Truly ignorant, he has no specific propositions to present. Yet because he knows that he does not know, he paradoxically is—just as Apollo had proclaimed—the wisest of Athenians. And even though he has no systematic doctrines to communicate, no dogmas to teach, he has lived a good life, conducted by relentlessly examining himself and others. Skeptical of the convictions commonly held by his fellow citizens, he will steer clear of public affairs. Instead, within a circle of like-minded friends, he will endeavor “to care for himself” properly. And skeptical though he may be about his own understanding of the greatest things, he will consistently refuse to do anything that he has found reason to regard as unjust or wrong—even if he is tempted to avenge the unjust act of another, as custom would dictate.
His enemies suspected Socrates of speaking with eirôneia, or “irony” in its original, primarily pejorative sense of deliberate deceit. But the Socrates of Plato’s Apology is emphatically no ironist: “Throughout my life, in any public activity I may have engaged in, I am the same man as I am in private life.” He is the opposite of a chameleon like Alcibiades: he refuses to flatter the jury, he will not don masks or lie about his beliefs. “From me you will hear the whole truth, though not, by Zeus, gentlemen, expressed in embroidered and stylized phrases.” If he has “neglected what occupies most people: wealth, household affairs, the position of general or public orator or other offices,” that is because “I thought myself too honest to survive.” He consistently says only what he thinks to be true, and does only what he believes to be right—demonstrating his convictions “not in words but in action.”
Here, as in other texts by other Socratic writers, we are encouraged to appraise the character of Socrates by judging his integrity—and this requires judging how his life harmonizes, or fails to harmonize, with his declared convictions. Like its classical cognate, the English word integrity has a range of connotations, from wholeness and completeness to soundness and freedom from defect. In certain contexts, the word has a physical bearing, as when an engineer speaks of a sound physical structure as having integrity; in still other contexts, the word in English more simply evokes moral goodness.
The Socrates of Plato’s Apology has integrity in all these senses. He is physically sound and morally unblemished, and he is consistently able to harmonize his actions with the beliefs he provisionally holds after rationally examining them. On trial, he represents himself not just as a model of moral perfection but also as a paragon of rational unity.
This aspect of Socrates’ character is important, for it helps to distinguish Socrates from other models of moral perfection. In his landmark study The Great Philosophers, Karl Jaspers began with four “paradigmatic individuals”: Socrates, Buddha, Confucius, and Jesus. The lives of all four exemplified moral teachings that could later be codified and expressed in rational systems of belief, in this way offering a spur to different traditions of philosophical reflection. But only Socrates taught that “there is no greater evil one can suffer than to hate reasonable discourse.” And only Socrates demanded of his followers that they jettison traditional certainties and strive toward a rational unity of word and deed.
To achieve such a goal implicitly requires that one gain an accurate understanding of oneself; that one self-consciously uphold a set of beliefs about the best way to live that is consistent and reasonable, and also that one’s conduct comport with these beliefs. Meeting all these requirements is especially tough for anyone committed, as Socrates is in the Apology, to a way of life based on a continuing examination of one’s core beliefs.
After all, to be prepared constantly to question what one thinks, one must be ready to speak frankly about one’s beliefs, and be ready, under examination, to revise them. Because the beliefs at issue concern the conduct of one’s life, one must, if one revises one’s core beliefs, be willing as well to change how one lives. To be able, in addition, to resist doing anything that one believes (however provisionally) wrong or unjust requires a degree of self-control—an unwavering attention to one’s habits of thought and patterns of behavior—that is difficult, if not impossible, to maintain consistently. If he would organize and integrate his impulses and impressions, habits and beliefs into a consistent form of life, the philosopher must improve his ability to reason consistently and to act resolutely, in part