Sitting in the “Indigo” café in Cambridge, there is a large
plane-glass window through which I can watch people walk by. As this is on a side street
from the world-famous and awe-inspiring King’s College, it is a high-traffic
route. In the past couple of hours I have been here writing, I have seen
thousands of people walk by from all parts of the world. Some in large groups
with a leader carrying a flag or umbrella to signal the group’s leader, or just
individuals, who may or may not be associated with the University. Some, like
me, may be visitors or tourists, for whatever reason.
In addition, as this is a very quaint, nice café, it draws
quite a continuous crowd, both of locals who know everyone working here, to
small groups of one-timers, unfamiliar with the menu. As I am sitting right to
the counter, and it is a very small café, I can hear all conversations, and if
there is one thing that I am guilty of in life, it is eavesdropping ad nauseum in such situations. I have
heard many conversations of bashing Oxford from the locals, or others comparing them
from visitors and perhaps a couple dozen languages of people talking amongst
themselves, deciding what to order.
Literally, the world has walked by me in the past hours.
It is something that I have tried to balance, watching the
world go by, but also at times, I enjoy going to the world, which likewise
brought me to a small café in England in the first place.
While walking through the streets, one of the many pamphlets
I saw attached to the cast-iron gates of the colleges, announcing Mozart
concerti and lectures, one was about the question of Socrates. The flyer
itself had in large, bold letters, the name “PLATO” on it to catch the eye,
which it did for me, so I read the smaller description. The lecture is on the
question of why did Socrates choose to die, when he was offered a different
alternative—Exile.
Though I will not be able to attend the lecture, I believe
the answer is clearly in the two dialogs the Crito and The Apology,
which show Socrates’ reason/s without a shadow of a doubt. In the Crito,
Crito, his friend, tells Socrates in his cell that he has the friends and means
to spring Socrates from jail and lead him safely to exile. This being the night
before he is condemned to die, having spent a month in jail, spending time
saying good-bye to friends and family, Socrates is disgusted.
The resulting dialog is an echo of Socrates’ “failed”
defense against the death penalty. Namely, if Socrates does go into exile, he
then is admitting guilt, which he believed he was not. Moreover, why would he
want to go anywhere but Athens? Except for a military campaign, a pilgrimage,
and a trip to Sicily, so far as we know, Socrates never left Athens? Why?
Because, the world came to him, so why did he need to go to the world? If he
left his beloved Athens, the same one that killed him, he would die an exile,
and now a criminal if he broke out of jail, disgraced in a foreign country, as
a foreigner.
There are of course tow minds to this attitude. One, as I
have seen with Sir Anthony van Dyck, the great Flemish artist who chose to
leave his native Antwerp for London, where he died in honor, rather than shame
as Socrates’ fear, and that of people who never leave their homeland. And, both
can lead to kleos apthiton, or
undying/unwithering fame, the ultimate goal for an Ancient Greek after death,
which was the greatest fear of not getting, to be forgotten. Socrates would
have been forgotten as a coward and a criminal in Thebes or wherever, but now
is remembered as a “martyr” in Athens. When one thinks of Western Philosophy,
it is impossible not to think of Socrates, and likewise, to consider 16th-century
art and not mention van Dyck, it would be a travesty.
Sitting in a café then in a world center like Cambridge, I
understand both viewpoints. If I were from here, the world would come to me,
but being from here, you would also want to see the world. Likewise, someone
from the Athens of Socrates, you would have access to see the world at your
doorstep, but also the means and resources for going to the world. Socrates
chose the former, unto death.
