The Cost of Speaking
On dialogue, doubt, and the courage to be wrong.
When Socrates had to speak before the tribunal of Athens, he defended the value of free speech. He showed how discussion and asking questions contribute to the flourishing of a society: they help to adjust or revise entrenched, often outdated or incomplete beliefs. Even when someone speaks nonsense, it remains valuable to reflect on the subject at hand. The arguments can then be sharpened, so they remain in accordance with the rules of logic.
If this process can no longer take place, progress dies — along with those who advocate for it. Without constant friction, beliefs grow weaker and will eventually break under the pressure of harsh reality. Socrates himself had to die for this approach: sentenced to death for allegedly corrupting the youth and questioning the gods. In reality, it was the elite who could no longer tolerate his existence. As wealthy nobles or influential politicians, they have much to lose, and so they often adopt an ego that claims supposed certainties. By clinging to these, they appear wiser and more powerful, and they can claim the truth while placing themselves above the people.
Socrates, however, sought genuine knowledge, not merely the appearance of it. By engaging in discussion and asking questions, one could come closer to truth. True progress occurred when dogma, false certainties, and illusions of conviction were overturned, for these were the greatest barricades to new insight.
Many thinkers after him emphasized this. Krishnamurti, for instance, warned against those who claim ‘‘to know’’. True wisdom requires acknowledging that we know to know so little. This means the death of the ego — and with it, the power that prestige grants.
For many, the illusion of knowing is more valuable than actual knowledge. By surrounding ourselves with fantasies — reconfirmed and accelerated by the technologies of our time — we appear richer and feel superior to those who think otherwise or live in doubt and ignorance. Doubt is not popular in our world. Yet it is the key to true knowledge, because it breaks the ego and opens the way for free thought. Then one no longer has to lie to the truth to protect one’s character. The value of knowledge should outweigh the preservation of character. A truly worthy character is one imbued with genuine knowledge, not merely the appearance of it — and this sometimes means we must be willing to be wrong.
Socrates touched upon this in conversation with the sophist Callicles:
Socrates: “For me, Callicles, there is nothing more valuable than a conversation like this. I consider it a greater good to be refuted than to refute another.”
Callicles: “What do you mean? You would rather be proven wrong than right?”
Socrates: “Exactly. For if I am refuted, I am freed from error. And of all evils, there is none greater than false beliefs about justice and injustice. So if you convince me that I am wrong, I gain the greatest benefit: I become wiser. But if I refute you, the gain is yours.”
The content of any argument is always uncertain, but it can only become more certain when others wrestle with it and question it in dialogue. Questions are therefore invaluable: they make you wiser. They compel you to examine your own beliefs critically, to revise them where necessary, and they offer the chance to learn from another. Those who only speak learn nothing new.
We are impoverished if we remain trapped in our own beliefs. The world turns constantly; it is dynamic, and the political paradigms of today may be obsolete by tomorrow. Dialogue is therefore indispensable: it forces us to adjust, to learn from mistakes, and to grow. In a society that condemns mistakes and regards imperfection as failure, perhaps the greatest truth is this: making mistakes is not a deficiency, but a necessary good. Those who refuse to be refuted refuse to become wiser. And refutation is only possible in dialogue.
In every age, speaking the truth comes with risk, and not only for oneself. Words are never harmless; they can inspire, enlighten, and liberate, but they can also provoke, threaten, or even endanger those who speak them. Yet silence is no safer — it allows injustice, ignorance, and fear to spread unchallenged. In a world where facts are increasingly contested and perception often outweighs reality, the courage to ask questions, to listen, and to engage in dialogue becomes more crucial than ever. It is this courage, the willingness to be wrong in pursuit of understanding, that sustains both knowledge and society.
“Perhaps someone might say: But Socrates, if you leave us, will you not be able to live quietly, without talking? Now this is the most difficult point on which to convince some of you. If I say that it is impossible for me to keep quiet because that means disobeying the god, you will not believe me and will think I am being ironical. On the other hand, if I say that it is the greatest good for a man to discuss virtue every day and those other things about which you hear me conversing and testing myself and others, for the unexamined life is not worth living for man, you will believe me even less.”