after the other in their own defense, but refused by the mob's impatience the prescribed interval of the law. Only two spoke in their defense.
Axiochus first, then Euryptolemus, nor did he or any of his family ever honor their name more than by his gallantry in that hour. He confined his arguments, shrewdly in the face of the mob, to an exhortation to give each general his day in court. 'In this way you may be sure of exacting the fullest measure of justice, punishing the guilty to the maximum while avoiding the terrible crime of condemning those who are blameless.'
“The people listened, and even carried his motion, but then Menecles lodged an objection on a technicality and the motion was about to be put to a second vote, that vote which in fact overturned Euryptolemus' plea and doomed Pericles and the others. Before this ballot could be taken, however, you arose, Jason.
I, as chair, recognized you, though many attempted to shout you down, knowing the fellowship you bore for the younger Pericles, not to say your own record of valor with the fleet. Will you permit me, friends, to attempt to recapture the character, if not the text, of our comrade's plea? Or shall I quit this line of recital?”
The others desired most ardently that our master continue. He glanced once in my direction, then returned to them in sober mien.
“You spoke as follows, Jason:
“'You are impatient, men of Athens, to conclude this matter.
Allow me then to propose a course. As you have determined already that these men are guilty, sparing the state expense of trial or deliberation, let us so name them. Let us agree that in violation of the ordinances of gods and men, they forswore their duty to their comrades in peril. Are we agreed? Then let us advance upon them in a pack now and tear their throats out with our bare hands!
“'You howl at me, gentlemen. We must do it by law, you cry.
Which law is that: the one you overturn at your whim or the one you make unto yourselves? For tomorrow when you awaken, defiled with these innocent men's blood, no canon or statute will cloak your wickedness.
“'But you will contend, and those prosecutors speaking in your name have so contended, These accused are murderers! You will paint, as your indictors have painted, the soul-rending portrait of our shipwrecked sons crying for that aid which did not come, until, strength at last failing, they gulped the salt element that overwhelmed them. I have fought upon the sea. We all have. God help us, to perish on that field is the most piteous death a man may suffer, where not his bones, nor the shreds of his garment, may be restored to find rest beneath his native soil.
“'Yes, our sons' blood cries for retribution. But how shall we exact it-by dishonoring the very law they gave their lives for? In my family we call ourselves democrats. Within my father's vault reside commendations inscribed by the elder Pericles, father of one who stands here accused today, and my friend, as all know. These artifacts rest revered beneath our roof, talismans of our democracy.
Now in holy assembly we gather, Athenians, as our fathers and theirs before them. But do we deliberate? Is that what you call this? My heart perceives a darker spawn. I peer into your faces and ask, Where have I seen this aspect before? I will tell you where I have not seen it. I have not seen it in the eyes of warriors facing the enemy with fortitude. That is another look entire, and you know it.
“'What unholy imperative, men of Athens, compels you against all reason and your own self-interest to strike down those who are best among you?