Welcome to the course. Over ten short modules you will learn a simple but powerful skill: asking questions that help people, including yourself, think more clearly. We start with the big picture.

Before I explain anything, try this. Think of the last time someone asked you a question that made you stop and think, something like “What do you really want here?” or “How do you know that?” How did it feel? Take a moment and jot down a few words. We’ll come back to it at the end.

Socrates was a philosopher who lived in Athens about 2,400 years ago. He wrote nothing down. What we know of him comes mostly from his student Plato, who recorded conversations in which Socrates walked around the city and asked people questions.

What kind of questions? Big everyday ones: What is courage? What is justice? What is a good life? Someone would confidently answer, and Socrates would ask a follow-up. “What do you mean by that?” “Can you give an example?” “But what about this other case?” Step by step, the person discovered that their confident answer was fuzzier than they thought.

Here is the key point. Socrates did not give answers. He asked questions and let the other person do the thinking. He famously claimed that he himself knew very little. Whatever you make of that claim, it points to a stance we will practise throughout this course: real curiosity, and the humility to say “I’m not sure I understand yet.”

This way of conversing is now called the Socratic method, or Socratic questioning. Today it is used by teachers, coaches, therapists, lawyers, managers, and parents. And you can use it in an ordinary conversation with a friend or a colleague.

So here is our working definition. Write it down:

Notice three things in that sentence. First, open questions: they cannot be answered with just yes or no. Second, examine an idea: we look at the thinking, not at the person. Third, understand it better: the goal is clarity, not victory.

A common misunderstanding is that Socratic questioning is a clever way to prove people wrong. It is not. If you ask questions only to trap someone, you have kept the form of the method and lost its spirit. People feel the difference immediately, and they stop talking.

Let’s compare three styles. Imagine a friend says: “I think I should quit my job.”

The difference is not the question mark. It is your intention: telling, trapping, or understanding.

Let’s return to the warm-up. Think again about the question that once made you stop and think. Was it asked to help you, to catch you out, or to tell you what to do? I’d guess it was the first. That’s the kind of question you’re learning to ask.

Today you learned that Socratic questioning means asking open questions to help understand an idea better, that its purpose is understanding rather than winning, and that it differs from lecturing and from interrogating.

Welcome back. In Module 1 you learned what Socratic questioning is: open, thoughtful questions that help someone examine an idea and understand it better. Today we look at something that matters even more than the questions themselves: the attitude you bring to them.

Here is a little experiment. Think of a recent conversation where you felt truly listened to. What did the other person do? Perhaps they looked at you, let you finish, and repeated back what they heard. Now think of a conversation where you felt unheard. What did that person do? Jot down two or three words for each.

Imagine two people ask you exactly the same question: “What do you mean by that?” The first one is leaning forward, genuinely curious. The second one has folded arms and is already preparing a rebuttal. Same words. Completely different experience.

This is why we speak of a Socratic stance. The stance is the inner position you take before you say a word. It has three parts.

Socrates is famous for saying he knew very little. Whether or not you take that literally, it points to something practical: in any conversation, you do not yet know what this person means by these words. You may think you do. You often do not. When your friend says “I’m stressed at work,” the word “stressed” could mean too many tasks, a difficult boss, fear of redundancy, or boredom. Not-knowing means treating your first guess as a guess.

This is not pretending. If you already know the answer and ask a question to lead someone toward it, that is a different thing, and we will deal with it in Module 9. Genuine not-knowing means you are truly open to being surprised.

Judgement is quick. Within seconds of hearing a claim, most of us have decided whether it is right or wrong, sensible or silly. Suspending judgement does not mean you have no opinions. It means you hold them loosely, like putting a bag down by the door, until you understand what the other person actually thinks. You can always pick the bag up again later.

A helpful trick: when you notice an inner voice saying “That’s wrong” or “I know what they should do,” simply label it, “There’s my judgement,” and return to listening.

Most of the time, we are listening to reply. While the other person is still talking, we are already composing our answer, our story, or our advice. Listening to understand is different. The only task is to grasp what the person means, from their point of view.

Here is the connection to questioning. Good Socratic questions come out of good listening. A question that ignores what the person just said is a script, not a conversation.

Humility says: “I might be missing something.” Curiosity says: “I would like to find out.” Together they make you someone people want to think aloud with. Without them, even a perfectly worded question feels like a test.

A common worry: “Won’t I seem weak or uninformed if I admit I don’t know?” In practice the opposite happens. People relax and think more honestly when they sense you are not about to judge them.

How do you show, and check, that you have understood? With a paraphrase: saying back, in your own words, what you heard. Not repeating word for word like a parrot, and not adding your opinion. Just reflecting the meaning.

Listen for what happens next. When a paraphrase lands, the person usually says “Yes, exactly,” and then goes deeper. When it misses, they correct you: “Not quite, it’s more that…” Either result is a gift, because now you understand better.

Two cautions. Keep your paraphrase short, one or two sentences. And resist adding “but” or “however” after it. The purpose is understanding, not a debate.

Look back at your notes from the warm-up: what the person did when you felt listened to, and what they did when you felt unheard. How do those compare to the three parts of the stance: not-knowing, suspended judgement, and listening to understand?

Today you learned that Socratic questioning begins before the first question, with an attitude of curiosity and humility. You practised the paraphrase, the simplest and most powerful way to show that you have understood. And you met your own urges to interrupt and advise. Those urges will keep appearing for the rest of the course; the skill is noticing them.