Plato's Defense Speech of Socrates

How you Athenian citizens have been affected by my accusers I do not know—but then even I almost forgot myself they speak so persuasively; but as for truth, in a word, they have said none.—& what I was most amazed at, all the lies they told, that they alleged you must beware to not be by me deceived, like I'm such a clever speaker; for in their shamelessness about to be disproved by me in fact—as I appear in no way speaking cleverly—I thought this their most shameful act; unless, that is, these men call clever a speaker, terrible!, who tells the truth: If this is what they mean, I would agree I be no orator like them.
So these guys, as I reckon, either have or have said nothing true; but from me you will hear the truth entire.—though not, good God men, oh Athenians!, arguments prettily adorned like these ones' with jargony phrases in order pre-arranged; you shall instead hear things argued reasonably in words as they happen to occur—for I do believe that what I say is just—and let none of you expect otherwise, since it would clearly not be right, at this age, jurymen, to come before you like a young man delivering set-speeches. In truth I ask this seriously of you, Athenian men, imploring even, if you hear me defend myself by the same arguments which I am in the habit of reasoning at the town square with the merchants where many of you have heard me, and elsewhere too, that you not cry out in shock because of it. 'Cause it's like this: Right now is the first time I have stepped into court at the age of seventy years, so I am simply foreign to the mode of speech here. Therefore just as you would, if I really did happen to be a foreign guest, certainly agree with me if I were speaking with that voice and manner in which I have been raised, truly do now beg this of you, as I believe is just, to dismiss the style of speech—for perhaps is worse and may be better, too—and look at thing itself & apply your mind to this question: Whether what I say is right or no; for this is just man's sole virtue and for a public speaker to tell th' truth.

So first then I am just, right to defend speaking myself, Athens' gentlemen, against the first lies I was accused of and primary accusers, and next to the ones later and men who made allegations because many of my accusers have come to you—and for a number of years already—saying nothing true; & I am more afraid of these than the ones with Anytos, although they, like those, are terribly clever. But the former are moreso, citizens, who have taken to persuading many of you from childhood, and were accusing me alleging nothing so true as that there is a certain wise man, Socrates, who meditates on sky-high things having examined everything beneath the ground and makes the lesser reason stronger. Oh Athenian citizens, these men have spead this rumor, are my cleverly terrifying accusers—as the people hearing them think those who look into these matters do not believe in gods. Since these men who accuse are numerous and have been making accusations for quite some time, and what is more, even talking at you (in that age which you were most susceptible to belief) as you were each mere children and lads, artlessly alleging charges uncontested with no one there to answer in defense—and what is most senseless of all? The impossibility of knowing and stating their names; unless one happened to write some comedies. As many as used slander to persuade you, who were themselves convinced in persuading others, these are all intractable; because there is no way they can be brought here, no one can refute them: Rather it is quite simply required for the defendant to fight as if against shadows and refute no one answering. Then even you must rightly judge, just as I claim, that my accusers are of two types: Those who made recent accusations and others who've done it for some time whom I am now discussing. And you should also think it needed that I myself speak to defend against the former first; you actually heard those men making allegations before, and considerably more than, these later ones.
Now, one must offer a speech, men of Athens, and try to wrest from the you prejudice which you acquired over a long period in so short a time. So I would prefer this turned out thus, should something be better for you & me both and that I were to effect a thing greater by my defense in speech; but I think it a difficult matter and am surely not unaware what sort of task it is. So all the same, however this may go to please the God, one must still obey customary law and persuade by offering explanation.
Let us then take up from beginning what the accusation is from which my slander has arisen in belief of which Miletos as well, I guess, had me indicted on this charge. Now, what do my slanderers say to defame? It seems therefore required to read accusers' sworn testimony: Socrates is unjust and busily goes about examining things under earth and in sky & making the weaker argument stronger, even showing others how to do these same. Some such charge is this: But you have seen these things for yourselves in Aristophanes' silly play, some Socrates there bandied about, saying he treads the air mumbling a lot of foolish nonsense like an idiot which I know nothing, either great or small, about. And I'm not speaking as one who dishonors knowledge like this, if someone is wise as related to such subjects—not that I hope to be acquitted of Miletos' charge—but really I have, Athenian gentlemen, no part of these. Again, I offer you quite a few witnesses and think you capable both of showing each other and talking to, as many have ever heard me in conversation—and there are many of you here—so tell each other whether any of you has ever heard me, either a lot or not, in dialogue about such affairs, and from this you will come to know what are the other such things that many say about me.
But the truth is none of this, even if you have heard that I try to indoctrinate people and make money greedily, this is also false. Since this, too, does seem to me a noble pursuit, that is, if one *could train people like Gorgias of Leontini and Prodicus the Chian, Hippias of Elios. Each of these, men, is able, in going to each city, to (they might congregate freely with whomever of their own fellow citizens if they wish) persuade these young men to leave their communities and form alliance amongst themselves by giving money and remain in debt of thanks besides. Since a certain fellow from Paros here is also pretty wise, whom I saw heading home 'cause I just happened to have accosted a man who has paid the professional teachers more money than everyone else combined, I mean Callias of Hipponikos; and I asked him (since he has two sons), "Hey Callias," I said, "if both your sons were a pair of ponies or calves and we were to have a trainer take them for hire who was going to make them, both fine and noble, live up to their potential, this man would be an equestrian or farmer; but now, since they are both men, what teacher do you think is best for them to have? Who is an expert in such excellence, both the human and political form of knowledges? Because I think you are viewed in light of your having sons. Is there," I asked, "someone or no?"
"Certainly," he replied."Who's that?," I said, "and where from? & how much does he train for?"
"Evenos," he said, "dear Socrates, from Paros: 5 minæ."
And I pronounced Mr. Evenos fortunately blessed if he has as truth this skill and his teachings are so agreeable. Therefore would I, for my part at least, pride myself on being wonderful if I were to know these things; but I do not understand them, Athenians.

