Socrates has his cake and eats it too!

Reconciling Conflicted Senses of Justice in Crito and Apology

In his famous self-defense, Apology, Socrates faces rather inauspicious circumstances. Accused of corrupting Athens’ youth and disobeying the law of the Gods, Socrates muses at great length about his views on Justice, civil disobedience, and the role of the philosopher in society. Socrates hypothetically supposes that even if his Athenian jury decided to grant him amnesty from his present criminal charges with the caveat that he should never investigate or practice philosophy again, he would still reply: “I’ll obey the god rather than you, and as long as I draw breath and am able, I won’t give up practicing philosophy” However in Crito, a different dialogue which takes place in Socrates’ jail cell, he seemingly appeals to a different sense of justice. When provoked by his friend Crito to break out of jail and flee Athens, Socrates weighs the relative merits and faults of breaking the law, ultimately concluding that “one shouldn’t do injustice in return for injustice… as the majority of people think – seeing that one should never do injustice.”

How might Socrates in one breath bend to the will of society and in another seem resigned to follow his own moral compass? It is my contention that while these sentiments expressed by Socrates appear antithetical, they are in fact consistent when properly placed in Socrates’ larger philosophical approach to Justice and its differing application in a practical reality. The assertions expressed in both dialogues are therefore commonly derived from a universal conception of Justice as a Platonic form, rather than a mere expression of Socrates’ opinion, which clearly changes from one social context (a courtroom) to the next (a jail cell). Simply put, it is a mistake to remove these two quotes from their relative contexts as a proof of their inconsistency.

The Socrates we meet in Apology admonishes his audience for their failure to recognize the weakness in the allegations made against him. When it becomes clear to Socrates that reasonable arguments directed against his accusations and accusers are futile, he appeals to the Platonic form of Justice. The form of Justice is a thing in-itself (autos) which exists in a sort of “ultimate reality” – apart from the conventional reality of humanity. According to Plato’s theory of forms, these perfect entities (Justice, Virtue, Beauty etc…) serve as inspiration and motivation for humanity’s pragmatic ethical considerations. When men try to administer Justice, they instantiate their ideals from Justice and change it to fit a practical reality; justice of men, therefore, is not equal to Justice in form, though it should resemble it. Ergo, the justice of the Athenian court, according to Socrates’ deeply held belief in form, is not Justice per se, but rather a social interpretation of the form. Similarly, Socrates’ justice is also not perfect Justice. When there is a direct conflict between two different parties’ application of justice, from a common ideal Justice (as in Apology), it is clear that both applications cannot be consistently Just. Apology, therefore, becomes Socrates’ soapbox to expose the inconsistency and unjustness of his interlocutors’ claims against philosophy. When Socrates claims that he will “obey the God rather than you” he is being deliberately cryptic, whilst subtly making his point. Surely Socrates cannot profess to know ‘the God’ desires more than the Athenian counsel does.

If we place this quote in the context of Socrates’ defense of the theory of forms and his own personal interpretation of justice, it is revealed as a rhetorical move – rather than an ideological stance – made in hopes that his oppressors will see the volatile inaccuracy of the claims made against him. In short, Socrates is hoping that by appealing to the same rhetoric via he was accused (disobeying the Gods), he may get his enemies to see the validity of his position. The situation here is perhaps analogous to a child or adolescent fighting with his parents about his right to have autonomy or social freedom. The arguments offered appeal to the parents as people – much like Socrates’ “obey the God” argument appeals to the council as men of Virtue and Piety – yet the child finds difficulty breaking through the power relationship in order to get his voice heard. I believe that Socrates’ appeal to the divine is more a practical than ideological move.

Once the decision has been made, and Socrates is sentenced to death, we are offered a more ideological account of Socratic justice, one that is not inconsistent with his defense, but an extension of the theory of forms, factoring in a moral conscience. In Crito, Socrates starts with two premises: (1) “one should never do injustice” and (2) “one shouldn’t do injustice in return for injustice” . One could accuse Socrates, in Crito, of breaking his very premises; how does one end up in jail, other than by committing injustices? Ironically in this case, the only injustice that has been committed is the court’s unreasonable and excessive (albeit lawful) verdict. And although injustice should not be committed, and the verdict is certainly a grave injustice, Socrates’ view of Justice informs his moral conscience. Ultimately he reasons that he would not be justified in breaking out of prison, despite his undue punishment, because injustice does not correct instances of injustice. There is no fairness than can come out of two unfair acts. Or, more colloquially, two wrongs don’t make a right. Superficially, it appears, Socrates takes the ethical and judicial high ground as he reasons that ‘getting even’ is not only a practically undesirable move, it would also be clearly ‘disobeying the Gods’, a notion that he reasons in Apology to be of the utmost importance.

There are, however, multiple layers of meaning to Socrates’ decision to quell his civil disobedience after his hearing in the Athenian courts. At his defense trial, Socrates was clearly competing against his accusers and arbiters, a vast majority of the Athenian public. This notion temporarily changed Socrates’ relationship with the rest of society, removing him from the polis and placing him in contrast to it. This, of course, is the nature of any court of the public; in order to be measured objectively, Socrates must be separated from that which he is accused of corrupting/disobeying. Once the verdict was offered, however, Socrates resumes his role as part of the Athenian public, though his role has significantly changed (from lay philosopher to criminal) in the polis. In Crito, Socrates acts and thinks as a member of society, necessarily considering the ramifications of his actions beyond his own selfish ends. And, rather than becoming antagonistic to the Athenian society – which he insists that he loves so much – he embraces and re-enforces the power structure, even as it rejects his right to live. Socrates therefore recognizes that society is only at stasis when its laws (and therefore its punishments) hold authority or legitimacy among its people.

