Socrates: I'm sure it will come back to me; I had it on the tip of my tongue. And I must spit it out because it is a poison!
Bulimius (sticking his finger down his throat; retching--): What's that? What does he say? I told you all it was dangerous to let him speak!
Socrates: Ah, yes, I remember. I wanted to apologize for a surfeit of belief--the wrong kind of belief in the Justice of the State. How could I ever have doubted that the gods would not forsake us? All my reasoning has led me into labyrinths--even as Jason was led. But, I have no golden fleece to show you, only more conundrums.
Honestly, I am confused. I know not for what I should apologize because the charges against me are so impalpable!
It is alleged that I have corrupted the youth. But who alleges it? No one has come forth. Testimony has been read before the Council... but neither I nor those who would speak in my behalf have the right of "cross-examination"!
Anorexia: Are you impugning the integrity of the Council?
Socrates: I impugn nothing, only wonder. Wonder, for example, about the testimony of tortured prisoners of war? Or, tortured slaves? Is it not reasonable to assume that tortured prisoners or slaves will say anything to stop the torture?
Bulimius (sticking his finger down his throat; retching--): We have heard these arguments before--from you and others. And we have explained--we are at war! The Spartans, the Persians, even now, challenge us on land and sea. Surely you can understand, Man, the necessities of these temporary measures?
Socrates: I am sorry. I am slow of understanding. What I have learned in my long life is this: "temporary measures" have a way of stretching out. People become comfortable with the uncomfortable--even with the absurd.
Anorexia: Speak plainly, Socrates. Do not try our patience, we are trying to hear you out!
Socrates: Hear me out, or stretch me out? Hearing me out is the problem! Invisible spies assault my words, twist my meanings, redact and cut; they highlight my asides, stress ironies, misinterpret. Every word I say collected and stored--not for "hearing me out," but for hear-say evidence against me.
Consider: A man has some objection to his neighbor's dog! The dog barks every morning--not once as the noble roosters do. But, over and over. The man asks his neighbor: Can he not quiet his dog? Keep him in the cellar where it will not see the disturbing light? Perhaps he can muzzle the dog--just at night. He can train the dog. All reasonable requests. But, the neighbor harrumphs, spits, turns his back on him, farts upwind of him, and proceeds on his un-merry way.
Bulimius: Can we get on with this, puh-leaze?!
Socrates: Forgive me. I am a little vexed considering what tomorrow brings. But, let's stretch things thus: the very next day, 19 racing charioteers kill the dog beneath their spinning wheels. It is an accident, plain and simple. But, the neighbor, sick with grief, perhaps, does not blame the unskilled charioteers, but blames the "ill will" of the man who suggested the dog be muzzled! Now, did the dog bark before the charioteers ran over it? No, it happened too quickly! But, the dog's owner is convinced that the mere thought of muzzling the dog somehow found its way into dog's mind and precluded its barking! The grieving owner spreads this fantastic tale and the gullible multitudes believe him! (They have troubles of their own with their neighbors and each of them has heard at least one fantastic tale or another that later turned out to be true! Or so they believe.) Plus, there's the grieving owner's biased reporting. Well, without further ado, the gullible find the complainant and kill him.
Bulimius (sticking his finger down his throat; retching--): All well done, I'd say!
Anorexia: And your point is?
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