The Brothers Karamazov

First Impressions...

Guilt

The eternal damnation of the soul. I guess I am expecting one of the brothers to suffer in a more or less conventional manner for the patricide. This will not be an entirely pleasurable reading experience, because I will be much too aware of my own guilt through the pleasure of voyeurism. I do expect the courtroom sequence to demonstrate that we all suffer by one person’s guilt; likewise do we share that person’s culpability. Dostoevsky is probably aware of this fact, as he pursues the societal construction of individual guilt through the exploration of the Karamazov family history. Whomever happens to be the murderer will not be solely responsible. For the individual act of participating in that particular event of killing he will surely act alone. Yet the conscience – the psychology – of reaching such a brutal conclusion involves the entire family and extends to the entire human race. The fact that seemingly normal individuals have the same latent bloodlust as any criminal is proven by attendance at executions, such as the autos-da-fé. Father Zosima elucidated possible reasons for society’s wish to quickly exterminate the guilty. Criminals are continual reminders of our own (arrested) barbarity. The “fires of hell” such as Inquisitorial burnings allow humanity to forget our collective guilty conscience through sheer spectacle. Dostoevsky seems to imply that some ashes of guilt do remain upon humanity however. It is simple: the fires of hell represent “the suffering of one who can no longer love”. He implies that akin to Jesus we as a civilization must love our enemies instead of burning them and submerging the ashes under our collective conscience.

Who is to be Guilty?

The individual Karamazovs have been moulded by their family history to reject society at the same time they apparently embrace it: Ivan hides behind his reason, compartmentalizing and justifying the world and his remoteness from it; Dmitri uses both love and violence in a process of self-ostracization which could eventually lead to his sharing of the contempt felt for the elder Karamazov by most people in the novel; Alyosha’s mysticism (asceticism) is perhaps the most conscious withdrawal from society; and Smerdyakov’s existence – or rather non-existence – as the bastard Karamozov is perhaps the most obvious instance of banishment in the text. It is not just for narrative reasons that Dostoevsky remains ambiguous concerning the guilty party through the opening sections of his text. He wishes to promote the fact that we are all capable of murder given extreme circumstances.

Impressed...

The notion of absolutes and universals has not been removed from the popular conscience despite the best efforts of many prolific post-modern thinkers. Contrary to Nietzsche, for the vast majority of people God is not in fact dead, in either the literal or abstract interpretation of that statement. Old universals have simply been replaced by newer ones promulgating their ideological liberalism while simultaneously rejecting the validity of “lesser” works. What has been more broadly accepted, however, has been the idea of allowing a more or less equal space to all viewpoints and means of expression. Technology is of primary influence on the creation of such a liberal society, as it has provided a means by which various ideologies can be expressed. Modern intellectual expression has to some extent become more exclusionary as a consequence; either one “gets it” or not. In several respects, Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov is conversely very much a self-contained text in terms of its ideological debate. In particular, the author seems to be positing the redemptive theology of Father Zosima against the ideology of the absurd espoused by Ivan Karamazov. Indeed, there are overtones of Platonic dialogue within these sequences of philosophical exposition. There are of course two viewpoints presented – a Pro and a Contra as explicitly laid out in Book V – yet there can be no arguing that the author himself wishes to present his particular doctrine, wherein he aligns himself with Zosima, as being a universal truth. Primarily, I will be focussing upon Ivan’s ideological position, with reference to Zosima’s much more optimistic and redemptive theology.

Certainly there is little room for the application of late-twentieth century ideological liberalism to Dostoevsky’s writing, although Ivan’s nihilistic ideology does seem to suggest a more modern and existential school of thought. There is of course no doubting Dostoevsky’s religious opinions; his theology is both piously and devoutly expressed in many of his works. Yet, while he does not in fact question the ultimate absolute of God, he does imply other universals to be rather arbitrary. Most obvious is his treatment of guilt and justice in the novel. There is no simple explanation of individual culpability; no character is condemned outright. This belief is shared by both Ivan and Father Zosima. Dostoevsky seemed to want to focus upon the psychological and sociological aspects of criminal behaviour, and this is expressed throughout his works. As a consequence, he implies that justice itself is not a universal in terms simple cause and effect dispensation, in other words that crime x should receive punishment y. Throughout The Brothers Karamazov Dostoevsky undermines such a simplistic notion of earthly justice, and instead submits his characters to a more absolute jurisprudence. Ultimately for the author, and as Father Zosima states, justice must emerge from a personal communication with the divine.