And maybe one of you might reply, 'Oh, but Socrates, what is your deal? Where have these slanderous statements against you come from? I mean, certainly you of all people doing nothing any more uncommon from the rest did not acquire such reputation and opinion unless you were acting different than most: So tell us what it is that we not act harshly in speaking about you.' These seem to me just right words for one to say, & I will try to demonstrate for you why on earth it is this happened to me, both the reputation and its false charge: Listen, hear.
Perhaps I will seem to some of you like I am playing child's games; but you must know very well I will tell you the truth in its entirety. Because I, oh citizens of Athens, have received this infamous name for none other than a certain wisdom. What kind of knowledge's this? The sort of a humane understanding; but really, I do risk this to be wise. Now these men perhaps, whom I just mentioned, are wise about a form of knowledge greater than man; that, or I have nothing say. For I certainly know not of it and whoever says I do is lying and speaks for the purpose of libeling me. Now don't, Athens' citizens, shout at me if you believe I say too much, because I do not claim the argument I make is mine, but I will disclose its speaker worthily for you. For of my wisdom, if there is any even of a sort, I shall provide as witness to you the prophetic Lord at Delphi. You've had to've known Chaerephon. This man was my companion from youth and friend to your party, shared with you your recent exile; you even returned home together. You also know what sort of man Chaerephon was, how eager for whatever he undertook. And he actually one time went and received this oracular response—don't raise a ruckus at what I speak, gentlemen—he asked whether anyone is smarter than I. Then the priestess replied that no one is more wise. And this very man's brother will testify to you about these facts since the man has passed on.
Do examine well the basis upon which I lay these claims because I am now about to show you from where falsehood against me has derived.
Now when I heard this, I took it quite to heart: "What is the god talking about? And why on earth does he riddling speak? But I surely don't even remotely agree that I am wise; so what did he mean when he said I am wisest? I mean, he clearly is not lying,—that would be impossibly wrong for him." And I asked for quite some time what does it mean? Turned next with great difficulty to examing some such doubt of him, I went to one of those people considered knowledgable as, from there, in refuting the response, could show the Oracle that 'This is a wiser man than I, and you said I am most!' Then I looked at this man very thoroughly and (need not mention him by name—except to say he was one of those public persons I examined on some such matter as had experience of and talked with him at length) he seemed to me, this man, to appear wise to a lot of other people, and to himself the most, but was not; & then I kept trying to show him that, while he thought he was wise, he maybe—is not. So that's why I became disliked by this man and by many others who were there. But then, as for myself, as I left I figured out that I am a wiser man than this person since neither of us chances to have any special access to privileged knowledge; but this guy thinks he knows something and doesn't, while I—just as I do not know in fact, don't think I do. So I do seem wiser than this man by virtue of this very one small fact: I don't think I know that which I do not really know. Then I went next to another one of those people who appear to be wiser than that man and the same things seemed to happen to me & from there I was detested by that one and a lot of others.
After this I went immediately off realizing that, though I was hurt and scared because I had become disliked... but making god's the most important work still seemed it necessary then—for one looking into the oracle, what its response signified, must go to all who seemed to know some thing. And by the dog, Athens' men—since one has to tell you things in truth—I seriously perceived an impression like so: The men considered best almost appeared to me most lacking in my search as relates to the god; but others who seemed of a lower sort were seen as men more fairly capable of being sensibly disposed. It is, truly, necessary to exhibit for you my deceptive wanderings as of one belabored at some troubles, so that for me, the power of prophecy become even irrefutable. For after the political men, I went to the poets who write tragedies and celebratory hymns and the other makers of verse, like right there I was going to catch myself red-handed as less aware than those men. So I picked up their poems which I thought were in their most completed form and would ask them what they mean to learn something from them on the spot. I am, therefore, ashamed to speak to you, uh...gentlemen, the truth; but it must still be proclaimed.
To say in a word, the bystanders were almost all speaking better than they about what the poets had written themselves. Then I made again this realization about the poets in a short space of time, that it's not through wisdom they produce what they do, but by a certain natural disposition and they are inspired like a prophetic soul,—one who proclaims oracles. Although these people actually do say a lot of pretty words, they know nothing of what they speak. Even the poets looked to me to have been affected some such experience and I, right away, perceived they thought through the art of poetry, people are also most knowledgable about other subjects they don't understand. I went away from them right there & then thinking the same thing has just which happened also with politics.
Then to finish I went to the craftsmen because I knew full well that I myself understand nothing, so to speak; but I was aware that I would find these men comprehend a lot and pretty things. And I was not deceived in this; rather, what they knew I didn't understand and were, in this regard, more cognizant than I. But, men of Athens, to me they seemed to possess the same overbearing as the poets and best public officials: As a result of noble accomplishment in their field, each believed himself most learned with respect to the remaining matters of highest import.—and I believe that they fall flat by obscuring that one form of wisdom; so that, naturally, I asked myself, on the Oracle's behalf, whether I ought accept being just as I am—neither one bit wise in the skill those men possess nor unlearned in ignorance—or else have which things they do. So I asked myself and the Oracle what profits me just as I am able to be.
This was the review of formation, gentlemen of Athens, from which so much anger came upon me, and of that most difficultly depressing sort, to such extent that many slanders were born from them and this name was called, that I am wise; on each occasion, people around me think I myself know about these issues I cross-examine another on. But the truth, guys, is the God dares to be wise and risks saying this in his 0racle because human knowledge is worth precious little and zero. And he does seem to mean 'Socrates' by this and did hazard to divinatively declare by my name in making me example as if it were to say, "This is the wisest man among you, people—whoever, just like Socrates, understands he is worth nothing in reality as relates to being wise." So I, even to this day, go around inquiring about I do seek these things as concerns the God, and with the locals and strangers, whenever I think one may be wise, should he not seem to me so, I assist the god in pointing out that no wise man is.—truly wise: Because of this activity I am afforded no free time for behaving like the other people in town in any appreciable way, or even my family, and I live in total poverty as result of my service of the god.
