In recent days, somewhat less recent lately though, Crime and Punishment has been resurfaced due to the lectures of a man who at this point needs no introduction – Jordan Peterson. Now, while I had already read some of Dostoyevsky's books before discovering Peterson's lectures, I decided to give the mad russian a second chance because I realized some of the finer philosophical points of his stories had escaped me. So I dusted off Crime and Punishment as well as The Brothers Karamazov from my bookshelf and I read them with new eyes. And though my enjoyment of both books greatly improved compared to the first time around, I still can't quite grasp the point of the former, or if I do, I can't quite say I agree with it. And that is because, to surmise my argument before I even attempt to explain it, I think the only thing Dostoyevsky managed to prove was that Raskolnikov was, all things considered, a good guy all along.
“The Student” by Nikolai Yaroshenko
As far as Jordan Peterson goes, his understanding of the story appears to be that, though all rational and, let's say, worldly reasons for committing an immoral action can be in place, the action still remains immoral due to some kind of metaphysical source of morality, something which goes beyond all naturalism, and that something could be called God, or at least it could be considered a road to God. And if you think about it, especially by comparing it with the rest of Dostoyevsky's works, that seems to make sense because Raskolnikov does plot the perfect murder – he steals a nice fortune, he gets away with it for the most part, and then, to top it all off, the victim was, by all accounts, a very evil woman whose existence impacted negatively in the world. In fact, from what I can recall, nobody in the story even felt sorry for the old bat... So why didn't Raskolnikov take advantage of the woman's death? Why was it that after acquiring her money he became way worse than he already was? Because if his sorrows were all worldly, then money should have fixed them one by one. With the old lady's money he could feed himself properly, he could find a decent place to stay at, he could return to his studies, he could save his sister from an unwanted marriage, and then, at the end of it all, he could become a great lawyer who would do a lot of good in the world. So why doesn't he? Because the guilt catches up to him, he can't even bring himself to spend any of the old lady's money, and when it becomes too much, he confesses, being thereafter sent to prison, a development which is told in a rather succinct and beautiful epilogue on which the story, which is only now beginning, ends. Because when there's a crime, there has to be a punishment, but at the end of it all, there has to be redemption too.
However, I think the reason I don't agree with Peterson's overall view of morality should be clear – Dostoyevsky's view of guilt is entirely too optimistic. Aside from certain storytelling devices, I don't see why his evil characters have to find themselves inexplicably wracked with guilt, especially since so many very real people in our very real world have found their crimes all too pleasing. Perhaps it's because the author himself was struggling with similar thoughts regarding morality in an immoral world, but I mean, Raskolnikov goes through his own torment, and Svidrigailov actually ends up killing himself, as does Smerdiakov in The Brothers Karamazov. It seems that, though the author was very attuned to just how evil people can be, he still wrote his evil characters, among which Smerdiakov might be the absolute worst, in such a way that some unseen force always catches up to them. But where is that unseen force when real life people commit their atrocities? Indeed, the thing people often say when someone apologizes for their wicked actions is simply that, if they hadn't been caught, they would have just carried on as usual, and why wouldn't they? Thus, Dostoyevsky seems to propose that, at the end of it all, morality derives from, or has to derive from, a source that is simply beyond this world, and that source would, almost by definition, be God. Sadly for me, though I agree that morality becomes more or less circular without an external origin for it, I also don't see many reasons to believe in its otherworldly source.
It is regarding that latter point that I agree with atheists, and that is why the point of the whole novel seems to be that Raskolnikov is, for lack of a better term, a good guy. But that goodness, not being at all divine in its origin, can be thoroughly explained through evolutionary psychology, that is to say, though it could be coldly rational to undertake that murder, it's still not expedient to do so because we have evolved in a way to consider the murder of any member of our own species as an evil act, simply one of the many ways nature has tilted us in whichever direction she thinks best. The source of Raskolnikov's guilt would then be his own consciousness for having done something that goes against his very nature as a member of the same tribe as his victim. And that all seems fine and dandy, but the problem then is that, though I'm not convinced by Dostoyevsky's or Peterson's views on this, I'm also not entirely sold on the atheistic view. The reason for that should be simple too – if the source of Raskolnikov's guilt is merely his own consciousness, then it is expedient for the individual to neglect his consciousness when convenient, or in other words, if he feels guilt because he did something that goes against his personal nature, then the problem is his own nature.
