Contemplating the Dynamics of Faith, Doubt, and Reason in Crime and Punishment
Faith, doubt, and reason each play significant roles in Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. These elements are conveyed by the personalities, thoughts, and actions of the novel’s main characters, and they are most easily identified by adhering to the concepts laid out by Paul Tillich’s Dynamics of Faith. What makes Tillich so applicable to the novel is the progressive emergence of faith, doubt, and reason in the lives of Dostoyevsky’s characters. The degree of separation between the two texts is in the level at which each deals with them. Dostoyevsky provides layers of evidence in which they may be found whereas Tillich establishes a foundation for them to grow on. Upon examination of these levels, I would, on the surface, advocate for the argument that Crime and Punishment is first and foremost a work of doubt and reason, with faith—the element of ambiguity common to Dostoyevsky’s writing—lurking in the shadows until its layers are peeled back.
Doubt is one of the most obvious ideas found in this work, mostly because Raskolnikov’s whole world is shrouded in doubt. First of all, he suspects the actions of others, convinced he is being deceived. This argument is grounded in Raskolnikov’s lifestyle and his attempt to isolate himself from society. Secondly, he constantly questions his own actions, always re-assessing the logic behind them. The suspicion of others is first presented by his hesitations about Marmeladov. When Marmeladov tries to engage him in conversation, Raskolnikov’s instinct is to turn him down, noting that he “did not like the way the conversation immediately focused upon himself.…Such talk, from a stranger…always made him feel that way” (Dostoyevsky 33). He makes an assumption that there is something off about the encounter, which also supports the notion that Raskolnikov wants to separate himself.
Another example of Raskolnikov’s suspicions is how he reads between the lines of his mother’s letter. He recognizes that his mother is trying to sell her son on Luzhin by being very vague and contradictory throughout the entire document. In several instances, she describes a flaw in Luzhin’s character but then quickly works to justify it. In reflection, he tries to rationalize what his mother was really saying by asking, “Was she trying to tell me what he was like, or did she have something else in mind—maybe to get me to look at Mr. Luzhin with more favorable eyes?” (62). He once again makes an assumption, this time assuming that there are ulterior motives behind the words written. What is most notable about these suspicions is that Raskolnikov recognizes truths, bringing to light a form of reason that otherwise would go unnoticed by the majority of the other characters. This is where a relationship between doubt and reason forms because throughout the novel, reason follows doubt.
The element of doubt also applies to Raskolnikov’s habit of uncertainty. He questions everything he does. He especially doubts himself when personally challenged. One example of this is following his introduction to Svidrigailov. He says that “You all say I’m insane. I thought maybe I really was insane and what I saw was just a ghost” (302), which suggests that Raskolnikov is uncertain of his own stability and motives in addition to his suspicions of others.
Another sample of his self-doubt follows the murder. He comes to a crossroads similar to that of Hamlet’s “to be or not to be” dilemma, contemplating whether he should go or not go to the police station and confess. He “looked as though he expected to hear the last word from somebody outside himself. But he heard nothing…Everything seemed remote and dead, like the stones along which he made his way; dead for him, for him alone” (192).The solitude and hesitation Raskolnikov experiences at this point in the story shows that he is not confident enough in his own convictions to transcend the crime he has committed. He even doubts the thoroughness of the murder itself, assessing and reassessing whether or not it was complete. His panic and doubt is brought forth as he begins “to imagine that the old woman was still alive and might actually come to” (100), confirming his fears, growing guilt, and doubt that his actions have been fulfilled.
Raskolnikov may take credit for much of the uncertainty in the book, but he is not the only character to exercise doubt. His mother has her reservations about Luzhin’s character and intentions towards Dunia, expressed in the vague nature of her letter. She also reaches a point at which she even doubts her own son. In the epilogue, she grows ill, and the readers are led to believe that she is not aware of Raskolnikov’s whereabouts, yet, with death looming, “she uttered words indicating she surmised more about her son’s awful fate than they [Dunia and Razumikhin] had suspected” (534).