But these concerns aside, the young men who chase after me—those with the most leisure time, the sons of the wealthiest—of their own free will: They enjoy hearing people be questioned and they oftentimes imitate me, and then attempt to scrutinize other folks; & therefore, I think, they find a great deal of people who think they know a thing, but in fact know little or no. This then is why those questioned by them are angry at me—not with themselves—and they allege that Socrates is someone disgustingly unclean and corrupts young men; and whenever someone asks them what he is doing and what teaching, they have nothing to say and are without a clue. But so they not seem to be at a loss, they state the accusations which are ready-made for the men who do love wisdom all, like "things in space and underground" and "believing not in gods" & "to make stronger the lesser claim." Though I consider them just unwilling to tell the truth, which is, they become obvious in their laying false claim to knowing truth and know not a thing. So that is why I think they love being honored and are a violent, excessive mob which strains bitterly to slander me, has filled your ears for a long time with zealous lies. It's from these arguments that even Miletos attacked me, and Anytos & Lycon: Miletos, incensed on behalf of the poets; Anytos for the workmen and administrators; Lycon grieving for the public speakers, so that what I said in beginning my statement, that I'd be shocked if I were able to pry from you this false reputation in such a short time—so massive has it become: These things exist for you, Athenian people, as the truth and concealing neither thing great nor small from you I speak openly free from fear. And yet I've all but seen that I am an irritation to these very individuals, which is proof I speak the truth, that this is false accusation and these are its alleged charges. Even if you look closely now or ask these questions later, you will so find.
So then as regards which charge my first accusers alleged, this must serve as a defense in addressing you; but against Miletos, the noble patriot (so he says) and later slanderers I will have tried to offer refutation after this attempt. But once, of course, again, as of the other set of people who make accusations, let's now take up these men's sworn affadavit. It is, somehow, like this: 'They say Socrates behaves unjustly in corrupting young men and by not believing in gods which the city-state deems customary, but worships other new divinites.' The complaint is, on the one hand, such; but let's line up to inspect each charge upon the other.

Now it says I harm the young by corrupting them. Well, I say, men of Athens, Miletos is wrong, that he's seriously joking, too easily puts people on trial, pretends to be zealous about important matters and troubles himself over what never this man concerns; and so how this is I will endeavor to show you too.
OK Miletos, tell me as well: Do you any other thing but act on behalf of the majority in order that younger lads will be as good as they can?
I certainly do.
Do come now and tell these folks who improves them; 'cause it's obvious you know, as it so concerns you: For after you discovered, as you state, that I ruin them you brought me before these men and leveled a charge. But the one who makes them greater, do tell and reveal for these who it is.—Don't you see, Miletos, that your silence is unable to speak? And yet, does it not seem shameful to you think the evidence sufficient of what I speak that is not remotely your concern and never was? But my good man, do say who makes them braver.
Laws of custom.
This is not what I ask, you finest man, but which person does?, the sort of man who first knows this even itself, that it's 'the Laws'?
These men Socrates, who decide the case.
What do you mean, Miletos? These people can educate the young and are making them finer?
Absolutely.
All of them, or some yes and others—no?
Every one.
By Hera!, you do speak well enough; and about quite a supply of assistants. But really: Does the audience make them better or no?
These men too.
What, the jurists?
The jury as well.
Miletos, you aren't implying that the legislators in the assembly corrupt the younger ones, are you? Or do all those people also make them greater?
Those ones do.
Wow, all Athenians improve their nobility and virtue except me and I alone am corrupting? That is what you mean to say?
I vehemently assert these as facts.
You charged a great deal of misgivings against me. Answer me as well: Does it also seem the same to you as relates to horses? That the ones who improve them are everyone but only some, one makes them worse? Or is it the other way around—that one particular person can make them better, or a select few—horsemen—while most men, if acquainted with using horses, actually ruin them? Isn't this how it is with horses and all other living things? How wholly evident whether you and Anytos agree or not; it would be some massive stroke of luck for the youth if just one guy misleads them while the rest help them out.
But in point of fact, Miletos, you yourself quite clearly show you never cared one bit about the youth and you are obviously displaying your carelessness because the things you charge me with you are not at all concerned. But tell us further, Miletos—under God—whether it is better to live at home amidst matters political or troublesome? My good sir, do answer: It's no difficult thing I ask. Don't troubled men work devilry upon the people always closest at hand and great ones do for them something good.
Absolutely.
So is there anyone who prefers to be hurt by those with him instead of helped? Please reply, my good man; the law, in fact, compels response. Does anyone want to be harmed?
Obviously, no.
Oh come on and tell me whether you hauled me in here in belief I seduce young boys to wrong and make them less virtuous by intention or not.
I'd say quite willingly.
Wait, Miletos, what? Are you so much smarter than I, each at our respective age, that you realize harmful men always work some evil upon those nearest themselves, while good men to something right; but I have come to such a fevered pitch of foolishness, I don't even know this: That if I should make somebody wicked—one of my associates—I will run the risk of receiving harmful action from him with the result that I enact such devilry as this on purpose is what you're saying? Oh Miletos, I don't believe you in this and I don't think anyone else will too; either I corrupt no one, or if I do so unwittingly, you are the one who's lying in either case. If I unknowingly cause harm, there isn't a law here to charge one with such unconscious offenses, except taking him aside to teach and direct him privately—because it's clear that if I understand, I shall stop what I do unwillingly. But you refused to, even ran away from getting together with and teaching me; instead you bring me here to court where law is to call men in who need discipline, not instruction.
But in reality, citizens of Athens, I already argued this was clear: That Miletos was never a bit concerned about any part of this. Oh, but do tell us how it is you say, Miletos, I corrupt the boys? Or is it clear in the indictment you charged me with teaching disbelief in gods the city accepts for other, novel divinities? Didn't you argue these are what I corrupting teach?
