RepublicPlato's

IMPORTANT CONCEPTS IN CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

1. cite incidents from the novel to illustrate Raskolnikov’s dual nature.

2. identify doubles or pairs of characters who share similar or contradictory traits and discuss how these doubles add believability and suspense to the novel.

3. discuss the extent to which Raskolnikov believes that his decision to commit the crime, and the resulting consequences of that crime, are the result of predetermination or fate.

4. cite incidents from the novel illustrating the following theme: A man can be rehabilitated through the power of reconciliation, repentance, and love.

represent in Crime and Punishment.

5. point out and explain religious symbols in the novel including:

• the number 3

• the story of Lazarus

• Sonia’s cross

6. point out the significance of the color yellow discuss what it may represent in Crime and Punishment.

7. recognize and point out instances of irony in Crime and Punishment.

8. discuss the importance of dreams in the novel to foreshadow future actions and to give insight into the minds of the characters.

9. relate incidents from the lives of the female characters in the novel that illustrate the Following.  Be sure to address the SIGNIFICANCE of this element

• hardships the women must face in this era and the strength required to endure them.

• the willingness of the female characters to sacrifi ce themselves for others and to forgive the sins of others.

10. discuss the extent to which Raskolnikov’s relationship with the female characters aids his rehabilitation.  Discuss what symbolism/ allusion is apparent in these relationships.

11. Discuss the theme of rebirth/ regeneration in the novel.  Consider how each of the following contributes to the development of this theme:

• love

• prayer

• repentance

• punishment

• forgiveness

12.  The apparent connection between imprisonment and a kind of spiritual freedom.

13. The symbolic significance of the characters of Sonya, Dunya, Luzhin and Svidrigailov.

14.  point out the ways Dostoevsky uses Svidrigailov’s nihilistic lifestyle and Lebeziatnikov’s nihilistic views to express his dislike of nihilism.

15.  discuss the ways in which Raskolnikov and Dounia are alike and why only one of them is able to kill.

16.  The symbolic  role of nature/ trees and plants/ water in the novel.  The role of the city.
17.  The symbolic significance of heat in the novel

KOHLBERG'S STAGES OF MORAL DEVELOPMENT

 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION

An outstanding example of research in the Piagetian tradition is the work of Lawrence Kohlberg. Kohlberg has focused on moral development and has proposed a stage theory of moral thinking which goes well beyond Piaget's initial formulations.

Kohlberg, who was born in 1927, grew up in Bronxville, New York, and attended the Andover Academy in Massachusetts, a private high school for bright and usually wealthy students. He did not go immediately to college, but instead went to help the Israeli cause, in which he was made the Second Engineer on an old freighter carrying refugees from parts of Europe to Israel. After this, in 1948, he enrolled at the University of Chicago, where he scored so high on admission tests that he had to take only a few courses to earn his bachelor's degree. This he did in one year. He stayed on at Chicago for graduate work in psychology, at first thinking he would become a clinical psychologist. However, he soon became interested in Piaget and began interviewing children and adolescents on moral issues. The result was his doctoral dissertation (1958a), the first rendition of his new stage theory.

Kohlberg is an informal, unassuming man who also is a true scholar; he has thought long and deeply about a wide range of issues in both psychology and philosophy and has done much to help others appreciate the wisdom of many of the "old psychologists," such as Rousseau, John Dewey, and James Mark Baldwin. Kohlberg has taught at the University of Chicago (1962-1968) and, since 1968, has been at Harvard University.

PIAGET'S STAGES OF MORAL JUDGMENT

Piaget studied many aspects of moral judgment, but most of his findings fit into a two-stage theory. Children younger than 10 or 11 years think about moral dilemmas one way; older children consider them differently. As we have seen, younger children regard rules as fixed and absolute. They believe that rules are handed down by adults or by God and that one cannot change them. The older child's view is more relativistic. He or she understands that it is permissible to change rules if everyone agrees. Rules are not sacred and absolute but are devices which humans use to get along cooperatively.

At approximately the same time--10 or 11 years--children's moral thinking undergoes other shifts. In particular, younger children base their moral judgments more on consequences, whereas older children base their judgments on intentions. When, for example, the young child hears about one boy who broke 15 cups trying to help his mother and another boy who broke only one cup trying to steal cookies, the young child thinks that the first boy did worse. The child primarily considers the amount of damage--the consequences--whereas the older child is more likely to judge wrongness in terms of the motives underlying the act (Piaget, 1932, p. 137).

There are many more details to Piaget's work on moral judgment, but he essentially found a series of changes that occur between the ages of 10 and 12, just when the child begins to enter the general stage of formal operations.

Intellectual development, however, does not stop at this point. This is just the beginning of formal operations, which continue to develop at least until age 16. Accordingly, one might expect thinking about moral issues to continue to develop throughout adolescence. Kohlberg therefore interviewed both children and adolescents about moral dilemmas, and he did find stages that go well beyond Piaget's. He uncovered six stages, only the first three of which share many features with Piaget's stages.

KOHLBERG'S METHOD

Kohlberg's (1958a) core sample was comprised of 72 boys, from both middle- and lower-class families in Chicago. They were ages 10, 13, and 16. He later added to his sample younger children, delinquents, and boys and girls from other American cities and from other countries (1963, 1970).

The basic interview consists of a series of dilemmas such as the following:

Heinz Steals the Drug

In Europe, a woman was near death from a special kind of cancer. There was one drug that the doctors thought might save her. It was a form of radium that a druggist in the same town had recently discovered. The drug was expensive to make, but the druggist was charging ten times what the drug cost him to make. He paid $200 for the radium and charged $2,000 for a small dose of the drug. The sick woman's husband, Heinz, went to everyone he knew to borrow the money, but he could only get together about $ 1,000 which is half of what it cost. He told the druggist that his wife was dying and asked him to sell it cheaper or let him pay later. But the druggist said: "No, I discovered the drug and I'm going to make money from it." So Heinz got desperate and broke into the man's store to steal the drug-for his wife. Should the husband have done that? (Kohlberg, 1963, p. 19)

Kohlberg is not really interested in whether the subject says "yes" or "no" to this dilemma but in the reasoning behind the answer. The interviewer wants to know why the subject thinks Heinz should or should not have stolen the drug. The interview schedule then asks new questions which help one understand the child's reasoning. For example, children are asked if Heinz had a right to steal the drug, if he was violating the druggist's rights, and what sentence the judge should give him once he was caught. Once again, the main concern is with the reasoning behind the answers. The interview then goes on to give more dilemmas in order to get a good sampling of a subject's moral thinking.

Once Kohlberg had classified the various responses into stages, he wanted to know whether his classification was reliable. In particular, he. wanted to know if others would score the protocols in the same way. Other judges independently scored a sample of responses, and he calculated the degree to which all raters agreed. This procedure is called interrater reliability. Kohlberg found these agreements to be high, as he has in his subsequent work, but whenever investigators use Kohlberg's interview, they also should check for interrater reliability before scoring the entire sample.

KOHLBERG'S SIX STAGES

Level 1. Preconventional Morality

Stage 1. Obedience and Punishment Orientation. Kohlberg's stage 1 is similar to Piaget's first stage of moral thought. The child assumes that powerful authorities hand down a fixed set of rules which he or she must unquestioningly obey. To the Heinz dilemma, the child typically says that Heinz was wrong to steal the drug because "It's against the law," or "It's bad to steal," as if this were all there were to it. When asked to elaborate, the child usually responds in terms of the consequences involved, explaining that stealing is bad "because you'll get punished" (Kohlberg, 1958b).

Although the vast majority of children at stage 1 oppose Heinz’s theft, it is still possible for a child to support the action and still employ stage 1 reasoning. For example, a child might say, "Heinz can steal it because he asked first and it's not like he stole something big; he won't get punished" (see Rest, 1973). Even though the child agrees with Heinz’s action, the reasoning is still stage 1; the concern is with what authorities permit and punish.

Kohlberg calls stage 1 thinking "preconventional" because children do not yet speak as members of society. Instead, they see morality as something external to themselves, as that which the big people say they must do.

Stage 2. Individualism and Exchange. At this stage children recognize that there is not just one right view that is handed down by the authorities. Different individuals have different viewpoints. "Heinz," they might point out, "might think it's right to take the drug, the druggist would not." Since everything is relative, each person is free to pursue his or her individual interests. One boy said that Heinz might steal the drug if he wanted his wife to live, but that he doesn't have to if he wants to marry someone younger and better-looking (Kohlberg, 1963, p. 24). Another boy said Heinz might steal it because

maybe they had children and he might need someone at home to look after them. But maybe he shouldn't steal it because they might put him in prison for more years than he could stand. (Colby and Kauffman. 1983, p. 300)

What is right for Heinz, then, is what meets his own self-interests.

You might have noticed that children at both stages 1 and 2 talk about punishment. However, they perceive it differently. At stage 1 punishment is tied up in the child's mind with wrongness; punishment "proves" that disobedience is wrong. At stage 2, in contrast, punishment is simply a risk that one naturally wants to avoid.

Although stage 2 respondents sometimes sound amoral, they do have some sense of right action. This is a notion of fair exchange or fair deals. The philosophy is one of returning favors--"If you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." To the Heinz story, subjects often say that Heinz was right to steal the drug because the druggist was unwilling to make a fair deal; he was "trying to rip Heinz off," Or they might say that he should steal for his wife "because she might return the favor some day" (Gibbs et al., 1983, p. 19).

Respondents at stage 2 are still said to reason at the preconventional level because they speak as isolated individuals rather than as members of society. They see individuals exchanging favors, but there is still no identification with the values of the family or community.

Level II. Conventional Morality

Stage 3. Good Interpersonal Relationships. At this stage children--who are by now usually entering their teens--see morality as more than simple deals. They believe that people should live up to the expectations of the family and community and behave in "good" ways. Good behavior means having good motives and interpersonal feelings such as love, empathy, trust, and concern for others. Heinz, they typically argue, was right to steal the drug because "He was a good man for wanting to save her," and "His intentions were good, that of saving the life of someone he loves." Even if Heinz doesn't love his wife, these subjects often say, he should steal the drug because "I don't think any husband should sit back and watch his wife die" (Gibbs et al., 1983, pp. 36-42; Kohlberg, 1958b).

If Heinz’s motives were good, the druggist's were bad. The druggist, stage 3 subjects emphasize, was "selfish," "greedy," and "only interested in himself, not another life." Sometimes the respondents become so angry with the druggist that they say that he ought to be put in jail (Gibbs et al., 1983, pp. 26-29, 40-42). A typical stage 3 response is that of Don, age 13:

It was really the druggist's fault, he was unfair, trying to overcharge and letting someone die. Heinz loved his wife and wanted to save her. I think anyone would. I don't think they would put him in jail. The judge would look at all sides, and see that the druggist was charging too much. (Kohlberg, 1963, p. 25)

We see that Don defines the issue in terms of the actors' character traits and motives. He talks about the loving husband, the unfair druggist, and the understanding judge. His answer deserves the label "conventional "morality" because it assumes that the attitude expressed would be shared by the entire community—"anyone" would be right to do what Heinz did (Kohlberg, 1963, p. 25).

As mentioned earlier, there are similarities between Kohlberg's first three stages and Piaget's two stages. In both sequences there is a shift from unquestioning obedience to a relativistic outlook and to a concern for good motives. For Kohlberg, however, these shifts occur in three stages rather than two.

Stage 4. Maintaining the Social Order. Stage 3 reasoning works best in two-person relationships with family members or close friends, where one can make a real effort to get to know the other's feelings and needs and try to help. At stage 4, in contrast, the respondent becomes more broadly concerned with society as a whole. Now the emphasis is on obeying laws, respecting authority, and performing one's duties so that the social order is maintained. In response to the Heinz story, many subjects say they understand that Heinz's motives were good, but they cannot condone the theft. What would happen if we all started breaking the laws whenever we felt we had a good reason? The result would be chaos; society couldn't function. As one subject explained,

I don't want to sound like Spiro Agnew, law and order and wave the flag, but if everybody did as he wanted to do, set up his own beliefs as to right and wrong, then I think you would have chaos. The only thing I think we have in civilization nowadays is some sort of legal structure which people are sort of bound to follow. [Society needs] a centralizing framework. (Gibbs et al., 1983, pp. 140-41)

Because stage 4, subjects make moral decisions from the perspective of society as a whole, they think from a full-fledged member-of-society perspective (Colby and Kohlberg, 1983, p. 27).

You will recall that stage 1 children also generally oppose stealing because it breaks the law. Superficially, stage 1 and stage 4 subjects are giving the same response, so we see here why Kohlberg insists that we must probe into the reasoning behind the overt response. Stage 1 children say, "It's wrong to steal" and "It's against the law," but they cannot elaborate any further, except to say that stealing can get a person jailed. Stage 4 respondents, in contrast, have a conception of the function of laws for society as a whole--a conception which far exceeds the grasp of the younger child.

Level III. Postconventional Morality

Stage 5. Social Contract and Individual Rights. At stage 4, people want to keep society functioning. However, a smoothly functioning society is not necessarily a good one. A totalitarian society might be well-organized, but it is hardly the moral ideal. At stage 5, people begin to ask, "What makes for a good society?" They begin to think about society in a very theoretical way, stepping back from their own society and considering the rights and values that a society ought to uphold. They then evaluate existing societies in terms of these prior considerations. They are said to take a "prior-to-society" perspective (Colby and Kohlberg, 1983, p. 22).

Stage 5 respondents basically believe that a good society is best conceived as a social contract into which people freely enter to work toward the benefit of all They recognize that different social groups within a society will have different values, but they believe that all rational people would agree on two points. First they would all want certain basic rights, such as liberty and life, to be protected Second, they would want some democratic procedures for changing unfair law and for improving society.

In response to the Heinz dilemma, stage 5 respondents make it clear that they do not generally favor breaking laws; laws are social contracts that we agree to uphold until we can change them by democratic means. Nevertheless, the wife’s right to live is a moral right that must be protected. Thus, stage 5 respondent sometimes defend Heinz’s theft in strong language:

It is the husband's duty to save his wife. The fact that her life is in danger transcends every other standard you might use to judge his action. Life is more important than property.

This young man went on to say that "from a moral standpoint" Heinz should save the life of even a stranger, since to be consistent, the value of a life means any life. When asked if the judge should punish Heinz, he replied:

Usually the moral and legal standpoints coincide. Here they conflict. The judge should weight the moral standpoint more heavily but preserve the legal law in punishing Heinz lightly. (Kohlberg, 1976, p. 38)

Stage 5 subjects,- then, talk about "morality" and "rights" that take some priority over particular laws. Kohlberg insists, however, that we do not judge people to be at stage 5 merely from their verbal labels. We need to look at their social perspective and mode of reasoning. At stage 4, too, subjects frequently talk about the "right to life," but for them this right is legitimized by the authority of their social or religious group (e.g., by the Bible). Presumably, if their group valued property over life, they would too. At stage 5, in contrast, people are making more of an independent effort to think out what any society ought to value. They often reason, for example, that property has little meaning without life. They are trying to determine logically what a society ought to be like (Kohlberg, 1981, pp. 21-22; Gibbs et al., 1983, p. 83).

Stage 6: Universal Principles. Stage 5 respondents are working toward a conception of the good society. They suggest that we need to (a) protect certain individual rights and (b) settle disputes through democratic processes. However, democratic processes alone do not always result in outcomes that we intuitively sense are just. A majority, for example, may vote for a law that hinders a minority. Thus, Kohlberg believes that there must be a higher stage--stage 6--which defines the principles by which we achieve justice.

Kohlberg's conception of justice follows that of the philosophers Kant and Rawls, as well as great moral leaders such as Gandhi and Martin Luther King. According to these people, the principles of justice require us to treat the claims of all parties in an impartial manner, respecting the basic dignity, of all people as individuals. The principles of justice are therefore universal; they apply to all. Thus, for example, we would not vote for a law that aids some people but hurts others. The principles of justice guide us toward decisions based on an equal respect for all.

In actual practice, Kohlberg says, we can reach just decisions by looking at a situation through one another's eyes. In the Heinz dilemma, this would mean that all parties--the druggist, Heinz, and his wife--take the roles of the others. To do this in an impartial manner, people can assume a "veil of ignorance" (Rawls, 1971), acting as if they do not know which role they will eventually occupy. If the druggist did this, even he would recognize that life must take priority over property; for he wouldn't want to risk finding himself in the wife's shoes with property valued over life. Thus, they would all agree that the wife must be saved--this would be the fair solution. Such a solution, we must note, requires not only impartiality, but the principle that everyone is given full and equal respect. If the wife were considered of less value than the others, a just solution could not be reached.

Until recently, Kohlberg had been scoring some of his subjects at stage 6, but he has temporarily stopped doing so, For one thing, he and other researchers had not been finding subjects who consistently reasoned at this stage. Also, Kohlberg has concluded that his interview dilemmas are not useful for distinguishing between stage 5 and stage 6 thinking. He believes that stage 6 has a clearer and broader conception of universal principles (which include justice as well as individual rights), but feels that his interview fails to draw out this broader understanding. Consequently, he has temporarily dropped stage 6 from his scoring manual, calling it a "theoretical stage" and scoring all postconventional responses as stage 5 (Colby and Kohlberg, 1983, p. 28).

Theoretically, one issue that distinguishes stage 5 from stage 6 is civil disobedience. Stage 5 would be more hesitant to endorse civil disobedience because of its commitment to the social contract and to changing laws through democratic agreements. Only when an individual right is clearly at stake does violating the law seem justified. At stage 6, in contrast, a commitment to justice makes the rationale for civil disobedience stronger and broader. Martin Luther King, for example, argued that laws are only valid insofar as they are grounded in justice, and that a commitment to justice carries with it an obligation to disobey unjust laws. King also recognized, of course, the general need for laws and democratic processes (stages 4 and 5), and he was therefore willing to accept the penalities for his actions. Nevertheless, he believed that the higher principle of justice required civil disobedience (Kohlberg, 198 1, p. 43).

Summary

At stage 1 children think of what is right as that which authority says is right. Doing the right thing is obeying authority and avoiding punishment. At stage 2, children are no longer so impressed by any single authority; they see that there are different sides to any issue. Since everything is relative, one is free to pursue one's own interests, although it is often useful to make deals and exchange favors with others.

At stages 3 and 4, young people think as members of the conventional society with its values, norms, and expectations. At stage 3, they emphasize being a good person, which basically means having helpful motives toward people close to one At stage 4, the concern shifts toward obeying laws to maintain society as a whole.

At stages 5 and 6 people are less concerned with maintaining society for it own sake, and more concerned with the principles and values that make for a good society. At stage 5 they emphasize basic rights and the democratic processes that give everyone a say, and at stage 6 they define the principles by which agreement will be most just.

THEORETICAL ISSUES

How Development Occurs

Kohlberg, it is important to remember, is a close follower of Piaget. Accordingly, Kohlberg's theoretical positions, including that on developmental change, reflect those of his mentor.

Kohlberg (e.g., 1968; 198 1, Ch. 3) says that his stages are not the product of maturation. That is, the stage structures and sequences do not simply unfold according to a genetic blueprint.

Neither, Kohlberg maintains, are his stages the product of socialization. That is, socializing agents (e.g., parents and teachers) do not directly teach new forms of thinking. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine them systematically teaching each new stage structure in its particular place in the sequence.

The stages emerge, instead, from our own thinking about moral problems. Social experiences do promote development, but they do so by stimulating our mental processes. As we get into discussions and debates with others, we find our views questioned and challenged and are therefore motivated to come up with new, more comprehensive positions. New stages reflect these broader viewpoints (Kohlberg et al., 1975).

We might imagine, for example, a young man and woman discussing a new law. The man says that everyone should obey it, like it or not, because laws are vital to social organization (stage 4). The woman notes, however, that some well-organized societies, such as Nazi Germany, were not particularly moral. The man therefore sees that some evidence contradicts his view. He experiences some cognitive conflict and is motivated to think about the matter more fully, perhaps moving a bit toward stage 5.

Kohlberg also sometimes speaks of change occurring through role-taking opportunities, opportunities to consider others' viewpoints (e.g., 1976). As children interact with others, they learn how viewpoints differ and how to coordinate them in cooperative activities. As they discuss their problems and work out their differences, they develop their conceptions of what is fair and just.

Whatever the interactions are specifically like, they work best, Kohlberg says, when they are open and democratic. The less children feel pressured simply to conform to authority, the freer they are to settle their own differences and formulate their own ideas. We will discuss Kohlberg's efforts to induce developmental change in the section on implications for education.

Moral Thought and Moral Behavior

Kohlberg's scale has to do with moral thinking, not moral action. As everyone knows, people who can talk at a high moral level may not behave accordingly. Consequently, we would not expect perfect correlations between moral judgment and moral action. Still, Kohlberg thinks that there should be some relationship.

As a general hypothesis, he proposes that moral behavior is more consistent, predictable. and responsible at the higher stages (Kohlberg et al., 1975), because the stages themselves increasingly employ more stable and general standards. For example, whereas stage 3 bases decisions on others' feelings, which can vary, stage 4 refers to set rules and laws. Thus, we can expect that moral behavior, too, will become more consistent as people move up the sequence. Generally speaking, there is some research support for this hypothesis (e.g., with respect to cheating), but the evidence is not clear-cut (Blasi, 1980; Brown and Herrnstein, 1975).

Some research has focused on the relationships between particular stages and specific kinds of behavior. For example, one might expect that juvenile delinquents or criminals would typically reason at stages 1 or 2, viewing morality as something imposed from without (stage 1) or as a matter of self-interest (stage 2), rather than identifying with society's conventional expectations (stages 3 and 4). Again, some research supports this hypothesis, but there also are some ambiguous results (Blasi, 1980).

Several studies have examined the relationship between postconventional thinking and student protest. In a landmark study, Haan et al. (1968) examined the moral reasoning of those who participated in the Berkeley Free Speech Movement in 1964. Haan found that their thinking was more strongly postconventional than that of a matched sample of nonparticipants, but this f inding was not replicated for some other protests, apparently because moral principles were not at stake (Keniston, 1971, pp. 260-6 1).