Svidrigailov is a third character of doubt, although until his decision to kill himself, he would inevitably deny such a sign of “weakness.” When first described and later introduced, Svidrigailov already has a questionable reputation, but he also seems quite confident in his actions. One example of his confidence is when Raskolnikov goes to find him at the tavern. Svidrigailov is quite calm, offering up drinks, and making bold statements such as “Ah, when it comes to voicing what their own opinions really are, what sniveling little cowards they all turn out to be” (462). The confidence is clear in his ability to verbalize such a remark, however, it should be noted that Svidrigailov only possesses certainty in his opinions of others rather than himself. This dynamic creates an interesting paradox around his character.
His self-doubt emerges most prominently through his obsession with Dunia. He has to go to the great length of urging her to kill him because he doubts her feelings despite his desire for her affection. When Dunia is unable to shoot and insists that she does not love him, “a terrible, mute struggle took place in the soul of Svidrigailov. He looked at her somehow in a way that was beyond words” (493-494). This reaction makes it all too clear that he was unsure of her true emotions. Events such as this confrontation also cause Svidrigailov to doubt that his life is worth living which leads to his choice to commit suicide. He struggles with the suspicion that his life is worthless given that the values he has attached to his identity are indecent. In the chapter written from his perspective, Svidrigailov’s inner turmoil is revealed. Because he experiences no emotion towards the events that unfold, he is left to wonder if there is any point in continuing on. Ultimately, he decides that he would rather be dead than not feel.
Another significant example of doubt in the novel is found in the readers. The epilogue is so much more hopeful than the rest of the book, and it ties together many of the loose ends that are left to hang at the end of part six. Raskolnikov confronts his love for Sonia, Dunia and Razumikhin get married, and the conclusion closes the story on a positive note, stating that “At the beginning of their happiness they were both prepared at moments to look on these seven years as on seven days” (544) and later that Raskolnikov’s fate is “the beginning of a new story…the story of man’s gradual renewal and rebirth, of his gradual transition from one world to another, of his acquaintance with a new reality of which he had previously been completely ignorant” (544). The recognition of a “rebirth” and “acquaintance with a new reality” show signs of progress and suggest that the character may move forward. Yet, the readers are left doubting what the real consequences of Raskolnikov’s crime and delayed confession are.
Raskolnikov himself is not fully redeemed as he still addresses the murder as an error rather than a crime or sin, and he admits that he would be happy “if only he could have considered himself guilty…even his embittered conscience could find no specially terrible guilt in his past, except for what was simply a blunder” (537). While the book ends with a glimpse of hope, there is still much left up in the air, which exhibits a return to Dostoyevsky’s signature ambiguity.
Paul Tillich’s Dynamics of Faith includes several insights on doubt, one of which is the notion that doubt is essential to faith. On the surface, it is difficult to see how this is applicable to Crime and Punishment; however, it should be argued that if there is no doubt, one can never be sure of the strength of his or her faith. Furthermore, Tillich states that “there is the possibility of failure…only certain is the ultimacy as ultimacy” (Tillich 19). This is certainly the case in Crime and Punishment. A character’s ultimate is going to be a certain thing, but everything else has the potential to fail, and the characters make good use of the knowledge that there is that possibility. I think the doubts expressed by every character, with the exception of Svidrigailov, help strengthen their faith, or, in the case of Raskolnikov, help to achieve a sense of faith and purpose.
Reason is established in Crime and Punishment through Razumikhin, the sensible voice of optimism in the novel, and is juxtaposed by the complexity in Dostoyevsky’s approach to getting inside Raskolnikov’s head as well as the practice of reason that transcends logic. As the voice of reason, Razumikhin becomes the essence of practicality and optimism that balances out the craziness of Raskolnikov’s life. He is also a consistent support system for Raskolnikov, Dunia, and Pulcheria, and he is also a mediator between all the characters. He interacts with each of them diplomatically and with great care. Although he takes no drastic action that influences the plot, his rational mindset sets him apart from the others.
Razumikhin’s stability contrasts greatly with the way Dostoyevsky allows the reader to get inside Raskolnikov’s head. A prominent characteristic of Raskolnikov, and the driving force of Dostoyevsky’s technique, is the fact that Raskolnikov rationalizes, processes, and maps out all his actions, after he carries out the actions. His process of rationalizing is presented in his thoughts immediately after the murder as he takes a moment to reflect. He asks himself, “‘If you did this business conscientiously, not like a fool, but if you really had a firm and definite purpose, why is it you haven’t looked into the purse, why is it you don’t even know what you’ve got” (Dostoyevsky 130). The fact that the idea to take inventory of what he actually stole had not come up sooner suggests that he acts first, thinks later.