This is exactly what I'm saying.
Now therefore by these, the gods which are currently under discussion, Miletos, themselves: Tell me even more precisely, and to these people too; for I am unable to ascertain whether you state I teach believing some gods do exist—I mean, I myself think Gods are real and am not a total heathen erring in this way—but certainly not the gods the city esteems, rather other ones; and this is what you charge me with? That I worship other gods? Or do you say about me he wholly doubts God's and teachers others to do this?
That's what I talking about, how you wholly disregard gods.
Oh!, Miletos the marvel, what makes you say that? It's not like I think the sun and moon are gods like other people do, I?
My god, men of the jury!—when he claims the sun is stone, the moon a planet...
You mean to accuse Anaxagoras, Miletos my pal. And you dismiss these thus and think them so illiterate as to be unaware that Anaxagoras of Klazdomenae's books are replete with these statements? Furthermore, that the youth learn this from me, something it is possible to sometimes get for a pretty penny from the theater lobby for shoppers to buy a laugh at Socrates, if he should make like these're his own and are particularly uncommon? But oh by God, this seems right to you? I don't think any god exists?
No, not my god, in no way—the least.
Well aren't you nihilistic and, as I believe, these beliefs are actually your own. That's how this man seems to me, Athenians, to be especially arrogant and disrespectful &, quite simply, scribbled up this charge out of reckless pride, outrageous youth; because it seems like a riddle, should one try to solve "Will Socrates the Wise know I'm mocking reason by saying things contrary to my belief, or shall I deceive him and the rest of those who hear?" Looks to me like this man contradicts himself in his own accusation, as if he were to say: 'Socrates is wrong in not considering Gods, but considers them gods.' But this is childish.
Do look at together, citizens, how I see this man's line of reasoning; but you must answer us, Miletos. But you people must recollect what I asked you at the start: Not to shout out loud if I craft arguments in my habitual way.
Is there such a person, hey Miletos!, who believes human concerns exist but not humans? Let him answer, men, and not cry one objection after the next; is there such a one who believes in horses and not horsemanship? Or thinks flutists are real but their study doesn't pertain? There is not, oh greatest man; if you wish an answer to reply, I am explaining to you and these other people. But the answer to this puzzle—does anyone exist to think divine matters are real but disbelieves divinities?
No one is.
How helpful—to answer under compulsion by these men! Are you therefore saying I believe in and teach matters divine, therefore whether novel or traditional—well either way I still consider them heavenly affairs, counter to your word; and I will testify to these things in my counterargument. But if I believe in godly things, I must believe in divine beings in deed, isn't this so? It is sure indeed and I posit that you agree since you do not respond. Don't I consider divine entities Gods or children of gods? Do you say or no?
Pretty much.
Therefore if I think them divinities, like you say, if—on the one side—some gods are divinities, this would be the riddle I say you make into a joke when you don't believe my response that I think gods, in turn, are real (since I do, in fact, believe their being divine): Now, the converse—if the divinities are some bastard children of gods either from young goddesses or some other source, which actually they're said to be, could some person believe they are Gods' children but still not divine? In the same vein, would it not be strange as if someone were to think horses, or even sheep, had children called mules and believed not that horses and sheep are real? But oh, my leaders', there's no way you, in failing to prove these experiments to us, drew this up as a true allegation for anything other than having no grounds to claim as truth I am involved with injustice; but so you could persuade someone who's got a tiny mind that believing in divine things and the divine is not the same; also, on the other hand, that divinities and gods and heroes aren't alike, but this is no contrivance, fact.
But dear men of Athens, since I am not unjust according to Miletos' charge, although it seems not much of a defense, yet will these things suffice; but what I was saying previous, that a lot of anger has arisen—and for a bunch of people—you know how true that is. And this fact, I predict, is what shall convict me; if it really does, it's not Miletos or Anytos, but the crowds of slander and jealousy which overtake me—and these have taken a lot of other people—good men, too—and I think it will also convict, no worry it may stop at me.
Perhaps then might somebody say, "Aren't you ashamed, Socrates, to have pursued such practice that you presently risk death from?" But I would to this person, quite justifiably, say right back: You're reasoning unsound, dear man, if you think a citizen needs to tally the risk of living or death, it's worth precious little help; rather one must not look solely, when one is disposed to act, at whether he does something right or unjust, also at whether you are committing acts of a good man or wicked one.
By your logic, however many divine heroes met their end in Troy would have been poor suckers, and even Thetis' son above the rest—Achilles—who so looked down on danger as something shameful to give in to that when his mother told his eagerness to kill Hector (since she's a God) something like this, as I do think true: 'My child, if you avenge your friend Patroclus' murder and slay Hector, do you yourself perish—for immediately after,' she says, 'Hector is your fatal fall prepared.'—and when he heard this, he thought nothing of risking his death, but because he was so much more afraid of being a coward in life and not honoring his beloved friends, "Right," he said, "now I wish to die having closed the case on the unjust so that I not have to stay here, a laughing-stock aboard the curving ships—dead weight upon the ground." Do you think he thought too much on dying and danger?

