128 Ancient Ideals
to make himself look good by making claims he cannot support.
Socrates is the one who does not lie.
During his trial, the question of what he might do if he were set
free arises. It would surely be in Socrates’ interest to tell the jury
that he will retire from the public square, stop annoying people, and
lead a quiet, normal life. Saying so would save him. But Socrates
cannot do it, and he will not. He tells his accusers that if they free
him, then the next day he will be back doing what he always does,
inquiring into the lives of his fellow Athenians. Not to do so would
be to outrage his own nature, and that he refuses to do. Socrates:
he who does not lie.
Nor will Socrates deceive. When he is awaiting death in prison,
his friends come to him with a plan. They will bribe the guards,
hire a ship, and spirit Socrates away at the darkest point of the
night. He’ll sail off to another state, where he’ll be free. Nonsense,
says Socrates. I stood trial, I defended myself, I was convicted:
Why should I deceive the state that nursed me from the time I was
young?
Socrates’ candor can sometimes upset others—he will say any-
thing to people that he thinks to be so, no matter what the cost in
discomfort, embarrassment, or anger. But he is candid and upright,
too, in the way that he deals with himself. Socrates: the man who
does not lie, does not deceive.
This commitment to candor that Socrates nurtures may not seem
much at fi rst glance, but consider the matter more closely. How
much deception does the average individual practice in a day or a
week? People say what they can to avoid confl ict, to please their su-
periors, to advance their interests. When they do not lie directly,
they lie by omission. They fail to speak up when their principles are
under attack. They off er instead what Emerson calls their “morti-
fying social smiles.” They hide within the contours of convention,
even when convention seems to them empty or unjust. They go