Though Raskolnikov acts on impulse, he is not devoid of all practical thought. For example, he remembers to wash off the ax and clear evidence of his presence. The diligence with which he approaches this task is described as follows: “From outside and at first glance there seemed to be nothing; only on the shoes was there a stain. He moistened the rag and washed off the shoes. He had a feeling, though, that his examination had not been thorough, and there might be something he had not noticed that actually flaunted itself to the eye” (103). His attention to detail confirms that while his logic is at times askew, a distorted form of reason is paramount in his life. Furthermore, before killing the old woman and Lizaveta, Raskolnikov did have moments of rational thought that snapped him back into reality and spoke to his logical side. Unfortunately, these moments were fleeting as was the acknowledgement of reality.
Tillich has much to say on the subject of reason. One of the important details he includes is that “reason is the precondition of faith” (Tillich 87). I feel this is especially applicable to Raskolnikov as reason precedes his eventual acceptance of faith. A second aspect Tillich addresses is one of two types of reason, technical reason. This type of reason “gives the tools for recognizing and controlling reality, and faith gives the direction in which this control may be exercised” (86). It deals with daily life and focuses on a way to get to the end, rather than the end itself. This concept falls in line well with the reason found in the novel because the plot is centered around St. Petersburg’s daily life with people leading everyday lives, and where the characters created by Dostoyevsky deal with the conflicts that arise using the direction of faith.
Tillich’s concept of reason is also established in Crime and Punishment with the discussion of error. Tillich explains that “Error takes place if man’s cognitive endeavor misses the really real” (92). Raskolnikov has a difficult time grasping reality as made evident by his estranged dreams and overpowering guilt. He fears, to the point of obsession, that he might make errors, and as a result, he begins to doubt. He uses the power of reason to rationalize and justify his actions with the hope that this alone will fix errors already made and prevent future ones.
Finally, the inclusion of dreams presents an alternate manner in which reason is presented. The dreams hold universal truths even though they are products of Raskolnikov’s and Svidrigailov’s delusional states. This suggests that reason may transcend logic because it is hard to think that a man considered to be crazy could subconsciously bring attention to harsh details of reality. In Raskolnikov’s initial dream, he watches as a weak, defenseless mare is abused until it collapses and dies. After an attempt to avenge the poor mare’s death, a young Raskolnikov’s father explains that “it’s not our business” (Dostoyevsky 82). His father’s willingness to let a wrongdoing go unpunished and the jeers from people egging the mare on bring to attention two truths. The first is that people are self-concerned and are satisfied to let things slide as long as it does not affect them personally. The second truth is that most people will succumb to peer pressure. A few in the crowd had briefly called for a halt to the violent activity, but even they got swept up in the energy of the masses.
Raskolnikov has another dream when he is sick in Siberia following his confession. He dreams that the world is infected by a plague that only a few “pure” and “chosen” are able to escape. The infection gave the sick the impression that they were “so clever and so unhesitatingly right” (541) and that they alone held the truth of the world. People are described as being “in a state of alarm, and nobody understood anybody” (541). Not only does this dream force Raskolnikov to confront that he may not be as extraordinary as he would like, but it reveals the truth that superiority can go to anyone’s head, and if we as a society let it, man is doomed.
Svidrigailov’s dream is interesting because up until that point, it was only imagined that Raskolnikov was in such an unstable mentality to experience such forms of subconsciousness. In his dream, he encounters a little girl, whom he provides shelter and warmth to. However, the child soon turns into a devilish creature and terrorizes Svidrigailov until he wakes up. The dream holds many truths about Svidrigailov personally, but it also holds the truth that one cannot hide from oneself. Svidrigailov is overly generous to compensate for being lost in the world, but he is also scheming and controlling, and the girl’s transformation is a direct reflection of the path his life takes.