But the truth is, my fellow Athenians, like this: Should someone station himself as he thinks best or be deployed by an officer (I do so believe), it remains for him to risk danger taking neither death into account nor anything other than dishonor. I, therefore, would have accomplished terrible acts, oh men of Athens, if back when the commanders ordered me into battle, the men you chose to lead me in Potidaea and Amphipolis and at Delium—when I held my ground where those men ordered me, just like anyone else I hazarded to die; but with the God in command as I thought and came to accept that I must live to philosophize and examine myself and other people, how dangerous!, if right then and there I had left my appointed place for fear of death or any other concern: I really would be terrible and someone could, quite justifiably in truth, bring me into court charging that I disavow gods by profaning the oracle in fear of death by thinking I am wise but were not. But really, being afraid of dying, men, is no different than believing falsely to seem wise, since it's appearing to know what one hasn't seen. For no one understands death, unless it happens to be the greatest of all things which are good to a person—although some fear as if they knew it is the highest form of evil. And yet how is ignorance not this cause for shame, thinking you know what one doesn't know? I, gentlemen, am perhaps different than most people right here in this particular regard; and if truly I were to say I am more wise than anyone, it would be by this as not knowing about the dead, so also not thinking I know. But being unjust and misbelief in one's superior—both human and divine—I know that is evil and a shame. Then rather than ills I know are bad, those which I know not whether they happen to be good shall I never fear and will not flee; so that not even if you acquit me right now in doubting Anytos, who said that I either should not have come here at all or, since I already did, that it isn't possible to spare my life, addressing arguments to you about how, should I end up escaping you, your sons who practice what Socrates teaches them will all be entirely debased—if you told me in response to these things, "Socrates, now we won't believe Anytos and we let you go—but only on condition by which you no longer waste time in this searching and be a philosopher; and if you're caught still doing this, your death"—so if you dismissed me, just as I say, upon these terms, I would inform you that ''I welcome you, Athenian people, and do love you; but I'll obey the God instead of you and as long as I draw breath and can, will not ever stop doing philosophy and giving you advice and showing you how I am to whomever of you I meet talking with at any hour, wording statements as is my wont, like: 'You finest of men because you're from Athens, city greatest and most revered for its craft and power; & you, unashamed of your concern for wealth so that your state will be filled to burst with esteem and honor both, understanding and truth even of the soul: Don't you care to consider how it shall be as great as it can?' And if one of you disputes this and says it is your concern, I'll not dismiss him straight off or walk away; instead I will ask him questions, inquire further and put him to proof: And if he does not seem to me to have acquired virtue but says so, I will object that he relates matters worthy of greatest attention to the least, makes a bigger deal of the more lowly things. I will do this both to a younger and elder man, whomever I speak with—foreigner and local both; but moreso to people from the City by as much as you are nearer myself in kind. For the God orders this—well you know—and I think there no way anything becomes you a greater good in the city than my service to the divine. Because I go around doing nothing else except persuading you, both youth and elderly, to take care neither of body nor material concerns before so much as of the soul in order it shall be as truly good as possible, reasoning that 'Not from money comes virtue, but rather money's made good of excellence and all the other things, both personal and public, which are marvelous for people.' So then if I mislead young people by stating these arguments, these words would be dangerous; but if somebody says I make other claims than these, he means not a thing. Seeing that," I'd say, "you, my fellow citizens, either believe Anytos or don't and either acquit me or not, as I will act in no other way—not even if I must die a thousand deaths."

Oh shut up, you Athenians, and abide by what I asked of you: That you not get too raucus at whatever I should say and listen instead; in fact, I think hearing will profit you, as I am—to be sure—about to tell you such things, and still more, which might cause you to shout. But you must in no way this do. You know well if you put me to death for being such a man as which sort I claim, you will do me no greater injury than to you yourselves because neither Miletos nor Anytos could harm me—for they have not the power—since I don't think it divinely sanctioned for a better man to be harmed by a weaker one. But then again, maybe he might kill or exile or disgrace me; well perhaps this man, or even someone else, thinks these things are great evils, but I disagree; although I do think it much more treacherous to act as this man now is in trying to put a man to death by injustice. So, Athenian men, I am therefore now far from talking in my own defense as one might suppose; rather I speak in your interests that you not commit any error as concerns your god-borne gift by voting me down. For if you kill me, you will not so easily find another man like this, quite simply—even if it's silliness to speak—bound to the city by God as if to a great, big, noble horse but its girth has made it sluggish and in need of being stung by a gadfly—which in fact, I do think the God right in having dedicated me to the state as some sort who, in pricking and convincing and critiquing you down to the last I stop not at all besetting you from every part the day long whole. Then another like this will not so readily be there for you, gentlemen; but if you are by me convinced, you'll spare my life. & perhaps you would be annoyed, like nappers startled awake, should you examine my mettle in believing Anytos, you might easily destroy me, then live out the rest of life asleep if the God were not to send you someone else who'll cause you trouble. But considering the fact I happen to be such a man of the type to've been given to the city & state by the God, you ought to here consider: It seems more than mortal that I have neglected all my own concerns and maintain a household which cares not for so many years of age, since I am constantly engaged in your work I go about to each personally like a father or older brother trying to persuade you concerned about being virtuous. And if I enjoy any benefit from these practices and took money in dispensing advice, I would have a logical reason; but now you must see for yourselves how the allegation-mongers, in all other ways shameless, do so make this charge that they become incapable of having the gall to say they will provide a witness, as if I ever made any money or demanded pay. For my part, I offer what proof I think sufficient I speak the truth: My poverty.
Then perhaps it might seem odd, my going around and offering counsel privately & acting curiously busy, while in public I dare not to mount the rostrum and make suggestions to your multitude in town. And the reason for this, which you have many times before heard me repeat in a lot of different places, is that a particularly holy and divine thing occurs—one that Miletos mocked in writing his accusation—but this has guided me starting from youth, a certain sound happening which, when it comes, always prevents me from doing something I was about to do and never urges me on. This is what opposes my pursuit of politics and seems to me quite all right in preventing me; for you well know, Athens' citizens, if I had tried long ago to make practice of political concerns, I'd have long since perished and would neither have aided you nor helped myself. Don't be sore at me for speaking the truth, for not a man exists who will have been saved by you or any other mob if he is legitimately opposed to and prevents a good many unjust and criminal acts from occurring in the state; it is required instead for the man fighting truly on behalf of the just cause—if only to gain a brief moment's respite—to do so as an individual, but not a public act.
