Regarding Plato’s Apology—
Introduction:
To set the stage for Plato’s Apology, one might start by considering the Peloponnesian War (431 to 404 BCE) between Athens and Sparta. After the initial collapse of Athenian democracy with Sparta’s victory, there was ongoing unrest and revolt against the newly installed oligarchic regime – The Thirty Tyrants (405 to 404 BCE). With success in their revolution and an effort to keep stability, Athens enacted an amnesty, shielding citizens from prosecution for crimes committed during the war. Socrates, whose views on democracy, as seen in the Republic, diverged to somewhat preserve and instill virtue instead, faced trial a couple of years after the war in 399 BCE for “Corrupting the Youth” and “Impiety.” It is worth noting that despite his philosophical criticisms of democracy, Socrates remained loyal to Athens and fought for its defense. However, perhaps due to his controversial reputation for inquiry, his association with particular “enemies,” and Athens’ unique piety laws, Socrates faced his final stand—a situation that, in my view, only strengthened the impact of his last message, putting us in a better position to seek knowledge. In this paper, I ambitiously explore Socrates’ “last message,” arguing that his Daimonion, despite its differences from his ironic approach and its subjective nature, advances this philosophical objective. To achieve this, I will briefly explore Socratic Irony as shown in the Apology, examine how the Daimonion operates or may be interpreted for the reader, and clarify how its subjectivity serves as his most profound ironic argument.
Socrates the Gadfly — Irony in Practice
Socratic Irony refers to Socrates pretending to be ignorant or feigning humility, often engaging with weaker arguments through a series of questions as a rhetorical strategy to either subtly mock or expose others’ ignorance with eventual contradictions. Note, that this occurs all throughout the Apology, where, even from the beginning, Socrates claims he is not an "accomplished speaker" and is using the "same kind of language" people are accustomed to (Plato, Apology 17b-c). This accomplishes two things: (I) Socrates pretends to be less knowledgeable or capable than he truly is, even when he constantly wanders around having intellectual philosophical discussions. (II) He then carries this feigned “confusion” or “naivety” into the later portions of the courtroom during his questioning of Meletus, assuming the position of not understanding the reasoning behind the charges against him. Socrates, in turn, finds himself defending against those accusers who are now supposedly more experienced and familiar with the debate setting. And, a jury, likely predisposed against him, probably wondering what he is going to do next.
Before delving into specifics, we need to understand his motivation for employing irony and what encouraged this need to extend ignorance. When the Oracle proclaimed that “there was no one wiser” than Socrates, he was puzzled and began seeking out those who were reputed to be wise (Plato, Apology 21a). He observed that by questioning the so-called wise, it became clear they were not, and pointing this out often angered both them and other bystanders. Socrates realized that his wisdom then came from understanding that “his wisdom [was] worthless,” or that he actually knew very little (Plato, Apology 23b). Noting that the same applied to those around him, Socrates then embarked on a divine mission to help others confront their own lack of knowledge as well. By doing so, they would be in a better place to seek knowledge, not relying on a false sense of certainty, but rather recognizing the limits or incompleteness of their understanding. And now, with that, they were equipped for venture—complementing the idea that philosophy is the pursuit of ignorance.
Now, to attend to the eventual contradiction, Socrates begins by addressing the charge of “corrupting the youth,” aiming to reveal Meletus’ ignorance and lack of thought. After some initial questioning, Socrates finds the statement made by Meletus to fall into contradiction. He prefaces by asking whether it is reasonable to believe that all Athenians “make the young into fine good men,” except for him—Meletus responds confidently, stating, “That is most certainly what I am saying” (Plato, Apology 25a). However, this claim is abruptly challenged with two fronts. One aspect focuses on the implausibility of the statement itself, while the other revolves around intention and the ability of others to be advocated and distance themselves from harm. For the former, Socrates uses an analogy of horse trainers, explaining that only a few skilled experts are capable of improving horses, while the majority, if involved, are more likely to cause harm (Plato, Apology 25b). From this, we note that just as only skilled trainers can improve horses, only a few knowledgeable individuals would be qualified to educate the youth. Similarly, it is unlikely that Socrates would be the only individual solely responsible for corrupting the youth. As for the latter point, Socrates argues that supposing the accusation were plausible, the appropriate response would have been to correct him, not bring him to court for sentencing (Plato, Apology 25e-26a). If Meletus were genuinely concerned about the welfare of the youth, he would have sought to guide Socrates, instead of pursuing legal retribution and assuming malicious intent. And, who is there to seek retribution for? Socrates asserts that he neither taught nor expected anyone to remain around him if his influence was harmful, pointing out none of the youth he allegedly corrupted have come forward to accuse him (Plato, Apology 23d, 33a). Meletus even agreed that no rational person would willingly harm themselves and would instead want to seek what is beneficial for them—yet, he continues to claim that Socrates has corrupted “deliberately” (Plato, Apology 25c-e). There is, therefore, now a beginning set of contradictions undermining Meletus’ claims, beginning to cast doubt on the legitimacy of the charges against Socrates as well.
The same approach was applied to the second charge of “Impiety,” though Socrates’ defense here is less extensive. Meletus, prompted by another set of questions, confirms Socrates is an Athiest, saying, “You do not believe in any Gods at all” (Plato, Apology 26c). Yet, earlier in the text, Meletus contradicts this by accusing Socrates of “introducing other new divine beings” (Plato, Apology 24b). This leads Socrates to soon introduce his Daimonion, emphasizing that, since he engages with some spiritual matters, as claimed before, he must “believe in Gods of some kind” (Plato, Apology 27d). This contradiction may be somewhat weaker, but in both charges, Meletus is ultimately left exposed and undermined by a once ironic Socrates.
