The Good Life and Good Death in Plato's Apology

Introduction: Plato, Socrates, and the Origins of the Apology

When Plato was still a boy, he witnessed the trial and execution of Socrates. Historians tell us that during the trial he attempted to speak out in defense of the great philosopher: "Plato mounted the platform and began: 'Though I am the youngest, men of Athens, of all who ever rose to address you' — whereupon the judges shouted out, 'Get down! Get down!'" (Laertius). Perhaps in his youth Plato would indeed have known very little and had no great wisdom to add to the debate. If this is true, then according to Socratic ideas he would certainly have been the best advocate of all, for Socrates' entire defense lay upon the point that the truest wisdom consists in recognizing one's own ignorance, and that ultimate truth in life can only be found when one first acknowledges that nothing is known.

In childhood, then, perhaps Plato was closer to an understanding of Socrates than he would ever be again. It is not surprising that the Apology (also titled Death of Socrates), as Plato's earliest writing, would have been his clearest. In this work, far more so than in more esoteric writings such as The Republic, Plato — summarizing Socrates' words — makes a powerful case for the idea that the highest good is to live a thoroughly examined life: to question everything so that the true wellsprings of virtue may be found, and to humbly accept one's ignorance before the gods, so that one might most ably accept the fate they grant.

Three Foundations of the Highest Good

If one were to ask Socrates what the greatest good might be, he would no doubt respond with a question, and the conversation would inevitably walk in circles for hours as the definition of virtue was hopelessly sought. Yet in the end, if one takes the Apology as a guide, it seems clear that three things would have been established.

First, the highest good is that which is sought for its own sake rather than for the sake of some other objective. Therefore neither wealth, nor power, nor pleasure, nor even life itself — none of these physical things — can be the highest good. Rather, the highest good must be those things which are sought from life, such as happiness and truth. As Socrates explains, "I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul." (Socrates)

Second, truth cannot be fully known in this life, for all men are inherently ignorant of the meaning of the world. Therefore the good must lie in seeking truth — in asking questions and examining our lives so that we might at least not fall into falsehood. Socrates states: "Well, although I do not suppose that either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is — for he knows nothing and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the advantage of him." (Socrates)

Third, death itself might be a way to access the greatest good, because it could strip the veil from life and allow the eyes to finally see truth: "no one knows whether death, which men in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good." (Socrates) Of these ideas, the first is certainly the most prominent in the Apology, and the value of seeking truth is Socrates' primary defense against those who demand his life — though his fearlessness before death is his most powerful response.

The Examined Life Versus the Unexamined Life

All three of these points may be collapsed into a single idea regarding the value of the unexamined life versus the life of the questioner. "I say again that daily to discourse about virtue, and of those other things about which you hear me examining myself and others, is the greatest good of man, and that the unexamined life is not worth living." (Socrates) The unexamined life, Socrates explains, will be spent chasing things that are only means to an end — things such as wealth, power, and popularity. In seeking means, one does not assure that the end is achieved, for knowing how to use these means is more important than possessing them.

Socrates speaks of the way in which a person who has genuine understanding is unlikely to harm himself or others, while the unexamined person will do both. Questioning others in order to help them find the truth of life can therefore only do them good, however upsetting it may be. The life of a questioner may show him to know nothing — and yet in realizing his ignorance, he becomes capable of at least recognizing the falsehoods that guide people into wrongdoing. He will neither fear death nor mis-live his life.

According to classicist Peter Kalkavag, Socrates taught only through questions, and yet this was teaching virtue after a fashion. "In serious conversation, Socrates shows them that they are not wise. He purges this presumption of our own wisdom that lies at the root of human evil. How can we hope to become virtuous human beings if, in addition to being ignorant of what we most ought to know, we do not know that we are ignorant? Such a condition would seem both wretched and dangerous." (Kalkavag)

Bibliography

Kalkavag, Peter. "Who Is Socrates? — Thoughts on Plato's Apology." GB Quarterly, Winter 2000. http://arachnid.pepperdine.edu/goseweb/GBQuarterly/winter00/whoissocrates.html

Plato. Apology (also known as The Death of Socrates). Trans. Benjamin Jowett. Project Gutenberg, 1999. http://unseelie.org/books/plato.socrates-apology

Laertius, Diogenes. "Life of Socrates." Trans. Robert Drew Hicks. 1925. http://www.litfinder.com/search/worx.asp?R=777168374&act=A70&rothST=socrates%20apology