February 11, 2024
MY CORNER by Boyd
Cathey
Descent into Madness:
Dostoevsky and the End
of the West
Friends,
Our society is coming to resemble a dystopian “peoples’
paradise” in its darkly disturbing features. Think back to iconic works of
literature like Arthur Koestler’s Darkness At Noon and George Orwell’s Nineteen-Eighty-Four.
Are we not living in a society which is little more than a cross between the
nightmare visions of Koestler and Orwell? Do we not live in a society where
dissidents are branded as “domestic terrorists,” “insurrectionists,” or “racists,”
and face imprisonment for heretofore unimaginable thought crimes, all in the
name of “defending our democracy”? –where our children have become wards of the
state and are indoctrinated daily by mountains of fetid radical ideology?
–where television and the Internet are employed to fashion a particular jaundiced
view of life?—where science is now used to tell us the world will end in, what,
ten years, if we don’t take immediate action to curb “the climate
crisis”?—where we are cajoled to accept a “great reset” and a “new world order”
controlled by unseen elites?
Far too many citizens do not fathom what has occurred and is
happening in our society. And those who do understand, whether here in the US
or in Europe, are swatted down by the long arm of “Big Brother,” turned into
“non-persons,” their reputations destroyed, awakened by armed-to-the-teeth FBI
agents before dawn and imprisoned for months or years without trial or the
benefit of counsel—“enemies of the regime.” Is this not reminiscent of what
occurred in Eastern Europe immediately after the conclusion of World War II,
when the Soviets progressively installed socialist dictatorships by
successfully eliminating and suppressing any real opposition, all happening why
the benevolent USA looked on?
But in some ways our situation is worse than that of those
Soviet-occupied countries in the aftermath of the world war. For while the
post-war Communists essentially maintained certain inherited standards of
behavior, for instance, supporting large families and traditional marriage, our
elites continue to push the boundaries of what was once thought normative and
acceptable in every area of human endeavor, even under Communism. And the
disruption or rejection of the laws of nature and those well-established and
valid millennia-old norms of behavior and belief leads to gross and grotesque
imbalances and vicious infections in society which distort and eventually
destroy it—what I have called in an earlier essay, “the zombification of our
culture.”
It's as if significant portions of American (and European)
culture have been possessed by frenetic Evil incarnate…in academia and
education, in our media and communications, in politics, and in our
entertainment and sports industries. We are now supposed to be like Pavlov’s
dog, trained to bark when prompted, to sit when told, in short, to be obedient
and receptive subjects of the latest ukase or dogmatic proclamation of
government or revelation of its satraps and lapdogs at some
formerly-prestigious university 0r from fashionable glitterati.
As I
read through various recent news articles, chronicling some of the more bizarre
actions and occurrences in our modern American society, example after example
abundantly confirms this impression.
Let me
cite just a handful of recent egregious instances from our educational sector—there
are far more, too numerous to count:
In Oregon, the Department of
Education recently sent out a “mathematics
guide …to schools tell[ing] educators that asking students to show their work
in math class is a form of white supremacy.” The guide offers a year-long
framework for “deconstructing racism in mathematics.” It calls for
“visibilizing [sic] the toxic characteristics of white supremacy culture with
respect to math.”
In Houston, Rice University launched a course (January 2024), titled
“Afrochemistry,” which reportedly will “apply chemical tools and analysis to understand black life in
the U.S.” According to the University’s website, “Diverse historical and
contemporary scientists, intellectuals and chemical discoveries will inform
personal reflections and proposals for addressing inequities in chemistry and
chemical education.”
In Brookfield, Connecticut, the public school
administration
placed tampon dispensers in boys’ restrooms, which were promptly vandalized by
some boys who disagreed with school policy. The administration related that the
“vandals” had been dealt with. But the worst aspect of this is that dispensers were put in place in compliance with a Connecticut
law which “requires all schools from grades three to 12 to put menstrual
dispensers in female restrooms and at least in one male restroom” in
each high school.
