In 424 BCE, the Athenian army suffered a crushing defeat at Delium. As the soldiers fled the battlefield, one man stood out for his extraordinary composure. He was neither a famous general nor a celebrated warrior, but a middle-aged philosopher.
According to the officer Alcibiades, who witnessed the retreat from horseback, Socrates walked away with such calm and confidence that the enemy soldiers left him alone, preferring to pursue those who were fleeing in panic.
It was not the first time Socrates had distinguished himself in battle. Nor would it be the last.
Socrates at War
We tend to picture Socrates as an old man in the marketplace, questioning his fellow Athenians about courage, justice, and the good life. But he did not merely talk about courage; he demonstrated it.
Like many Athenian citizens, Socrates trained as a hoplite, a heavily armed foot soldier who fought in the close formation known as the phalanx. He fought in at least three campaigns: Potidaea, Delium, and Amphipolis.
The earliest of these, the siege of Potidaea, began in 432 BCE, when Socrates was about 38 years old. The siege was long and arduous, with the soldiers exposed to hunger, cold, and disease.
In Plato’s Symposium, Alcibiades recalls that Socrates endured these hardships much better than anyone else in the army. During a severe frost, he marched barefoot over the ice, apparently indifferent to the cold. His comrades looked daggers at him, thinking that he was showing them up.
Yet, Socrates was no joyless ascetic. Alcibiades adds that no one enjoyed a festival more than he did. If called upon, he could drink everyone under the table—although no one had ever seen him drunk.
At Potidaea, Socrates also saved Alcibiades’ life. But when the generals awarded the prize for valour to the high-born Alcibiades, Socrates insisted that Alcibiades should keep it.
Here was a man who could endure almost anything, enjoy almost anything, and yet remain master of himself. No wonder Alcibiades was in love with him. To everyone’s shock, Alcibiades even shared a tent with him.
What Is Courage?
It is hardly surprising that a man with so much experience of war should have thought deeply about courage.
In Plato’s Laches, Socrates discusses the nature of courage with two distinguished generals, Laches and Nicias.
At first, courage might seem easy enough to define. Surely, it consists in standing one’s ground against the enemy, or in remaining fearless in the face of danger?
But Socrates is not so sure. After all, a man might remain fearless out of foolishness or recklessness. He might be fearless simply because he does not understand the danger he is in. Would we call such a man courageous?
After a time, Nicias proposes that courage is a kind of knowledge: knowledge of what is truly to be feared and hoped for.
Socrates finds this definition more promising, but points out that such knowledge cannot be confined to the future. To know what is truly to be feared and hoped for, we must also know what is truly good and bad. Therefore, courage, if it is to be called courage, is born out of knowledge in general.
Socrates notices that, in trying to define courage, they have stumbled upon two larger ideas. First, the virtues are closely related. To be truly courageous, we must also be wise, just, and self-controlled. This is known as the unity of the virtues. Courage is not simply the ability to face danger, but the wisdom to know whether the danger ought to be faced. Second, deep down, all the classical virtues—courage, justice, piety, temperance—amount to knowledge and wisdom.
But is knowledge alone enough? Might it not be possible to understand what is right and true and still lack the courage to act upon it? For Socrates, if we truly know what is right and true, we cannot fail to act upon this knowledge. But in Plato’s Republic, courage takes on a further dimension: the preservation of our convictions about what is and is not to be feared, despite our desires, fears, and baser instincts. This, if you like, is a kind of meta-courage: the courage to remain faithful to one’s understanding of what matters.
As I discuss in my book, The Gang of Three, calm and courage begin with knowing what is truly worth fearing and meeting it with wisdom rather than fear. The less we depend on comfort, approval, and other things we might lose, the less we have to fear, and the more freely and courageously we can live.
The Courage to Die
In 399 BCE, Socrates was put on trial for impiety and corrupting the youth. Facing the possibility of execution, he refused to abandon philosophy or say what was needed to save his life.
Instead, he reminded the jury that, just as he had not deserted his post at Potidaea or Delium for fear of death, so he would not now desert his lifelong convictions.
For Socrates, to fear death was to pretend to know what we do not know. Death might be an evil, but it might equally be a blessing. What we do know is that injustice is an evil, and that it is better to suffer an injustice than to commit it.
When Socrates was condemned to death, he had the means to escape, but chose instead to drink of the poisoned cup.
With the same extraordinary composure, the man who had faced death for Athens now faced death at the hands of Athens. He had not merely talked about courage, or even demonstrated it on the battlefield. He had carried it through to the very end.
It’s quite a thought that, had Socrates fallen in battle, or, at the end, played the part of a coward, we today would be living in different minds, in a different world.
You may also enjoy my companion piece, Why Socrates Chose to Die.