Blasi (1980), after reviewing 75 studies, concludes that overall there is a relationship between moral thought and action, but he suggests that we need to introduce other variables to clarify this relationship. One variable may simply be the extent to which individuals themselves feel the need to maintain consistency between their moral thoughts and actions (Blasi, 1980, Kohlberg and Candee, 1981).

IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION

Kohlberg would like to see people advance to the highest possible stage of moral thought. The best possible society would contain individuals who not only understand the need for social order (stage 4) but can entertain visions of universal principles, such as justice and liberty (stage 6) (Kohlberg, 1970).

How, then, can one promote moral development? Turiel (1966) found that when children listened to adults' moral judgments, the resulting change was slight. This is what Kohlberg might have expected, for he believes that if children are to reorganize their thinking, they must be more active.

Accordingly, Kohlberg encouraged another student, Moshe Blatt, to lead discussion groups in which children had a chance to grapple actively with moral issues (Blatt and Kohlberg, 1975). Blatt presented moral dilemmas which engaged the classes in a good deal of heated debate. He tried to leave much of the discussion to the children themselves, stepping in only to summarize, clarify, and sometimes present a view himself (p. 133). He encouraged arguments that were one stage above those of most of the class. In essence, he tried to implement one of Kohlberg's main ideas on how children move through the stages. They do so by encountering views which challenge their thinking and stimulate them to formulate better arguments (Kohlberg et al., 1975).

Blatt began a typical discussion by telling a story about a man named Mr. Jones who had a seriously injured son and wanted to rush him to the hospital. Mr. Jones had no car, so he approached a stranger, told him about the situation, and asked to borrow his car. The stranger, however, refused, saying he had an important appointment to keep. So Mr. Jones took the car by force. Blatt then asked whether Mr. Jones should have done that.

In the discussion that followed, one child, Student B, felt that Mr. Jones had a good cause for taking the car and also believed that the stranger could be charged with murder if the son died. Student C pointed out that the stranger violated no law. Student B still felt that the stranger's behavior was somehow wrong, even though he now realized that it was not legally wrong. Thus, Student B was in a kind of conflict. He had a sense of the wrongness of the stranger's behavior, but he could not articulate this sense in terms that would meet the objection. He was challenged to think about the problem more deeply.

In the end, Blatt gave him the answer. The stranger's behavior, Blatt said, was not legally wrong, but morally wrong--wrong according to God's laws (this was a Sunday School Class). At this point, Blatt was an authority teaching the "correct" view. In so doing, he might have robbed Student B of the chance to formulate spontaneously his own position. He might have done better to ask a question or to simply clarify the student's conflict (e.g,, "So it's not legally wrong, but you still have a sense that, it's somehow wrong. . ."). In any case, it seems clear that part of this discussion was valuable for this student. Since he himself struggled to formulate a distinction that could handle the objection, he could fully appreciate and assimilate a new view that he was looking for.

The Kohlberg-Blatt method of inducing cognitive conflict exemplifies Piaget's equilibration model. The child takes one view, becomes confused by discrepant information, and then resolves the confusion by forming a more advanced and comprehensive position. The method is also the dialectic process of Socratic teaching. The students give a view, the teacher asks questions which get them to see the inadequacies of their views, and they are then motivated to formulate better positions.

In Blatt's first experiment, the students (sixth graders) participated in 12 weekly discussion groups. Blatt found that over half the students moved up one full stage after the 12 weeks. Blatt and others have tried to replicate these findings, sometimes using other age groups and lengthier series of classes. As often happens with replications, the results have not been quite so successful; upward changes have been smaller--usually a third of a stage or less, Still, it generally seems that Socratic classroom discussions held over several months can produce changes that, while small, are significantly greater than those found in control groups who do not receive these experiences (Rest, 1983).

One of Blatt's supplementary findings was that those students who reported that they were most "interested" in the discussions made the greatest amount of change. This finding is in keeping with Piagetian theory. Children develop not because they are shaped through external reinforcements but because their curiosity is aroused. They become interested in information that does not quite fit into their existing cognitive structures and are thereby motivated to revise their thinking Another Kohlberg student--M. Berkowitz (1980)--is examining actual dialogues to see if those who become most challenged and involved in the tensions of moral debate are also those who move forward.

Although Kohlberg remains committed to the cognitive-conflict model of change, he has also become interested in other strategies. One is the "just Community" approach. Here the focus is not the individuals but groups. For example, Kohlberg and some of his colleagues (Power and Reimer, 1979) set up a special democratic high school group and actively encouraged the students to think of themselves as a community. Initially, little community feeling was present. The group's dominant orientation was stage 2; it treated problems such as stealing as purely individual matters. If a boy had something stolen, it was too bad for him. After a year, however, the group norms advanced to stage 3; the students now considered stealing to be a community issue that reflected on the degree of trust and care in the group.

It will be interesting to see if the just community approach can promote further advances in moral thinking. In the meantime, this approach has aroused some uneasiness among some of Kohlberg's associates. In particular, Reimer et al. (1983) have wondered whether Kohlberg, by explicitly encouraging the students to think of themselves as a community, is not practicing a form of indoctrination. Reimer says that he has talked to Kohlberg about this, and he has come away convinced that Kohlberg is committed to democratic groups in which students are encouraged "to think critically, to discuss assumptions, and. when they feel it is necessary, to challenge the teacher's suggestions" (p. 252). Thus, moral development remains a product of the students' own thinking.

KOHLBERG'S THEORY APPLIED TO A MORAL DILEMMA SCENARIO:  AN EXAMPLE OF THE THEORY

Consider the following scenarios.  What are the possible solutions for each scenario at each of Kohlberg's stages of moral development?

Scenario 1

A woman was near death from a unique kind of cancer. There is a drug that might save her. The drug costs $4,000 per dosage. The sick woman's husband, Heinz, went to everyone he knew to borrow the money and tried every legal means, but he could only get together about $2,000. He asked the doctor scientist who discovered the drug for a discount or let him pay later. But the doctor scientist refused.

Should Heinz break into the laboratory to steal the drug for his wife? Why or why not?
 

Scenario 2

Heinz broke into the laboratory and stole the drug. The next day, the newspapers reported the break-in and theft. Brown, a police officer and a friend of Heinz remembered seeing Heinz last evening, behaving suspiciously near the laboratory. Later that night, he saw Heinz running away from the laboratory.

Should Brown report what he saw? Why or why not?
 

Scenario 3

Officer Brown reported what he saw. Heinz was arrested and brought to court. If convicted, he faces up to two years' jail. Heinz was found guilty.

Should the judge sentence Heinz to prison? Why or why not?

ASSIGNMENT

Considering what we now about about Kohlberg's theory of moral development, answer each of the questions on the following moral dilemmas.  Then, not which of Kohlberg's stages applies to the question:

Dilemma I

Joe is a fourteen-year-old boy who wanted to go to camp very much. His father promised him he could go if he saved up the money for it himself. So Joe worked hard at his paper route and saved up the forty dollars it cost to go to camp, and a little more besides. But just before camp was going to start, his father changed his mind. Some of his friends decided to go on a special fishing trip, and Joe's father was short of the money it would cost. So he told Joe to give him the money he had saved from the paper route. Joe didn't want to give up going to camp, so he thinks of refusing to give his father the money.

1. Should Joe refuse to give his father the money?  Why or why not?

2. Does the father have the right to tell Joe to give him the money?  Why or why not?

3. Does giving the money have anything to do with being a good son?  Why or why not?

4. Is the fact that Joe earned the money himself important in this situation? Why or why not?

5. The father promised Joe he could go to camp if he earned the money. Is the fact that the father promised the most important thing in the situation?  Why or why not?

6. In general, why should a promise kept?

7. Is it important to keep a promise to someone you don't know well and probably won't see again? Why or why not?

8. What do you think is the most important thing a father should be concerned about in his relationship to his son? Why is that the most important thing?

9. In general, what should be the authority of a father over his son? Why?

10. What do you think is the most important thing a son should be concerned about in his relationship to his father? Why is that the most important thing?

11. In thinking back over the dilemma, what would you say is the most responsible thing for Joe to do in this situation? Why?

Dilemma II

Judy was a twelve-year-old girl. Her mother promised her that she could go to a special rock concert coming to their town if she saved up from baby-sitting and lunch money to buy a ticket to the concert. She managed to save up the fifteen dollars the ticket cost plus another five dollars. But then her mother changed her mind and told Judy that she had to spend the money on new clothes for school. Judy was disappointed and decided to go to the concert anyway. She bought a ticket and told her mother that she had only been able to save five dollars. That Saturday she went to the performance and told her mother that she was spending the day with a friend. A week passed without her mother finding out. Judy then told her older sister, Louise, that she had gone to the performance and had lied to her mother about it. Louise wonders whether to tell their mother what Judy did.

1. Should Louise, the older sister, tell their mother that Judy lied about the money or should she keep quiet? Why?

2. In wondering whether to tell, Louise thinks of the fact that Judy is her sister. Should that make a difference in Louise's decision? Why or why not?

3. Does telling have anything to do with being a good daughter? Why or why not?

4. Is the fact that Judy earned the money herself important in this situation? Why or why not?

5. The mother promised Judy she could go to the concert if she earned the money. Is the fact that the mother promised the most important thing in the situation?  Why or why not?

6. Why in general should a promise be kept?

7. Is it important to keep a promise to someone you don't know well and probably won't see again? Why or why not?

8. What do you think is the most important thing a mother should be concerned about in her relationship to her daughter? Why is that the most important thing?

9. In general, what should be the authority of a mother over her daughter?  Why?

10. What do you think is the most important thing a daughter should be concerned about in her relationship to her mother? Why is that the most important thing?

11. In thinking back over the dilemma, what would you say is the most responsible thing for Louise to do in this situation?  Why?

Dilemma III

In Europe, a woman was near death from a special kind of cancer. There was one drug that the doctors thought might save her. It was a form of radium that a druggist in the same town had recently discovered. the drug was expensive to make, but the druggist was charging ten times what the drug cost him to make. He paid $400 for the radium and charged $4,000 for a small dose of the drug. The sick woman's husband, Heinz, went to everyone he knew to borrow the money and tried every legal means, but he could only get together about $2,000, which is half of what it cost. He told the druggist that his wife was dying, and asked him to sell it cheaper or let him pay later. But the druggist said, "No, I discovered the drug and I'm going to make money from if." So, having tried every legal means, Heinz gets desperate and considers breaking into the man's store to steal the drug for his wife.

1. Should Heinz steal the drug?  Why or why not?

2. Is it actually right or wrong for him to steal the drug?  Why is it right or wrong?

3. Does Heinz have a duty or obligation to steal the drug? Why or why not?

4. If Heinz doesn't love his wife, should he steal the drug for her? Does it make a difference in what Heinz should do whether or not he loves his wife? Why or why not?

5. Suppose the person dying is not his wife but a stranger. Should Heinz steal the drug for the stranger? Why or why not?

6. Suppose it's a pet animal he loves. should Heinz steal to save the pet animal? Why or why not?

7. Is it important for people to do everything they can to save another's life? Why or why not?

8. It is against the law for Heinz to steal. Does that make it morally wrong? Why or why not?

9. In general, should people try to do everything they can to obey the law? Why or why not? How does this apply to what Heinz should do?

10. In thinking back over the dilemma, what would you say is the most responsible thing for Heinz to do?  Why?

Dilemma VII

Two young men, brothers, had got into serious trouble. They were secretly leaving town in a hurry and needed money. Karl, the older one, broke into a store and stole a thousand dollars. Bob, the younger one, went to a retired old man who was known to help people in town. He told the man that he was very sick and that he needed a thousand dollars to pay for an operation. Bob asked the old man to lend him the money and promised that he would pay him back when he recovered. Really Bob wasn't sick at all, and he had no intention of paying the man back. Although the old man didn't know Bob very well, he lent him the money. So Bob and Karl skipped town, each with a thousand dollars.

1.  Which is worse, stealing like Karl or cheating like Bob?  Why is that worse?

2. What do you think is the worst thing about cheating the old man? Why is that the worst thing?

3. In general, why should a promise be kept?

4. Is it important to keep a promise to someone you don't know well or will never see again? Why or why not?

5. Why shouldn't someone steal from a store?

6. What is the value or importance of property rights?

7. Should people do everything they can to obey the law?  Why or why not?

8. Was the old man being irresponsible by lending Bob the money?  Why or why not?

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY:  DOSTOEVSKY

When Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky wrote Crime and Punishment in the mid-1860s, he was already a well-known author. Nonetheless, he lived in near-poverty and was plagued by gambling debts. Born in Moscow in 1821, he was the second child in a family that eventually consisted of seven children. The family's life was unhappy: Dostoyevsky's father, a doctor, ruled the family with an iron hand; his mother, a meek woman, died when the boy was sixteen. Young Dostoyevsky developed a love of books and enthusiastically read Russian, French, and German novels. However, his father insisted that Dostoyevsky study engineering, and from 1838 to 1843 Dostoyevsky trained in this subject at the military engineering academy in St. Petersburg. During this time the elder Dostoyevsky was murdered by one of his serfs, an incident that had a profound impact on Fyodor.

In the mid-1840s Dostoyevsky embarked on a literary career, writing several short stories and novellas, including "The Double" (1846). The concept of the "double" — the notion that a person may have a divided personality, symbolized by a good or evil "twin" — surfaced in several of his later works, including Crime and Punishment. His early published works brought Dostoyevsky some recognition. In 1848 Dostoyevsky joined a group of radical intellectuals (known as the "Petrashevsky Circle" after their leader Mikhail Petrashevsky). The group discussed literary and political ideas and advocated reforming the autocratic tsarist government. Dostoyevsky and several of his friends were arrested for treason, tried, and sentenced to death. Just as they were lined up in front of the firing squad, a messenger arrived with news that the tsar had commuted the death sentence to a term of hard labor in Siberia. Dostoyevsky later alluded to this event in Crime and Punishment and in other books. (It is believed that the authorities intended a mock execution all along.) During his five years in prison, Dostoyevsky came to know many of the prisoners, the great majority of whom were ordinary criminals rather than political prisoners. Through his dealings with them, the writer developed an understanding of the criminal mentality and the Russian soul. His political views also changed. He rejected his earlier pro-Western liberal-socialist ideas and instead embraced a specifically Russian brand of Christianity. His prison experiences provided the material for his later book The House of the Dead (1861).

After his release from prison camp in 1854, Dostoyevsky had to spend several more years in Siberia as an army private. He returned to St. Petersburg in 1859 and resumed his literary career. In the early 1860s he traveled extensively in Western Europe. However, he was troubled by personal misfortune, including the death of his wife and his brother, with whom he edited a literary journal. He also was afflicted by epilepsy, a condition little understood at the lime. Moreover, he was unable to control his compulsive gambling habit, and he found himself on the brink of poverty. His writing during this period was stimulated not only by an intense desire to express important ideas but also by a need to earn money. In 1864 he wrote Notes from Underground, whose narrator is a self-confessed "sick ... spiteful ... unattractive man," an embittered character who resents society. Immediately after this book, Dostoyevsky started work on Crime and Punishment (1865-66), regarded as his first true masterpiece. Important Russian critics hailed the work, and Dostoyevsky was acclaimed as one of Russia's most significant writers and thinkers. However, he still faced financial ruin, and the next year he wrote, in just one month, a novella called The Gambler in order to pay his debts. He subsequently married the stenographer to whom he had dictated the work, Anna Snitkina. She helped reform his life, and they lived abroad for several years. Foremost among his later novels are The Idiot (1869), The Possessed (also translated as The Devils, 1871), and The Brothers Karamazov (1880). With Crime and Punishment, these books express the essence of Dostoyevsky's social and moral philosophy and his insight into human character. In the last decade of his life, Dostoyevsky finally gained critical acclaim, social prestige, and financial security. He died in St. Petersburg in 1881.

Dostoyevsky's reputation and his influence remain strong to the present day. Virtually all his books have been translated into English and are in print. His insights into the complexities of human psychology anticipated the theories of Sigmund Freud and other early psychologists. (Indeed, Freud acknowledged Dostoyevsky's importance in this field.) Later novelists as diverse as Robert Louis Stevenson, Franz Kafka, Albert Camus, and Iris Murdoch all drew inspiration from Dostoyevsky's themes and characters, while Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn carries on with Dostoyevsky's unique brand of Russian nationalism and Christianity. Filmmakers Ingmar Bergman and Woody Allen have also acknowledged a debt to Dostoyevsky in their views of human nature. Some scholars have gone so far as to claim that Dostoyevsky's view of the Russian character and politics prophesied the Russian Revolution and the terrible deprivations that Russia suffered under Soviet Communist rule in the twentieth century. With his contemporary Leo Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky is today regarded as one of the two greatest nineteenth-century Russian novelists and indeed as one of the most important novelists of any nation or period.

MOST OBVIOUS THEMES IN CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

On the surface, Crime and Punishment belongs to the popular genre known as the crime novel. A young man (Raskolnikov) commits a murder and then tries to conceal his guilt and evade arrest. In the end he confesses, is arrested, and is sent to prison, where he begins a process of spiritual regeneration. The novel's suspense arises not only from the question "what will happen next?", but from Dostoyevsky's close and relentless examination of the murderer's psyche. Dostoyevsky is more interested in important philosophical questions than in the technical police procedures of bringing a criminal to justice. He is also interested in the criminal's motives, which are ambiguous. The title indicates Dostoyevsky's interest in opposites and in the duality of human nature. The nature of guilt and innocence, the role of atonement and forgiveness, and the opposition of good and evil (and God and the Devil) all play an important thematic role in the book. While Dostoyevsky also examines social and political problems in the Russia of his day, his concerns are universal.

Guilt and Innocence
In large part, Crime and Punishment is an examination of the guilty conscience. For Dostoyevsky, punishment is not a physical action or condition. Rather (much as in Milton's epic poem Paradise Lost), punishment inherently results from an awareness of guilt. Guilt is the knowledge that one has done wrong and has become estranged from society and from God. From the very beginning of the novel, Raskolnikov (whose name derives from the Russian word for "schism") suffers from this estrangement. In murdering the pawnbroker, he seeks to prove that he is above the law. But his crime only reinforces his sense that he is not a part of society.

Although she is a prostitute, Sonya is the embodiment of innocence. Her motive in becoming a prostitute was not one of lust. Indeed, in all of the novel, there is no indication that Sonya has any lustful or sexual inclination. On the contrary, she is embarrassed by, and ashamed of, her profession. In Dostoyevsky's eyes, she is not guilty of any transgression. She does what she does out of sheer necessity, not out of any base instincts or any hope for personal gain.

In contrast with Sonya's sense of shame over the life she leads, Pyotr Luzhin is shameless in the way he manipulates Raskolnikov's sister and mother (Dunya and Pulkheria Aleksandrovna). He is guilty of emotional blackmail as well as of fraud. Arkady Svidrigailov is an even more "guilty" character. Luzhin's crimes are calculated, whereas Svidrigailov's crimes result from his complete surrender to his evil nature. Rather than facing up to his guilt and its consequences, as Raskolnikov does, Svidrigailov partially acknowledges his guilt but evades the consequences by committing suicide. Although Raskolnikov is the central figure of Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky suggests that Raskolnikov may not quite be the book's most guilty criminal. Svidrigailov and Luzhin are also guilty of criminal misdeeds, and they are less open than Raskolnikov to the possibility of redemption.

Atonement and Forgiveness
The theme of atonement and forgiveness is closely related to that of guilt and innocence. As Dostoyevsky's title suggests, punishment is the only logical and necessary outcome of crime. Punishment, however, does not mean merely a legal finding and a sentence of imprisonment. In Dostoyevsky's view, the criminal's true punishment is not a sentence of imprisonment. Nor is legal punishment the definitive answer to crime. The criminal's punishment results from his own conscience, his awareness of his guilt. However, he must not only acknowledge his guilt. The criminal must atone for it and must seek forgiveness.

Raskolnikov at first tries to rationalize his crime by offering various explanations to himself. Foremost among these is his "superman" theory. By definition, the superman theory denies any possibility of atonement. The superman does not need to atone, because he is permitted to commit any crime in order to further his own ends. Raskolnikov also rationalizes his crime by arguing that the old pawnbroker is of no use to anyone; in killing her, he is ridding the world of an unpleasant person. Driven by poverty, he also claims that he wants to use her money to better his position in life. In the course of the book, he comes to realize that none of these excuses justifies his crime.

Raskolnikov's reasons for fearing arrest are equally complex. It is clear, however, that without the example and the urging of Sonya, he would not be able to seek forgiveness. He finds it remarkable that when he confesses his crime to her, Sonya immediately forgives him. She urges him to bow down before God and make a public confession. This act of contrition, she believes, will enable him to begin to cleanse his soul.

Svidrigailov is aware of his own guilt, but he does not seek forgiveness. Unlike Raskolnikov, he does not believe in the possibility of forgiveness. In giving money to Sonya and others, he attempts a partial atonement for his sins. However, even these gestures are motivated partly by base self-interest. Because he is spiritually dead, he feels that the only atonement he can make is to commit suicide.

Ubermensch ("Superman")
Part of the motive for Raskolnikov's crime comes from a theory that he has developed. In an essay that he publishes, Raskolnikov argues that humankind is divided into two categories: ordinary people, and geniuses or supermen. Ordinary people must obey the law, but "supermen" — of whom there are very few in any generation — are entitled to break existing laws and make their own laws. Raskolnikov cites the French emperor Napoleon as the epitome of the superman type. He argues that Napoleon rose to power by overstepping the laws that govern ordinary people. Napoleon made his own laws and achieved his goals by killing tens of thousands of people in wars. Because Napoleon was a genius, Raskolnikov reasons, he was not regarded as a criminal. On the contrary, he was hailed as a hero. Early in Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov has become obsessed with the notion that he himself is a "superman." Therefore, he thinks, he is not subject to the laws that govern ordinary people. (In the original Russian text, Dostoyevsky frequently uses a word that means "overstepping" or "stepping over"—that is, transgressing. This word is closely related to the Russian word for "crime" (prestuplenie). Raskolnikov decides to murder the pawnbroker Alyona Ivanovna partly to prove that he is a superman. However, his indecision and confusion throughout the novel indicate that he is not a superman. Moreover, in the course of the novel, Dostoyevsky seeks to prove that there is no such thing as a superman. Dostoyevsky believes that every human life is precious, and no one is entitled to kill.