I even will provide you proof positive of these facts, in what you prize over words: Action. Listen to what happened to me so you know I don't yield to anyone for fear of death when justice is concerned; and were I to concede, be but lost. I am speaking to you in strained legalese, but still truth. Now I, gentle men of Athens, never acquired any authority in town, but I was a council member; and after our district succeeded as managing tribe, when you decided to condemn en masse the ten commanders who did not rescuse the battle's survivors at sea—illegally, as you all later thought was right—back then I alone of the Assembly stood opposed to you acting contrary to the laws and voted against it. And even though the speakers were ready to single me out and haul me off, and you encouraged, even supported them, I thought it more necessary to risk it all with the law and just choice rather than remain with you, as what you wanted was wrong (though I was terrified of prison or death); and this was when the city was still under democratic rule.—but when the oligarchy came to power, the 30 tyrants sent for me and four others in the Rotunda and placed me in charge of bringing Leon home from Salamis in order that he die—exactly what those men did a bunch of times to many other people in hopes of implicating as a many as possible in their guilt. Even then, however, I yet again displayed—in deed rather than word—that my concern for death is, to put it rather bluntly, nihil; but accomplishing not an unjust or impious act, this is of the highest import. However, their authority, though it was so strong, did not shock me into doing their dirty work; no, when we exited the hall, four men went to Salamis and arrested Leon while I went off to go home. And I might have maybe died for these acts, if their rule had not been made short work of: Of these facts you will have many witnesses.
Do you seriously think I'd have reached this age if I were involved in public business and, in doing so worthily like an upright man, tried to aid the just and even acted as if this were most important on the majority's behalf? Far from it, you men from Athens, and neither could anyone else. Throughout the whole of my public life, if ever I did anything practical, I appeared as such and privately was this self-same man, never once conspired to compromise justice with anyone, didn't yield to one of those people who slander me in saying they're my student or anyone else; I have not yet ever been anybody's instructor. But if a soul wants to hear me talk about reason and the things I do myself, whether a lad or elder, I bear no one ill will, do not accept money or things for conversation—and would not ever, too; I afford myself instead to rich and poor alike for questioning even if a body wishes, when answering, to hear the reasons I may speak. And whether there be any use in these statements or no, I could not proffer their cause in justness had I not upheld them for someone or if I'd never come to understanding teach; but if one claims not to have learned something from me or says they heard in private that no one else does either, you have to know the reasons are not true.
But why on earth do some people enjoy with me spending so much time? You have heard, oh Athenian citizens, for yourselves all the truth I speak: People like hearing men who think they're smart be cross-examined when they're not. It's kind of savory. But like I say, this activity has been assigned me by the God from both oracles and visionary dreams & every means through which a god (and an-other goddess, Fate) gives some sort of command for a mortal to perform. These facts, Athenian men, are both true and possible to prove, for if I really do corrupt some of the youth and have seduced others to evil, one must assume that if some of them were to grow up and realize when they were young I had once talked them into something evil, they would stand up for themselves to accuse and punish me; and if they were unwilling to, some of those young people's relatives, their father and brothers, other men who were related to them (if their relation had truly in the past been harmed by me) would blame me and exact revenge. There are altogether a great many of those individuals right where I am looking first at Krito there, a distant relation of my own age—father to Kritoboulos here—then there's Lysanias from Sphettos, father of dear Aeschines, and still more: Antiphon of Kephiseius (he's Epigenes' dad) and then these others whose brothers have served in this pastime: Nikostratos, Theotizdo's son (Theodotus' bro')—& Theodotus has passed away, so no way for him to influence this man—and here's Paralios, Demodokos' son, whose brother was Theages; and Adeimantos, this is Ariston's boy (his brother's this fellow Plato) and Aiantodorus—Apollodorus is his brother. I could mention even others, still more, to you; one of whom, Miletos, in his own argument, should have included as witness; but if he overlooked it before, let him call one now—I'll yield the stand—and explain whether he has any such thing to say. You will but find entirely th' opposite of this, citizens; none ready to shout about my corrupting influence, me contriving baseness against their kin—as Miletos & Anytos claim. Since they themselves are corruption and ashes, perhaps they have good reason to shout; but those not so ruined—their elders, the men affiliated with these—what reason do they have for aiding my cause other than the upright and justice because they know Miletos is full of it and that I always tell the truth?

Well guys, what I might be able to argue as defense is pretty nearly this, and maybe something else like. Perhaps one of you may be, in being called to mind himself, irritated; for if you had been tried in contest less difficult than this trial and begged the jury all in tears, and paraded your children to be pitied in full, even brought up other relatives—a bunch of loved ones as witnesses... but I'll have none of that, & if I took these chances (as I could deem best), I would take the highest risk. So someone might make these their realizations and consider me too headstrong and, in rage of these very acts, would cast their vote in anger. In case one among you is such—I judge it improper, but if—I'd think it rather fit to respond in reasoning that I, my good man, certainly do have associates and kin; actually, that one quote from Homer, that I'm not made "from tree or from stone" but out of human being with the result that I have family and sons, too; people of Athens, three of them: One is still a baby and I have two boys. Nevertheless, I brought not one of them here to court to beg you for your vote.
Why then won't I do anything like this? Not that I'm defiant, you men of the city, or to dishonor you; but whether I am bold in the face of death or no is another argument: However, when it comes to reputation for me & you and the state as a whole, I believe it low-down, base to involve myself with this—being of a certain age I have acquired this name—so whether true or lie, either way someone has determined Socrates is not like most people. Then if persons who seem to think different from you will end up in such a state by virtue of their wisdom, or courage, or any other positive trait, wouldn't it be a shame? How often I have seen such men, some of them, when they make judgments, who believe something is true and that they're doing real, important work thinking they will convince how terrible a thing it would be if they die, as if they'd live forever should you not kill them. Seems to me that they wreathe the city in shame so that even a friend from out of town might end up supposing his fellow foreigners are beyond Athenians in exercise of excellence, Athenian men, whom they pick out as no better than ladies in our authorities and other honors. You must not make these mistakes in believing that course true; and if we do, don't turn on yourselves except to demonstrate this very fact: It's so much more important to cast your vote against the man who puts these pitiful exhibitions on stage and makes your city a joke than the one leads quitely.
