The Peril of a Soul Without Shame

Socratic Dialogue

‘If a man without shame is no longer a man, then a society without shame is no longer a society. It is a collection of monsters, each devouring the other…’

By Plutonix

Setting: An Athenian street corner. The sun is high, and a small crowd has gathered around Socrates, who is in animated discussion with his old friend, Cephalus, a wealthy businessman. A mischievous glint is in Socrates’ eye as he gestures with a fig.

Socrates: Cephalus, my dear friend! You, who have sailed the seas of commerce and built a fortune, tell me, what is the most valuable commodity? Is it gold? Is it fine olive oil? Or is it something far more slippery, something that a man might lose and not even know it is gone? I ask this, because I have been pondering the peculiar nature of a certain breed of dog, a tiny creature from a far-off land. Though barely larger than my sandals, this chihuahua barks with the fury of a hound from Hades, protecting its master’s honour as if it were a bone. This small, fearless dog seems to have a stronger sense of loyalty than some men I know. What, I wonder, has become of the human equivalent of this magnificent beast?

Cephalus: (Wiping sweat from his brow) Socrates, your riddles are as persistent as the summer heat. A man’s honour, perhaps? His good name? These, surely, are more valuable than gold, for what is wealth without a reputation to enjoy it?

Socrates: A fine answer! And a man’s reputation, does it not depend upon the respect of his fellow citizens?

Cephalus: Naturally. A man who wishes to prosper, to be welcomed in the agora, to have his contracts honoured, must be seen as trustworthy.

Socrates: So, a reputation is built on trust, and trust is built on… what, exactly?

Cephalus: On a man’s deeds, Socrates! His honesty, his fairness in business, his courage in battle.

Socrates: And what of a man’s feelings? A man, for instance, who is honest, but not out of a love for honesty, but out of a fear of being caught? What of the man who does not cheat, not because he is a good man, but because he would be overcome with a dreadful feeling if he were to be exposed? This feeling, my friend, is what some call shame.

Cephalus: (Chuckles) Ah, shame! The great controller of men! A useful emotion, I grant you. Like a good watchdog, it keeps us from raiding the neighbour’s chicken coop.

Socrates: A watchdog, you say? A beast that lives within a man, and yet barks only when the neighbours are watching? Tell me, Cephalus, if a man could silence his inner watchdog, what would happen?

Cephalus: He would raid the chicken coop, of course! And then the whole neighbourhood’s chickens, if he thought he could get away with it.

Socrates: (Nodding thoughtfully) And what if the most powerful men in the city — those who lead our armies, who sit in our parliament, who govern the very lives of our citizens — what if they were to silence their watchdogs? What if they felt no shame at all?

Cephalus: (Frowning) That, Socrates, would be a disaster. The city would fall into chaos. Laws would be meaningless, promises would be broken, and the people would lose all faith in their leaders.

Socrates: Indeed! And yet, I have heard whispers from a far-off land, a place called Mauritius, where such a thing has been happening for some years now. Where men in high office, entrusted with the public good, are said to be acting without shame. Have you heard of such a place?

Cephalus: I confess, my travels have not taken me there. But tell me of these allegations. I am intrigued.

Socrates: I am told that in this land, there are those who are supposed to protect the public coffers, yet they are accused of enriching themselves. They are said to be awarding lucrative contracts to their friends, building grand projects that cost a fortune, and yet do not seem to serve the people at all. And when confronted, they show no shame.

Cephalus: (Eyes wide) No shame at all? How is this possible? Is there no law? No court?

Socrates: Oh, there are laws, and there are courts. But shame, my dear Cephalus, is a different kind of law. It is the law of the heart, the unwritten code that holds a society together. In this far-off land, it is said that those who break the law of the heart are not just stealing from the public purse; they are also stealing the very fabric of society.

Cephalus: But what about the people? Do they not feel shame for their leaders? Do they not rise up in protest?

Socrates: Ah, a most excellent question! It seems that in this place, the powerful have become so shameless that they have learned to use shame as a weapon against others. They shame their opponents, they shame the press, they shame those who dare to question them. It is a powerful weapon, indeed. For shame, as you know, can be a great oppressor. It can silence the brave, exclude the righteous, and make a man question his own virtue.

Cephalus: (Stroking his beard, deep in thought) So, the very emotion that should control the powerful is being used by the powerful to control the weak? This is a most terrible perversion of nature.

Socrates: It is! It is as if the watchdog has not only been silenced but has been trained to bite the innocent. Tell me, Cephalus, if a man’s honour is his most valuable commodity, and if he can be stripped of that honour by a shameless man, what hope is there for the city?

Cephalus: I… I do not know, Socrates. This is a problem far greater than any I have faced in my business dealings. A dishonest merchant can be avoided, a corrupt official can be exposed, but a shameless leader who uses shame as a weapon? That is a truly formidable foe.

Socrates: And what of you, my friend? You, who have lived a life of honour and integrity. Have you not, in your moments of weakness, been held in check by that inner watchdog of shame? Have you not, when tempted by a little unfairness, felt the hot blush of shame and turned away from the temptation?

Cephalus: (Sighs) Of course. Many times. It is a difficult feeling, to be sure. But it is a necessary one. It reminds us of our place in the world, of our duty to our fellow man.

Socrates: And when a man loses that feeling, what then?

Cephalus: He loses his soul, Socrates. He becomes a monster, a creature of pure appetite and greed. He is no longer a man.

Socrates: (Pats Cephalus on the back) A most excellent answer, my friend! And it is here, at this very point, that the debate must end. For if a man without shame is no longer a man, then a society without shame is no longer a society. It is a collection of monsters, each devouring the other in a desperate attempt to satisfy an insatiable hunger for power and gold.

The crowd around them is silent, mesmerized by the conversation. Socrates, with a twinkle in his eye, takes a bite of his fig and smiles.

Socrates: Let us hope, my dear Cephalus, that the people of this far-off land find a way to reawaken their sense of shame, before it is too late. For without it, the good man is at the mercy of the shameless, and the city itself is in peril. When I think of it, perhaps what we need is not more law, but more chihuahuas.

Cephalus: Not more law, but more Chihuahuas? Why would you say that?

Socrates: A man who would lie, cheat, and steal for a few coins might reconsider his actions upon seeing the fearless, tiny guard dog of a good conscience — unafraid to bark at a giant and expose his shame for all to see.

Cephalus nods slowly, a new look of concern on his face. The riddle of the fig has been solved, but a far greater riddle has just been posed.

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Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 29 August 2025

Tags:Honesty, Mauritius Times, Plutonix, Reputation, Shame, Socratic Dialogue, wealth