Dignity Over Desperation — The Apology

Socrates adds one last word before resting his defense. Some juror, he imagines, may be angry that other defendants wept, brought children, and staged moving spectacles while he, facing death, will do none of it. To that person he replies plainly: he is flesh and blood, not wood or stone. He has three sons, one nearly grown and two still young. He will not bring them here to petition for acquittal, not from pride or disrespect.

His first reason is public dignity. A man of his years and reputation should not demean himself with a doleful scene. He has watched eminent Athenians act as if death were unbearable and as if the jury could grant immortality. A stranger would think the city's best men no better than women. He will not make the city ridiculous, and the jury should condemn the performance, not reward it.

The deeper reason concerns justice itself. A judge's duty is not to grant favors but to judge according to law and oath. Asking for pity asks the jury to set aside sworn judgment. To overpower their oaths by entreaty would teach them oaths mean nothing, which would convict him of the impiety Meletus charges. He will not defend himself by proving the indictment true.

He closes by affirming belief in the gods in a higher sense than his accusers, and commits his cause to the jury and to God to be decided as is best for all.