	This task led Socrates to a particular style of interrogation. Whenever Socrates found a man thought to be wise, he would ask him a series of questions. He would often flatter the person with whom he was talking by insisting that if anyone knows the answer to these questions, it must be him. He would then proceed to unravel whatever position this unsuspecting sap held as truth. Almost without exception, Socrates would leave these interactions having made an enemy, and having come no closer to his pursuit of one wiser than himself. It is hard to say whether Socrates was truly humble in his belief that he knew nothing, as there is a humorous tone of sarcasm that seems present in these examinations. But regardless, it is clear that he was never satisfied. He found the only redemptive point in these interactions to be his own self-awareness, concluding in one instance, “Well, although I do not suppose either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is, for he knows nothing, and thinks he knows; I neither know nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the advantage of him.”
	Such was the life of Socrates. Around he went, day after day, asking questions for which he rarely found answers. He gained a reputation for his tactics. Some regarded him as wise; others hated him. But because any other man’s claim to wisdom was an affront to the words spoken by the oracle, Socrates felt it was his duty to prove that any who claimed wisdom in fact possessed none. One such man was Meletus.
	Meletus was one of three men who brought charges against Socrates. He represented the poets. Throughout the trial, Socrates used his unique brand of logic and questioning to systematically disprove every claim brought against him. He concluded by saying of Meletus, “[He] is reckless and impudent, and he has written this indictment in a spirit of mere wantonness and youthful bravado.” Meletus was accompanied in his indictments by Anytus, who represented the craftsmen and politicians, and Lycon, who represented the rhetoricians. Together, these three men were symbolic of the people whom Socrates had offended and humiliated: powerful, arrogant, foolish, and pissed.
	Of course, Socrates’ arguments were not enough to save his life. In his attempts to win over the court, he refused to use the customary style of debate: emotionally groveling and wailing. Instead, he stated quite plainly, “I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live.” It is this noble, virtuous approach to life that set Socrates apart, and inspired many who would follow. By illustrating the value of truth above the value of life, Socrates set a bold precedent. His honest death kept true to his beliefs more than a dishonest life would have. In his death, he taught us how to live. And in the conclusion of the trial that would end his life, he remained adherent to his own profound words: “The unexamined life is not worth living.”