Socrates likens himself to a gadfly—where just as a gadfly keeps a horse awake and prevents it from becoming sluggish, he believes his persistent questioning keeps the city of Athens towards excellence in virtue (Plato, Apology 30d). I find this comparison interesting, as Socrates portrays himself as a seemingly insignificant creature, feigning humility, while then claiming he is the city’s greatest benefactor. He even goes so far as to propose that, instead of punishment, he should be rewarded for his divine mission with free meals in the Prytaneum—an honor reserved for Olympic victors and distinguished citizens (Plato, Apology 36d). This is inherently ironic because, while Socrates frames his actions as beneficial, many Athenians see him as nothing more than a nuisance. Throughout the trial, his accusers have misunderstood his purpose. By appearing to be naive or simply obedient to a divine mission, Socrates subtly exposes the ignorance and contradictions in his accusers’ arguments. In reality, he is fully aware of the value of his role to the city, using irony to lead them into revealing their ignorance, while only now openly expressing the true importance of his work.
Compatibility — You speak of Daimonion?
In the Apology, the Daimonion serves two main purposes, (I) to reinforce his defense against the charge of impiety, and (II) to guide him in avoiding wrongdoing while helping him face death without fear. We will explore both of these points further, but it is worth noting that, aside from the thought that Socrates finds it to be a form of divine intervention, there is little consistent detailed explanation of it in any dialogue, even those outside of Plato’s works (Jedrkiewicz 2017). However, given how often Socrates references the Daimonion and bases convictions on it, such as with (II), it seems reasonable to conclude that he did not use it for irony—in that he genuinely believed it to be divine. We will entertain this, particularly since Socrates does not appear to fully impose this belief on others. And, any person is allowed their religious experiences.
From what we can gather, the Daimonion is described as “a voice” that “turns [him] away,” signaling himself against a certain action (Plato, Apology 31c-d). In other texts, it is shown to have a similar ability, such as in the Euthydemus, where Socrates is turned away from leaving before talking to Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, or the Phaedrus turned away from ending his speech (Kenny 2003). As per modern interpretations, some base it on a sort of “careful consciousness” or “moral manifestation,” maybe even a “random impulse” he occasionally felt, while others like Nietzsche claim it was a mental illness, such as “auditory hallucinations” or simply a neurotic issue (Beljonne 2014). I am not really here to define what it is, more so to approach it as Socrates saw it. However, there are some issues with this, as we are uncertain of its compatibility with his reasoning or irony, given that it is not something we can directly experience. Notice with (II), he takes the Daimonion’s silence as “convincing proof” that death might actually “be a good thing” (Plato, Apology 40b-c). In comparison, if Socrates wanted to determine whether any action should be done, he would just need to act and wait to see if the voice sounded, leaving little room for shared reasoning with others (Kenny 2003).
For someone like Socrates, who often aligns with rationalism, abandoning reason and taking the Daimonion above it to advance an argument is troublesome. However, there is reason to believe that both could be compatible. Notice that, if it is merely a voice or alarm, it provides little into these three aspects: (1) When the action will be wrong in the future, (2) Which action is wrong, and (3) the reason for it being wrong (Kenny 2003). Socrates is therefore required to decide how to respond to each alarm, making it more of a form of advice or guidance than attainable knowledge. For example, in Xenophon’s Apology, Socrates has two warnings from his Daimonion before stopping his preparation for his defense (Jedrkiewicz 2017). I believe it could be argued that Socrates could choose to go against the Daimonion, in which the second one comes. And, complementing its ambiguity with the range of possible actions, any choice that aligns with its guidance can be seen as justified. In other words, as long as he stopped the defense, it did not matter what action was paired with it, like sitting on the grass, drinking some tea, or simply crying as I wrote this paper.
Conclusion — The Height of Irony
The Daimonion is a subjective occurrence to Socrates, though I would caution it works differently than any religious experience. Even if a true religious experience might offer knowledge, this does not necessarily provide the same insight. This makes it an “inherently bad” argument in the traditional philosophical sense, as it does not offer anything teachable or logically defensible. Socrates is fully aware of this, knowing that others will likely not accept or understand it. However, I believe that in his final moments, Socrates reaffirms his dedication to his mission and wields every tool at his disposal. With no room left for reason after his sentencing, he embraced what could be seen as his worst tool of all. This was his Heightened Irony—an acceptance of the limits of human knowledge and an embracement of death, once before done with reason, all now accepted through the subjective.
References (APA 7):
[1] Beljonne, David. “Socrates’ Daimonion.” Springer EBooks, 1 Jan. 2014, pp. 1676–1679, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4614-6086-2_652. Accessed 02 Oct. 2024.
[2] Kenny, D. Philip. “Socratic Knowledge and the Daimonion*.” Brigham Young University, Aporia, 2003, aporia.byu.edu/pdfs/kenny-socratic_knowledge_and_the_daimonion.pdf. Accessed 01 Oct. 2024.
[3] Jedrkiewicz, Stefano. “A Literary Challenge: How to Represent Socrates’ Daimonion.” Brill, 1 Jan. 2017, brill.com/display/book/edcoll/9789004341227/B9789004341227_015.xml. Accessed 03 Oct. 2024.
[4] Plato. Plato - Five Dialogues. Edited by John M Cooper. Trans. by G. M. A. Grube, Hackett Publishing Company, 2022.