The power of faith is constantly questioned in Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, but, nevertheless, it is always there. It is the third of the elements present in the novel, and what I believe to be the trickiest to uncover, given the layers laced within the text. For instance, because Raskolnikov is the protagonist and because Dostoyevsky makes us privy to his thoughts, it would be fair to assume that faith would be an obvious aspect of Raskolnikov’s character. However, Raskolnikov’s denial of having any sense of faith makes it difficult to identify where it is placed in his life. He is neither blatantly religious nor an optimist. In several instances, he refuses to look to the power of prayer for reconciliation. His lack of solid religious faith is suggested by his mother’s letter which reads, “I fear in my heart that you may have been visited by the latest fashionable unbelief” (Dostoyevsky 61).
Raskolnikov also lacks faith in himself. At the start of the novel, he is described as “tense and irritable, in a state resembling acute depression…so far within himself” (23), but his external indifference shields others from being able to see his internal instability. The very fact that he has chosen to isolate himself from society, contemptuous of those around him, and becomes more infatuated with the idea of killing the pawn broker demonstrate his desire to find understanding and something concrete yet radical to distinguish his life. This desire is addressed through Raskolnikov’s fluctuation of fear as alluded to in the statement that “it was not landladies he feared” (23).
If re-examined through Tillich’s lens, however, Raskolnikov has an ultimate concern, and therefore has faith. Although hidden behind his pessimism and the preoccupation of murder, Raskolnikov’s faith lies within his ultimate—to make sense of and find his purpose in the world—and, surprisingly, religion. Primarily, Raskolnikov has his ultimate concern. He hopes to make sense of and find his purpose in the world. He has a psychological need to see if he is ordinary or extraordinary. By labeling himself as one or the other, he will be able to ascertain some greater purpose in the world and know, once in for all, that he is original and special. He states in response to Porfiry’s commentary on his article that “the ‘extraordinary’ man has… the inner right to permit his conscience to transgress…certain obstacles, but only if the execution of his idea—which might involve the salvation of all mankind—demands it” (270). If Raskolnikov identifies himself as such a man, he can take action without a heavy conscience, and he may act for the benefit of the greater good, achieving purpose.
A conflict lies in the fact that he does not commit the murder for anyone’s benefit other than his own, and even then, he does not get anything out of killing. I think his delayed realization that it is guilt that has caused him to suffer such illness and delusion allows him the opportunity to imagine that he could be extraordinary in the first place. Despite his insistence that he is, Raskolnikov is haunted by the possibility that he is not special. This is evident from his reaction to the crime he commits.
I think Raskolnikov is more religious than he will admit, further showing that his character does in fact have faith. Hints of his religious faith are revealed throughout the novel most prominently when he is delusional with illness and guilt, which leads him to make several references to God and prayer. For example, in response to the terror that he, even temporarily, could have the capacity to go through with murder, he cries, “O God…show me the way…I renounce that damned…dream of mine!” (83). This demonstrates that in times of desperation, he turns to faith as his saving grace.
The second instance where he looks to religion is through Sonia. By the conclusion of the novel, her support is the only way he can approach the road ahead. When his exile began, he had “suspected she [Sonia] would bother him with religion, keep talking to him about the Gospels, and shove books at him” (544). The indicator for his hidden faith is his fear that Sonia would “bother” him with such parochial thoughts and texts. Even when he requests a copy of the New Testament, he does not open it, and he poses the question, “Can her beliefs not be mine too? Her feelings and aspirations, at least” (544). This provides supplementary evidence that he looks to religion even if only by shadowing Sonia’s own piety.
Further proof that Raskolnikov really does have faith emerges at the conclusion of the battle of wits between him and Porfiry. Porfiry, convinced that Raskolnikov is an atheist, asks if he believes in the New Jerusalem, in God, and in the resurrection of Lazarus. Raskolnikov replies that he does believe (272). His theory of the ordinary versus extraordinary man suggests a belief in working for the greater good. The concept of working for the greater good provides the ideology of a Utopia. Therefore, the “New Jerusalem” could be such a Utopia.
I would not fully support this interpretation because one component of the extraordinary man is that the intent behind an action is for the greater good. Raskolnikov admits, however, that he was not trying to benefit the masses when he declares, “I didn’t kill to provide myself means and power for becoming a benefactor to mankind. Rubbish! I simply killed; I killed for myself, for myself alone” (417). If he did not act for the greater good, then his actions renounce his theory. But, since the novel does not portray him exclusively as an extraordinary man, this interpretation is still concrete. Following Raskolnikov’s theory, his response that he believes in God may refer to his belief in the strength of an extraordinary man, and his belief in the resurrection of Lazarus alludes to his hope that a man, if he is extraordinary, can bounce back from great and terrible deeds such as murder.