Dostoyevsky's formulation of the superman theory (through Raskolnikov) clearly anticipates the ideas developed by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche in the 1880s. For Nietzsche, the superman and his "will to power" were supreme ideals. Christianity stood in the way of the superman, and Nietzsche scorned Christianity as a "slave morality." Dostoyevsky's view of the superman is absolutely opposed to Nietzsche's. For Dostoyevsky, following the "superman" theory to its natural conclusion inevitably leads to death, destruction, chaos, and misery. Rather than seeing Christianity as a "slave mentality," Dostoyevsky views it as the true vision of the human place in the world and of the human relationship with God. In Dostoyevsky's view, all people are valued in the eyes of God.

OTHER ELEMENTS

Narrative
Crime and Punishment is written in the third person. However, Dostoyevsky's narrative focus shifts throughout the novel. Crime and Punishment is widely credited as the first psychological novel, and in many passages, Dostoyevsky is concerned with the state of mind of the central character, Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov. In these passages—including those that relate Raskolnikov's brooding, the murder itself, and his encounters with the inspector Porfiry Petrovich—Dostoyevsky puts us inside Raskolnikov's head. We view the action from Raskolnikov's viewpoint and share his often-disordered and contradictory thoughts. These passages read more like a first-person confession than a detached third-person fictional narrative. At the same time, he describes exterior events with clear realism. Critics have pointed out that Dostoyevsky is essentially a dramatic novelist. He does not so much tell a story as enact it. Crime and Punishment is full of dramatic scenes, of which Raskolnikov's murder of the pawnbroker is only one. There are also a number of dramatic confrontations between characters. Dostoyevsky's characters rarely have calm discussions; rather, they have fierce arguments and verbal duels. Generally (but not always) Raskolnikov is at one end of these confrontations. At the other, in various scenes, are his friend Razumikhin, his sister and mother, his sister's corrupt suitor Luzhin, the police investigator Porfiry Petrovich, the innocent prostitute Sonya, and the cynical landowner Svidrigailov. These duels and pairings help to illustrate the idea of the double, discussed further below.

Setting
The action of the book takes place in St. Petersburg, the capital city of Russia, in the summer of 1865. (The brief epilogue is set in Siberia.) Crime and Punishment is a distinctly urban novel. In choosing a definite urban setting, Dostoyevsky was paving new ground for Russian fiction. His Russian predecessors and contemporaries such as Gogol, Turgenev, and Tolstoy generally set their stories on country estates. In confining the action of his novel entirely to St. Petersburg, Dostoyevsky was emulating the English author Charles Dickens, who set his well-known stories in the British capital, London. Moreover, St. Petersburg is not just a backdrop, but it is an inherent part of the novel. Dostoyevsky recreates St. Petersburg's neighborhoods and its streets, bridges, and canals with great realism. In his narrative, Dostoyevsky does not give the full street names, but uses only abbreviations. (In the very first paragraph, for example, he refers to "S—Lane" and "K—n Bridge.") Readers who were familiar with St. Petersburg would probably have been able to identify most of these specific locations, as modern scholars have done.

Much of the action takes place indoors, generally in cramped tenement apartments. With these settings, Dostoyevsky creates a tense, claustrophobic atmosphere. For example, in the weeks before he commits the murders, Raskolnikov has been lying in his tiny room and brooding. He retreats to this room after the murders, occasionally leaving his lair to wander the city's streets.

Most of the book's main characters are not natives of St. Petersburg, but have come to the city from Russia's far-flung rural provinces. Thus, they are not at ease in this urban setting. Provincial Russians might normally regard the capital city, created by Peter the Great as Russia's "window on the West," as a place of opportunity. However, for Raskolnikov, Katerina Ivanovna, Svidrigailov, and other characters, the city turns out to be a destination of last resort, a place where their diminished expectations are finally played out. (Svidrigailov remarks that "there aren't many places where there are as many gloomy, harsh and strange influences on the soul of man as there are in St. Petersburg.") This sense of the city as a dead-end is emphasized by the settings. The apartments where Raskolnikov and the Marmeladovs live are so small that there is scarcely enough space for a small group of visitors. Moreover, at several points in the novel, characters are threatened with eviction and fear that they will wind up on the streets. Near the end of the book, Katerina Ivanovna and her children beg on the streets by singing and dancing.

Most readers tend to think of Russia as a "winter" country, with lots of snow and cold weather. Dostoyevsky contradicts these expectations by setting his story during an unusual summer heat wave. The heat and humidity add to the general sense of discomfort that pervades the narrative. They also reflect and reinforce the feverish state that afflicts Raskolnikov throughout the book.

Structure
Crime and Punishment is divided into six parts plus an epilogue. Each part is broken further into several chapters. For the most part, each chapter centers around a self-contained dramatic episode. Much of this episodic structure is attributable to the fact that Crime and Punishment was written for serialization in a magazine. Magazine readers wanted each installment to be complete in itself and to contain colorful incidents. Many chapters end with the sudden, unexpected arrival of a new character. By introducing such developments at the end of many of the chapters, Dostoyevsky maintained a high level of suspense. He knew that his readers would be curious to know what would happen in the next chapter and that they would look forward to the next installment. Moreover, an unresolved complication at the end of a particular chapter would also stimulate Dostoyevsky to write the next chapter. This method of writing helps account for the numerous abrupt shifts in the plot focus.

Coincidence
Like many other important nineteenth-century novelists, Dostoyevsky does not hesitate to use coincidence to advance the plot. Indeed, many of the crucial developments in Crime and Punishment depend on sheer coincidences that seem highly unlikely to the modern reader. However, coincidence was an accepted literary convention of the period. Dostoyevsky does not attempt to explain away his coincidences, but on the contrary he simply states them as matters of fact. He uses this technique as a shortcut to bring together certain characters and set up dramatic situations.

While he is walking down the street, Raskolnikov comes upon the scene of an accident. The accident victim turns out to be Marmeladov, a drunken civil servant whom he had met earlier in the novel. Marmeladov has been run over by a horse-drawn carriage. Raskolnikov takes charge of the situation and has Marmeladov carried home, where the injured man dies. This coincidence leads to Raskolnikov's first meeting with Marmeladov's daughter Sonya, who has turned to prostitution to support the poverty-stricken family. Drawn to Sonya by her meek nature and pure heart, Raskolnikov will later confess to her. In another coincidence, Sonya turns out to have been a friend of Lizaveta. This disclosure serves to increase Raskolnikov's sense of guilt and further points up Sonya's selflessness.

It is also purely coincidence that the scheming Luzhin happens to be living temporarily in the same building as Katerina Ivanovna. This makes plausible his appearance at Katerina's funeral party and his attempt to frame Sonya for robbery. Later, Svidrigailov just happens by coincidence to be renting the apartment next door to Sonya's apartment. Thus, he is able to overhear Raskolnikov's murder confession. Svidngailov's awareness of Raskolnikov's guilty secret helps set into motion another chain of events. There are many more such coincidences in the course of the story. That such coincidences involving a relatively small number of characters would occur in a large city like St. Petersburg is almost unbelievable. However, Dostoyevsky's narrative has such dramatic force that the reader is able to overlook the implausibility of these coincidences.

Symbolism and Imagery
As already discussed, Dostoyevsky's literary technique mixes narrative realism, dramatic scenes, and psychological analysis. He also uses symbolism and imagery, not so much for aesthetic effect as to emphasize certain points about his characters' psychology. One of his main symbolic devices is the pairing of certain characters. Early in his writing career, Dostoyevsky formulated the idea of the "double." That is, he believed that there may be two sides to a human personality. In giving a character like Raskolnikov several "doubles," Dostoyevsky emphasizes certain aspects of Raskolnikov's personality by contrasting him with these "doubles."

Among Raskolnikov's symbolic "doubles" are Marmeladov, Razumikhin, Dunya, Sonya, and Svidrigailov. Where Raskolnikov is obsessed with a theory, Marmeladov lives entirely by impulse. Where Raskolnikov is extreme, Razumikhin is reasonable. (The Russian word razum means "reason.") Raskolnikov cuts himself off from his family, while his sister Dunya is completely dedicated to the family. Sonya too sacrifices herself for her family. Furthermore, her meekness and faith contrast with Raskolnikov's pride and his rejection of God. Raskolnikov is literally sickened by his crime and does not give any indication that he will commit more murders, whereas Svidrigailov takes pleasure in his criminal lust and persists in it.

Appropriately enough, blood and blood imagery pervade the book. Before he commits the murder, Raskolnikov has a horrific nightmare in which a group of drunken men flog "a little grey mare" to death. The notion of "shedding blood" becomes quite literal. Raskolnikov's murder of the pawnbroker and her sister with an axe is naturally a bloody act. As he attempts to escape notice, Raskolnikov becomes obsessed with the idea that he is covered in blood and that this will give him away. Toward the end of the novel, his sister Dunya tells him that "you have blood on your hands"; Raskolnikov defiantly replies that the world is covered in blood. It can be noted, as well, that the novel's blood imagery is paralleled by frequent references to tears.

Dostoyevsky uses dreams to give insight into his characters' psychology, as well as for symbolic purposes. Critics have debated the meaning of Raskolnikov's nightmare about the horse, mentioned above. As well as indicating his tormented state of mind, this nightmare may also symbolize the brutality of murder and the helplessness of the innocent. In the book's epilogue, in Siberia, Raskolnikov dreams that the world is swept by a terrible plague that turns people mad. This dream is generally believed to symbolize what would happen if all people rejected traditional morality and acted out Raskolnikov's "superman" theory. Svidrigailov, too, has terrible dreams and claims that he has seen the ghosts of his deceased wife and of a servant. The night before he kills himself, he dreams about a little girl whom he has victimized. In this dream, he sees the moral consequences of his crimes.

It may seem paradoxical to claim that critics have not sufficiently concerned themselves with Dostoevsky's attack against rationalism in Crime and Punishment; yet this aspect of the novel has frequently failed to receive adequate attention, not because it has been overlooked, but because often it has been immediately noticed, perfunctorily mentioned, and then put out of mind as something obvious. Few writers have examined the consequence of the anti-rationalistic tenor of the novel: the extent to which it is paralleled by the structural devices incorporated in the work.

Dostoevsky held that dialectics, self-seeking, and exclusive reliance on reason ("reason and will" in Raskolnikov's theories and again in his dream of the plague) lead to death-in-life. In Crime and Punishment he set himself the task of exposing the evils of rationalism by presenting a laboratory case of an individual who followed its precepts and pushed them to their logical conclusion. By working out what would happen to that man, Dostoevsky intended to show how destructive the idea was for individuals, nations, and mankind; for to him the fates of the individual and the nation were inseparably interlocked....

The underlying antithesis of Crime and Punishment, the conflict between the side of reason, selfishness, and pride, and that of acceptance of suffering, closeness to life-sustaining Earth, and love, sounds insipid and platitudinous when stated in such general fashion as we have done here. Dostoevsky, however, does not present it in the form of abstract statement alone. He conveys it with superb dialectical skill, and when we do find direct statements in the novel, they are intentionally made so inadequate as to make us realize all the more clearly their disappointing irrelevancy and to lead us to seek a richer representation in other modes of discourse....

Symbolism is the method of expression with which we are primarily concerned here, but it is far from being the only indirect, non-intellectual manner of expression on which Dostoevsky depends. Oblique presentation is another means which he uses; one example is the introduction of the subject of need for suffering. The idea is first presented in a debased and grotesque form by Marmeladov. His confession of how he had mistreated his family, of his drinking, and of the theft of money—to Raskolnikov, a stranger whom he has met in the tavern—is almost a burlesque foreshadowing of Raskolnikov's later penance, the kissing of the earth and his confession at the police station. Marmeladov is drunk, irresponsible, and still submerged in his selfish course of action; he welcomes suffering but continues to spurn his responsibilities; he is making a fool of himself in the tavern. His discourse throughout calls for an ambiguous response. Raskolnikov's reaction may be pity, agreement, laughter, or disgust; the reader's is a mixture and succession of all those emotions.

Thus the important ideas summed up in Marmeladov's "it's not joy I thirst for, but sorrow and tears" are introduced in a derogatory context and in an ambivalent manner, on the lowest, least impressive level. Yet the concept is now present with us, the readers, as it is with Raskolnikov—even though it first appears in the guise of something questionable, disreputable, and laughable—and we are forced to ponder it and to measure against it Sonya's, Raskolnikov's, Porfiry's and others' approaches to the same subject of "taking one's suffering."

A simple, unequivocal statement, a respectable entrance of the theme on the stage of the book, would amount to a reduction of life to "a matter of arithmetic" and would release the reader from the salutary, in fact indispensable task of smelting down the ore for himself....

In Crime and Punishment the reader, as well as Raskolnikov, must struggle to draw his own conclusions from a work which mirrors the refractory and contradictory materials of life itself, with their admixture of the absurd, repulsive, and grotesque....

Traditional symbolism, that is, symbolism which draws on images established by the Christian tradition and on those common in Russian non-Christian, possibly pre-Christian and pagan, folk thought and expression, is an important element in the structure of Crime and Punishment. The outstanding strands of symbolic imagery in the novel are those of water, vegetation, sun and air, the resurrection of Lazarus and Christ, and the earth.

Water is to Dostoevsky a symbol of rebirth and regeneration. It is regarded as such by the positive characters, for whom it is an accompaniment and an indication of the life-giving forces in the world. By the same token, the significance of water may be the opposite to negative characters. Water holds the terror of death for the corrupt Svidrigaylov, who confirms his depravity by thinking: "Never in my life could I stand water, not even on a landscape painting." Water, instead of being an instrument of life, becomes for him a hateful, avenging menace during the last hours of his life....

Indeed it will be in the cold and in the rain that he will put a bullet in his head. Instead of being a positive force, water is for him the appropriate setting for the taking of his own life.

When Raskolnikov is under the sway of rationalism and corrupting ways of thinking, this also is indicated by Dostoevsky by attributing to him negative reactions to water similar to those of Svidrigaylov. In Raskolnikov, however, the battle is not definitely lost. A conflict still rages between his former self—which did have contact with other people and understood the beauty of the river, the cathedral (representing the traditional, religious, and emotional forces), and water—and the new, rationalistic self, which is responsible for the murder and for his inner desiccation.... There is still left in Raskolnikov an instinctive reaction to water (and to beauty) as an instrument of life, although this receptivity, which had been full-blown and characteristic of him in his childhood, is now in his student days overlaid by the utilitarian and rationalistic theories....

But Raskolnikov also realizes that his trends of thought have banished him, like Cain, from the brotherhood of men and clouded his right and ability to enjoy beauty and the beneficent influences of life symbolized by water; hence his perplexity and conflict....

Related to the many references to the river and rain, and often closely associated with them, are two other groups of symbolic imagery: that of vegetation (shrubbery, leaves, bushes, flowers, and greenness in general) and that of the sun (and the related images of light and air).

In contrast to the dusty, hot, stifling, and crowded city, a fitting setting for Raskolnikov's oppressive and murderous thoughts, we find, for example, "the greenness and the freshness" of the Petersburg islands.... The natural surroundings reawakened in him the feelings of his youth, through which he came close to avoiding his crime and to finding regeneration without having to pass through the cycle of Crime and Punishment.....

By the same token, vegetation exercised the opposite effect on Svidrigaylov: it repelled him. In the inn on the night of his suicide, when he heard the leaves in the garden under his window, he thought, "How I hate the noise of trees at night in a storm and in darkness." Whereas Raskolnikov received a healthy warning during his short sleep "under a bush," Svidrigaylov uses the sordid setting of an amusement park which "had one spindly three-year-old Christmas tree and three small bushes" merely for vain distraction on the eve of his suicide, and contemplates killing himself under "a large bush drenched with rain." In him all positive elements had been rubbed out or transformed into evil.

Similar to water and vegetation, sunshine, light in general, and air are positive values, whereas darkness and lack of air are dangerous and deadening. The beauty of the cathedral flooded by sunlight ought to be felt and admired.... Before the murder, he looks up from the bridge at the "bright, red sunset" and is able to face the sun as well as the river with calm, but after the murder, "in the street it was again unbearably hot—not a drop of rain all during those days .... The sun flashed brightly in his eyes, so that it hurt him to look and his head was spinning round in good earnest—the usual sensation of a man in a fever who comes out into the street on a bright, sunny day." The sun is pleasant for a man in good spiritual health, but unbearable for a feverish creature of the dark, such as Raskolnikov had become....

Absence of air reinforces the lack of light suggestive of inner heaviness. Raskolnikov, whom Svidrigaylov tells that people need air, feels physically and mentally suffocated when he is summoned to the police-station: "There's so little fresh air here. Stifling. Makes my head reel more and more every minute, and my brain too." Later he tells his friend Razumikhin: "Things have become too airless, too stifling." Airiness, on the contrary, is an indication of an advantageous relation between outward circumstances and Raskolnikov's inner state. The warning dream of the mare comes to Raskolnikov in a setting not only of greenness but also of abundance of fresh air: "The green vegetation and the fresh air at first pleased his tired eyes, used to the dust of the city, to the lime and mortar and the huge houses that enclosed and confined him on all sides. The air was fresh and sweet here: no evil smells."

When we turn to specifically Christian symbolism in Crime and Punishment, we find the outstanding images to be those of New Jerusalem, Christ's passion, and Lazarus. New Jerusalem is an important concept throughout Dostoevsky's work.... Porfiry asks Raskolmkov, "Do you believe in New Jerusalem?" The significance of Raskolnikov' s positive answer lies in the fact that the New Jerusalem which he means is the Utopian perversion of it, to be built upon foundations of crime and individual self-assertion and transgression (prestuplenie). It is the "Golden Age," as Raskolnikov called it in the draft version in Dostoevsky's notebook: "Oh why are not all people happy? The picture of the Age of Gold—it is already present in minds and hearts. Why should it not come about? ... But what right have I, a mean murderer, to wish happiness to people and to dream of the Age of Gold?"

The confession of Raskolnikov is described in terms reminiscent of Christ's passion on the road to Golgotha: he goes on "his sorrowful way." When Raskolnikov reads in his mother's letter of Dunya' s having walked up and down in her room and prayed before the Kazan Virgin, he associates her planned self-sacrifice in marrying Luzhin with the biblical prototype of self-assumed suffering for the sake of others: "Ascent to Golgotha is certainly pretty difficult," he says to himself. When Raskolnikov accepts Lizaveta's cypress cross from Sonya, he shows his recognition of the significance of his taking it—the implied resolve to seek a new life though accepting suffering and punishment—by saying to Sonya, "This is the symbol of my taking up the cross."

One of the central Christian myths alluded to in the novel is the story of Lazarus. It is the biblical passage dealing with Lazarus that Raskolnikov asks Sonya to read to him. The raising of Lazarus from the dead is to Dostoevsky the best exemplum of a human being resurrected to a new life, the road to Golgotha the best expression of the dark road of sorrow, and Christ himself the grand type of voluntary suffering....

The traditional emphasis of the Eastern Church is on Resurrection—of the Western, on the Passion. In Crime and Punishment both sides are represented: the Eastern in its promise of Raskolnikov's rebirth, the Western in the stress on his suffering. Perhaps at least part of the universality of the appeal of the novel and of its success in the West may be due to the fact that it combines the two religious tendencies....

The Christian symbolism is underlined by the pagan and universal symbolism of the earth. Sonya persuades Raskolnikov not only to confess and wear the cross, but also to kiss the earth at the crossroads—a distinctly Russian and pre-Christian acknowledgment of the earth as the common mother of all men.... In bowing to the earth and kissing it, Raskolnikov is performing a symbolic and non-rational act; the rationalist is marking the beginning of his change into a complete, organic, living human being, rejoining all other men in the community. By his crime and ideas, he had separated himself from his friends, family, and nation; in one word, he had cut himself off from Mother Earth. By the gesture of kissing the earth, he is reestablishing all his ties....

Now that we have examined selected examples of symbolism in the novel, let us take a look at the epilogue as a test of insights we may have gained into the structure and unity of the novel, for the epilogue is the culmination and juncture of the various strands of images which we have encountered earlier....

If we approach the epilogue with the various preparatory strands of images clearly in our minds, what do we find?... [We] see the state of the soul of the unregenerate Raskolnikov, the Lazarus before the rebirth, expressed by Dostoevsky through the symbolic imagery to which the novel has made us accustomed—water and vegetation. The love for life (which Raskolnikov does not yet comprehend) is represented by a spring with green grass and bushes around it.

When the regeneration of Raskolnikov begins, it is expressed in a manner still more closely linked to previously introduced imagery. His dream of the plague condemns Raskolnikov's own rationalism. It shows people obsessed by reason and will losing contact with the soil.... This dream of the plague, coming immediately before the start of the hero's regeneration, may also be another reminiscence of the Book of Revelation with its last seven plagues coming just before the millennium and the establishment of the New Jerusalem.

The epilogue then goes on to emphasize that it is the second week after Easter—the feast of Christ's passion, death, and resurrection; and that it is warm, bright spring—the season of the revival of dead nature, again a coupling of Christian and non-Christian symbolism of rebirth such as we have encountered earlier in the novel.

The crucial final scene which follows takes place on "a bright and warm day," and "on the bank of the river." The river which Raskolnikov sees now is no longer a possible means for committing suicide nor a sight inducing melancholy; it is the river of life.

Then appears Sonya, and with her arrival comes the moment when Raskolnikov is suffused with love for his guide and savior.... Vivid response to all that lives is a joining with the creator in creating and preserving the world; Sophia is a blissful meeting of god and nature, the creator and creature. In Orthodox thought Sophia has come close to being regarded as something similar to the fourth divine person. Love for Sophia is a generalized ecstatic love for all creation, so that the images of flowers, greenness, landscape, the river, air, the sun, and water throughout Crime and Punishment can be regarded as being subsumed in the concept of Sophia and figuratively in the person of Sonya, the embodiment of the concept. Sonya sees that all exists in God; she knows, and helps Raskolnikov to recognize, what it means to anticipate the millennium by living in rapt love for all creation here, in this world.

