For this week’s tool kit, I had initially set out to write about the broad topic of faith, but decided I wanted to challenge myself, so I’d like to deepen my understanding by writing about the concept of Socratic Irony. In the lecture, Dr. Jenkins discusses this idea by saying, “Socratic irony uses indirect communication. Indirect communication means that instead of persuading authors to take a particular perspective, Kierkegaard strived to position his readers to relate passionately to the truth” (1:22). In other words, instead of simply stating an idea with confidence, the use of Socratic Irony uses a prose that is more questioning or ignorant – or even taking the opposite stance – with the goal of gently guiding the recipient to the conclusion. This can decrease the potential for conflict, as it can cause a reader to reexamine their own ideas and find faults instead of having them directly pointed out, which may lead to a defensive position. One might even be able to consider this a subtle manipulation tactic.

In Fear and Trembling, Kierkegaard discusses irony as such: “A lot is said in our time about irony and humour, particularly by people who have never succeeded in practicing them but nevertheless know how to explain everything” (Preamble From the Heart, par.31). This is an amusing perspective because he’s essentially pointing out that the use of irony is most effective on those who think they are least susceptible to it and that it’s a tool that the questioning philosopher can find useful in examining their own beliefs. In the same passage he writes, “Irony and humour reflect also upon themselves and so belong in the sphere of infinite resignation, they owe their resilience to the individual’s incommensurability with reality” (par. 31). So, basically, we live in a world of the concrete, or finite, but this example of irony calls for a bit of suspension of disbelief, or to move outside of the realm of our current understanding to expand our knowledge.

Contextually, Kierkegaard’s use of Socratic Irony is effective because, as a reader, I’m not entirely sure what his position is, which disarms my inclination to be cynical. At some points I think he is championing the faith of Abraham and, at others, I’m certain he thinks Abraham the fool. When Kierkegaard says, ““Whenever nowadays we hear the words ‘that’s to be judged by the outcome’ we know immediately with whom we have the honour of conversing. Those who speak thus are a populous tribe which, to give them a common name, I shall call the ‘lecturers’. They live in their thoughts, secure in life, the have a permanent position and sure prospects in a well-organized state” (Problema I, par. 21), I’m convinced that he thinks those of high faith are ignorant in their holier-than-thou attitudes. But when he writes, “But if I knew where such a knight of faith lived I would journey to him on foot, for this marvel concerns me absolutely. I would not let him slip one instant, but watch every minute how he makes the movements; I would consider myself maintained for life and divide my time between looking at him and practicing the movements myself, thus devoting all my time to admiring him” (Preamble, par. 19), it seems that he’s saying that those of unshakable faith should be admired and that even he, the philosopher, reveres the knight. It’s almost as if, in one breath, he is calling faith both absurd and admirable. Additionally, Kierkegaard uses questions without providing an answer to lead the reader to draw their own conclusions. He writes, “Can one speak unreservedly of Abraham, then, without risking that someone will do off the rails and do likewise?” (Preamble, par. 8) And while he doesn’t tell us whether one can or can’t he causes us to examine where our own beliefs lie in the ethical or religious spheres of existence.

The concept of Socratic Irony is significant for the sake of both argument and storytelling. As stated earlier, the use of this tool can gently guide the reader or listener to a conclusion without directly telling them and decrease the potential for conflict. At the same time, by not forcing them to a position, they’re more likely to think they came up with the idea ‘on their own’, so they are going to be more receptive to the intended conclusion than if they were being challenged. I’ve found this to be a particularly useful tool when working with artists. For example, when producing an album in the studio, if I were to tell a musician that I think they needed to make a change to an arrangement, they’d often become defensive, as if their artistic integrity or aptitude were being insulted. However, if I were to subtly question them about what they thought about a particular section, I could lead them to the change that I’d originally wanted without needing to butt heads with them. I’d feign ignorance in order to get them to see my perspective. Since they’d end up thinking it was their idea, they’d feel good about it. So long as I could not have an ego about the idea being ‘mine’, we’d end up with the best end result. Kierkegaard uses this as a tool early-on in his writing when he says, “For my own part I don’t lack the courage to think a thought whole. No thought has frightened me so far. Should I ever come across one I hope I will at least have the honesty to say: ‘This thought scares me, it stirs up something else in me so that I don’t want to think it’” (Preamble, par.7). In its way, this is subtly guiding the reader to his way of thinking. Instead of saying, “I’m going to challenge what you believe,” he’s saying, “I hope that I can consolidate my own way of thinking.” Which can lead the reader to be more susceptible to take that position themselves.

If I were to consider another example, aside from the quintessential uses by Socrates, Plato, and other philosophers, I’d look at my own writing – because, obviously, I deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as those great thinkers! Prior to this week’s lesson, I didn’t know the term ‘Socratic Irony’, but it turns out I’ve been using it all along. In my book, Patrimonious, I took a new approach to writing by shifting the narrator’s voice slightly when I was following a different character in the story. By doing so, I was able to make the narration seem righteous even when following a wicked character. In one example, when I follow a character with disreputable business practices I present them as a skill, “His father had taught him that most people wouldn’t come after you for a negligible amount of money, especially if it meant putting their reputation on the line. The trick was finding the sweet-spot between someone taking a loss and finding an attorney…He lauded the marvelous day that the state raised the small-claims limit from five to ten-thousand dollars. He’d virtually doubled his profits overnight” (Jefferson 90). Although I’m making it sound like he is a shrewd and ruthless businessman (and some people might admire that), my position is that what he is doing is wrong and through the further telling of his tale, I lead the reader to that conclusion. Or, at least, I hope to. Some folks might think, “Hey, this guy has some pretty good ideas.” But that’s similar to what Kierkegaard is doing.  He says things like, “The knight of faith knows it gives inspiration to surrender oneself to the universal, that it takes courage to do so, but also that there is a certain security in it, just because it is for the universal; he knows it is glorious to be understood by every noble mind, and in such a way that even the beholder is thereby ennobled” (Problema II, par.17). This could be taken by one who admires faith as a courageous act or by the skeptic as something that one does for security and nobility. We see examples of this in our discussion board, as well, as some students have taken the position that Abraham is a father of faith, while others find him to be a murderous fool.

Subtle manipulation tactic or powerful learning tool? Socratic Irony can lead to reexamine their ideas and beliefs. It can be used on others to create a more amiable argument or on ourselves to get to the core of our ideals. Regardless of the purpose its used for, it remains a valuable tool and one that should be incorporated into academic, philosophical, and artistic pursuits.

Works Cited

Jefferson, Tweed. Patrimonious. Squill Publishing, 2024.

Jenkins, Dr. S. “Week 5 – Kierkegaard”, Critics of Religion, Oregon State University, Accessed 22 April 2025. Lecture.

Kierkegaard, Søren, and Alastair Hannay. Fear and Trembling, Penguin Books, 2006. https://research-ebsco-com.oregonstate.idm.oclc.org/c/u4nmuo/ebook-viewer/epub/ea5vkwcmhb, Accessed 2 May 2025.