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The Brothers Karamazov
Book II. 6.
p75 [Ivan] “...European liberals in general, and even our liberal dilettanti, often mix up the final results of socialism with those of Christianity. This wild notion is, of course, a characteristic feature. But it’s not only liberals and dilettanti who mix up socialism and Christianity, but in many cases it appears, the police -- the foreign police of course -- do the same. Your Paris anecdote is rather to the point, Peter Miusov.”
[Miusov] ...”I will tell you... another interesting and rather characteristic anecdote about Ivan himself. Only five days ago, in a gathering here, principally of ladies, he solemnly declared in argument that there was nothing in the whole world to make men love their neighbors. That there was no law of nature that men should love mankind, and that, if there had been any love on earth before this, it was not owing to a natural law, but simply because men have believed in immortality. Ivan added in parenthesis that the whole natural law lies in that faith, and that if you were to destroy in mankind the belief in immortality, not only love but every living force maintaining the life of the world would at once be dried up. Moreover, nothing then would be immoral, everything would be lawful, even cannibalism. That’s not all. He ended by asserting that for every individual who does not believe in God or immortality, the moral law of nature must immediately be changed into the exact contrary of the former religious law. He said that egoism, even in crime, must become, not only lawful but recognized as the inevitable, the most rational, even honorable outcome. From this, gentlemen, you can judge about the rest of our eccentric and paradoxical friend Ivan’s theories.”
...
p76 “Is that really your conviction as to the consequences of the disappearance of faith in immortality?” Father Zossima now asked Ivan.
“Yes. That was my contention, There is no virtue if there is no immortality.”
“You are blessed in believing that, or else more unhappy.”
“Why unhappy?” Ivan asked, smiling.
“Because, in all probability you yourself don’t believe in the immortality of your soul, nor in what you have written in your article on Church jurisdiction.”
“Perhaps you are right! . . . But I wasn’t altogether joking,” Ivan suddenly and strangely confessed, flushing quickly.
“You were not altogether joking. That’s true. The question is still bothering your heart; it is still unanswered. But the martyr sometimes likes to divert himself with his despair, you, too, divert yourself with magazine articles and discussions in society though you don’t believe your own arguments, and with an aching heart mock at them inwardly. . . . That question you have not answered. And this is your great grief for it clamors for an answer.”
“But can it be answered by me? Answered in the affirmative?” Ivan went on asking strangely, still looking at the elder with the same inexplicable smile.
“If it can’t be decided in the affirmative, it will never be decided in the negative. You know that that is the peculiarity of your heart, and all its suffering is due to it. But thank the Creator who had given you a heart capable of such suffering; of thinking and seeking higher things, for our dwelling is in the heavens. God grant that your heart will attain the answer on earth. And may God bless your path.”
The immortality of the soul vs nihilism. The position that Peter attributes to Ivan seems to be the natural human position, though for me the Cosmogonic question is the pertinent one. Perhaps it comes to the same thing as neither can be answered honestly and definitively. Dostoyevsky has already played the "God loves to forgive the unforgivable" card that Mann made so much of in Doctor Faustus. And there is certainly no evidence (not that religious people care about evidence) that religious people are any less "sinful" than non-believers. What Ivan is really talking about is not behavior but the reality of good and evil. But that presumes that there is a distinction between the two "under God," which I would dispute.
What Ivan and Foucault might agree on is that without God there is no guilt or remorse. But since that is also what separates us from the state of Nature it is curious to see religion's role as preserving what Satan and the Serpent (or Promethius) set in motion.
[I'm rereading this in 2016 while also reading about the Social Contract as envisioned by Hobbs, Mill, and Rousseau. Hobbs would agree that there is no religious or natural foundation for morality, but he thought people could adhere to Golden Rule based ethics simply for rational self-interest. I'm not so sure people are as reasonable as Hobbs (and Kant) believed, but I also don't think Dostoevsky is right about the belief in an immortal soul being essential to any kind of morality.]
Book II. 7.
p84 [Zossima to Alyosha] “... And remember, my son... this is not the place for you in the future. When it is God’s will to call me, leave the monastery. Go away for good.”
...
“... This is not your place for the time. I bless you for great service in the world. Yours will be a long pilgrimage. And you will have to take a wife, too. You will have to bear all before you come back. There will be much to do. But I have trust in you, and so I send you forth. Christ is with you. You will see great sorrow, and in that sorrow you will be happy. This is my last message to you: in sorrow seek happiness. Work, work unceasingly. Remember my words, for although I shall talk with you again, not only my days but my hours are numbered.”
...
“The worldly may follow the dead with tears, but here we rejoice over the father who is departing. We rejoice and pray for him. Leave me, I must pray. Go. Hurry. Be near your brothers. And not near one only, but near both.”
...
p90 [Alyosha to Rakitin] “Ah, Ivan has a stormy spirit. His mind is in bondage. He is haunted by a great, unsolved doubt. He is one of those who don’t want millions, but an answer to their questions.”
One of those people.
[Rakitin] “That’s plagiarism, Alyosha. You’re quoting Father Zossima. Ah, Ivan is a problem to you!” cried Rakitin, with undisguised malice... “And the problem’s a stupid one. It is no good guessing at it. Rack your brains -- you’ll understand it. His article is absurd and ridiculous. And did you hear his stupid theory just now: if there’s no immortality of the soul, then there’s no virtue, and everything is lawful? ... An attractive theory for scoundrels... Not for scoundrels, but for pedantic fakers, ‘haunted by profound, unsolved doubts.’ He’s showing off... His whole theory is a fraud! Humanity will find in itself the power to live for virtue even without believing in immortality. It will find it in love for freedom, for equality, for fraternity.”