Although he is hesitant to openly admit to any form of faith, it is how he finds salvation. He does not exercise any belief in the power of God because he acts as though it is a mark of weakness and is still trying to figure out how it has purpose in life. In the end though, Sonia, acting as a symbol of faith, provides clarity on the subject because he is able to accept her love and be consoled by her guidance through the years to come.
Svidrigailov is another character of faith. He, like Raskolnikov, displays a clear ultimate concern. While it can be argued that his ultimate is having control over his obsession with Dunia, I feel that his ultimate is finding something to profess. This need for ownership over Dunia is one way in which he copes with being unable to find his niche. He seeks control in the grand gesture of going to St. Petersburg to seek Dunia out. His desire for control is also made evident in his ability to offer anything up in exchange for ownership. For instance, in his final confrontation of Dunia, he says, “I’ll save him [Raskolnikov]. I have money; I have friends…You want me to? I’ll get a passport for you, too…and your mother…what do you need Razumikhin for?” (490). His eagerness to throw his money and resources left and right exhibits how Dunia is different to him. He obsesses over her and is willing to go to great lengths for her because he sees her as his savior, confirmed by his reaction to Dunia’s failure to shoot him.
His exact feelings are described as being “a release from a more melancholy and more somber feeling, which even he himself could not have fully defined” (493). This is how he copes with being lost in the world. He suffers such numbness and lack of direction, and this is made apparent when he confesses, “If there were only something I could be…but there’s nothing, no profession! Sometimes it gets tedious” (466). Unfortunately, his ultimate is unattainable (in his eyes), so for him, death allows him to escape having to confront it.
In addition to these ultimate concerns, I think there are also two different levels of faith demonstrated in the novel. The first is genuine faith, practiced by the women of the novel. Sonia and Dunia exhibit faith through their piety and strength to press on even though doubt becomes a dominant feature in both of their lives. These two women are also representative of the power of faith as they function as crutches for Raskolnikov’s instability. They show that blind faith does exist. Raskolnikov never gives them solid reason to believe in his sanity, yet they are still willing to support him, pray for him, and maintain a connection to him. Tillich’s idea that faith transcends reason and emotion can also be applied to their characters. In a more traditional view of faith, Raskolnikov’s mother also displays this third element. She is considered a devout woman and continually looks to the power of God for guidance even when Raskolnikov makes it blatantly clear that he is skeptical of the value of religious endeavors in the world.
The second form of faith found in Crime and Punishment is in the mind of Raskolnikov. It is not apparent until the conclusion of the novel when he is able to accept himself. This is where Tillich’s concept of faith once again enters the picture. In Tillich’s discussion of absolute faith, he addresses three elements, one of which is the power of acceptance. It is a long journey to achieve this, but Raskolnikov takes steps in the right direction. His first step occurs when he bids farewell to Dunia and says that he will “try to be brave and honest as long as I live, even though I’m a murderer” (516). This is the first time Raskolnikov admits to the crime he has committed and labels himself as a murderer. It is also a sign of effort on his part to be bigger than his wrongdoings.
Another step forward is when he questions what the point of confessing is. He wonders, “By what process was he humbling himself before them all, by what process had it come about that he would humble himself without even thinking about it, and without conviction? But why not? That was of course the way it had to be” (517). He is not completely sold on the value of his confession, but he has reached an understanding within himself that allows him to confess anyway. His realization and acceptance of his love for Sonia is a third step. Sonia herself acknowledges this step and has no “doubt he loved her. He loved her infinitely” (543).
Faith, doubt, and reason each play a separate role in the world of Crime and Punishment. Faith, though hidden under layers of Dostoyevsky’s cleverly crafted words, is a constant force that his characters have or strive to achieve. Doubt encompasses the entire novel, and reason drives the action of the story. The three have their separate roles to play, but they are nevertheless intertwined, weaving in and out to help establish the bigger picture of Dostoyevsky’s work.
Works Cited
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. New York: Signet Classic, 2006. Nook book.
Tillich, Paul. Dynamics of Faith. New York: HarperOne, 2009. Print.