It was Sonya who had brought Raskolnikov the message of Lazarus and his resurrection; she had given him the cypress cross and urged him to kiss the earth at the crossroads. On the evening of the day when, by the bank of the river and in the presence of Sonya, Raskolnikov's regeneration had begun, the New Testament lies under his pillow as a reminder of the Christian prototype of resurrection which had been stressed earlier in the novel. Against the background of all the important symbols of the book, Easter, spring, Abraham's flocks, the earth of Siberia, the river, the dream, and Sonya, the drama within Raskolnikov's mind assumes its expressive outward form.

There follow several explicit statements of what happened. We read that "the dawn of a full resurrection to a new life" was already shining "in their faces, that love brought them back to life, that the heart of one held inexhaustible sources of life for the heart of the other," and that "the gradual rebirth" of Raskolnikov would follow. But the power of the general, overt statements depends on the indirect, oblique, dramatic, and symbolic statements which preceded them and prepared the ground for our acceptance of them. If we sense the full significance of the statement that now "Raskolnikov could solve nothing consciously. He only felt. Life had taken the place of dialectics," for example, it is because we have seen dialectics and apathy dramatized in Luzhin, Lebezyatnikov, Raskolnikov, and Svidrigaylov, and resurrection in Sonya and various symbols throughout the novel of which the epilogue is a climax and a recapitulation.

Source: George Gibian, "Traditional Symbolism in Crime and Punishment," in PMLA, Vol. LXX, No. 5, December, 1955, pp. 970-96.

CONTEXT

Dostoyevsky's Russia: Social and Political Background
For most modern Americans, the Russia of Dostoyevsky's time is almost incomprehensible. Sir Winston Churchill's comment in 1939 that Russia "is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma" can apply equally to the Russia of the 1860s when Dostoyevsky wrote Crime and Punishment. In the most simple terms, much of Russia's historical difference from the West has to do with the fact that for centuries it was cut off from Western Europe. The Reformation, the Renaissance, and the Enlightenment that helped transform the countries of Western Europe from feudalism to modern nations with well-educated citizens and important cultural institutions barely touched Russia. Moreover, large-scale foreign invasions (from the Mongols in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries to the Nazi armies in the early 1940s) periodically devastated the country. As a result, Russia has historically been suspicious of other nations. Also, early in its national history, Russia developed a tradition of government that centralized immense power in the hands of an emperor—the tsar—and a handful of his advisors. (The Russian title "tsar" derives from the Latin word "Caesar.") In the mid-1500s, Tsar Ivan IV (known as Ivan the Terrible) established what for more than the next four hundred years became the model for Russian government, alternating short-lived periods of ineffectual reform with periods of severe repression.

Relatively "liberal" rulers such as Tsar Peter the Great (reigned 1682-1725) and Tsarina Catherine the Great (who was actually German; reigned 1762-96) pursued a policy of "westernization." They attempted to import modern technology and manners from Western Europe. At the same time, however, they held tightly onto absolute power and ruthlessly suppressed any challenge to the established political order.

During the period when Dostoyevsky was receiving his education and then establishing his literary career—the 1830s into the 1860s—Russia was stirred by intense intellectual debate. The small class of the educated people recognized that major changes were needed if the huge but backward country was to address its social problems and find its way successfully in the world. One general approach to change was proposed by certain intellectuals collectively known as Westernizers. The Westernizers were influenced by German philosophy and by social ideas that developed in Western Europe during the Industrial Revolution. They were also influenced by contemporary European revolutionary movements. The Westernizers were not united in their goals or methods. There were various factions. Some favored gradual democratic reforms, while others called for revolution to replace the tsarist government with a socialist regime. Among the leading Westernizers was Vissarion Belinsky (1811-48), the most famous Russian literary critic of his day. Belinsky praised Dostoyevsky's first book, Poor Folk (1846), and declared that Dostoyevsky was the literary successor of Gogol.

Another group of thinkers, known as the Slavophiles, proposed an entirely different approach to Russia's problems. Broadly speaking, the Slavophiles felt that Western ideals of rationalism and modernization were dangerous and alien to Russia. Rather than relying on a program of legislation and material improvement, the Slavophiles argued that Russia could only fulfill its destiny when Russians returned to their native spiritual values. Although they disagreed with the Westernizers, the Slavophiles were also opposed to the existing Russian government. By Western standards, the Slavophiles could be considered romantic and reactionary, but they made an important contribution to the debate over the future of Russia.

As a young man, Dostoyevsky was influenced by the Westernizers. In the mid-1840s he joined the so-called Petrashevsky Circle, a small group that met weekly to discuss socialist ideas. The group demanded political reforms and generally opposed the government of Tsar Nicholas I. In the spring of 1849 the members were arrested. Twenty-one of them, including Dostoyevsky, were sentenced to death but were pardoned at the last minute. During his subsequent imprisonment in Siberia, Dostoyevsky underwent a profound spiritual and political change. He renounced political radicalism and came to believe that Russia's hope lay in Slavic idealism. His travels in Western Europe in the 1860s and 1870s reinforced his distaste for modern industrial society. In the great novels of his mature period, including Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky expresses his sympathy with the Slavophiles and attacks the Westernizers and radicals. Raskolnikov reflects the viewpoint of the radical Nihilists (from the Latin word for "nothing"), who rejected all the traditional conventions of society.

By the time Dostoyevsky wrote Crime and Punishment Tsar Alexander II (reigned 1855-81) was in the midst of a significant reform policy. In 1861 the Tsar signed a proclamation that freed millions of Russian serfs (peasants who lived and worked in conditions similar to slavery). This was followed by reforms of local government, the courts, and the military. (The police inspector Porfiry Petrovich refers to these reforms.) However, these reforms failed to resolve the major problems in Russia and helped to create new problems. Again, the immense social problems facing Russia at the time—widespread poverty, ignorance, and social agitation—form the background to Crime and Punishment.

Christianity in  Crime and Punishment

        Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote, " If someone succeded in proving to me that Christ was outside the truth, and if, indeed, the truth was outside Christ, then I would sooner remain with Christ than with the truth" (Frank 68). It was by no means easy for Dostoyevsky to reach this conclusion. In Dostoyevsky's life, one sees that of an intellectual Prodigal Son, returning to the Father In Heaven
only after all other available systems of belief have been exhausted. Reared in a devout Russian Orthodox home, Dostoyevsky as a young man rebelled against his upbringing and embraced the anarchist (and atheistic) philosophies of the intelligentsia, radical students and middle class intellectuals violently opposed to the status quo in Nineteenth-Century Russia (Morsm 50). Dostoyevsky
revolutionary stirrings were not unnoticed by the Tsar's secret police, and, in 1849, Dostoyevsky was sentenced to a mock execution followed by ten years' hard labor in a Siberian prison (Morsm 50).
        One critic said "It has been customary to say that Dostoyevsky re-learnt Christianity in prison.(A Boyce Gibson 19.) There, out of his element and surrounded by hardened criminals, he had plenty of time to contemplate life and read The New Testament (the only book he was allowed). However, it was not until his compulsory army service that Dostoyevsky's faith began to blossom. In the
army, Dostoyevsky met a fellow officer and devout Christian named Baron von Vrangel, who befriended the still young Dostoevesky and helped him re-discover the Christian faith (Frank 4).
        Although a professing Christian for the rest of his life, Dostoyevsky was not a "plaster saint." (Until he died, he was plagued by doubts and a passion for gambling.) Instead, Dostoyevsky understood, perhaps better than any other great Christian author, that his faith was created and sustained by one thing only: the grace of God.
        It is of such grace that Dostoyevsky writes in Crime and Punishment. Although most critics agree that Crime and Punishment's theme is not as deliberately Christian as Dostoyevsky's latter works, the novel's voice is still authentically Christian. Written in 1864, shortly after Dostoyevsky lost his first wife, his brother, and a close friend (Gibson 32); Crime and Punishment reveals  a time in Dostoyevsky's life when he felt disconnected from the world and God. Through Crime and Punishment's protagonist, Raskalnikov, (Whose name, according to Vyacheslav Ivanov, is derived from the Russian root meaning "schism" or "apostate.") (Ivanov 72) one glimpses into the condition of Dostoyevsky's soul.
        Although Crime and Punishment has a primarily social message, it provides the reader with "a sidelong approach to a Christian interpretation of man." (Gibson, 102) Through its pages Dostoyevsky illustrates the inherent fallacy in humanism: that individualism carried to the extreme is self destructive. In addition, Dostoyevsky's work  cogently illustrates St. Paul's words in his first Epistle to the Corinthians that "To shame the wise, God has chosen what the world counts folly, and to shame what is strong, God has chosen
what the world counts weakness" (I Corr. 1:27). In Crime and Punishment, Dostoyevsky also offers a hopeful message: through humility and love, even the vilest man can be reformed. Finally, it is through learning to love that man begins to change.
        Raskalnikov is the embodiment of the old German proverb, Ein guter Mensch, in seinem dunklen Drangen, ist sich den rechten weges wohl bewusst.Translated loosely, the statement means that "A good man, in his dark impulses, is still conscious of the right way." Although he tries to convince himself that he is not subject to moral law, Raskalnikov cannot avoid the fact that he is subject to natural law. He believes that he is a superman, one who do anything to assure his success, and he murders an old .pawnbroker to prove this theory. As such, Raskalnikov's greatest sin is not his murder of Aliona Ivanovna or of Litzeveta, but rather that, in his arrogance, he severs himself from humanity. Although Raskalnikov sucessfully commits the crime, he is unable to live with himself. In an 1879 letter to A.N. Lyubimov, Dostoyevsky said that the end of the humanist was "the complete enslavement of conscience . . . their
ideal is an ideal of the coersion of the human conscience and the reduction of mankind to th e level of cattle" (Frank 469). To apply Dostoyevsky's comparrison, Raskalnikov ---in murdering what he calls "a louse" in the name of freedom--- becomes a slave to guilt and lousier than his victim. Thus, Rakalnikov's " Napoleon" theory is negated, and his question becomes "How can I stop the guilt?"
illustrated best in this inner dialogue: "This much he (Raskalnikov) knew: he had to put an end to all that, today, right away, once and for all because he did not want to live like that. Put an end to it---but how? By what means put an end to it? About this he had no conception. He did not even want to think of it . He drove away thougth. Painfully, thought tracked him down. He only felt, he only knew, one way or another, everything had to be changed." (Dostoyevsky 159)
        How can Raskalnikiov change? The rest of Crime and Punishment is devoted to the question. Raskalnikov's theories and idealism failed him, and he is left with nothing but guilt, fear, and a knawing desire for freedom from his concience. But where is such freedom to be found? How can Raskalnikov bridge the schism he created between himself and mankind? These questions eventually lead
Raskalnikov to prison and to the grace of God, but first he must learn one thing ---humility.
        To understand fully the importance of the Christian (and Dostoyevsky's) concept of humility in Crime and Punishment, one need look no further than to the novel's second chapter in which Raskalnikov meets a drunk named Marmeladov. Marmeladov, although nearly in a stupor, manages to grasp the essence of divine grace and forshadows Raskalnikov's eventual atonement. For full effect,
Marmeladov's statement must be quoted in entirety. He shouts to the crowd in the bar: "And when He has finished judging all, He will summon us, too: 'You, too come forth,' he will say, 'Come forth you drunkards, come forth you weaklings; come forth you shameless ones!' And we will all come forth unashamed. And we will stand before him, and He will say: 'You are swine, made in the image of the Beast, with his seal upon you, but you, too come unto me!' And the wise and the clever will cry out: 'Lord! why dost thou receive these men ?' And he will say: ' I receive them, O wise and clever ones, because not one among them considers himself worthy of this." (Dostoyevsky 33)
        Through Marmeladov's drunken rambling, Dostoyevsky echoes Pauline sentiment in the first chapter of Corinthians, where it is stated that God will shame the wise with folly and the strong with weakness (I Cor. 1:27). In Crime and Punishment, this is the essence of the Gospel. God's acceptance of drunks and weaklings in Marmeladov's allegory promts incredulity from the "wise and
clever." But to Dostoyevsky, humility is the greatest strength.
        Clearly, Raskalnikov's salvation lies in the recognition of his own weakness, but, after the murder he is far too obsessed with his own strength to remember Marmeladov's words. Raskalnikov realizes that he is miserable, he is unrepentant: he does not believe he has done wrong and he still believes that, through strength of will, he can absolve his guilt.  "'Enough,'" Raskalnikov says. "'Now for the kingdom of light and reason . . . and power . . . Now we shall match wits!' he added . . . as though he were adressing some dark force . . ." (Dostoyevsky, 191). However, it is not a dark force with which Raskalnikov wrestles, but with God. Raskalnikov is still in rebellion and the schism remains.
        Enter Sonya, the embodiment of divine weakness and catalyst of Raskalnikov's eventual redemption. She is the daughter of Marmeladov. She is forced into prostitution to provide for her family, but she does so willingly out of love. She is submissive, uneducated, poor, and a woman. In short, Sonya is everything her contemporary world counted as folly, but to Dostoyevsky she
too is a testament to God's grace. Sonya "feels that she has sunk to the depths, and it is only God who keeps her going" (Gibson 94). In Sonya, one sees as great a sinner as Raskalnikov at peace with herself and with God. Her secrets: humility and love. Like her father, Sonya recognizes her unworthiness before God. Her knowlege that God alone gives her worth allows her to love others unconditionally, including Raskalnikov. To paraphrase I John 4:19, Sonya loves because God first loved Sonya.
        Against Sonya's meekness and love, Raskalnikov begins to break. At first, he is argumentative, mocking Sonya's childlike faith. "'She's a holy fool!" (Dostoyevsky 317) Raskalnikov thinks to himself, but he is still drawn to Sonya's strength. At last, Raskalnikov begins to realize that he is not alone , and it is because of this realization that he confesses to Sonya. It can be said that, in this confession, Raskalnikov's strength begins to submit to divine
weakness. It is through love and humility that the schism will be bridged.
        However, Raskalnikov's confession to Sonya is not enough, and Sonya knows it. Vyacheslav Ivanov said Sonya "asks only one thing of her beloved: that he should aknowledge the reality of . . . mankind outside himself, and should solemnly declare his cceptence of this new . . . faith by an act of confession to all the people" (Ivanov 80). Sonya tells Raskalnikov to bow down at a crossroads, kiss the earth he offended and say aloud "'I have killed!" After repenting, Sonya says that Raskalnikov must face the consequences of his action (Dostoyevsky 407). Only through accepting his guilt will Raskalnikov be healed, but he is unwilling to do so. He is unrepentant and is thus not absolved of his guilt, but he eventually makes up his mind to confess, and, in a nervous fit, he falls to the ground at the Haymarket crossroads and kisses it. But the words "'I killed,' which had perhaps been ready on his tounge died inside him." (Dostoyevsky 506). Raskalnikov is unrepentant still. His ego prohibits him from tota l submission.
        Yet, Raskalnikov submits to the authorities and is sentanced to prison in Siberia. Ever devoted, Sonya follows him, but Raskalnikov is "ashamed before her" (Dostoyevsky 521), and treats her badly. Raskalnikov is still unrepentant, for he regards his crime as "simply a blunder, the sort of thing that might happen to anyone" (Dostoyevsky 521), but he is ashamed because he allowed
himself to feel guilty. Although he is phisically in prison, Raskalnikov's real prison is spiritual. Raskalnikov remains a slave to guilt, and it is only through repentance that the chains will be loosed.
        It can be said that, in Crime and Punishment, Raskalnikov never repents in the theological sense of a concrete turning away from his sinful nature. Indeed, to the last he merely entertains the idea of conversion to Christianity (Dostoyevsky 528). But if indeed Crime and Punishment is a story about the grace of God, shouldn't there be a conversion experience? Shouldn't Raskalnikov do something equivalent to walking down the aisle weeping and utttering "I saw the light?"
        Dostoyevsky's answer would be an emphatic "No." In his life, faith came gradually after years of struggle. Similarly, Dostoyevsky's hero Raskalnikov must undergo "a gradual transition from one world to another" (Dostoyevsky 528). Dostoyevsky understood that to define divine grace as a moment's conversion experience was to cheapen it. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that "Cheap grace is the justification of sin without the justification of the sinner" (Bonhoeffer 46). Dostoyevsky would have agreed, if Crime and Punishment is any indicator. As such, there is no cheapening of grace in the novel. Rather, Dostoyevsky leaves the reader at the begining of faith: love. For it is by Raskalnikov's love for Sonya that the schism between Raskalnikov and mankind is finally bridged.
        Fittingly, Raskanilov's redemption begins in the spring, a time of new beginings. Raskalnikov "wept and embraced [Sonya's] knees . . . there was no longer any doubt he loved her. He loved her infinitely. At long last, the moment had come . . ." (Dostoyevsky 527). At last Raskalnikov looks beyond himself and begins to see that he is in error and that there is something more than his

guilt. He is freed from the slavery of guilt. In short, in this brief encounter with Sonya, the seed of faith is planted. Whether or not the seed will be brought to fruition remains to be seen. However, given Sonya's love and Raskalnikov's desire for freedom, salvation seems likely.
        What, then, is the reader to learn about Christianity in Crime and Punishment? Certainly one is presented with enough Christian symbolism, obscure biblical allusion, and allegory to merit volumes of literary analysis and keep thousands of otherwise aimless Russian literature experts employed. However, at its fundamental level, Crime and Punishment presents itself as a novel about
contrasts: love and hate, right and wrong, young and old. Most importantly, the novel contrasts the oppression of sin with boundless freedom that lies within the grace of God. In Raskalnikov, Dostoyevsky has a testament that, in spite of one's past, one can, in God's love, be renewed. Crime and Punishment tells us that, no matter how great the schism between God and man may be, God's grace is
greater still.  

SOME ADDITIONAL INFO....

Some facts that the English reader should know:

1) Raskolnikov, Luzhin, Svidrigaïlov, Zametov, Marmeladov and Razhumikin have some symbolic meanings in their last names. For every Russian reader it is the obvious fact; however, in translation the meaning of names becomes lost.
Raskol’nik – schismatic
Luzha – puddle
Razum – reason, intelligence
Zametit’ – to notice
Marmelad – sort of sweet candy
Svidrigaïlov – name from the medieval Russian history, Lithuanian prince

2) The story of Marmeladov’s family came from the other Dostoevsky’s novel The Drunkards, which the writer had never finished. Instead of turning the story into the complete literary work, Dostoevsky put it in the plot of  Crime and Punishment.

3) The character of Raskolnikov could be compared to other characters in Russian literature of that time. These heroes of Romantic era often possessed the qualities of revolt, cynicism and moral flaw in intelligent and attractive light. The critics created a name for such type of literary character, superfluous person. The examples of these heroes are Pushkin’s Yevgeniy Onegin and Lermontov’s Pechorin (Hero of Our Time).

4) Russian word for “crime” is “prestuplenie” which in direct translation means “stepping over”. “Stepping over the line” is also one of the phrases used by Raskolnikov in his “Louse or Napoleon” theory.

5) The murder weapon in the novel is an axe, a tool so often associated with Russian peasantry. It also carries the connotations of peasant unrest. However, Porfiry, is not deluded by the traditional weapon of a peasant and dismisses two painters from the list of suspects. Instead the ‘axe’ is used in his conversation with Raskolnikov as a double edged metaphor.


ABOUT NIHILISM AND THE UBERMENSCH

Übermensch

the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche explains the steps through which man can become an Übermensch  (homo superior; the equivalent English translation would be 'super-human') by his will to power, manifested destructively in the rejection of, and rebellion against, modern ideals and moral codes;

The will to destruction

Nietzsche's motivation for the claim 'God is dead' is the destruction of the Christian conscience, i.e., a God-centered way of thinking, and the fateful will to break out. His symbols for this are flame and thunder. Only by breaking out of the idealistic norms one can become Übermensch, which literally means "beyond human." The initial point of destruction is the church, which is, according to Nietzsche, the exact opposite of what Jesus preached. The reason for this is a process initiated by the apostle Paul, which caused a transfiguration of Jesus' teachings to a remedy-punishment doctrine. Zarathustra was the prototype for Nietzsche's Übermensch.

Furthermore, asceticism, religions that hold a "next life" to be more important than this one, and especially the teachings of Plato point towards a nihilistic beyond, which places the belief in God in opposition to reality. While this does not disprove God's existence, it does mark the belief in God as running counter to Nietzsche's ethical valuing of the immediate world.

Re-evaluating or destroying old ideals

Once man has undergone the process of denying God ('Omnis determinatio est negatio'), he begins a journey towards becoming Übermensch. The humans are alone and, contrary to absolving themselves of responsibility through the postulation of a deity, they must create their own, new, moral ideals.

In establishing new ideals, man now does not rank them according to transcendental aspects ("Where from" and "What for") because this would again aim towards beyond.

Instead, there are no absolute ideals any more but only an interpretation of them in which moral ideals are the most important ones.

Overcoming nihilism

The most difficult step according to Nietzsche is basing one's entire life into this world. Placing belief or faith in anything transcendental is nihilistic and would lead to the failure of man's attempt to become Übermensch. The idea of God is a quiet temptation. In overcoming nihilism, man undergoes three phases:

In short, Nietzsche stated that everyone should take absolute responsibility for their own actions in the world, and this can only be achieved by an overthrow of Christian ideals, according to Nietzsche.

However, another problem is that when the Ubermensch lives according to his Will to Power. If he desires to control others, they will also desire to break free. If he successfully controls others, their children will desire to break free. A person who attempts to gain absolute, complete will to power, will bring only destruction. It will merely create an endless cycle.

Common misconceptions

Misidentification with Nazis

The most common misconception about the Übermensch is that it is equivalent to the ideals of Nazism, and that it is related or equal to the concept of Herrenvolk ("master race"). The concept of racial supremacy or antisemitism is absent in Nietzsche. It is widely believed that Nietzsche's sister, Elisabeth Förster-Nietzsche, who married an anti-Semite, contributed greatly to this misconception by deliberately misrepresenting his work, and the Nazis themselves reinterpreted and incorporated hodgepodge elements of many philosophical and religious texts, including Nietzsche's.