If Socrates were to escape, betraying and undermining Greek authority, he not only subdues his own personal values but endangers the very hierarchical fabrics which give the social structure credibility. And Socrates, certainly not one to commit hubris, is willing to give his life – at the hands of injustice – to preserve the social stability and legitimacy of the polis. He had his chance at a legally mandated defense and failed. Accepting the consequences, in this case, is not difficult for Socrates, because he values his membership to a society more than he values his own life. In some sense, the same form of Justice in Apology, now in the vein of social stability, informs Socrates to act against his personal interests. Indeed, Socrates’ concern for his fleeting life and physical body is footless in comparison to his respect and admiration of Justice and Virtue. In both Crito and Apology, his assertions and conclusions are consistent with these claims.

Though it may be challenging to reconcile Socrates statements “I’ll obey the God rather than you” and “one must neither do injustice in return nor wrong any man, no matter what one has suffered at his hands” juxtaposed and out of context, we find that in-context both appeal to a higher conception of Justice, Virtue, and moral pragmatism. Socrates willingly admits that it is ambiguous exactly ‘what the Gods want’ in regards to his own case, but is quite certain that the Gods, praised by the Athenian public, want to maintain the rule, legitimacy, and consistency of Athenian law and social function. Though Socrates may positively believe that he was not unvirtuous in practicing philosophy, he realizes that he would be in the wrong – effectively disobeying the Gods – by undermining Athenian authority.

In this respect, Socrates is confronted with a moral wager between his personal convictions about philosophy and society’s need for ethos. In both Apology and Crito, he chooses the latter; his defense operates in the moral realm prescribed by society, extrapolating from the form of Justice, bestowing a right to defend oneself for the accused. Socrates uses this right to his full ability. Once the decision has been made, however, the same paradigm of Justice – one Socrates respects with unwavering devotion – informs a new pragmatic policy: all convicted criminals must serve their sentence. In Crito, Socrates admits that although he may be wronged by society, he cannot accept the paradigm of Justice as it benefits him (entitling him to a defense) and then reject it when it is detrimental to him (his death sentence thereafter). From this attitude about Justice in form – and its interaction with justice of men – we are given a profound, resplendent view of civil disobedience, and its intrinsic boundaries which are necessary to maintain social order.

Though the term ‘civil disobedience’ would not be coined for centuries, implicit in both Crito and Apology are Socrates’ views on when the individual may go against the will of society and when it is appropriate for him to obey society’s mandates, however difficult it may be. In one sense, civil disobedience is justified within reason; the individual’s need to express his personal moral convictions against societal norms is appropriate when done so in a manner consistent with the social order. In the case of the Apology, this takes the form of a conversational venue – the court – in which the individual is free to express his contempt for his society’s malapropos turpitude, and argue his motives honorable.

However, civil disobedience is not a plenipotentiary license to act out against social order, rebelling against it without temperance. Therefore, society’s need for consistency and authority does trump the individual’s thirst for moral sovereignty, even if the individual is ultimately wronged by a perversion of justice. In Crito, Socrates asserts that his continued participation and enthusiasm for Athenian society implies a social contract in which he consents to obey the laws which have benefited him throughout his entire life. The individual is entitled to remove himself from a particular community if he feels Justice has been misprized, yet if he continues to live in the community he may only be a mere social gadfly through legally prescribed means. Ultimately what evolves from this attitude is a democratic maxim which implores the individual to either persuade or obey the social order and established law of a society. Essentially, Socrates’ version of civil disobedience must be preformed selflessly, with a genuine desire to place society in a moment of aporia, hoping that they will see the execrable shortcomings in their interpretation of Justice. Civil disobedience is not a call to break down the very constructs which lend society its authority and legitimacy.

Of course, we can’t take Socrates literal words out of context to expose inconsistency because they aren’t his literal words. We must also be sensitive to Plato’s extremely subtle intimations; perhaps he implanted a blatant contradiction within Socrates’ language in order to indirectly suggest that there may be multiple justifications for persuading the law and times when it is appropriate to simply obey. Plato may also be exploring Socrates’ humanity; surely a man sentenced to death will have different arguments than a man pleading/arguing to save his life. Moreover, juxtaposing Crito and Apology yields interesting commentary about the hierarchy of values in our conventional reality. Surely the Platonic forms exists perfectly, incommensurable in regards to one another. Yet our conventional reality, especially in such circumstances of conflict, forces us to superimpose a hierarchy onto otherwise immeasurable values. In the case of Crito and Apology, we are confronted with a simple, albeit difficult question; what is more important, socially consistent authority or individually consistent morality? By the end of both dialogues, it becomes evident that Socrates paradoxically gets to have is cake and eat it too, as he both preserves his individual sense of morality while bending to the needs of social stasis.