One last example, and
it would be truly comedic if not so serious in its implications about the state
of higher education in America. Several years ago (2018) Professor Peter Boghossian, formerly at Portland
State University in Oregon, and two colleagues, prepared a series of scholarly
articles in the
humanities, and several were accepted by so-called prestigious peer-reviewed
journals. The submitted papers sounded all the chords of ideologically “progressive
scholarship,” supposedly pushing boundaries in what the authors called
“grievance studies,” such areas as “critical theory” and “gender identity.” But
with one major characteristic: the articles were all complete spoofs, skillful
fakery which managed to deceive those who claim to be “the best and the
brightest.”
As Boghossian explained in a later summary of the
project:
“While our papers are all outlandish or
intentionally broken in significant ways, it is important to recognize that
they blend in almost perfectly with others in the disciplines under our
consideration. To demonstrate this, we needed to get papers accepted,
especially by significant and influential journals. Merely blending in couldn’t
generate the depth necessary for our study….”
And a number of the articles were eagerly accepted
and were praised fulsomely by other academics. Indeed, it is fascinating to read what peer reviewers wrote.
One of the papers is titled, “The conceptual penis as a
social construct,” and it was published to great acclaim by the journal Cogent Social
Sciences, in 2017. Here is the abstract:
“Anatomical penises may exist, but as pre-operative
transgendered women also have anatomical penises, the penis vis-à-vis maleness is an incoherent construct. We argue that the conceptual penis
is better understood not as an anatomical organ but as a social construct
isomorphic to performative toxic masculinity. Through detailed
poststructuralist discursive criticism and the example of climate change, this
paper will challenge the prevailing and damaging social trope that penises are
best understood as the male sexual organ and reassign it a more fitting role as
a type of masculine performance.”
These few examples can be replicated ad nauseum. Such
poisonous nonsense characterizes what passes for learning and scholarship in
our colleges and schools; it undergirds and informs our journalism and media;
it drenches our entertainment with its infectious dross; it disintegrates and
perverts our artistic and musical heritage. It is engaged in total war against
the two millennia inheritance of our Christian civilization, which it seeks to
destroy.
Have we not descended into sheer madness,
collective insanity on a massive cultural and social scale? Indeed,
are we not experiencing a foretaste of Hell itself, of the Nether Regions where
proud souls possessed by sheer evil and brazen malfeasance are eventually
rewarded by their own incredibly excruciatingly painful self-immolation?
Of course, it is not at all fashionable to believe in a
literal Hell these days. Yet, the imagery of such a state envisioned by a
number of our greatest authors over the centuries describes a reality which is becoming
all too palpable in our day, at least for those who care to notice.
The common denominator which characterizes those visions,
whether from the pen of Dante Alighieri, John Milton, or other writers, not to
mention the strictures from the Bible, is this: without Hope in something greater
than ourselves, something beyond the mere material, something indeed spiritual,
we are lost. And all the puffed-up scholarly texts about “gender identity” and “critical
studies”—all the foul and ugly detritus which passes for modern culture and
entertainment—lead only to individuals T. S. Eliot calls “hollow men,” dead
souls, with no past to guide them, no future to welcome them, isolated, alone,
and empty.
As tiny individual specks in the Universe we are as atoms, at
times self-important, but in the scheme of things, miniscule and falling back
continually on our own very limited powers and abilities, with the great
leveler, Death, our conclusion.
Has this not been the insight and wisdom of our Christian
civilization, that without that spiritual understanding, life becomes a mere
few short years of banging about until our time is up?
It is Hope, that belief in something beyond ourselves,
eminently spiritual, which enables us to lead lives according to both the
Natural Law and the Divine Positive Law, which properly and superbly fit, guide
and measure our own human natures.
I am put in mind of a piece I wrote for Chronicles
magazine a few years back (“The Devils in the Demonstrators,” Chronicles,
November 2021. Pp36-37) which focuses on my direct experience with such persons
who inhabit a counter-reality, peopled by dead souls whose hatred for our
civilization is only matched by their uncontrollable, burning rage.
I offer it now.
The
Devils in the Demonstrators
I was chairman of the Annual Confederate Flag
Day at the North Carolina State Capitol in March of 2019 when our
commemoration was besieged by several hundred screaming, raging
demonstrators—Antifa-types and others. It took a mammoth police escort for us
to exit the surrounded Capitol building.