Nietzsche had an admiration of Napoleon Bonaparte and Julius Caesar, and advocated an authoritarian united Europe.

Misleading loan-translation

The translation of Übermensch as "superman" may compound the misconception. Über can have a variety of meanings, as in Überwindung ("overcoming"), überstehen/durchstehen ("come through"/"get over"), übersetzen ("translate"/"take across"). Some scholars therefore prefer the translation as Overman, since the point of the Übermensch is that man needs to overcome himself.

The German adverb "übermenschlich" is common and used in contexts such as "mit übermenschlichen Kräften gelang es ihm…": "with a force no human being is capable of he managed to…" or "with superhuman force…", the connotation is that of leaving the human sphere. Parallel constructions can be found in übernatürlich ("no longer natural", "transcendental"), überirdisch ("heavenly", literally "unearthly"). "Superman" lacks the German connotation of a sphere beyond human knowledge and power. In addition, Mensch is less specifically male than the English man, closer at times to the English human. Mensch is to be understood as a neuter form of a noun.

Popular elaboration of the concept

The term has loosed its bounds and left the philosophic roundtable to go out into the general public. The inescapable reference is the American comic book character Superman. Care must be taken when one comes across the word in literary usage. The British novelist Bulwer-Lytton is said to have created the first superman who is not evil; by this it was meant that his character was surpassing the ordinary man like the Übermensch, not with impossible physical powers.

Confusion with scientific ideologies

Nietzsche's writings are spiritual and philosophical in character, and do not state that the central ideas are biological, psychological, sociological, or sociobiological. His ideas have no firm connection to the claim of superiority of any particular race or ethnicity, and thus they are not racist in themselves.

What is Nihilism?

Nihilism, Nihilists, and Nihilistic Philosophy

The term nihilism comes from the Latin word 'nihil' which literally means "nothing." Many believe that it was originally coined by Russian novelist Ivan Turgenev in his novel Fathers and Sons (1862) when in fact it probably first appeared several decades earlier. Nevertheless, Turgenev's use of the word to describe the views he attributed to young intellectual critics of feudal society generally and the Tsarist regime in particular is what gave the word widespread popularity.

This usage came at a fortuitous time because there was a burgeoning radical movement that seem to fit that term quite well — at least as far as conservatives were concerned. They were perhaps the first to latch onto the word, using it as a slur to describe a generation that was in revolt against established social norms. These youth themselves were not eager to adopt the term, but it eventually came into general usage.

This Russian Nihilism would have seemed very familiar to anyone who lived through the 1960s in America. It was largely a youth movement comprised of a new intellectual class that was growing rapidly due to increased attendance at schools by commoners, increased wealth in the middle class, and the development of independent presses.

The result was a "culture war" with an older generation that felt a stronger allegiance to traditional norms, traditional religion, and traditional morality. Against these "Fathers" were arrayed the "Sons," children who no longer believed in the ideals of their elders, were disillusioned at the hypocrisy around them, and feared that any attempt to improve things would only be in vain.

As one might expect, the more the young Russian Nihilists were pushed into conforming to tradition, the more they pushed back — acting out in crude or vulgar ways, expressing contempt for traditional values, opposing religious authority, etc. Some attempted to change society through political action, but most were disillusioned with politics and "dropped out," preferring instead to seek greater personal development through a complete break with the past. It was these latter individuals who perhaps most merit the label Nihilists — apolitical youth who shared much in common with Turgenev's character Bazarov.

Ultimately, Russian Nihilism didn't accomplish much itself — it certainly didn't produce general cultural and political changes anywhere close to what was created by the 1960s youth movements in America and Europe. The problem, it seems, is that the radical cultural and political critiques were not well-balanced by an equally strong program of alternatives. Basically, the Nihilists had little or nothing to offer in exchange for what they hoped to tear down. Some certainly tried, but there just weren't enough to effectively strengthen the movement.

This is not to say, however, that Russian Nihilism left no mark whatsoever. Its emphasis on materialism as opposed to idealism probably helped pave the way for the later ascendancy of communism. It is also reasonable to conclude that the critiques of traditional culture helped Russians to shed past prejudices and assumptions, even if they didn't embrace the Nihilist philosophy entirely.

Nihilism

The term was first used by Turgeniev in his novel, "Fathers and Sons" (in "Russkij Vestnik", Feb., 1862): a Nihilist is one who bows to no authority and accepts no doctrine, however widespread, that is not supported by proof.

The nihilist theory was formulated by Cernysevskij in his novel "Cto delat" (What shall be done, 1862-64), which forecasts a new social order constructed on the ruins of the old. But essentially, Nihilism was a reaction against the abuses of Russian absolutism; it originated with the first secret political society in Russia founded by Pestel (1817), and its first effort was the military revolt of the Decembrists (14 Dec., 1825). Nicholas I crushed the uprising, sent its leaders to the scaffold and one hundred and sixteen participants to Siberia. The spread (1830) of certain philosophical doctrines (Hegel, Saint Simon, Fourier) brought numerous recruits to Nihilism, especially in the universities; and, in many of the cities, societies were organized to combat absolutism and introduce constitutional government.

Theoretical Nihilism

Its apostles were Alexander Herzen (1812-70) and Michael Bakunin (1814-76), both of noble birth. The former, arrested (1832) as a partisan of liberal ideas, was imprisoned for eight months, deported, pardoned (1840), resided in Moscow till 1847 when he migrated to London and there founded (1857) the weekly periodical, "Kolokol" (Bell), and later "The Polar Star". The "Kolokol" published Russian political secrets and denunciations of the Government; and, in spite of the police, made its way into Russia to spread revolutionary ideas. Herzen, inspired by Hegel and Feurbach, proclaimed the destruction of the existing order; but he did not advocate violent measures. Hence his younger followers wearied of him; and on the other hand his defense of the Poles during the insurrection of 1863 alienated many of his Russian sympathizers. The "Kolokol" went out of existence in 1868 and Herzen died two years later. Bakunin was extreme in his revolutionary theories. In the first number of "L'Alliance Internationale de la Démocratie Socialiste" founded by him in 1869, he openly professed Atheism and called for the abolition of marriage, property, and of all social and religious institutions. His advice, given in his "Revolutionary Catechism", was: "Be severe to yourself and severe to others. Suppress the sentiments of relationship, friendship, love, and gratitude. Have only one pleasure, one joy, one reward -- the triumph of the revolution. Night and day, have only one thought, the destruction of everything without pity. Be ready to die and ready to kill any one who opposes the triumph of your revolt." Bakunin thus opened the way to nihilistic terrorism.

Dostoevsky's nihilism

RAVI VYAS

WHAT lessons, if any, do we get when we look back on the 20th Century? Two world wars, the Stalinist purges and the labour camps, the holocaust, all those revolutions that devoured their own children, leaving behind ideas and dreams hovering deliriously over a wasteland of fact - over 100 million dead or missing. Put another way, the whole project of modernity, based on the new-found faith in the power of reason, science, industry, revolution and the perfectibility of man, of an Utopia in-the- making beyond good and evil, gone up in a wisp of smoke. It was Dostoevsky's discovery, first put succinctly in Notes from Underground and elaborated in Crime and Punishment, that showed how monstrously stupid and twisted human beings, governed by vile and senseless passions, could be. So, among the 19th Century novelists, all more or less tainted by false hopes, only Dostoevsky's Raskolnikov could stand up today and say to us: "I told you so!"

First, the plot summary of Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov, an impoverished student, conceives of himself as being an extraordinary young man and then formulates a theory whereby extraordinary men of the world have the right to commit any crime. To prove his theory, he murders an old pawnbroker and her step-sister. Immediately after the crime he becomes ill and lies in his room in a semi-conscious state. As soon as he is well and can walk again, Raskolnikov goes out and reads about the crime in all the newspapers of the last few days.

Raskolnikov meets an official from the police station and almost confesses the crime. He does go far enough in his ravings to make the official suspicious. Later, he witnesses the death of Marmaledov, a minor government official who is struck by a carriage as he staggers across the street in a drunken stupor. When he returns home he finds his mother and her sister Dounia who have just arrived to prepare for her wedding to Luzhin. Raskolnikov denounces Luzhin and refuses to allow his sister to marry him. About the same time, Svidrigalov, Dounia's former employer, arrives in town, looks up Raskolnikov and asks for a meeting with Dounia. Previously, Svidrigalov had attempted to seduce Dounia and when Raskolnikov had heard of it had taken a violent dislike to him.

Meanwhile, Raskolnikov learns that the police inspector Porfiry, is interviewing all the people who had ever any business with the old pawnbroker. Therefore he goes for the interview and leaves thinking that the police are suspicious of him. Since he had met Sonia Marmaledov, the daughter of the dead man whom Raskolnikov had helped, he goes to her and asks her to read from the Bible about the rising of Lazarus from the dead. He feels great sympathy with Sonia because she had been forced into prostitution in order to support the family while her father drank. After another interview with Porfiry, Raskolnikov confesses to Sonia. During the confession, Svidrigalov listens through the door and uses this information to force Sonia to sleep with him. She refuses and he kills himself later in the night. After talking to Sonia, Raskolnikov confesses to the murder and is sentenced to eight years in a Siberian prison. Sonia follows him and with her help begins his regeneration.

The structure of Crime and Punishment is clear. The book consists of six parts and an epilogue, and at the end of the first part, within the first 100 pages, the crime is done. The following five parts, the bulk of the book, deal with punishment which is essentially a process of psychological crisis and complex self- examination, ending at last with confession and punishment. The meaning of the book has been explained by Dostoevsky in his Notebooks: "Man is not born for happiness. Man earns his happiness, and always by suffering. There is no injustice here, for knowledge and consciousness of life... is acquired by experience pro and contra, which one must get through one's own".

Though Crime and Punishment is a psychological study of crime, the dominant recurring theme or the leitmotiv is the split of of human consciousness between the rational and irrational truths. Raskolnikov, the hero of the novel, is rationally "beyond good and evil". As he does not believe in God, he cannot accept any transcendental or eternal moral law. He commits murder simply in order to prove to himself that he dares overstep the line of our conventional good and evil, and conquer the final freedom of the man-God who does not recognise any law above and beyond himself. He obtains a complete rational sanction for his crime: yet the subconscious "irrational" reaction after it is so terrible that it drives him to a voluntary confession of his deed, despite the fact that logically he still does not consider himself a criminal at all.

It is easy to regard agnosticism and atheism as naturally coexisting with progress but, as G.K. Chesterton once put it, when people cease to believe in God, they do not believe in nothing - but rather they believe in anything. When you really believe that the heavens are empty and that God is dead, or that He was never alive in the first place, what happens is not an overwhelming sense of insignificance but rather a sense of total helplessness with absolutely nowhere to turn: you go from here to there, around the room, around the "world" you live in - without ever being able to rest but also without being able to do anything. Raskolnikov is condemned to go around and round talking to his phantoms. His sickness is a continual dissatisfaction, an inability to love anyone or anything, a restlessness without object, a disgust of the self - and in a love of the self. This is the modern man, the nihilist who sees in the water's depth his reflection shattered to pieces. The vision of his fall fascinates him; faced with himself, nausea grips him but he cannot look away. There is something strangely fascinating about morbidity and guilt. Or, as the poet put it, "the waters of the abyss where I was falling in love with myself". This is precisely what happens to Raskolnikov in punishment.

One of Dostoevsky's best critics, Mikhail Bakhtin, observed that Dostoevsky created a new form, the "polyphonic" novel, in that, the narrative is told not as a monologue but as a great polyphony of many voices, endlessly competing for dominance. The many voices speak of many things, and Crime and Punishment is therefore seen as many things. First, as the most profound of detective stories in which detection of the crime involves the remorseless pursuit of its motives, and where the essential detective is the criminal himself. Second, it is read as a metaphysical thriller, in which the very nature of sin is analysed. Third, it is regarded as a story of tragic pride, in which the hero is haunted to the depths of his soul by the deed of blood he has done - one critic has said that it reads like the fifth acts of all tragedies. Fourth, it is seen as a profound work of modern nihilism and egotism in which the superman attempts to step beyond the role of good and evil. Very simply, the story is not told as if it is the only one; there are stories within stories which are all ways of saying just one thing in some compelling fashion. It is indeed the first of the modern novels. Besides all this, Crime and Punishment "enlarges our consciousness" and so complex is our imaginative identification with Raskolnikov that we begin to feel that we too might commit murders.

Dostoevsky's Spirituality

A.  His View of God

In general, Dostoevsky’s doctrine of God appears to be orthodox. He exhibits no maverick views, as did his contemporary Leo Tolstoy, who was anti-Trinitarian. Intriguingly, the principal atheists in Dostoevsky’s novels (Stavrogin and Kirillov in The Idiot, Ivan and Smerdyakov in The Brothers Karamazov, and Svidrigaylov in Crime and Punishment) all commit suicide. It is as if Dostoevsky is saying that because these characters have forsaken Life—the One who is life—they see no meaning in this life and so end their earthly lives.

In Demons the author says that "faith in [God] is the refuge for mankind…as well as in the hope of eternal bliss promised to the righteous…"5

God was the fundamental datum beneath all of Dostoevsky’s writing. That is not to say that Dostoevsky did not wrestle with that reality over and over. As a matter of fact, he admitted that he would deal with doubts to his dying day. In his five-volume masterpiece on the famed novelist Joseph Frank commented: "Dostoevsky was to say…that the problem of the existence of God had tormented him all his life; but this only confirms that it was always emotionally impossible for him ever to accept a world that had no relation to a God of any kind."6 As hinted earlier, the type of unkind father Dostoevsky had experienced in early life probably contributed significantly to the breeding of his later doubts.

In filtering out the novelist’s theology from his writings, one must take into account the fact that not all Dostoevsky’s characters enunciate the author’s personal beliefs. In fact, Dostoevsky, "as an artist, accord[ed] equal rights to his atheists," and "it is the atheists in his novels who do most of the theological talking!"7

One character in The Brothers Karamazov who reflects an aberrant view of God is a semi-crazy monk named Father Ferapont who makes an unbiblical distinction between the Holy Spirit and the Holy Ghost. Nevertheless, the overall eccentricity that Dostoevsky accords this character makes it abundantly plain that the writer himself does not hold this bizarre view.

No major analyst has really raised any serious questions about the orthodox view of God that Dostoevsky apparently held.

B. Christ

While Dostoevsky does not express himself on every occasion explicitly in the terminology of a modern evangelical theologian, there seems to be no significant data for not accepting the novelist as orthodox in his views on the person of Christ. Dostoevsky did not hesitate to speak of Christ as the "God-man." Even the anti-theist character Ivan Karamazov refers to the orthodox position on Christ as being "the One without sin" and indicates that "Christ…was God" (Part III, Book V, chap 4). Also his brother Dmitri owns that "Christ is God" (Part I, Book III, chap 5). Joseph Frank asserted concerning our author’s novels and letters: "Unless we entirely reject their veracity, they reveal Dostoevsky to be a believing Christian in his own way, inwardly striving to accept the essential dogmas of the divinity of Christ, personal immortality, the Second Coming, and the Resurrection."8

On more than one occasion Dostoevsky expressed a view which would strike an evangelical ear strangely. He says that if it came to a showdown between rejecting Christ and the truth, he would side with Christ over against the truth! For those who take John 14:6 at face value, the statement strikes a strange note. Probably his declaration is simply literary hyperbole in adoration of Christ.

Transcribed in his notebook among Dostoevsky’s notes in his final years was the plan to write a book on the life of Christ. Obviously, if he had lived to fulfill his enterprise, a more accurate determination could be made concerning the orthodoxy of his position. However, throughout the gamut of his published writing no seriously disturbing notes appear on this subject, so it seems best to assume, as even secular analysts do, that the great Russian was broadly orthodox on the deity and humanity of Christ.

C. Sin

One final book Dostoevsky had hoped to write was to have been entitled The Life of a Great Sinner. After Dostoevsky became famous, people wrote to him in the way they do today to Ann Landers, asking for advice. Consequently, Dostoevsky replied to one unknown mother in 1878 (concerning a problem child): "if the child is bad, the blame lies…both with his natural inclinations (because a person is certainly born with them) and with those who brought him up…"9 This comment certainly reveals that Dostoevsky assuredly treated sin as inborn and instinctive.

On one occasion Dostoevsky offered something of his own definition: "When a man has not fulfilled the law of striving toward an ideal, that is, has not through love sacrificed his ego to people…he suffers and calls this condition sin."10 This is hardly a formal definition to be found in a theological textbook, nor does it have a vertical (or Godward) orientation. Rather, it is an experiential crystallization he worked out amid life’s nitty-gritty and is congruent with his understanding of suffering (which will be treated in the next section).

William Leatherbarrow spoke of how in the Siberian prison-camp close contact with criminals "disabused Dostoevsky of his earlier utopianism and faith in the essential goodness of man…"11 Dostoevsky referred to one prisoner in the camp as a "moral Quasimodo." The stubborn reality of sin runs like a subterranean stream beneath all of the novel-writing of Dostoevsky.

Homiletically, sin reveals itself pictorially in Dostoevsky’s corpus in at least four features (all beginning with the letter "s"). First, sin is seen as spite or spitefulness. Dostoevsky himself was a very irritable and spiteful person. His second wife, Anna, mentions (after her husband had insulted a waiter) that "he could not restrain his spite."12

Dostoevsky’s novels are pimientoed with the term "spite" and its cognates. In Crime and Punishment Raskolnikov the murderer has a "spiteful…smile…on his lips" (Part I, chap 3). In "A Gentle Spirit," a short story, the narrator-pawnbroker remarks to a fifteen-year-old girl, "I was spiteful." In Demons one can find the "spite" terminology on pp. 252, 255, 340–41, 378 (twice), 441, 461, 521, 524, 533, 558, 591, 610, 612, 617, 675 (twice), 676, 693, and 701.13

A second figurative form that sin assumes in Dostoevsky’s canon is that of "stepping over." This pictorial language immediately reminds the student of the Bible of the concept of transgression (stepping over a boundary). For instance, when Raskolnikov commits his ax-murder, the symbolical note of his "stepping over" the threshold is explicitly mentioned (as it is on other significant occasions).

A third depiction of sin takes the form of smog. Dostoevsky once wrote figuratively: "Sin is…smog, and the smog will disappear when the sun rises in its power."14

The fourth simile for sin in Dostoevsky is that of schism or splitness. The liberal theologian Paul Tillich once depicted sin in terms of "gaps and splits." The lead sinner (Raskolnikov) in Crime and Punishment bears in his Russian name the root raskol, which means "schism." Berdyaev claimed, "That cleavage (dedoublement) in the spirit…is the essential theme of all Dostoevsky’s novels."15 As William Leatherbarrow analyzed the human condition in our subject, he stated, "Man in Dostoevsky’s works, as in Genesis, is a tragic, split creature, excluded from paradise but longing for reconciliation."16

Dostoevsky’s gallery of characters consists of a parade of clinical cases in abnormal psychology. (Alyosha in The Brothers Karamazov is one of the very few near normal, healthy characters in his canon of works.) This phenomenon of splitness reveals itself repeatedly throughout his stories and novels. Splitness takes the form of spite and irrationality, a desire-to-please, yet a desire-not-to-please in the so-called Underground Man (or narrator) in Notes from the Underground.

One of the most intriguing cases of all for Bible students is the story of "The Double." It is virtually a takeoff on the classic chapter of Romans 7. "The Double" narrates the case of an ill-at-ease civil servant whose social problems cause him to hallucinate, thereby creating his own "double personality split off from his real self." (Dostoevsky often possesses the knack of writing so that a reader can’t always tell what is intended as fact and what is intended as fantasy.) Theologian Bernard Ramm analyzed this fascinating fissure-in-the-soul, drawing out the parallels between Romans 7 and Dostoevsky’s "Double."17

Like the major existentialists, Dostoevsky has done Christian theology a service by painting the portraits of people in a form that is consonant with that of Christian orthodoxy. Berdyaev asserted that Dostoevsky "uncovered a volcanic crater in every being."18 And these volcanoes are always rumbling!

D. Salvation

In The Idiot, on his birthday, Prince Myshkin challenges the atheists present to tell him "with what they will save the world?"19 In a general way Dostoevsky answered his character’s question in a letter: "in Christianity alone…the salvation of the Russian land from all her afflictions lies."20 Leatherbarrow called Dostoevsky "a novelist with a mission. There is to be no harmony without redemption, no salvation without God, and no paradise on earth."21 Joseph Frank evaluated: "The values of expiation, forgiveness, and love were destined to take precedence over all others in Dostoevsky’s artistic universe…"22

Initially, it seems necessary to say something about the genre of literature under our scrutiny here. A novel is not designed as a super-long evangelistic tract. One of the sad dilemmas is that a Christian reader often seems to have to choose between a profound Dostoevsky (whose works may appear defective, evangelically speaking) and some modern trite "Christian" fiction all gauged about the lead character’s getting saved (and usually an overdose of romance tossed in for good measure).

From the preceding paragraph the reader may already sense that (while his doctrines of God, Christ, and sin appear reasonably orthodox), Dostoevsky’s doctrine of salvation leaves something to be desired—from a biblical standpoint. If Dostoevsky had "mission" (Leatherbarrow’s term), what was his mission? In light of a full-orbed biblical mission, Dostoevsky’s solutions come up short of the mark.

At best, Dostoevsky’s major novels might be described as pre-evangelistic. If a novelist were planning to offer a distinctively Christian answer, Dmitri Karamazov (in The Brothers Karamazov), Raskolnikov (in Crime and Punishment), and Stepan Verkhovensky (in Demons) are off-target. At the end of these three major novels all three characters are primed for conversion, but the best we are given falls under the category of hopeful hints. Boyce Gibson remarks, "In the Epilogue of Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov avoids the Christian formula [of conversion]…"23 Similarly, Richard Peace commented concerning Stepan Verkhovensky (in Demons) that his "final words…seem more in keeping with some vague theism of the [18]40s than with true Christianity."24

And what shall we say of Alyosha’s "conversion"? Alyosha (having gone through some serious doubts) threw himself onto the earth to kiss it. "Something…unshakable, like that heavenly dome above him, was entering into his soul for all eternity" (The Brothers Karamazov, Part II, Book VII, chap 4). Alyosha articulates his experience by asserting, "Someone visited my soul at that moment." An ecstatic experience, yes. A Christian conversion? At best, an analyst must preserve an agnostic stance on the subject. It is certainly a vast cry from the "Jesus is Lord" experience of Saul of Tarsus in Acts 9. There is no real propositional content or identifiable theological referent to Alyosha’s mystical encounter. Who is the "Someone" Alyosha encounters?