But opinion aside, oh men, I just think it wrong to plead with the judge or by begging to flee. Justice, rather, teaches to persuade. A judge does not sit and stand for this,—to suck off justice—but to make real judgments; he has even sworn an oath not to show favor or play favorites, judge just according to laws and precedent. We must not inure each other to lying in an oath, you ought not allow it would be wholly improper upon either side. Therefore do not, oh Athenian citizens, judge me worthy of punishments for my need to do before you what I consider noble, just and holy; and most especially, by God, not on the grounds that dismissal would be inappropriate according to this Miletos chap. For it's obvious that, if I were to convince you—even by pleading for myself—I would violate the oaths I've sworn, appear that I teach you to think divinities do not exist and would, very simply, by defending, incriminate myself on the charge that I do not honor Gods. This is, however, far from how it is. I am a believer, oh Athens' citizens, as none of my accusers believe and I entrust the matter to your hands and to the God for judging of myself in whatever way will be best for both me, also for you.

As to my lacking distress, Athenians' citizens, at this occurrence—that is, you voted to convict me—a lot of things in my case contribute to it; and it's not like I didn't expect the outcome to come out like this. Actually, I'm much more impressed at the actual tally of the votes on either side. I didn't in fact think it was to be by so few over more; but now, as it seems, if just thirty votes had fallen on the other side, I would have gone free. So then, I do believe, I have gotten away from Miletos even now; not only fled (but this is certainly clear to all), if Anytos hadn't testified, he and Lykon informing against me, someone would have owed a thousand drachmas for not receiving one-fifth of the votes' share.
So the man proposes for me the penalty of death; well then. Shall I suggest an other punishment for you, oh Athenian citizens? Or is what's deserved so clear? What then? What do I deserve to undergo or be fined for not having learned, in my course of life, to keep quiet, neglecting instead the majority's concerns—making money and household and military offices and public speeches and other such forms of power and politicking alliance & their factions which occur in the state—in consideration of myself as entirely too reasonable to resort to these things to save my skin? I did not go any place where my coming wouldn't have been a benefit to you or myself; and for each thing individually I went to work the greatest good, so I do say: I came here trying to persuade you each to neither be concerned for someone's affairs before taking care of one's own self in order that man can be as happy and wise as one can, nor worry about the state's concerns before city itself or anything else like that according to the same method. So what am I worthy of suffering for being such? Some good punishment, oh men of Athens, if it's in fact necessary, by truth revealed, to honor recompense according to my worth; yes, that as some reward which might befit me so. What therefore is fit for a poor, public servant pleading to take a break in advising your action? What could better accomodate such a man in case like this as dining at public expense?! Seems much more appropriate than when one of you wins in an Olympic horse-racing event; because the one makes you seem fortunate, but I make you blessed; and while he begs for no food to eat, I need nourishment—to exist. So if I must assess the penalty, I propose it be this: To be served in the dining hall.
So perhaps you believe that saying this, I almost seem, in acting defiantly, to argue as if out of pity or pleading; this is, as such, not so—Athenian men, citizens—it is rather more like this: I am convinced I have not intentionally harmed anyone, but have yet to persuade you of this because we had only for a short time conversed with one another. Although, as I think so, if we had a law just like other people about not deciding a capital crime in single day alone, you would have been convinced; but today it's not too easy to untie so quickly such a slanderous knot. However, believing that I don't harm anyone means I am far away from wronging myself to say I deserve so harsh a punishment brought down upon me. In fear of what? Should I not suffer the penalty Miletos prposed, something I say I do not know whether it be good or bad? Should I pick something instead of this and propose that? Why must I live imprisoned as a slave to the re-iteratively established authority of the 11 Police Officials? Or a fine and jail until I pay? But for me it is the same thing I just said: I don't have any money which I could pay it with. But ought I then offer exile as punishment since you might perhaps think I deserve it? But I should be much possessed of clinging to life, you dear Athenian men, if I'm so unreasonable as to fail to figure out that you are citizens and couldn't take my argumentative pastimes, rather found them too heavy and so divisive that you do now seek to be rid of them and others will accept them gladly? People, there's something missing here. My life would not be very fine if I went as an old man exchanging one city for the next and eeking out a living; for you know, wherever I may go, when I speak my peace the young people there will listen just as they do here. Even if I chase them away, these youth are like to drive me off themselves by convincing their elders; but if I don't scare them off, their fathers and relatives will do so on their behalf.
Might someone then say, "Uh, Socrates—if you shut up and keep your piece won't you be able to leave, we beg of you, and live?" This really is the hardest point of all you to convince. If I argue that doing this is to disobey the God and why I am unable to be silenced, you will doubt me in belief I'm acting ignorant; but then again, if I state what happens to be the greatest success for humankind is this, fashioning words at some point about virtue each day and over other things concerning which you hear me in conversation as I prove, reprove and dis-, for myself and other men, that the unexamined is life not livable for human.—& yet you still are less convinced when I tell you that, but it is like this, I tell you men; but persuading's kind of tough...