I clearly recall the disfigured countenance, the
flaming eyes, the foul imprecations of one of the protesters: he was young,
white, and obviously not impoverished, probably the son of some well-to-do
parents who had shelled out thousands of dollars for his education at one of
North Carolina’s premiere universities. His contorted, angry grimace was that
of a possessed soul, made mad by years of slow and patient educational
indoctrination from our complacent society which tolerates and encourages
everyday evil in nearly every endeavor we experience.
I remembered that day—that face—over two years
later as I finished watching a made-for-television Russian series titled Demons.
Based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 1872 novel of the same name (also
known as The Possessed),
the plot is fairly complex and difficult to compress into a filmed series. Yet,
enough of that complexity and meaning still comes forth while watching its
English subtitles.
I read the novel many years ago. Even back then
it was a difficult read, especially for someone unfamiliar with Russian history
of the mid-19th century and Dostoevsky’s interest in the ideological visions of
various revolutionary and nihilist movements then existent in Imperial Russia.
But the television series does an admirable job
of encapsulating the novel’s main themes and storyline. And like much of
Dostoevsky, the theological questions of good and evil, sin and redemption, and
order and disorder are never far from the surface. For the great Russian author
saw deeply into the hearts of his fellow men, particularly those vacuous and
empty souls of the fanatical idealists who professed a secular vision of a
future socialist and globalist utopia on earth, a paradise without the encumbrances
and limits of tradition, tsarist authority, and God. But it was precisely such
natural and real lineaments which both regulate our innate freedom of will (so
that it may not become license), and also provide a safe and ample space for
our existence.
In tracing the evolution of revolutionary
thinking personified in his diverse characters, Dostoevsky captures and
illustrates—as perhaps no other author before or since—the true nature of evil
which inevitably ends not only in the destruction of the individual, but
eventually also spurs the dissolution and decay of the social fabric of
society.
That evil—and it is pure demonic evil as
Dostoevsky reveals in Demons—is
all consuming, a madness which he both historically and theologically
identifies with rebellion against God and, in his particular view, in
opposition to the traditional Russian Orthodox Church. But that meaning is
applicable for all of traditional Christianity.
In another Dostoevsky novel, The Brothers Karamazov, his
worldly and secular character Ivan makes a statement often expressed as: “If
God does not exist, everything is permitted.” By novel’s end he realizes that
God does—must—exist, and therefore there must be—and are—rules and law, both
divine and human, that must be observed for there to be any kind of human
society. Indeed, without them there can be no genuine liberty, no justice, no
true happiness.
In Demons the
revolutionary cell in Dostoevsky’s imagined provincial town is composed of
mostly young members of the upper classes, a couple of disaffected military
officers and intellectuals, and the magnetic personality of Nikolai
Stavrogin. Stavrogin is highborn, refined, handsome, self-assured, and
intelligent. And yet there is, as the narrator of the story informs us,
something repellent, deeply cynical, and inherently foul about him. The other
revolutionaries are fascinated by him, specifically Pyotr Verkhovensky, perhaps
the most loathsome and manipulative character Dostoevsky ever created, a man
capable of murder simply on caprice or whim, without any apparent sense or
thought of regret. Truly he is a man possessed.
Verkhovensky, who claims to be taking orders
from a central committee in St. Petersburg, is bedazzled by Stavrogin and
wishes him to lead the revolutionary efforts; but Stavrogin hesitates. In the
depths of Stavrogin’s consciousness, there is that awkward awareness of his own
misshapen and fatally damaged soul. Finally, after some hesitation, he visits a
spiritual guide, Father Tikhon, where he confesses that he has lost any sense
of good and evil, and that all that remains is simply avarice. Stavrogin is a
man who refuses God, but in his frustration he innately realizes that nothing
else can satisfy that emptiness. Indeed, without God, without the fullness of
faith, it is the Devil, Evil Incarnate, who fills the void. Without God,
everything is permitted.