Father Zosima is the lovable elder over the monastery (in The Brothers Karamazov) to which Alyosha is temporarily attached. Father Zosima says to his inquirer: "There is only one means of salvation…take yourself and make yourself responsible for all men’s lives."25 For a Christian what is the "only…means of salvation"? Father Zosima’s response is hardly deemed the orthodox answer to the question. It seems light years away from Acts 16:31.

Ivan the intellectual cannonades Alyosha with atheistic arguments. One of Alyosha’s responses is to tell Ivan to "love life above everything. To this statement Ivan rejoins, "More than life’s meaning?" Alyosha responds, "Half your work is done, Ivan, you love life; now you’ve only got to do the second half [presumably to find life’s meaning] and you’re saved." Those are strange statements to any evangelical Christian.

From his other writings we know that in Notes from the Underground Dostoevsky had planned "to advocate Christian faith as a means of attaining moral freedom," yet "that swine of a [Russian] censor" (as Dostoevsky called him) wouldn’t allow him to publish a Christian message through the voice of such an unChristian character. Dostoevsky complained that the government censor suppressed the place where from all this I deduced the need for faith and Christ."26 If we had this uncensored version, we might be able to better assess Dostoevsky’s soteriology.

There is one theme under this rubric, however, which is so pervasive in Dostoevsky’s writings that it cannot be ignored. That is the topic of salvation through suffering. In 1960 Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of "the conviction that unearned suffering is redemptive." One suspects that King was speaking of social liberation. However, exactly what Dostoevsky meant by using similar language remains ambiguous.

Berdyaev declared, "Dostoevsky believed firmly in the redemptive and regenerative power of suffering: life is the expiation of sin by suffering."27 When Dostoevsky put down on paper his plan for Crime and Punishment, he transcribed, "The criminal himself resolves to accept suffering and thereby atone for his deed."28 Dunya admonishes Raskolnikov: "Suffer and expiate your sin by it" (Crime and Punishment, Part V, chap 4). Later the detective Porphyry remarks to the murderer, "This may be God’s means for bringing you to him" (Part VI, chap 2). Raskolnikov’s sister Dunya asks her brother, who is on the verge of confessing: "Aren’t you half expiating the crime by facing the suffering?" (Book VI, chap 7).

In Demons the nearly sociopathic Stavrogin confesses, "I want to forgive myself and that is my…whole goal" (for his responsibility in a young girl’s suicide). He continues: "That is why I seek boundless suffering." To Stavrogin, Bishop Tikhon offers strange advice (from a biblical viewpoint): "Christ…will forgive you, if only you attain to forgiving yourself."29 Would any NT apostle have said that to an earnest inquirer?

William Leatherbarrow announced: "In The Insulted and Injured, for the first time in Dostoevsky’s novels, the idea of the spiritually healing power of suffering is opposed to the dream of heaven on earth."30 As he analyzes Dmitri’s physical suffering and Ivan’s mental suffering (in The Brothers Karamazov), Leatherbarrow concludes: "All must be redeemed through suffering."31 In the same novel a man who engineered a successful murder without getting caught says, "I want to suffer for my sins" (Part II, Book VI, chap 2). Finally, Alyosha owns to Dmitri (after he’s convicted—wrongly—of murder): "you wanted to make yourself [a new man] by suffering" (Epilogue, chap 2). In another place Dmitri stated, "I want to suffer and by suffering I shall cleanse myself" (Part III, Book IX, chap 5).32

On one occasion Dostoevsky wrote to his wife: "God gave you to me so that…I might expiate my own great sins…"33 The repetitiveness of this salvation-through-suffering theme is far too relentless in Dostoevsky to be downplayed. Joseph Frank concluded that "the highest aim of Dostoevsky’s Christianity…is not personal salvation but the fusion of the individual ego with the community in a symbiosis of love; the only sin that Dostoevsky appears to recognize is the failure to fulfill this law of love."34

The book of Hebrews appears to grant some pedagogically perfecting power to suffering when rightly responded to (see Heb 2:10; 5:9; 12:2-11). God uses suffering as a teaching tool to conform us to Christ. Yet Dostoevsky (through the mouth of his characters) seemed to invest suffering with some spiritually regenerative power—and this we must repudiate. While Dostoevsky offered spiritual solutions for regeneration through his characters to other needy characters in his novels, I do not find forthcoming any clear-cut biblical prescription for salvation by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.

In relation to Roman Catholicism, Dostoevsky set forth numerous virulent tirades in his books. However, it is never apparent that he is taking Romanism to task on the grounds of their unbiblical soteriology. He saw Roman Catholicism’s temporal power as the principal threat to truth and viewed it as acceding to atheistic socialism.

E. Eschatology

"The end of the world is coming," wrote Dostoevsky in his notebook.35 During Dostoevsky’s days there was an excess of irreligion (in the form of atheism) and an excess of religion (in the form of apocalypticism). There is a considerable amount of apocalyptic talk occurring in both The Idiot and Demons.

One of the less serious characters in The Idiot, Lebedyev, is a "self-styled interpreter of the Apocalypse" [that is, the book of Revelation].37 In line with Matt 24:6, Dostoevsky remarked that "Christ himself…predicted…that strife and development will continue to the end of the world…"37 In The House of the Dead there is one discussion about the possibility of the return of the Jews to Jerusalem.

Revelation 6 crops up in one conversation between Lebedyev and Prince Myshkin (in The Idiot). Obviously the interpreter in this case adopts a historicist position by quoting events in Revelation 6 with the contemporary world of the 1800s. Lebedyev says "She agreed with me that we are living in the age of the third horse, the black one [Rev 6:5, 6], and the rider who has the balance in his hand, seeing that everything in the present age is weighed in the scales and by agreement, and people are seeking for nothing but their rights—‘a measure of wheat for a penny and three measures of barley for a penny’…and afterwards will follow the pale horse and he whose name was Death and with whom hell followed…[Rev 6:8]" (Part II, chap 2). Lebedyev’s apocalyptic interpretation is later called "mere charlatanism" by General Ivolgin (in Part II, chap 6). In the same book Princess Belokonskaya’s name reflects the symbolic fourth horse of Revelation 6, for belo in Russian means "white" and kon means "horse."38

In The Brothers Karamazov Ivan interprets Rev 8:11 as the heresy of antisupernaturalism manifest in the German Enlightenment—once more an example of a historicist hermeneutic. Lebedyev (in The Idiot) connects Rev 8:11’s Wormwood—amazingly—with the network of European railroads (Part II, chap 11)!

Revelation 10:6 also appears in Dostoevsky’s two chief apocalyptic novels. Demons informs us, "in the Apocalypse the angel swears that time will be no more" (Part II, chap 5). A dying consumptive named Ippolit wryly plays upon Rev 10:6 (in light of his secretly projected suicide) when he informs Prince Myshkin: "tomorrow there will be ‘no more time’" (Part III, chap 5). Then he asks, "And do you remember, prince, who proclaimed that there will be ‘no more time’? It was proclaimed by the great and might angel in the Apocalypse" (Ibid). Of course, most modern Bible versions render "time…no more" in the way the New King James Version does: "there should be delay no longer." While this retranslation undercuts the two preceding interpreter’s ideas, it nevertheless reveals Dostoevsky’s familiarity with the text of Revelation.

The system of interpretation revolving around Revelation 13 and Antichrist also makes its presence felt in Dostoevsky’s novels. "Is it true that you expound Antichrist?" the amateur analyst Lebedyev is asked (The Idiot, Part II, chap 2). Lebedyev responded that he "unfolded the allegory and fitted dates to it."

Most literary analysts concur in seeing Stavrogin in Demons as an antichrist figure. Stavrogin is not blatantly villainous, but he is the cold-and-bold, unpredictable polar personality around whom many of the other characters in the novel revolve. The name Stavrogin is related to the Byzantine word stavros (and Greek stauros), meaning "cross." Yet the rog part of his Russian name means "horn," making the student of eschatology think of Rev 13:1 and Dan 7:20-25.39 Furthermore, Stavrogin’s first name is Nikolai (meaning "conqueror of people") as in the name of the Nicolaitans in Rev 2:6 and 15.

Stavrogin’s chief henchman is Peter Verkhovensky. In Russian verkhovenstvo means "supremacy."40 Verkhovensky is the mean-spirited, nihilist revolutionary agitator in Demons. He says to Stavrogin, "You are my idol" and "I’ve been inventing you" (Part 2, chap 8). With these notions should be compared Rev 13:11-15. In the narrative Verkhovensky is an incendiary, so he—in effect—brings fire to the earth, paralleling Rev 13:13. In Demons the convict Fedka speaks to Verkhovensky of "every beast from the book of the Apocalypse" (Part III, chap 3).

Also in Demons the intellectual Kirillov talks to Stavrogin about "the man-god." To this notion Stavrogin queries, "[You mean] the God-man [by which he refers to Christ]?" Kirillov rather rejoins, "The man-god—that’s the whole difference" (Part II, chap 5). Again, the Bible student cannot help but reflect upon the parody of Christ found in antichrist (as in 2 Thess 2:3-4).

In Crime and Punishment Marmeladov, the alcoholic father, refers to drunkards "made in the image of the beast and his mark" (Part I, chap 2). Compare Rev 13:15-17. Consequently, the thought and terminology of Revelation 13 played a significant role in the thinking of Dostoevsky.

A parallel with Revelation 17 and 18 comes through when the Europe of the 1860s is likened to Babylon: "their Babylon is indeed going to collapse; great will be its fall…" (Demons, Part II, chap 5).

Joseph Frank wrote that Dostoevsky "sought to accept the essential dogmas of the divinity of Christ, personal immortality, the Second Coming and the Resurrection."41 When Raskolnikov (in Crime and Punishment) decides not to end his life in a canal, "he could not understand that his decision against suicide arose from a presentiment of a future resurrection and a new life."42

In Demons, Shatov, a nationalist who supports Christianity but isn’t a Christian himself, "believes that Christ’s second coming will be among the Russian people, who will then bring about the spiritual rebirth of the rest of the world."43 Thus, one of Dostoevsky’s characters provides a most interesting locus for Christ’s return.

In The Brothers Karamazov Ivan refers to Christ’s return in heavenly glory—like lightning (Part II, Book V, chap 5). Later Father Zosima’s friend says, "The sign of the Son of Man will be seen in the heavens" (Part II, Book VI, chap 2) as in Matt 24:30.

The Brothers Karamazov ends on a high note. After they return from the boy Ilyusha’s funeral, the youth Kolya asks Alyosha: "Can it be true what’s taught us in religion that we shall all rise again from the dead and shall live and see each other again, Ilyusha too?" To the youth’s question Alyosha replies: "Certainly" (Epilogue, chap 3).

Judgment is not missing in Dostoevsky’s novels. Frank notes that in the corpus of novels there is a "lurking imminence of the Day of Judgment and the Final Reckoning."44 Demons refers to the Last Judgment (Part I, chap 4).

Hell would seem to be a reality in Dostoevsky. Dmitri Karamazov asks whether he will go "to Heaven or to Hell…?" (The Brothers Karamazov, Part III, Book IV, chap 8). Berdyaev reported that "evil for [Dostoevsky] was evil, to be burned in the fires of hell."45 Peace claimed, "A striking feature of The Brothers Karamazov…is the extent to which the characters are obsessed by hell…"46 The debauched father (in The Brothers Karamazov) declared, "I believe in hell" (Part I, Book I, chap 4). Nevertheless, Father Zosima "did not literally believe in hellfire."47

In summary, then, Dostoevsky shows an overall respect for the Bible’s eschatology, although some of his characters promote bizarre interpretations. In A Raw Youth "Versilov speaks of the Second Coming which will end with the rapturous hymn that greets ‘the last resurrection.’"48

Thus, Dostoevsky seems to concur with historic orthodoxy that the Second Coming of Christ is that one far-off divine event toward which all creation moves (to borrow Tennyson’s language).

 IV. Was Dostoevsky a Christian?

The conclusion of philosopher Nicholas Berdyaev is: "I personally know no more profoundly Christian writer than Dostoevsky…" and asserts that Dostoevsky "loved Christ consumingly…"49 Given such complimentary conclusions, some readers might consider it almost sacrilegious to raise the question that entitles this section of the article. However, since Christians are commanded to be claim-testers (in 1 Thess: 5:21 and 1 John 4:1), the question must be deemed a legitimate issue to raise—especially in light of the previously discussed defective soteriology. We shall survey Dostoevsky’s religious heritage and then wrestle with the question of possible conversion points in his experience.

A. His Religious Heritage

Dostoevsky was raised within the womb of the Russian Orthodox Church. His grandfather was an archpriest, his uncle was a village priest, three aunts married village priests, and his father had even attended seminary for a while.50 Also his maternal grandfather corrected proofs of theological law in Moscow.51 Dostoevsky recorded. "I came from a pious Russian family…In our family, we knew the Gospel almost from the cradle."52 His childhood reading primer was 104 Sacred Stories from the Old and New Testaments. Job was one of the Bible stories that most fascinated him as a youngster. Furthermore, a deacon visited the Dostoevsky home and taught Scripture lessons "from one and a half to two hours" each week.53

A later strategic item in Dostoevsky’s story is his receiving a copy of The Gospels from three women en route to Siberian prison. One of the three, Natalya Fonvizina "knew [the Bible] almost by heart; she read the works of the Fathers of the Orthodox Church and the writers of the Catholic and Protestant churches…"54 Dostoevsky treasured and preserved this gift of The Gospels to his dying day, as we have noted.

B. The Conversion Question

This is a complicated question, because Dostoevsky was a complex person with complicated writings. The question is compounded by his involvement in one of those sacerdotal types of Eastern churches. Little Fyodor said his prayers daily before the family icon of the Virgin Mary: "Mother of God, keep me and preserve me under Thy wing!"55 His second wife reported that he said this favorite prayer with his children every evening at 9 p.m.56 Often such churches do not stress the importance of a clear-cut conversion decision. (Of course, we might also have a tough time determining from the Gospels exactly when Peter or any of the apostles were converted.)

It is possible that Dostoevsky began to believe in Christ during his early childhood experience. Like many children growing up in a Christian family, it may be hard to trace any neat before-and-after date. That is one possibility for attempting to pinpoint a starting point for Dostoevsky’s Christianity.

His life-sparing traumatic experience before the firing squad in 1849 left him feeling that he had been given new life—a sort of resurrection, but other documented factors would seem to militate against this event being assessed as a Christian conversion. His reported words to his brother Mikhail on that occasion were. "Now, in changing my life, I am reborn in a new form. Brother! I swear that I…will keep my soul and heart pure. I will be reborn for the better. That’s all my hope, all my consolation!"57 Note that the writer said both "I am reborn" and "I will be reborn." Because of what Dostoevsky said earlier to another prisoner, it is best to assume that here he was simply using flowery, figurative language. He was undoubtedly rejuvenated, but unlikely regenerated at this juncture in his life. He used similar words when his ten-pound leg chains were removed upon his release from the Siberian prison ("Freedom, new life, resurrection from the dead…!).58

If Dostoevsky was already a Christian before he left Siberia in 1859, he "never seemed to grow as a Christian," reported an anonymous Christianity Today reporter. "He had an affair. He became a compulsive gambler and lost so much money [that] he was all but bankrupt."59 This addiction to gambling; which placed his family in poverty, is chronicled in Dostoevsky’s novel The Gambler.

Another experience while he was in the Siberian prison is often cited by biographers. During one Easter week in prison Dostoevsky recounted a mystical experience. Before that, he had despised the other convicts. After it his attitude was completely altered. He related: "…suddenly felt I could look on these unfortunates with quite different eyes, and suddenly as if by miracle, all hatred and rancor had vanished from my heart."60 However, as Joseph Frank evaluates this so-called "conversion," it was "not faith in God or Christ…rather, it is a faith in the Russian common people. Dostoevsky’s regeneration [here]…centered primarily on his relations with the people…"61 This was a social rather than strictly spiritual conversion.

The principal problem with Dostoevsky’s salvation is his doctrine of salvation as expressed (or unexpressed) in his novels. There is such a stress upon a salvation by suffering that this theme raises real questions about an authentic Christianity in the famous author himself. Dostoevsky unquestionably believed he had a religious mission in his writing, but any message of clear-cut conversion—and how to become a Christian—fails to come through in the great novels. At best, they serve a pre-evangelistic purpose, which is indeed a valuable function. At the climax of his novels Christianity comes through more as a flickering light at the end of a dark tunnel. Even the Dostoevsky-praising philosopher Berdyaev observed that the famed Russian "did not tell us how to acquire [freedom of spirit], how we may attain spiritual and moral autonomy…"62

In an 1875 letter Dostoevsky advised N. L. Ozmidov: "Wouldn’t it be more to the point…if you read somewhat more attentively the epistles of St. Paul?"63 Ah, we could only wish that Dostoevsky had heeded his own admonition when it came to the subject of soteriology!

Thankfully, there is some evidence to be adduced on the positive side of the fence. We have Dostoevsky’s own utterance: "If you believe in Christ, then you believe you will live eternally."64 His wife Anna also narrated a visit to a monastery where her husband was asked point-blank by a Father Ambrosius whether he was a believer. To him Dostoevsky responded that he was.65 When Dostoevsky was about to be shot in 1849, a fellow prisoner named F. N. Lvov documented that Dostoevsky exclaimed to Speshnev: "We shall be with Christ."66 (The problem here is that Speshnev was a known atheist!) William Lyon Phelps, a Christian professor at Yale University, acknowledged that Dostoevsky "found in the Christian religion the only solution of the riddle of existence…"67

V. Conclusion

There is much valuable grist for a Christian’s mental mill to be found within the sterling novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky. His presentation of God, Christ, and sin are generally aligned with the theological thought of Christian orthodoxy. Sadly, however, his crystallizations that relate to the subject of salvation in his novels often appear defective. Do we suffer for our sins, or (as the NT declares) has Christ sufficiently suffered for our sins (Heb 9:26-28; 1 Pet 2:21-24; 3:18)? Dostoevsky almost seemed to embrace an in-this-life purgatory. Suffering here on earth is purgative, regenerative for him, which does not square with NT teaching. Suffering did prove personally beneficial in Dostoevsky’s own life, so he probably read his NT through this experiential grid. But experience will not necessarily be prescriptive for exegesis.

On this salient subject Dostoevsky is considerably less than a student of the NT could wish. However, just as we can profitably read the monumental works of the Arian John Milton or sing the hymns of another Arian—Isaac Watts, so a Christian does well to wrestle with the world-class novels of Fyodor Dostoevsky.

LIMINAL SPACE

Psychological term: a place where boundaries dissolve a little and we stand on the threshold, getting ourselves ready to move across the limits of what we were into what we are to be.

A space of transformation between phases of separation and reincorporation. It represents a period of ambiguity, of marginal and transitional state. The liminal or threshold world is a space between the world of status that the person is leaving and the world of status into which the person is being inducted.

The concept of liminality as a quality of "in-between" space and/or state is of the outmost importance in describing some of the most interesting and highly specific social and cultural phenomena: the transcultural space, the transgeographical space, the transgender space etc.

Liminal spaces are ambiguous and ambivalent.

RUSSIAN NAMES

Male characters: their middle names all end in "ovitch," which simply means "son of." Their middle name is just their father's name with this ending tacked on (called a patronymic). For example, Rodya's father's name was Roman Raskolnikov. Thus, Rodya's middle name is Romanovitch.

Female characters: similarly, their middle names all end in "ovna," which means "daughter of," and which is again tacked on to their father's name. E.g., Dounia's middle name is Romanovna.

A few keys to Russian pronunciation: "kh" is like the Scottish "ch" in "loch." "zh" is like the "s" in "measure." "v" at the end of a word is like an 'T."

Some fun with onomastics:

"raskol"= schism or split

"razum"= reason or common sense "marmelad"= jam or jelly

"luzha"= puddle

"zametit"= to notice

PART I- POINTS of INTEREST

Raskolnikov’s personality.

Indecision

Arrogance

Isolation/ perception of fellow man

Internal vs. external

Ubermensch/ amorality

Symbolism

The city

The apartment

The tavern

The pawnbroker

Representative

Sonya

Sonya=Sophia

The "moral center"/ moral ambiguity (liminal space, or "transpiritual identity")

Raskolnikov

Marmeladov

Suffering

Katerina (the victim)

Marmeladov (self-imposed)

The setting

Sacrifice

Christ references

Sonia

Dunya

The moral continuum

Svidrigailov/ Luzhin vs. Sonia/ Dunya. Where is Raskolnikov?

Raskolnikiv’s vascillation: to kill or not to kill?

The dream

 

 

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT UNIT STUDY GUIDE

Themes/ Motifs/ Symbols/ Concepts 

 

ASSIGNMENTS

Discussion Questions Parts I and II

1.  According to Kohlberg, where would Raskolnikov fall in the stages of moral development?

2.  If I were to say that Raskolnikov stands as an example of a Christian ideal, what might I mean? Why is it significant that Raskolnikov periodically displays flashes of conscience?

3.  If I were to say that Sonia stands as an example of a Christian ideal, what might I mean?

4.  What is the imagery associated with Raskolnikov's room (Chapter 3 in Part I)?  What is significant about it?

5.  How would you characterize the character type of Dounia in the novel?  (this is a stretch, I know, but do your best.)

6.  Where would Razumikhin fall in Kohlberg's stages of moral development?  Why?


Discussion Questions
For Crime and Punishment

1. One of the central themes of Crime and Punishment is that of redemption/salvation via suffering, especially in relation to Christian teachings. In what way is the biblical story of Lazarus relevant to the personal journeys of Raskolnikov and Marmeladov?