From the very start of the novel, Dostoevsky suggests a very modern concept of guilt and justice by subverting its conventions. In one particular respect, his opinions concerning judiciary practise are in fact even more enlightened than those which currently exist in most of the industrialized world. If one is to interpret the entirety of his writing with respect to Dostoevsky’s theology, it becomes readily clear that his beliefs concerning justice do in fact originate in terms of guilt before the divine, although there is no practical or ideological reason that it should remain within a theological realm; a secular practise can be instructed by religious belief. In terms of theological origination, all of mankind shares in the guilt from the original fall from grace; the flesh must be transcended before innocence is regained. One cannot therefore simplistically denounce others for their crimes while supposing themselves to be above any such abhorrent behaviour. As Father Zosima states, “you cannot be anyone’s judge. No man on earth can judge a criminal until he understands that he himself is just as guilty as the man standing before him and that he may be responsible than anyone else for the crime” (p. 388). Zosima teaches that one must act like Christ, accepting the guilt of others onto one’s own conscience (or soul, in wholly religious phrasing). Every individual is guilty if they do not provide an example of virtue to those for whom it is required. As a further extension, one must rejoice in the righteousness of others, for in this manner one can avoid being burdened by one’s own guilty conscience. Moreover, others must not be weighted down by one’s own guilt. Within this context Zosima’s behaviour towards Dmitri early in the text can be understood. Interpreted in terms of Zosima’s prophetic nature – evidenced by his oracular relationship with Alyosha – his supplication in front of Dmitri is arguably a plea for forgiveness for his upcoming false conviction, as Zosima would acknowledge that Dmitri’s trial is only an earthly one and therefore not the true justice of God’s mercy. In many ways, Zosima acts as prognosticator to many of the other characters in the text as well. It becomes painfully clear by the end of the text that Zosima’s statements are reflected in Ivan’s constitution; ostensibly Dostoevsky is presenting Ivan’s tragedy as an example of the correctness of Zosima’s theology. Ivan’s suicide is resultant from the absurdity he sees in the world. As he states in book V, he will not choose to exist in a society which condones the suffering of the innocent to justify salvation for the rest. Yet Ivan counters himself when he states that he cannot love those people whom he actually encounters; they are no longer the innocents that he believed them to be, and conversely he feels a deep sense of revulsion towards them. Consequently, he believes that love can not truly exist in the world, and that the notion of ultimate love as professed by Zosima to be an impossibility: “Christ’s love for human beings was an impossible miracle on earth” (p. 284). Love for Ivan is a purely theoretical concept, a pure abstraction with no material plausibility. Hatred seems to be directed towards beggars and other unfortunates in particular, perhaps because they are physical manifestations of Zosima’s theology – in other words, following Zosima, one must give aid to beggars precisely because one is not a beggar. Ivan’s beliefs seem to be very much related to his father’s self-absorption and lack of sympathy for others; he has internalized these beliefs almost as much as his brother Smerdyakov. One particular instance later in the novel suggests that Ivan does in fact feel some sense of social indebtedness towards others. With the sequence in which Ivan picks up the drunk peasant and finds shelter for him, Dostoevsky seems to suggest that despite his character’s coldheartedness, even Ivan has a basic sense of human decency that cannot be disregarded.

In thoroughly secular terms, mitigating circumstances must be considered for a society to dispense proper justice. In The Brothers Karamazov, the primary mitigating circumstance is of course the elder Karamazov himself. Throughout the text, he is portrayed as a brute and uncaring man, almost beastly in his pursuit of self-gratification. In essence, it is his relationship with his sons which creates a situation in which any of them could be driven to murder their father. Ivan proves himself strangely prophetic when in detailing the story of a murderer who had been brutally raised by his parents. Certainly the actual act in broad terms is itself not completely foreign to anybody, although for the vast majority of people it is an impulse left repressed for the course of their lives. This impetus does find a means of expression however, although this form of bloodlust is vicarious in nature. Until the evolution of modern visual media, tendencies for the vicarious expression of violence did in fact involve the real suffering of others, either through violent sporting events such as hunts and staged combat, or through officially bureaucratic public executions, such as the autos-da-fé described in the Grand Inquisitor chapter of the novel. This section also elucidates the notion of why society desires the eradication of its criminal elements. They are continual reminders of the arrested barbarity of every individual; their execution or imprisonment is an attempt to cleanse the collective conscience of a community. As Zosima states in book VI, the fires of hell are simple allegory, a spectacle which allows humanity to forget its collective guilt. A society will destroy its criminal elements, but will not arrest the ultimate cause of criminal behaviour. For Zosima this is a simple instance of lack of true faith, of ignoring genuine religious practise as it requires too much of a sacrifice to forgive criminals for their behaviour.