Ivan Shatov is perhaps the character with whom
Dostoevsky most closely identified. He had once idolized Stavrogrin and looked
up to him as a potential leader who would inspire Russia to Christian
regeneration. Disillusioned, he has now come to regard him as an irresponsible
man of idle luxury. Stavrogin, he declares, is driven by a passion for
inflicting torment, not merely for the gratification he receives in hurting
others, but to torment his own conscience and wallow in amoral carnality.
Verkhovensky detests and hates Shatov, and
conceives a plan to assassinate him, for Shatov, he believes, stands in the way
of the triumph of the revolution. And, in fact, one of the conspirators lures
Shatov to a remote location where he is cruelly murdered, much to the insane
delight of Verkhovensky.
But the conspiracy unravels, and the
conspirators are arrested or, in the case of Verkhovensky, flee to St.
Petersburg where he can again work his revolutionary mischief. And Stavrogin,
understanding finally the futility of his life, and understanding more
profoundly than any other of the revolutionaries the nature of the
revolutionary contagion—a true “demonic possession”—does what for him is the
only logical action: he hangs himself. Unable or unwilling to make repentance,
and knowing darkly that he has been possessed by demons, but refusing the mercy
of God, like a brightly burning supernova, he collapses upon himself,
extinguished and damned.
Of all the great counterrevolutionary
works—novels, autobiographies, narrations—Dostoevsky’s stands out for its very
human, very real description of the sheer personal evil and demonic lunacy of
the then-nascent Marxist revolution incubating in Russia. In more recent times,
we have a George Orwell, an Arthur Koestler, and an Aleksander Solzhenitsyn who
recount what they experienced or what they saw and observed. But it was
Dostoevsky who with deep insight visualized it a century earlier, who plumbed
the depths of the human psyche and the inherent and personal nature of what is
essentially a “revolution against God and Man.”
For the rejection of God as He desires to be
known and obeyed through his Word, His law, and through His church does not
result in a secular utopia, a kind of secular parousia or Heaven-on-Earth. The
revolutionary madness is, as Dostoevsky declares, a form of possession of men
who have misshapen and empty souls which have then been occupied by demons, by
evil.
Thus, as I watched Demons I remembered that
day several years ago with its seemingly possessed protesters. I also recalled
images flashed across the television screen more recently of our latter-day
violent Verkhovenskys and Stavrogins, those deracinated students,
wooley-brained woke academicians, effete Hollywood celebrities and media
personalities, and political epigones who have turned the American republic
into a charnel house where the bones of a once-great nation lie in trash heaps.
Over the past many decades, we have permitted
our government to impose on us and much of the world what is termed liberal
democracy and something we call “human rights.” But those precepts and vision
are of a secular, globalist world where the Verkhovenskys dominate a complacent
and obedient population, where our culture has been so infected and so poisoned
that, as William Butler Yeats prophesied a century ago, “the best lack all
conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”
It does not and will not end well. The “American Century,” without the kind
of repentance that was offered to Nikolai Stavrogin, and which he would not
accept, is over. And despite our insouciance and material gratification, there
will be a price, a severe and heavy price to pay.
Observing the pre-World War I revolutionary fervor which would soon overtake the world, the Anglo-French critic and essayist Hilaire Belloc wrote these lines in This and That and the Other:
“The Barbarian is discoverable everywhere in this that he cannot make; that he can befog or destroy, but that he cannot sustain; and of every Barbarian in the decline or peril of every civilisation exactly that has been true. We sit by and watch the Barbarian, we tolerate him; in the long stretches of peace we are not afraid. We are tickled by his irreverence, his comic inversion of our old certitudes and our fixed creeds refreshes us: we laugh. But as we laugh we are watched by large and awful faces from beyond: and on these faces there is no smile.”
Dostoevsky, through Father Tikhon, reminds us
that there is a way out of the fetid and poisonous bog we are drowning in. In
his day it was not taken
by the revolutionaries who eventually would have their way in Russia and later
in the world, with the charnel house counting eventually 100 million victims.
Like Verkovensky, that frenzied youthful
demonstrator against Confederate symbols back in March 2019 was possessed,
incapable—unlike Stavrogin—of recognizing his diabolical possession.
Good and evil stand in eternal conflict; one
must triumph and one must be extinguished. Dostoevsky fully understood that,
and so must we.