2. Do you think that Porfiry is aware of Raskolnikov’s guilt from the start of the play? If so, in what ways is Porfiry playing a game of psychological “cat and mouse” in order to trap Raskolnikov? And, why do you think that Raskolnikov cannot seem to resist discussing the crime with Porfiry, the very person he should avoid?

3. In Raskolnikov’s article, he argues that “extraordinary” men, who are often the world’s leaders, have a right to commit crimes when they must do so for the benefit of humanity. Are you for or against this argument? Provide examples from history or current world politics, if possible, to support your argument.

Discussion Questions #3

1. Relate the details of Raskolnikov’s crime. What evidence is there that Raskolnikov is mentally unbalanced at the time he commits the murders?

2.  Some critics believe that the character Razumihin serves to increase a reader’s sympathy for Raskolnikov by helping to present him as a worthwhile man, even though he is a murderer. Cite incidents from the story to support this idea.

3.   In what ways are Marmeladov and Raskolnikov alike? One of the themes of this novel is that through love and forgiveness, a man can be rehabilitated or reborn. In what way(s) does the character of Marmeladov help to illustrate this theme?

4.  In what way(s) are Sonia and Dounia similar characters? Why do you think Raskolnikov confesses his crime to Sonia rather than to his sister Dounia?

5. Both Svidrigailov and Luzhin are described by some critics as representing the evil side of man. Cite incidents from the story to discuss the extent to which you agree with this idea. In your opinion, which man represents the greater evil?

6.  Why does Katerina dress the children up as street singers?

7. What does Raskolnikov consider to be Sonia’s greatest sin? In what way does Luzhin help her to understand Raskolnikov’s point of view on this subject?

8. For what reasons does Dounia agree to marry Luzhin? How does Raskolnikov feel about her impending marriage? Why does she eventually break her engagement?

9. What do Svidrigailov’s dreams about the young girl reveal about his character? Svidrigailov admits to Raskolnikov that he is afraid to die, why then does he decide to

kill himself?

10. Cite two instances from the story supporting Raskolnikov’s belief that fate or providence are helping him to carry out his plan to murder the pawnbroker.

11. Describ in a few sentences  the character traits of one of the following characters from the story: Raskolnikov, Dounia, Luzhin, Sonia, Porfi ry.

12. Porfi ry admits that he has no “mathematical” proof that Raskolnikov is the murderer. Why then is Porfi ry convinced that Raskolnikov is guilty?

13. Why does the painter confess to the crime?

14. What do the number 3 and the color yellow represent in the story?

15. How does Dounia respond to Svidrigailov’s offer to give her 10,000 roubles?

16. Defi ne nihilism. In what way(s) does Svidrigailov live a nihilistic life style? Why do you think Dostoevsky presents the nihilistic views through Svidrigailov, a pervert, and Lebeziatnikov, a fool?

17. At what point in the story does Raskolnikov realize that he is in love with Sonia?

Discussion Questions #4-  The Epilogue

Chapter I

1. Why does the court conclude that Raskolnikov must have been mentally deranged when he committed the murders?

2. During his confession to the court, Raskolnikov claims that he committed the murders because he was miserably poor and wanted the money to provide for himself. What would be his motive for omitting his theory that extraordinary men have the right to

overstep the boundaries of the law? Is he fully repentant?

3. What evidence exists that Raskolnikov’s personality, mood, and character have not changed since he confessed his crimes and went to prison?

4. Describe Pulcheria’s state of mind throughout Raskolnikov’s trial and after he is sentenced to prison. What happens to Razumihin and Dounia?

Chapter II

1. When he first goes to prison, why is Raskolnikov ashamed? How does he feel about his prison life?

2. In the following passage, Raskolnikov discusses repentance:

And if only fate would have sent him repentance—burning repentance that would have torn

his heart and robbed him of sleep, that repentance, the awful agony of which brings visions of

hanging or drowning! Oh, he would have been glad of it! Tears and agonies would at least have

been life. But he did not repent of his crime. (Pg. 462)

Knowing that Raskolnikov does not repent his crime, how likely is it that he will continue to be a danger to society? What factor can help him want to find sincere repentance?

3. How does Raskolnikov come to realize that he loves Sonia?

4. State a theme for Crime and Punishment based on the following excerpt:

They [Sonia and Raskolnikov] wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They

were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future,

of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infi nite

sources of life for the heart of the other. (Pg. 466)

 

CRITICAL RESPONSE ASSIGNMENT 1

Choose one of the following passages on which to conduct a close reading.  Be sure that you do not choose a passage on which you have written a dialectical journal.  Then, in a carefully written, 2-page formal response, address the significance of the passage.  Discuss symbolism, theme (how the passage fits into the novel as a whole; you're looking for an analytical statement that is consistent with what we already know about the work), characterization, imagery, etc.  Be as complete as possible, but, at the same time, consider carefully your analysis. Can your conclusions be supported by the work? 

 

Your paper should be typed and MLA-formatted.  PLEASE REVIEW THE GUIDELINES SET FORTH IN THE MLA HANDBOOK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.  Be sure to proofread for mechanical errors (punctuation, spelling, sentence structure, verb tense, etc.)  While this assignment is a formal one, this is NOT an essay assignment.  Your task is not to write a five-paragraph essay or to establish a thesis and analyze the work as a whole.  You need only analyze the passage given, though, again, be sure to address the significance of the passage within the context of the broader work.

 

Note: 

 

Option 1: 

 

For that initial second he thought he was going insane.  A terrible coldness had seized him; but the coldness was also due to the fever which had begin in him a long time ago, while he had been asleep.  Now he was suddenly attacked by an ague so violent that his teeth nearly leapt from his mouth, so violently did they chatter, and his entire body started to shake.  He opened the door and began to listen: everyone in the building was fast asleep.

 

Part Two, Chapter I, pg. 109 (Penguin Classics edition) Note for those using the Garnett translation: this is the second paragraph in the novel.

Option 2:

Outside the heat was once again unbearable; not a single drop of rain all these days.  Again the dust, brick and lime, again the stench from the little shops and drinking dens, again at every moment the drinks, the Finnish pedlars and the cabs that were practically falling to bits.  The sun was glaring brightly into his eyes, making them hurt, and his head had begin to go round with a will--the usual sensation of a person in a fever who suddenly comes out to the street on a bright, sunny day.

 

When he reached the turning into yesterday's street, he glanced along it in an agony of anxiety, to that house... and immediately looked away.

 

'If they ask me about it I may tell them,' he thought, as he approached the building that housed the bureau.

 

Part II, chapter I, pg. 115 (Penguin Classics edition) Note  for those using the Garnett translation: this is the 34th paragraph indentation in the chapter

 

CRITICAL RESPONSE ASSIGNMENT 2

Choose one of the following passages on which to conduct a close reading.  Be sure that you do not choose a passage on which you have written a dialectical journal.  Then, in a carefully written, 2-page formal response, address the significance of the passage.  Discuss symbolism, theme (how the passage fits into the novel as a whole; you're looking for an analytical statement that is consistent with what we already know about the work), characterization, imagery, etc.  Be as complete as possible, but, at the same time, consider carefully your analysis. Can your conclusions be supported by the work? 

 

Your paper should be typed and MLA-formatted.  PLEASE REVIEW THE GUIDELINES SET FORTH IN THE MLA HANDBOOK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.  Be sure to proofread for mechanical errors (punctuation, spelling, sentence structure, verb tense, etc.)  While this assignment is a formal one, this is NOT an essay assignment.  Your task is not to write a five-paragraph essay or to establish a thesis and analyze the work as a whole.  You need only analyze the passage given, though, again, be sure to address the significance of the passage within the context of the broader work.

 

Note: 

Option 1

During the course of their conversation, Raskolnikov studied (Sonia) fixedly.  This was a thin, very thin and pale little face, rather irregular and sharp, with a sharp, small nose and chin.  One could certainly not have called her pretty, but on the other hand her blue eyes were so clear, and when they grew animated the expression of her face became so kind and open-hearted that one felt oneself involuntarily drawn to her.  There was about her face, moreover, as about all the rest of her, one peculiar distinguishing feature:  in spite of her eighteen years, she still looked more or less like a little girl, far younger than she was, almost a complete child, and occasionally, in some of her movements, this made itself almost absurdly evident.

Part Three, chapter IV, pg. 283 (Penguin Classics edition) Note  for those using the Garnett translation: this is the 23rd paragraph indentation in the chapter

Option 2

'The old woman is rubbish!' he thought, heatedly and with violence.  'It's possible that the old woman was a mistake, but she's not what it's all about, in any case!  The old woman was just an illness... I wanted to get my stepping-over done as quickly as possible... It wasn't a person but a principle that I killed!  I killed the principle, but I didn't step over it, I remained on this side of it... All I was able to do was to kill....'

Part Three, chapter VI, pg. 326 (Penguin Classics edition)

CRITICAL RESPONSE ASSIGNMENT 3

In a carefully written, 2-page formal response, address the significance of the following passage.  Discuss symbolism (if applicable) , theme (how the passage fits into the novel as a whole; you're looking for an analytical statement that is consistent with what we already know about the work), characterization, imagery, etc.  Be as complete as possible, but, at the same time, consider carefully your analysis. Can your conclusions be supported by the work? 

 

Your paper should be typed and MLA-formatted.  PLEASE REVIEW THE GUIDELINES SET FORTH IN THE MLA HANDBOOK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS.  Be sure to proofread for mechanical errors (punctuation, spelling, sentence structure, verb tense, etc.)  While this assignment is a formal one, this is NOT an essay assignment.  Your task is not to write a five-paragraph essay or to establish a thesis and analyze the work as a whole.  You need only analyze the passage given, though, again, be sure to address the significance of the passage within the context of the broader work.

 

Note: 

Option 1

In any case, what were they, all those torments of the past, all of them?  The whole thing, even his crime, even his sentence and exile, now seemed to him, on this first impulse, now seemed to him something alien and external, as though none of it had ever happened to him.  He was, however, unable to give much prolonged or continuous thought to anything that evening, or to concentrate on any one idea; and anyway, even if he had been able to, he would not have found his way to a solution of these questions in a conscious manner; now he could only feel.  In place of dialectics life had arrived, and in his consciousness something of a wholly different nature must now work towards fruition.

Under his pillow there was a copy of the New Testament.  Mechanically, he took it out.  This book was hers, was the same one from which she had read to him of the raising of Lazarus.  At the outset of his penal servitude he had thought she would torment him with religion, talk about the New Testament and press books on him.  Much to his great surprise, however, she never once even offered him a New Testament.  He himself had asked for it not long before he had fallen ill, and she had brought him her copy in silence.  Until now, he had never opened it.

Even now he did not open it, but a certain thought flickered through his mind:  "What if her convictions can now be mine, too?  Her feelings, her strivings, at least..."

Epilogue, Chapter II, pg. 656 (Penguin Classics edition)

ABSTRACT ASSIGNMENT

Choose one of the following articles on which to complete an abstract (if you need a reminder in how to write an abstract, see the assignment list from the fall semester on the home page).  Don't forget to include MLA citation information.

Article 1

Humanity in Crime and Punishment

In Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky created an unforgettable novel of haunting intensity. With its sustained focus on the emotions and thoughts of its young protagonist, Rodion Raskolnikov, Dostoyevsky's novel provides a harrowing portrait of human error and misfortune. Dostoyevsky had originally intended to write an account of murder from the perspective of the murderer himself. As he worked on the project in November 1865, however, he concluded that such a perspective might be too limited, so he chose an omniscient, third-person narrative mode instead. Yet traces of the original design remain: much of the novel offers direct insight into Raskolnikov's impressions and experiences. One of the ways in which Dostoyevsky allows the reader intimate access into his protagonist's mind is by describing Raskolnikov's dreams. Early in the novel, for example, Raskolnikov has a vivid dream in which he sees himself as a young boy accompanying his father on a visit to the grave of a younger brother who died in infancy. On the way to the grave, Raskolnikov and his father witness an enraged peasant beating an old, overburdened mare. The young boy is horrified to see how the peasant whips the horse across the eyes. Finally, the peasant kills the horse with an iron crowbar, and the shocked child runs over to kiss the horse's bloody muzzle. It is after he awakens from this dream that Raskolnikov utters aloud for the first time his plan to take an axe and smash open the old pawnbroker's skull. Clearly, Raskolnikov's vivid dream has brought to the surface his unexpressed, murderous intentions.

Dostoyevsky's treatment of this dream has additional significance, however. Some dream analysts might argue that every character in one's dream represents some aspect of the dreamer's personality or impulses. Therefore, not only does the figure of the murderous peasant evoke Raskolnikov's own murderous urges, but also, the figure of the murdered horse might represent some part of the dreamer. Indeed, Raskolnikov's crime not only has the effect of killing the pawnbroker and Lizaveta in a physical sense, it also has the effect of killing Raskolnikov himself in a spiritual sense. Long after the murder he would tell Sonya: "I killed myself, not that old creature!" Having "died" at the moment when he killed the pawnbroker and Lizaveta, Raskolnikov is faced with the challenge of being restored to "life," and much of the novel records his struggle with this problem.

Raskolnikov's interactions with Sonya play a significant role in this process. During the meeting in which he confesses his crime to her, Raskolnikov's conduct and words have the effect of creating a kind of psychological or emotional reen-actment of the original murder. Just as Raskolnikov feels that he killed himself when he murdered the pawnbroker, so too must he now have a second victim: the innocent Sonya takes the symbolic place of the innocent Lizaveta. The unconscious aim of Raskolnikov's behavior during this scene is to see how Sonya handles the dreadful experience. Will she be devastated by her recognition of Raskolnikov's crime, or, on the contrary, will she find a way to go on living and thus serve as a model for Raskolnikov himself? Her religious faith and her love for Raskolnikov serve as a potent force for the criminal's regeneration.

Dostoyevsky's treatment of the theme of death and regeneration makes distinctive use of religious imagery, from the Gospel account of the raising of Lazarus (first mentioned to Raskolnikov by Porfiry Petrovich and then read aloud by Sonya to Raskolnikov) to the final scene of the novel, which takes place soon after the Christian holiday of Easter. During that final scene, Raskolnikov feels a surge of overwhelming love for Sonya, as if his soul has undergone a sudden cleansing or purification. Dostoyevsky's description of this moment emphasizes its religious dimensions. He writes that Raskolnikov and Sonya experience "a perfect resurrection into a new life" and that "Love had raised them from the dead."

In addition to its religious imagery, Crime and Punishment also incorporates other symbolic systems. Landscapes and physical settings often suggest a character's emotional or psychological conditions. Raskolnikov lives in a tiny, cramped room, an evocative emblem of how constricted his lifestyle and thinking have become. He buries the items stolen from the pawnbroker under a huge rock. This rock serves as a reminder of the crushing burden of guilt that Raskolnikov carries with him. Recognizing the cramped nature of Raskolnikov's lifestyle and thinking, Porfiry Petrovich tells him that he needs "air" and that he should learn to be a "sun." The only time that Raskolnikov feels some sense of ease is when he leaves the stifling city streets behind and walks out into the countryside. His spiritual conversion at the end of the novel takes place on the bank of a river with a wide, pastoral scene displayed in front of him.

Yet it is not only the physical landscape that amplifies and reflects Raskolnikov's inner condition. Dostoyevsky's handling of other characters also plays a key role in the development and exposition of the central figure. As Raskolnikov moves through the city, he seems to move through a charged atmosphere in which every encounter triggers a resonant response in his soul. Thus, his chance meeting with Marmeladov introduces the concepts of suffering and self-sacrifice, concepts that will become so important to Raskolnikov later in the novel. More importantly, the characters who surround Raskolnikov often seem to serve as potential doubles or alter egos. That is, the traits that these characters embody represent potential directions for Raskolnikov himself. On one side stands the humble Sonya. She is willing to sacrifice herself for her family, and she puts the ideals of love and service to one's fellow humans above any notion of self-glorification. On the other side stands the corrupt Svidrigailov. He indulges in extreme forms of debauchery simply to relieve his boredom. Svidngailov tells Raskolnikov that he considers the young man to be something of a kindred spirit. Although Raskolnikov does not wish to admit it, he senses that there may be some validity to Svidrigailov's assertions. When Svidrigailov informs Sonya that Raskolnikov only has two paths to choose from, either "a bullet in the brain" or "Siberia," he has effectively identified the choices that lie in front of the wretched young man. Only Sonya's appearance outside the police station at the end of the main section of the novel prevents Raskolnikov from emulating Svidrigailov's example and committing suicide. Instead, he follows her advice, confesses his crime, and with her love and support he ultimately finds redemption in Siberia.

In addition to the main characters who reflect and amplify Raskolnikov's conflicting impulses, several secondary characters appear in the novel to convey Dostoyevsky's scorn for certain ideological trends in contemporary Russian society. The pompous Luzhin, for example, has come to St. Petersburg to curry favor with the new "progressive" elements among the intelligentsia. Dostoyevsky uses Luzhin's simplistic praise for scientific thought and the virtues of self-interest to mock the popular ideas of the progressive writer N. G. Chernyshevsky. Even more satirical in this regard is the character of Lebezyatnikov, who has been so impressed with scenes from Chernyshevsky's novel, What Is to Be Done, that he tries to outdo the behavior of characters from that novel. He tells Luzhin that if he had a wife, he would encourage her to take a lover simply so he could show his magnanimity and understanding in refusing to condemn her.

Dostoyevsky's disdain for the radical movement was perhaps fueled by his own early exposure to progressive social movements. As a young man in the 1840s he had belonged to a small circle devoted to the discussion and dissemination of Utopian socialist thought. His participation in this group had led to his arrest and imprisonment in 1849. He was subsequently sentenced to prison camp and exile in Siberia, and a decade would pass before he could return to St. Petersburg. Through his portrait of the young Raskolnikov, Dostoyevsky wished to show the dangers of errant thought in contemporary Russia. Those who believed that society's ills could be cured through rationalistic schemes, without regard for the inner spiritual and emotional complexity of the human subject, were not only doomed to fail, but from Dostoyevsky's perspective, they represented a serious threat to society itself. Raskolnikov's crime, then, serves to illustrate the pernicious nature of the radicals' self-centered and self-elevating intellectual schemes. Yet Dostoyevsky's novel offers much more than a partisan ideological tract. His haunting description of Raskolnikov's desperate struggles and aspirations has resulted in one of the most memorable and thought-provoking works in all of world literature.

Source: Julian Connolly, in an essay for Novels for Students, Gale, 1998.

Connolly is a professor of Slavic Languages and Literatures at the University of Virginia.

Article 2

The Principals of Uncertainty in Crime and Punishment

As the novel [Crime and Punishment] grew under Dostoevski's pen, his notebooks and drafts show that he went from uncertainty to uncertainty in depicting Raskolnikov and his crime, even jotting down reminders to himself to elucidate the murderer's motives more clearly. It would be easy enough to conclude from this that Dostoevsky ... had simply not suspected the full richness and potential of his character and his theme, but this would be too simple a conclusion. Uncertainty is an important artistic principle in much of Dostoevsky's work, and it is at the very heart of Crime and Punishment....

In Crime and Punishment Dostoevsky sacrifices to the principle of uncertainty many of the conventional prerogatives of the novelist: his most far-reaching sacrifice was that of omniscience .... In Crime and Punishment the narrator enjoys no consistent perceptual advantage over the participants: he sees the world through the same haze of subjective uncertainty as Raskolnikov does. It is this above all else that gives the novel its permanently nightmarish quality.

The most obvious manifestation of this kind of uncertainty is in the presentation of motive. Raskolnikov becomes a "criminal in search of his own motive"; he does not in the end know why he committed his crime, and neither does the reader. The narrator offers us no definite explanation, only a share in Raskolnikov's confusion.... Dostoevsky originally conceived Raskolnikov's crime as a means of exposing the absurdity of the moral utilitarianism characteristic of many leading intellectuals in the 1860s....

The utilitarian principle undoubtedly remains a major aspect of Raskolnikov's crime in the finished novel. Indeed, he does not finally renounce it until his conversion in the Epilogue. In a conversation with Dunya late in the novel he vigorously defends the morality of his crime in utilitarian terms: " 'Crime? What crime!' he cried in a sort of sudden frenzy. 'That I killed a vile, harmful louse, an old hag of a moneylender of no use to anybody, for whose murder one should be forgiven forty sins, and who bled poor people dry. Can that be called a crime? I don't think about it, and I have no desire to wipe it out.'" But the utilitarian ethic alone can satisfy the demands of neither the reader nor Raskolnikov himself for a comprehensive explanation of his act. In a sense, this affirms Dostoevsky's point that the complex and often contradictory impulses behind human action cannot in the end be reduced to simple causal chains or primary motives. But Raskolnikov, as a "man of the sixties," cannot countenance the possibility that he has committed an irrational or irreducible act. He craves a comprehensive motive to restore his belief in the lucidity of human values and behavior. Yet rational utilitarianism is not adequate to the task, and he loses himself in the maze of his own personality. He embarks upon his crime ostensibly with the aim of robbery to further the fortunes of himself and other socially worthy people at the expense of a worthless parasite—a simple and logical adjustment of society's faulty arithmetic. Yet he fails to ascertain in advance the extent and whereabouts of his victim's wealth; he leaves with only a few cheap trinkets which he soon abandons under a stone and never reclaims. At no stage does he consider the possibility of appropriating the old woman's wealth without resorting to murder. It quickly becomes obvious that Raskolnikov has not murdered in order to steal; he has fabricated a shabby robbery in order to murder. He has only murder on his mind, not the appropriation and redistribution of wealth.

After the murder the utilitarian motive slips farther and farther into the background as Raskolnikov's probing intellect discerns the shapes of other and more disturbing implications of his act. It is worth remembering that he is rarely troubled by the murder of Lizaveta, the innocent victim of an unanticipated turn of events. This second killing does not engage his concern, for it was an unpremeditated, simple, even "innocent" slaying with a clear motive: Raskolnikov killed Lizaveta in order to escape. It is the "rationally justified" murder of the old hag that gnaws at his soul and that in the end he cannot account for.