To Ivan however, justice is merely an expression of humanity’s latent barbarousness. Public executions are merely a communal forum in which the desire to witness another’s suffering is officially sanctioned. It matters not whether those sentenced are in fact innocent or guilty, as the punishment is both the trial and the conviction. Neither does it matter whether the punishment will arrest any future criminal activity, as it serves its immediate purpose to appease the bloodlust of the masses. It is for this reason that Ivan rejects any concept of the righteous salvation of the damned. The contempt that he feels toward the religious who believe they have attained this state of grace is fairly explicit when he describes the execution of a vicious murderer:

And the next thing, brother Richard, covered with the kisses of
all his brothers and sisters, was dragged up onto the scaffold, placed
under the knife of the guillotine, had his head chopped off in the
most brotherly fashion, and gained eternal bliss.
(p. 289)

For Ivan, the idea of a murderer finding salvation through an execution is akin to redemption of society through the torture of a child. Just as the chaplains at the execution reach a state of religious fervour, so does the torturer enter a state of bliss while he is performing his violence upon another. Each is identical in that the suffering of another becomes a source of pleasure and self-gratification. Throughout his philosophizing, Ivan demonstrates his agreement with the Marquis De Sade in stating that all instances of love are in fact various forms of dependency. It is a simple binary: lovers need those who requite their love, just as torturers need the object of their ferocity. Indeed, it becomes an essential element of an individual’s identity, and Ivan seems almost humourously to suggest that through the internalization of brutality, Russians have created their national identity: “To us, nailing people by their ears is unthinkable because, despite everything, we are Europeans. But birch and lash, they’re different – they’re something that’s really ours and cannot be taken away from us” (p. 287). Man has a very refined sense of cruelty, and the act of torture becomes art in and of itself. There is no real other motive than sheer pleasure in witnessing and inflicting suffering upon others. It is within this context that Ivan views any sense of religious love as wicked, for the religious need (and love) the sinful because it is through them that good and evil are defined. He vehemently rejects such a existence: “I’d rather not know about their damn good and evil than pay such a terrible price for it. I feel that all universal knowledge is not worth that child’s tears when she was begging ‘gentle Jesus’ to help her” (p. 291). His arguments do not demonstrate any confidence that there is a solution to the tragic fate of humanity, and consequently his nihilistic mentality and belief in the ultimate absurdity of all existence lead to his suicide. Humanity will ultimately destroy itself in an orgy of violent self-gratification; it will voraciously consume itself and enjoy the taste.

Ivan’s entire discourse to Alyosha is very much an example of this process, as he quite explicitly delights in the rather disgusted reactions which he stimulates in his brother. Not only does he revel in the barbaric details of his lecture, at times he seems to internalize them himself and act out the part. In describing the “justice” of a general who kills a child for a relatively minor misdemeanour, he begins to shout at Alyosha much like the general himself might have: “Perhaps he ought to have been shot, to satisfy the moral indignation that such an act arouses in us? Well, speak up, my boy, go on!” (p. 292). The frequent use of children in his examples is of course demonstrative of Ivan’s extremism. Were he to rely on more median examples of earthly suffering – as more commonly exists in the world – his arguments would lose some of their merit. Of course, one must forgive suicides for their extremism, as such is their nature. His rebellion against the traditional doctrines of Christianity is not entirely complete, however, as even he desires a Christ figure for redemption. Only by accepting the suffering caused by existence will anyone find salvation: “I want to see with my own eyes the lamb lie down with the lion and the resurrected victim rise and embrace his murderer” (p. 294). Just as the lion must kill the lamb for that is the lion’s essence and purpose, so must the torturer inflict suffering for that is its purpose. Surely such a tenant is a difficult one for the majority of people to accept. Ivan’s suicide is proof that even he could not believe in such an existence.

Ivan’s philosophical beliefs are very important in order to fully understand his character. That this section of the novel is just as equally detailed as a later book which presents Zosima’s complex theology suggests that Dostoevsky wanted the reader to compare the two. It is a somewhat subtle manner in which an opinion can be conveyed to the reader. Dostoevsky does in fact intend his audience to be more convinced by Zosima’s devout theology than Ivan’s proto-existentialism. Yet each is allowed a voice; the reader naturally becomes an advocate for one or the other. Certainly there is some truth in Ivan’s ideological stance, although the fact that there he has no hope or sense of purpose draws one away from his nihilism. By the end of the novel, it is quite obvious that Dostoevsky has presented an ideology which cannot function, for it is far too destructive for those who practise it.

Bibliography

Dostoevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamavoz. Trans. Andrew H. MacAndrew. Toronto:
Bantam Books, 1981.