Could I be Wrong?

The fol­low­ing is a fun (well, at least I had fun writ­ing it) dia­logue I wrote ear­lier today on one of the forums I’ve recently stopped reg­u­larly fre­quent­ing. It con­cerns the ques­tion ‘are you will­ing to admit you might be wrong?’ The dia­logue was writ­ten in reply to some­one who dis­agreed with me (did not think such an admis­sion should be made).

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Char­ac­ters: Socrates, Glau­con
Set­ting: After speak­ing with Euthy­phro, Socrates is stopped by the Sophist Glau­con, a first year phi­los­o­phy stu­dent who thinks he’s learned it all. Glau­con has heard the accu­sa­tion that Socrates is cor­rupt­ing the youth, teach­ing the young about ‘the God’ and deny­ing the gods of the poets. Glau­con pro­ceeds to exam­ine to Socrates.

Glau­con: Socrates, much has been said of your new god — tell me, how did you come by him? Fancy or intoxication?

Socrates: Exam­i­na­tion, of course — “fol­low­ing the argu­ment wher­ever it leads”, as my stu­dent Plato likes to say. It took many years, as you can see I am now quite old.

Glau­con: Indeed, I can. And I sup­pose I should have known; the wis­dom of Socrates always exam­ines. It would appear you still have time before the coun­cil charges you, a question?

Socrates: Cer­tainly. I would not be Socrates if I declined.

Glau­con: Very well — is it pos­si­ble you could be wrong?

Socrates: Quite so — I arrived at my belief through exam­i­na­tion. This involves a reliance on the senses, which can be faulty. It was at first ques­tions like the Euthy­phro, which had shown me the deficit of the poets gods, then it was the ora­cle her­self. There are many reasons.

Glau­con: The ora­cle, you say — per­haps a defect in your psy­chol­ogy? The Euthy­phro, an error in logic?

Socrates: Yes, per­haps so.

Glau­con: Then why should you teach? Sit still and alone, rather than engage in this fool­ish which denies the gods!

Socrates: I can­not — I am con­cerned with the truth, even if that means look­ing the fool (which I am), and deny­ing the gods (which I do). The poets tell sto­ries which ignite the imag­in­ings of man, but that does not make them true. In any case, shall we exam­ine your charge, that because I acknowl­edge I may be wrong, I have no right to teach?

Glau­con: As you say, you would not be Socrates if you did not. Proceed.

Socrates: There is a glar­ing hole in your procla­ma­tion, young Glau­con, you have assumed I have no good rea­sons for believ­ing, and against this have com­pared my acknowl­edg­ment that I ‘may be wrong’. In such a way, you have tried to show me a fool, of believ­ing with­out cause. Per­haps, you say, my logic is faulty, or I have gone mad if it is not. Maybe this is all a farce, I wear a mask with my head in the clouds. Tell me, Glau­con, do you know of the rea­sons why I believe?

Glau­con: No, it’s of no con­cern to me. You have admit­ted you may be wrong.

Socrates: It is of great con­cern to you, for you do not real­ize how ridicu­lous a ques­tion you’re asking.

Glau­con: Very well then. Why do you believe, Socrates?

Socrates: First, I have rejected the gods because they con­tra­dict. There is no jus­tice between them. What Cronos declared as just, Zeus declared as unjust. What Hera believes about Achilles, Ares believes about Hek­tor. The Euthy­phro has shown this much. If these exist, they are not gods though they may be pow­er­ful and still yet shape the lives of men. If they do not exist, it does not mat­ter. Sec­ondly, I have embraced the God because of the ora­cle at del­phi, who after all this was not who I first believed. There is a prod­ding, an indi­ca­tion of when I should talk and what I should say, and now, what I should believe. This wise god has, as it were, acco­mo­dated me. I could not deny my own expe­ri­ence, not after years of exam­i­na­tion have shown it to be true. I read also the wis­dom of Saul, of that South­ern king­dom. Of course, it would be fool­ish to believe in no god — look around you! The ques­tion is only, which god is the true god? And this I believe I found. There are oth­ers with stronger rea­sons than I — like the Hebrews, who claim to have expe­ri­enced God in body and in sight. But unless you wish to be an itiner­int skep­tic, focused on pieces of doubt when whole pic­tures of rea­son are given, then I can­not con­vince you.

Glau­con: All well and good, but why is my ques­tion ridiculous?

Socrates: Because of what you’ve com­pared: some­thing with noth­ing. You did not ask me why I believed, and yet you pro­ceeded to assume that I must be mis­taken because I admit­ted I could be wrong. Your ques­tion is ridicu­lous if you com­pare my rea­sons for belief, and my rea­sons for admit­ting I could be mis­taken. I admit the lat­ter only out of intel­lec­tual hon­esty. Per­haps the God I believe in is not the God I think he is — much like when I first believed the ora­cle of del­phi. The for­mer rea­sons for believ­ing are many: rea­son, logic, exam­i­na­tion, wis­dom lit­er­a­ture, nature, form, tes­ti­mony of oth­ers, etc. If I told you I had seen my God, would your ques­tion still hold its force? I would be answer­ing you hon­estly because I will always exam­ine that which is brought up to me. But this no more makes your ques­tion any more seri­ous, or coherent.

Glau­con: I sup­pose not… But as you’ve admit­ted you could be wrong, I see noth­ing that changes this fact.

Socrates: Then you are blind. Let me ask you — could you be wrong?

Glau­con: I really must be going Socrates.

Related posts:

1. What if I’m wrong…
2. Book Review: Get­ting the Ref­or­ma­tion Wrong by James Payton