Porfiry Petrovich, the examining magistrate, is the first to associate the murder with the ideas expounded in an article of Raskolnikov's on crime, and thus to open the way to an explanation of the crime, not in terms of Raskolnikov's professed utilitarian altruism, but in the light of his insane pride, egoism, and craving for power. Raskolnikov's article, published without his knowledge, is a product of the narrow, cloistered intellectualism which characterizes the young ex-student and makes it so difficult for him to enter the mainstream of life. It is composed of the cramped and arid thoughts engendered by the coffinlike room in which he leads only the ghost of a life. The article divides humanity into two distinct categories: the Supermen, such as Newton and Napoleon, who by virtue of their originality, strength of will, or daring, write their names boldly in the history of human achievement; and the Lice, the ordinary men and women who are the bricks and not the architects of history and who contribute nothing new. The former, according to Raskolnikov, have an inherent right to moral and intellectual freedom; they create their own laws and may overstep the bounds of conventional law and morality. The latter are condemned by their ordinariness to a life of submission to common law and common morality; their sole function is to breed in the hope of one day giving birth to a Superman.

Clearly belief in any such division of humanity must tempt the man of pride into a harrowing dilemma of self-definition; and Raskolnikov is a man of immense pride. Does he therefore murder in the conviction that, as a superior man, he has the right to brush aside conventional morality in order to expedite the contribution he must make to history? This is unlikely, for, although Raskolnikov is seduced by his pride into longing for the status of Superman, his persistent doubts as he plans and rehearses the murder reveal all too clearly his uncertainty and fear of the Superman's freedom. Is the crime therefore conceived as a grotesque act of self-definition, whereby by assessing his reaction to moral transgression Raskolnikov seeks to choose his true self from the differing options offered by his pride and his uncertainty? This affords a tantalizingly plausible explanation of the murder; after all, we would expect the abstract Raskolnikov to respond most readily to abstract motives. Somehow it is impossible to imagine this unphysical intellectual murdering in response to such physical needs as hunger or want; but we can imagine him chasing the specter of self-knowledge. Moreover, Raskolnikov's need of self-definition is acute; in the novel's early chapters he oscillates wildly between satanic pride and abject humility, between unbounded admiration for the strong and limitless pity for the weak....

But the crime could be an authentic attempt at the resolution of this duality only if Raskolnikov were genuinely uncertain to which category of humanity he belonged, and this is not the case. In his pride he might long to be a Napoleon, but he knows that he is a louse, knows it even before he commits the crime, as he later acknowledges: "and the reason why I am finally a louse is because I am perhaps even nastier and viler than the louse I killed, and I felt beforehand that I would say that to myself after I had killed her." The implications of this admission are startling: Raskolnikov embarked upon the murder of the old woman knowing in advance that he had no right to kill and no clear motive, and, moreover, clearly anticipating the destructive effect such an act would have upon the rest of his life. Perhaps it is this he has in mind when he later asserts: "Did I really kill the old hag? I killed myself, not the old hag! At that moment in one blow I did away with myself for good!" This feature of Raskolnikov's behavior illustrates the incompatibility of knowledge and pride. Raskolnikov's knowledge that he is ordinary and has no special right to overstep conventional moral limits cannot contain his proud and essentially irrational need to assert himself. In the end his crime is an act of terrifying inconsequence: a proud, petulant, and meaningless protest against the certain knowledge that he is not superior; a moment when the demands of frustrated pride are so insistent that he is prepared to sacrifice the whole of his future to them. "I simply killed; I killed for myself, for myself alone, and at that moment it was all the same to me whether I became some sort of benefactor of humanity or spent the rest of my life catching people in my web and sucking the life forces out of them like a spider."

In Crime and Punishment the principle of uncertainty encompasses more than the question of motivation. Even the spatial and temporal coordinates of the novel are blurred and at times distorted by a narrator whose precise nature and point of view are neither clearly defined nor absolutely fixed. The notebooks reveal that the adoption of a narrative point of view presented Dostoevsky with his greatest difficulty in writing the novel. He onginally planned to use the first-person confession form, which would have allowed direct and easy access to the thought processes of the hero, but which would have created real difficulties when it came to filling in the objective details of the world in which the murderer moves. Dostoevsky wrestled with this form until the third and final draft, when a new approach occurred to him: "Narration from point of view of author, a sort of invisible but omniscient being who doesn't leave his hero for a moment." The third-person narrator anticipated in this comment is retained for the novel itself, but his omniscience is open to doubt. Complete omniscience would have robbed the novel of its haunting uncertainty and provided the reader too clear an insight into Raskolnikov's behavior and motivation. The first chapter illustrates this particularly well, as the alleys of St. Petersburg, with their stifling heat, dust, stuffiness, and smells, are conveyed to the reader in terms of the impression they make upon Raskolnikov. These details of the physical world, in passing through Raskolnikov' s awareness, lose their tactile and sensual authenticity and are transformed into psychological stimuli....

In much the same way our sense of real space is distorted by this subjective third-person narrative. Many years after the appearance of Crime and Punishment Einstein argued that we cannot experience space in the abstract, independent of the matter that fills it; and it is Raskolnikov's consciousness that fills this novel. Like a gravitational field, it warps the space around it. For example, the description of Raskolnikov's room as seen through Raskolnikov's eyes at the start of the novel is uncomfortably inconsistent with objectively narrated events which occur in this same room later. The room appears to shift its size with the narrative point of view. The early description is clearly conditioned by Raskolnikov's own sensations of claustrophobia; he is oppressed and haunted by ideas, theories, pride, poverty, and illness, and the room he describes with hatred upon waking from a restless sleep resembles a tomb. A mere six feet long, not high enough for a man to stand, littered with dusty books, its yellow wallpaper peeling from the walls, it is dominated by a huge, clumsy sofa. The description accords so perfectly with what we know of Raskolnikov's state of mind that we hardly distinguish where his consciousness ends and the outside world begins. Yet a few chapters later, as Raskolnikov lies in bed semidelirious after the crime and the narrative adopts a more objective course in order to permit the introduction of several new characters, our sense of the room's size is quite different. As the sick Raskolnikov is visited by his maid Nastasya, his friend Razumikhin, the doctor Zosimov, and his sister's suitor Luzhin, the "tomb" seems to open out in order to accommodate each new arrival.

Distance is equally intangible. When, in Chapter 1, Raskolnikov visits his victim's flat, we have no real sensation of his physically moving from one environment to another. Dostoevsky tells us that "exactly seven hundred and thirty" paces separate the pawnbroker's flat from Raskolnikov's hovel, but the precision of this figure is entirely numerical. Locked inside Raskolnikov's consciousness as he rehearses a multitude of doubts and hesitations, we measure the physical distance only in terms of the number of thoughts which flash through his mind.

But the most uncertain quantity of all is time. Nearly all readers of Crime and Punishment experience the loss of a sense of duration in the course of the novel. It seems hardly possible, but the entire action requires only two weeks, and Part I a mere three days. Directed by the narrative mode into the inner world of Raskolnikov's turbulent imagination, we lose our temporal reference points.

Absolute time ceases to be; we know time only as Raskolnikov experiences it. At moments it is severely retarded—indeed, in Part I, as Raskolnikov prepares for the kill, its flow is all but arrested; later the sense of time is violently accelerated as Raskolnikov undergoes the vertiginous fall from his crime to his confession. In this way time becomes a function of consciousness. We might go further and suggest an analogy with Einsteinian time, which, like Dostoevsky's, depends fundamentally upon point of view. For Einstein there could be no absolute time, the time experienced by separate observers differed according to their relative motion. Dostoevsky seems to be suggesting something very similar in a cryptic remark in the drafts for Crime and Punishment: "What is time? Time does not exist; time is only numbers. Time is the relation of what exists to what does not exist." This remark might perhaps be interpreted as meaning that there is no abstract, absolute time. Time exists only when actualized in an event or series of events. The importance of this for Crime and Punishment is that events and their duration are experienced differently by different observers. Through Raskolnikov's consciousness the reader of the novel observes only the hero's experiences of intervals between events. There are no events narrated with consistent objectivity which form reference points against which to judge Raskolnikov's sense of time....

Despite all the uncertainties upon which Crime and Punishment rests, one overriding certainty is sustained throughout the novel: the conviction, shared by author, reader, and hero, that the crime is in the final analysis wrong.

Source: William J. Leatherbairow, "The Principles of Uncertainty: Crime and Punishment," in his Fedor Dostoevsky, Twayne, 1981, pp. 69-95.

Article 3

Traditional Symbolism in Crime and Punishment

It may seem paradoxical to claim that critics have not sufficiently concerned themselves with Dostoevsky's attack against rationalism in Crime and Punishment; yet this aspect of the novel has frequently failed to receive adequate attention, not because it has been overlooked, but because often it has been immediately noticed, perfunctorily mentioned, and then put out of mind as something obvious. Few writers have examined the consequence of the anti-rationalistic tenor of the novel: the extent to which it is paralleled by the structural devices incorporated in the work.

Dostoevsky held that dialectics, self-seeking, and exclusive reliance on reason ("reason and will" in Raskolnikov's theories and again in his dream of the plague) lead to death-in-life. In Crime and Punishment he set himself the task of exposing the evils of rationalism by presenting a laboratory case of an individual who followed its precepts and pushed them to their logical conclusion. By working out what would happen to that man, Dostoevsky intended to show how destructive the idea was for individuals, nations, and mankind; for to him the fates of the individual and the nation were inseparably interlocked....

The underlying antithesis of Crime and Punishment, the conflict between the side of reason, selfishness, and pride, and that of acceptance of suffering, closeness to life-sustaining Earth, and love, sounds insipid and platitudinous when stated in such general fashion as we have done here. Dostoevsky, however, does not present it in the form of abstract statement alone. He conveys it with superb dialectical skill, and when we do find direct statements in the novel, they are intentionally made so inadequate as to make us realize all the more clearly their disappointing irrelevancy and to lead us to seek a richer representation in other modes of discourse....

Symbolism is the method of expression with which we are primarily concerned here, but it is far from being the only indirect, non-intellectual manner of expression on which Dostoevsky depends. Oblique presentation is another means which he uses; one example is the introduction of the subject of need for suffering. The idea is first presented in a debased and grotesque form by Marmeladov. His confession of how he had mistreated his family, of his drinking, and of the theft of money—to Raskolnikov, a stranger whom he has met in the tavern—is almost a burlesque foreshadowing of Raskolnikov's later penance, the kissing of the earth and his confession at the police station. Marmeladov is drunk, irresponsible, and still submerged in his selfish course of action; he welcomes suffering but continues to spurn his responsibilities; he is making a fool of himself in the tavern. His discourse throughout calls for an ambiguous response. Raskolnikov's reaction may be pity, agreement, laughter, or disgust; the reader's is a mixture and succession of all those emotions.

Thus the important ideas summed up in Marmeladov's "it's not joy I thirst for, but sorrow and tears" are introduced in a derogatory context and in an ambivalent manner, on the lowest, least impressive level. Yet the concept is now present with us, the readers, as it is with Raskolnikov—even though it first appears in the guise of something questionable, disreputable, and laughable—and we are forced to ponder it and to measure against it Sonya's, Raskolnikov's, Porfiry's and others' approaches to the same subject of "taking one's suffering."

A simple, unequivocal statement, a respectable entrance of the theme on the stage of the book, would amount to a reduction of life to "a matter of arithmetic" and would release the reader from the salutary, in fact indispensable task of smelting down the ore for himself....

In Crime and Punishment the reader, as well as Raskolnikov, must struggle to draw his own conclusions from a work which mirrors the refractory and contradictory materials of life itself, with their admixture of the absurd, repulsive, and grotesque....

Traditional symbolism, that is, symbolism which draws on images established by the Christian tradition and on those common in Russian non-Christian, possibly pre-Christian and pagan, folk thought and expression, is an important element in the structure of Crime and Punishment. The outstanding strands of symbolic imagery in the novel are those of water, vegetation, sun and air, the resurrection of Lazarus and Christ, and the earth.

Water is to Dostoevsky a symbol of rebirth and regeneration. It is regarded as such by the positive characters, for whom it is an accompaniment and an indication of the life-giving forces in the world. By the same token, the significance of water may be the opposite to negative characters. Water holds the terror of death for the corrupt Svidrigaylov, who confirms his depravity by thinking: "Never in my life could I stand water, not even on a landscape painting." Water, instead of being an instrument of life, becomes for him a hateful, avenging menace during the last hours of his life....

Indeed it will be in the cold and in the rain that he will put a bullet in his head. Instead of being a positive force, water is for him the appropriate setting for the taking of his own life.

When Raskolnikov is under the sway of rationalism and corrupting ways of thinking, this also is indicated by Dostoevsky by attributing to him negative reactions to water similar to those of Svidrigaylov. In Raskolnikov, however, the battle is not definitely lost. A conflict still rages between his former self—which did have contact with other people and understood the beauty of the river, the cathedral (representing the traditional, religious, and emotional forces), and water—and the new, rationalistic self, which is responsible for the murder and for his inner desiccation.... There is still left in Raskolnikov an instinctive reaction to water (and to beauty) as an instrument of life, although this receptivity, which had been full-blown and characteristic of him in his childhood, is now in his student days overlaid by the utilitarian and rationalistic theories....

But Raskolnikov also realizes that his trends of thought have banished him, like Cain, from the brotherhood of men and clouded his right and ability to enjoy beauty and the beneficent influences of life symbolized by water; hence his perplexity and conflict....

Related to the many references to the river and rain, and often closely associated with them, are two other groups of symbolic imagery: that of vegetation (shrubbery, leaves, bushes, flowers, and greenness in general) and that of the sun (and the related images of light and air).

In contrast to the dusty, hot, stifling, and crowded city, a fitting setting for Raskolnikov's oppressive and murderous thoughts, we find, for example, "the greenness and the freshness" of the Petersburg islands.... The natural surroundings reawakened in him the feelings of his youth, through which he came close to avoiding his crime and to finding regeneration without having to pass through the cycle of Crime and Punishment.....

By the same token, vegetation exercised the opposite effect on Svidrigaylov: it repelled him. In the inn on the night of his suicide, when he heard the leaves in the garden under his window, he thought, "How I hate the noise of trees at night in a storm and in darkness." Whereas Raskolnikov received a healthy warning during his short sleep "under a bush," Svidrigaylov uses the sordid setting of an amusement park which "had one spindly three-year-old Christmas tree and three small bushes" merely for vain distraction on the eve of his suicide, and contemplates killing himself under "a large bush drenched with rain." In him all positive elements had been rubbed out or transformed into evil.

Similar to water and vegetation, sunshine, light in general, and air are positive values, whereas darkness and lack of air are dangerous and deadening. The beauty of the cathedral flooded by sunlight ought to be felt and admired.... Before the murder, he looks up from the bridge at the "bright, red sunset" and is able to face the sun as well as the river with calm, but after the murder, "in the street it was again unbearably hot—not a drop of rain all during those days .... The sun flashed brightly in his eyes, so that it hurt him to look and his head was spinning round in good earnest—the usual sensation of a man in a fever who comes out into the street on a bright, sunny day." The sun is pleasant for a man in good spiritual health, but unbearable for a feverish creature of the dark, such as Raskolnikov had become....

Absence of air reinforces the lack of light suggestive of inner heaviness. Raskolnikov, whom Svidrigaylov tells that people need air, feels physically and mentally suffocated when he is summoned to the police-station: "There's so little fresh air here. Stifling. Makes my head reel more and more every minute, and my brain too." Later he tells his friend Razumikhin: "Things have become too airless, too stifling." Airiness, on the contrary, is an indication of an advantageous relation between outward circumstances and Raskolnikov's inner state. The warning dream of the mare comes to Raskolnikov in a setting not only of greenness but also of abundance of fresh air: "The green vegetation and the fresh air at first pleased his tired eyes, used to the dust of the city, to the lime and mortar and the huge houses that enclosed and confined him on all sides. The air was fresh and sweet here: no evil smells."

When we turn to specifically Christian symbolism in Crime and Punishment, we find the outstanding images to be those of New Jerusalem, Christ's passion, and Lazarus. New Jerusalem is an important concept throughout Dostoevsky's work.... Porfiry asks Raskolmkov, "Do you believe in New Jerusalem?" The significance of Raskolnikov' s positive answer lies in the fact that the New Jerusalem which he means is the Utopian perversion of it, to be built upon foundations of crime and individual self-assertion and transgression (prestuplenie). It is the "Golden Age," as Raskolnikov called it in the draft version in Dostoevsky's notebook: "Oh why are not all people happy? The picture of the Age of Gold—it is already present in minds and hearts. Why should it not come about? ... But what right have I, a mean murderer, to wish happiness to people and to dream of the Age of Gold?"

The confession of Raskolnikov is described in terms reminiscent of Christ's passion on the road to Golgotha: he goes on "his sorrowful way." When Raskolnikov reads in his mother's letter of Dunya' s having walked up and down in her room and prayed before the Kazan Virgin, he associates her planned self-sacrifice in marrying Luzhin with the biblical prototype of self-assumed suffering for the sake of others: "Ascent to Golgotha is certainly pretty difficult," he says to himself. When Raskolnikov accepts Lizaveta's cypress cross from Sonya, he shows his recognition of the significance of his taking it—the implied resolve to seek a new life though accepting suffering and punishment—by saying to Sonya, "This is the symbol of my taking up the cross."

One of the central Christian myths alluded to in the novel is the story of Lazarus. It is the biblical passage dealing with Lazarus that Raskolnikov asks Sonya to read to him. The raising of Lazarus from the dead is to Dostoevsky the best exemplum of a human being resurrected to a new life, the road to Golgotha the best expression of the dark road of sorrow, and Christ himself the grand type of voluntary suffering....

The traditional emphasis of the Eastern Church is on Resurrection—of the Western, on the Passion. In Crime and Punishment both sides are represented: the Eastern in its promise of Raskolnikov's rebirth, the Western in the stress on his suffering. Perhaps at least part of the universality of the appeal of the novel and of its success in the West may be due to the fact that it combines the two religious tendencies....

The Christian symbolism is underlined by the pagan and universal symbolism of the earth. Sonya persuades Raskolnikov not only to confess and wear the cross, but also to kiss the earth at the crossroads—a distinctly Russian and pre-Christian acknowledgment of the earth as the common mother of all men.... In bowing to the earth and kissing it, Raskolnikov is performing a symbolic and non-rational act; the rationalist is marking the beginning of his change into a complete, organic, living human being, rejoining all other men in the community. By his crime and ideas, he had separated himself from his friends, family, and nation; in one word, he had cut himself off from Mother Earth. By the gesture of kissing the earth, he is reestablishing all his ties....

Now that we have examined selected examples of symbolism in the novel, let us take a look at the epilogue as a test of insights we may have gained into the structure and unity of the novel, for the epilogue is the culmination and juncture of the various strands of images which we have encountered earlier....

If we approach the epilogue with the various preparatory strands of images clearly in our minds, what do we find?... [We] see the state of the soul of the unregenerate Raskolnikov, the Lazarus before the rebirth, expressed by Dostoevsky through the symbolic imagery to which the novel has made us accustomed—water and vegetation. The love for life (which Raskolnikov does not yet comprehend) is represented by a spring with green grass and bushes around it.

When the regeneration of Raskolnikov begins, it is expressed in a manner still more closely linked to previously introduced imagery. His dream of the plague condemns Raskolnikov's own rationalism. It shows people obsessed by reason and will losing contact with the soil.... This dream of the plague, coming immediately before the start of the hero's regeneration, may also be another reminiscence of the Book of Revelation with its last seven plagues coming just before the millennium and the establishment of the New Jerusalem.

The epilogue then goes on to emphasize that it is the second week after Easter—the feast of Christ's passion, death, and resurrection; and that it is warm, bright spring—the season of the revival of dead nature, again a coupling of Christian and non-Christian symbolism of rebirth such as we have encountered earlier in the novel.

The crucial final scene which follows takes place on "a bright and warm day," and "on the bank of the river." The river which Raskolnikov sees now is no longer a possible means for committing suicide nor a sight inducing melancholy; it is the river of life.

Then appears Sonya, and with her arrival comes the moment when Raskolnikov is suffused with love for his guide and savior.... Vivid response to all that lives is a joining with the creator in creating and preserving the world; Sophia is a blissful meeting of god and nature, the creator and creature. In Orthodox thought Sophia has come close to being regarded as something similar to the fourth divine person. Love for Sophia is a generalized ecstatic love for all creation, so that the images of flowers, greenness, landscape, the river, air, the sun, and water throughout Crime and Punishment can be regarded as being subsumed in the concept of Sophia and figuratively in the person of Sonya, the embodiment of the concept. Sonya sees that all exists in God; she knows, and helps Raskolnikov to recognize, what it means to anticipate the millennium by living in rapt love for all creation here, in this world.

It was Sonya who had brought Raskolnikov the message of Lazarus and his resurrection; she had given him the cypress cross and urged him to kiss the earth at the crossroads. On the evening of the day when, by the bank of the river and in the presence of Sonya, Raskolnikov's regeneration had begun, the New Testament lies under his pillow as a reminder of the Christian prototype of resurrection which had been stressed earlier in the novel. Against the background of all the important symbols of the book, Easter, spring, Abraham's flocks, the earth of Siberia, the river, the dream, and Sonya, the drama within Raskolnikov's mind assumes its expressive outward form.

There follow several explicit statements of what happened. We read that "the dawn of a full resurrection to a new life" was already shining "in their faces, that love brought them back to life, that the heart of one held inexhaustible sources of life for the heart of the other," and that "the gradual rebirth" of Raskolnikov would follow. But the power of the general, overt statements depends on the indirect, oblique, dramatic, and symbolic statements which preceded them and prepared the ground for our acceptance of them. If we sense the full significance of the statement that now "Raskolnikov could solve nothing consciously. He only felt. Life had taken the place of dialectics," for example, it is because we have seen dialectics and apathy dramatized in Luzhin, Lebezyatnikov, Raskolnikov, and Svidrigaylov, and resurrection in Sonya and various symbols throughout the novel of which the epilogue is a climax and a recapitulation.

Source: George Gibian, "Traditional Symbolism in Crime and Punishment," in PMLA, Vol. LXX, No. 5, December, 1955, pp. 970-96.