Dostoevsky and Me

Dostoevsky is in bad odor in some quarters at the moment because he was a fanatical Russian nationalist, who might very well have been a Putin supporter were he alive today. He was also a rabid anti-Semite, although he denied it; but all you have to do is read his own words, which reveal a condescending bigotry.

            Nevertheless, not being a cancel culture person, I – like so many even in his own day who took deep issue with some of his notions – cannot help but be captivated by his writing and his life story. His psychological and philosophical penetration cannot be denied. His willingness to give eloquent expression to his opponents’ views, which are perhaps also his own deepest doubts, is also admirable. So too was his staunch sympathy for young idealists, even as he decried their sometimes violent methods. And his ultimate ideal of universal love and sacrifice, although contradicted by his own bigotries and unapologetic embrace of passion, continues to have strong appeal even to the most jaundiced.

            One particular trope in his writing has special relevance to my concerns as an amoralist. Who is not acquainted with Dostoevsky’s insistence, as expressed or implied in his great novels, that without the belief in God (and specifically Jesus) and immortality, “all things are permitted”? … even murder. And yet nowhere, so far as I can tell, is there any actual argument given. Somehow it is supposed to be obvious. But of course it is not at all: One must assume several substantive propositions, all of which are highly dubitable.

            First of course one must assume that there is a God … and also that each of us has a soul, and that the soul is immortal. Need I say that the evidence for all of these is slim, or rather that the evidence against is overwhelming? I won’t waste our time rehearsing the arguments, although let me acknowledge that the truth or falsity of the propositions does of course depend on what one means by the key terms, such as “God.” But it is clear that Dostoevsky must have had in mind the sort of God and the sort of soul that are unacceptable to a scientific-minded rationalist (such as myself … and that’s pretty much all I can say about it!).

            Equally dubitable and even more to the point is that without a God who could reward or punish us for all eternity, like a Supreme Santa Claus, we would all become moral monsters. This presumes that we lack innate impulses other than selfish ones. But that is a ridiculous assumption or inference, is it not? Common observation attests to the compassionate hearts of so many and perhaps even everyone under supportive conditions. Do children become monsters as soon as they stop believing in Santa Claus? Furthermore it is simplicity itself to devise Darwinian stories to account for our having natural caring responses under various circumstances. Why should anyone give credence, therefore, to Dostoevsky’s presumed presumption that we require the desire of reward or the fear of punishment in order to be good? – not to mention infinite reward or punishment! This strikes me, at any rate, as delirium.

            Finally, Dostoevsky’s proposition appears to use the word “permitted” (of course this is a translation, so I don’t really know) in a way that is nonsensical. For if there is no God, then who is there to permit murder or anything else? Dostoevsky is so concerned that God is necessary to command right behavior and prohibit wrong behavior. But if this is true conceptually, then is it not equally true conceptually that God is needed to permit behavior that is neither right (obligatory) nor wrong (prohibited)? Is that not a moral category too?

            So if we scrap Dostoevsky’s dictum that without God, everything is permitted, then what is left to say about the atheist’s likely behavior? There are two ways one might now proceed. One is to argue, as the New Atheists (and, frankly, most modern philosophical ethicists) do, to wit: Morality can survive perfectly well without divine sanction or punishments or direction. Indeed, beginning with Socrates, one can argue that even with God one would still need some independent source of right and wrong (for how else would we know that God is good if we didn’t first know what goodness is?).

            I for one, however, find all such efforts to salvage morality in the absence (or even presence) of God to be fruitless. Therefore I have embraced amoralism. But, for the reasons already given, this does not lead me to the same conclusion that Dostoevsky saw as inevitable. On the contrary, in fact, I not only believe that morality does not exist, but also that we will be better off if we believe that it doesn’t! I refer you to my many books and articles and columns and blog posts about why I believe those things, which you can find here: http://www.toastworks.com/moralmoments/amorality.htm . In this essay I have only wanted to showcase my objection to Dostoevsky.

            However, like Dostoevsky, I do not want to shortchange my opponents, and in fact I “feel their pain.” Sometimes I even wonder whether Dostoevsky himself was not a closet atheist and even amoralist. For the best I am able to tease out of all of his writing, both fiction and nonfiction, is that he is convinced that the belief in God and immortality is essential to the well being of individuals and of society. But this is not the same as to prove or even believe that God and immortality exist.     This puts one, then, in the position of entertaining the promulgation and even self-deceiving acceptance of a Big Lie.

            So what if it is simply true as a matter of empirical fact that human beings by and large do require certain delusory beliefs in order to function sanely and decently consistently? … or at least more sanely and decently than they would if atheism ruled. I do not feel competent to decide such a question. I know that I would like it not to be true, and so also, I am partial to arguments and evidence against it. But I know also that there are arguments and evidence in its favor. Are we capable of being impartial judges of which are the stronger? I doubt it.

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