For only not much time, Athenian citizens, you will have the name e'en blame from those who want to shame our city because you have just sacrificed Socrates: Man of Wisdom.—or they'll call me wise, if even I am not, because they'll want to indict you—if you had at least waited a short while, this benefit would have come to you on its own, for you see how advanced my years are in life and close to death; but by my reason I do speak this word to those same men: Perhaps you think I, fellow citizens, have been taken at a loss for words by which I could have persuaded you, should I have thought there need to do and say any thing at all to avoid just penalty.—Not a bit. I have by tractless loss been seized, not one of arguments, but bold daring and shamelessness in my refusal to tell you the sort of things which taste sweetest to your ears—me singing a mournful tune and doing other, saying many things unworthy of my-self—as I do so say—the types of things you are used to hearing from other folks. No, neither did I then think I needed, in the face of danger, to do anything unbecoming a citizen, nor do I now regret the defense that I made and much would rather choose having spoken th's to be dead than live on like that. In court or war one need not, I must not, contrive this device and so do any thing to flee from death because even in struggles it so often becomes clear that someone would run away from dying and, by their surrender, turn to serving the pursuing; and there are a lot of other tricks for each kind of risk which lead to flee from death if one dares to do and say anything at all. But this may not be so hard, gentleman, to escape dying; rather it is much tougher to avoid wickedness: For it flies faster than death. And now I, despite being slow and old, am caught by something less quick—but my accusers, as they are terrible in cleverness are seized by the speedier: That is, cowardice. Even now I depart from you owing, won penalty of just death while these men have incurred from their truth depravity and unjustness; I abide by my payment, they—by their penalty. These, on the one hand, matters perhaps even needed to go something like thus and I think they came out fairly.
But on the other, with this done I desire to prophesize like an oracle to you who cast your verdict against me for I am truly now already at this point where human beings prophecy, when they are about to be put to death. For I say, oh men who will have slain me, there shall come to you just recompense right after my death, one much more grievous, my Zeus, than by such you murder me; 'cause right now you accomplish this task for you think you're rid of being questioned by causing me to give up life—but the act will turn out quite different for you, as I do speak: More people to question you will come.—right now I hold them back, but you do not perceive; and they will be more unmanagable by how much they are the younger and you shall be the more aggrieved: If you but think killing people will hold their objections back for you down because you do not live upright lives, your notions are not well disposed; for this relief's so weak and gross, that other so gorgeously simple in not keeping back others, but to prepare oneself to be as excellent as possibility. So these then are my divine messages to leave to you that voted for my death.

But with those voted against, I would gladly converse over this occurrence, an event which the authorities too busily conduct, and I go not yet to where I need, when I have gone, to die. No, wait with me, my fellow men, for so much span of time, as nothing stands in way of telling stories through to each, other while one still may because I want to show you, as you're friends, the meaning of the chance event just now occurred for me. For I tell you, judges of men—since I may call you properly in calling you judge—something miraculous has happened. The power of holy prophecy, which I'm no stranger to, has been quite sharp at each point in the past, turning even against some tiny acts if I purposed in any way to do something not right. But now, what has happened to me—you see for yourselves—these things that one might actually think and which are considered the highest form of evil; but for me, I do not venture outdoors, didn't get up to take the stand or even when in conversation, no would not say a word, while the sign of the God opposed me. In fact, it oftentimes checked me on the spot when talking mid-sentence!—but now it stands not at all against me as concerns this act, no neither in deed nor word. What then do I suppose is cause? I'll tell you: Since the result happens, in this form, to come about as good, and there is no chance we rightly understand, however many of us think being dead is a calamity. I have strong evidence in proof of this fact: There is not a way my well-known sign would support me if I were not about to commit a proper act.
Let's consider, even so, how great a hope that this is good. Now being dead's th' other of things; either it's like being none without perceiving the dead man has nothing, no—or, as is said, happens to be a change and relocation for the soul away from this spot here into an other place. And if there really is no sense-perception except like sleep when someone slumbers and does not see in dreams, death would be a magnificent reward—because I wouldd think, if someone had to choose this night in which one so slept that no dream had been, and were required to compare the other nights and days throughout their life with just this night, after looking close then needed to say how many days and nights were better lived, more sweetly than this sole night in one's life, I would imagine not just a common citizen, but even the Persian King himself, would discover these were easy to tally up against the other days and nights—so if death is such a thing as this, I mean it's a reward; but actually, the whole of time appears, so true, to be nothing more than a single night. And if, in turn, death is like going on a trip from here away to some place else and the tales are true—& all those who've passed on are really there—what could be a greater good than this, oh judging gentle-men? If someone came to Hades' home after leaving these people who claim they're just, will they find they real judges who are said to sit in judgment there—Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus, Triptolemus and as many other great men—near immortals!—as proved to be just in life; would this trip abroad be so awful then? Or how great a charge beside to be with Orpheus, Musaeus, Hesiod and Homer, would each of you accept? I want to be dead ten thousand times if these things are really true because to me, for myself, the activity there would be amazing whenever I bumped into Palomedes and Ajax, Telamon's son; and if another one of those men of old has died on account of judgment unjust—to compare my own experiences to those of these men there, I don't think that would be half-bad—and by far the best would be for me scrutizining people there and seeking to continue just like questioning men here about which of them is wise and who thinks they are, but not. How great a payment would one agree to pay, men of the jury, to inquire direct to the man who led the huge campaign against Troy, ask Odysseus or Sisyphus, ten thousand other folks one might mention—men and women both—to speak, be with and question those in that place—an indescribable joy? Not a doubt on Earth people there won't kill a man for this! Both because people there are in other respects much happier than ones here and they are already free from death for the rest of time; if, i.e. the sayings are true.

But you too, of citizen judges, must be of good hope when facing death and be mindful that this one particular is true: There exists no thing bad for a righteous man, neither in his life nor in its hereafter, and his concerns are not ignored by gods; my own matters did not just now happen by random. No, in this affair is clear that it was far better for me already to be dead and released from my cares. This is why the Signal never steered me wrong and, on its account, I'm not very mad at those who voted against and accused me. & yet they did not vote to kill me and accuse with this (same) intent, looking instead to do me harm; this is just cause to find fault with them. I do, however, beg this much of them; please do, gentlemen, honor to my sons (as they are lads) when they cause you these same pains I plague you with; if they appear to care, in your judgment, about money and possessions, or anything else before virtue, also if they think they're really something and are not, you must criticize them sternly as I've done for you on the grouns they care not for what one must and think they're worth something when they're not worthy at all. If you do this do, I'll have suffered myself properly at your hands as will've my sons. But now it is already time to go—me to my dying and you must go on, life; which of us arrives at the more necessary good, unseen by every except the God.