If there's no higher origin for morality, then at least I for one begin to see it as a very mundane thing, much like the rules of any other video game, and I phrase it that way because, in so many words, I see life on this world as a video game, but more on that at another date... So if morality is a set of basic rules and regulations, then it would that appear most of us are inclined towards certain behaviors. I'd say that, due to a combination of our own natures and the philosophical underpinnings of our society, most of us consider wanton murder to be absolutely evil. But the problem becomes that if there's no cosmic justice at the end of all of this, then why would you reject an evil action if nothing stops you? You could argue that, before bringing morality into this, we can bring pragmatism and thus you can say that we shouldn't be evil because there are systems in place to prevent that, so being evil wouldn't be a very fruitful experience. But what if the individual doesn't care about being punished? Or what if the individual has a very strong chance of committing his crime while avoiding his punishment? Or what if his chance isn't all that great but he still would rather take it? Yes, he might feel horribly guilty afterwards, but that's only possible insofar as his own nature will allow him. But what if his nature is one which won't allow for it? Ironically, morality becomes flipped. Under secular humanism we are bound by our natures but we are told to work around that, even appealing to our own selfishness from which we can draw a sense of duty for others or, dare I say it, we can discover love. But with christianity we are commanded to be loving regardless of our personal capabilities for it. That means under christianity, a sociopath is emotionally deficient, whereas under secular humanism he is pragmatically superior.
I'll slow myself down with a personal anecdote. When I was a student I would sometimes give a coin or two to some homeless people I'd run into along the way from the metro station to the university building. Some of those homeless people I began to recognize, and one I even knew by name. But other times I just felt like I didn't wanna waste money on them. I was hungry or I wanted to buy something, or whatever, so I ignored them as I walked on by. But whenever I had an exam, even if I had studied a lot and it was a fairly easy one, I kept coins in my pocket because I was prepared to give them to whatever homeless person I saw along the way... The reason for that? Because I was under the irrational impression that, if I came across a homeless person and did not show him charity, I would have had a terrible experience with the exam, not so much a bad grade, but I just felt something terrible would happen during class... I guess what I'm trying to say is that if we have nowhere to go after this world, then charity unto the poor is all vanity. Within secular humanism my good actions become, not only entirely pointless, but stupid too and seemingly beyond my rational thinking.
I suppose even without an existence of the transcendent, or a metaphysical realm, or complete quantum woo or whatever you wanna call it, giving to charity still carries some specific benefits. For instance, my charity could potentially help that person lift himself out of poverty and become a productive member of society, or I could be seen giving and so others around me would consider me a good person, or I could just feel a nice ego massage when doing it. It could all be true, but then the proper moral dilemma isn't Raskolnikov's, it's Ivan Karamazov's, it's the truth claim that if God doesn't exist, then everything is permissible. Life becomes a video game in which you do whatever you want and you either avoid the consequences of your immoral actions, or you totally ignore them and just don't give a damn. In essence, without God, morality becomes merely what we do in vanity when we are seen by men, something which most religions rightly critique. But about what we do when nobody is looking, well... if you get away with it, more power to you. Thus the point of Crime and Punishment isn't that there exists a higher metaphysical realm, it's simply that Raskolnikov wasn't at all rational when he did what he did. Not only did he go against his personal nature but he also simply wasn't in the best mental state. On that note I find Peterson to be a bit disingenuous because, firstly, Raskolnikov's actions weren't the perfect rational background. Indeed, he was malnourished, depressed, feverish and he was acting on a recently discovered impulse out of which emerged despair. And secondly, because Peterson conveniently leaves out that after undertaking the murder, Raskolnikov was interrupted by the victim's feeble-minded sister, a completely innocent and suffering person whom he had to kill so as to leave no witnesses.
So I dunno... As far as literature goes I've gained a renewed appreciated for Dostoyevsky thanks to Jordan Peterson's thinking, which I find insightful in many ways. However, I can't bring myself to agree with his point regarding this book nor can I embrace Dostoyevsky's works in general with the love with which they are received all over the world. But having said that, and in a slightly tortured karamazovian way, I also can't stop loving his stories, and sadly, identifying with his characters.
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