other historical persons who left no written accounts. The classic example, of
course, is Jesus. We cannot be certain that the “historical” Jesus actually
spoke the words that Matthew or Luke ascribed to him. Similarly, what the
“historical” Socrates actually said will always be shrouded in mystery.
But who Socrates “really” was is relatively unimportant. It is Plato’s
portrait of Socrates that has inspired thinkers in the Western world for nearly
2,500 years.
The Art of Discourse
The essential nature of Socrates’ art lay in the fact that he did not
appear to want to instruct people. On the contrary he gave the impression of
one desiring to learn from those he spoke with. So instead of lecturing like a
traditional schoolmaster, he discussed.
Obviously he would not have become a famous philosopher had he
confined himself purely to listening to others. Nor would he have been
sentenced to death. But he just asked questions, especially to begin a
conversation, as if he knew nothing. In the course of the discussion he would
generally get his opponents to recognize the weakness of their arguments,
and, forced into a corner, they would finally be obliged to realize what was
right and what was wrong.
Socrates, whose mother was a midwife, used to say that his art was like
the art of the midwife. She does not herself give birth to the child, but she is
there to help during its delivery. Similarly, Socrates saw his task as helping
people to “give birth” to the correct insight, since real understanding must
come from within. It cannot be imparted by someone else. And only the
understanding that comes from within can lead to true insight.
Let me put it more precisely: The ability to give birth is a natural
characteristic. In the same way, everybody can grasp philosophical truths if
they just use their innate reason. Using your innate reason means reaching
down inside yourself and using what is there.
By playing ignorant, Socrates forced the people he met to use their
common sense. Socrates could feign ignorance—or pretend to be dumber
than he was. We call this Socratic irony. This enabled him to continually
expose the weaknesses in people’s thinking. He was not averse to doing this
in the middle of the city square. If you met Socrates, you thus might end up
being made a fool of publicly.
So it is not surprising that, as time went by, people found him
increasingly exasperating, especially people who had status in the
community. “Athens is like a sluggish horse,” he is reputed to have said, “and
I am the gadfly trying to sting it into life.”
(What do we do with gadflies, Sophie?)
A Divine Voice
It was not in order to torment his fellow beings that Socrates kept on
stinging them. Something within him left him no choice. He always said that
he had a “divine voice” inside him. Socrates protested, for example, against
having any part in condemning people to death. He moreover refused to
inform on his political enemies. This was eventually to cost him his life.
In the year 399 B.C. he was accused of “introducing new gods and