...
p91 “...He condescends to abuse me, you know. Why haven’t I a right to abuse him?” [said about Ivan]
“I never heard him saying anything about you, good or bad. He doesn’t speak of you at all.”
“But I heard that the day before yesterday at Katerina’s he was abusing me for all he was worth... He was so good as to say that, if I don’t become a monk I will certainly go to Petersburg and become a reviewer on a magazine. And he said that I will write for the next ten years, and in the end become the owner of the magazine, and bring it out on the liberal and atheistic side, with a socialistic tinge, with a tiny gloss of socialism, but keeping a sharp lookout all the time, that is, keeping in with both sides and hoodwinking the fools. According to your brother’s account, the tinge of socialism won’t hinder me from laying by the profits and investing them under the guidance of some Jew, till at the end of my career I build a great house in Petersburg....”
[I have a feeling this is a reference to an actual person. I wonder if I can learn who Rakitin is based on?]
“Ah, Rakitin that’s just what will really happen, every word of it,” cried Alyosha, unable to restrain a good humored smile.
Context: This is less than a century after both the French Revolution and the American Revolution.
I am reminded here that this was written as a serial for a magazine. I wonder if enough credit is given to the importance of serialization? I don’t recall much mention of it, but then my classes were over 40 years ago. The pacing of a story is radically changed if it has to appeal to an audience month by month (or whatever the periodicity is). Each section is action (or at least content) packed because it must stand on its own and tantalize the reader so she is eager for the next installment -- this is why the early volumes of Tales Of the City are better than the later volumes.
In section 7. we suddenly receive a whole playbill of scandalous information from a character who hasn’t spoken a word before. Who is this Ritalin, I mean Rakitin? He seems to be a one man chorus. Did he just wander in from a Shakespeare play? But he speaks to a character, not, directly, to the reader. And he reeks of questionable motives. He seems as trustworthy as Iago. And how adroitly he describes the result of the action inside that we just missed as these two walked across the monastery’s (massive) grounds. (How large are these establishments?)
(As I was getting ready to publish this I did a quick search and found this, in another blog, about Rakitin. I'm not sure if I agree with this person's interpretation of what The Grand Inquisitor is about, but this is still interesting. I've browsed a number of the other "usual sources" and can find little about Rakitin or Pavel Smerdyakov, who I consider two of the most important characters in the book.)
Book II. 8.
p94 ...Alyosha, who was attached to him, was distressed to see that his friend Rakitin was dishonorable, and quite unconscious of being so. He felt, on the contrary, that because he would not steal money left on a table that he was a man of the highest integrity. Neither Alyosha nor anyone else could have convinced him otherwise.
Talk about establishing a character! The difference between not being interested in doing something sinful, and refusing to do something you would actually like to do, is huge. Where the virtue lies is another question. I'm glad we have our omniscient narrator for this. Rakitin is certainly a piece of work. Is it better or worse to be unconscious of your weaknesses? And how does being "dishonorable" relate to Ivan's "everything is lawful" and "there is no virtue," as Rakitin himself put it? Is Rakitin influenced by such ideas or is he simply a dishonorable person by nature? And, again, is that better or worse?
p99 [Fyodor] "...But the truth is not to be found in eating gudgeon and that I proclaim aloud! Father monks, why do you fast? Why do you expect reward in heaven for that? Why, for a reward like that I will come and fast too! No, saintly monk, you try being virtuous in the world, do good to society, without shutting yourself up in a monastery at other people's expense, and without expecting a reward up aloft for it -- you'll find that a bit harder. I can talk sense, too, Father Superior." [He approaches the table and sees all the fine foods set out for the guests] ..."And who has provided it all? The Russian peasant, the laborer, brings here the pennies earned by his horny hand, wringing them from his family and the tax-gatherer! You bleed the people, holy Fathers!"
Interesting that Dostoyevsky puts this very reasonable attack on the Church (or at least the monastery) in the mouth of Fyodor. You'd expect it more from Ivan, but then Ivan is always playing games. Fyodor here seems to be saying what he really thinks, or maybe not.
Restaurant rules
Today I read that one of the rules for restaurant success is to draw a huge percentage of your clientele from within five blocks. I’ve considered factors like this in the past for retail businesses in general -- this is why it is so hard for a business on an edge (next to a lake or bay or large park or freeway) to succeed. Of course it’s more complicated than a simple five block rule, especially someplace like here with hills. Dangerous neighborhoods also affect the calculus of psychological distance.
I frequent a couple cafes that are eleven blocks away, but even I -- who walk a lot -- feel they are a bit far. I only come here (one of the eleven block cafes) due to contingencies. There are other cafes five blocks away that also seem a bit far for me because one is at the bottom and the other at the top of my hill. A really great (and cheap) Indian restaurant is only three more blocks down, but in a more dangerous block, so I rarely venture that far.
The places I go most frequently are six blocks away in one direction or ten blocks away in another direction, but these are directions that involve the least change in elevation. On the other hand, there are a multitude of cafes within four blocks that I rarely visit either because they are not very good, too expensive, or just too close. Unless I’m working at home or otherwise tied to being at home, eating or drinking within a few blocks seems like putting on a jacket and shoes for nothing. Perhaps I would change my tune if my favorite taqueria, pizzeria, falafel place, or creperie opened up a block below me.
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