# The Spirit of Russia/Volume 2/Chapter 22

PART THREE (A Summary)
DEMOCRACY VERSUS THEOCRACY; THE PROBLEM OF REVOLUTION
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE EPISTEMOLOGICAL PROBLEM OF RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHY
§ 186.
IN this summary I propose to discuss the chief problems, to formulate the leading ideas, suggested by a survey of the material that has been placed before the reader, I have endeavoured to furnish as many facts as possible, and in the first instance to allow the facts to speak for themselves. We may now attempt to grasp the significance of these facts for a philosophical explanation of Russia.
Čaadaev, as the first philosopher of history, was placed in the forefront of the thinkers of his school. The historico-philosophical interest dominates his writings in a manner which differentiates him clearly as a theorist from the practical politicians who preceded him, from such men as Pestel, Speranskii, etc. Russian philosophy of history developed by a natural evolution out of political aspirations, and its scientific constitution is connected with the development of the. philosophy of history in Europe. Due attention has been paid to the fact that scientific historiography and the philosophy of history were eighteenth-century developments associated with the great revolution (§§ 39 and 40). In like manner, Russian philosophy of history originated after the decabrist rising, and was organically connected with the whole revolutionary movement (§ 46). The general sub-title of this summary, "The Problem of Revolution," has not been chosen haphazard, for this is preeminently the Russian problem.
Russian thought, Russian philosophy, does not manifest itself solely as philosophy of history, for it is likewise very intimately concerned with the religious problem. It is not thereby distinguished from European philosophy. Opposition ​to ecclesiastical theology has transformed modern philosophy into the philosophy of religion (§§ 41 and 41a).
Thus the general course of evolution (alike in Russia and in Europe) justifies our choice of these associated developments of the philosophy of history and the philosophy of religion to throw light upon the study of Russia. But it is necessary for me to anticipate the objections, that I have failed to give a complete account of the philosophy of history and the philosophy of religion, and that for the proper understanding of Russia we must draw upon a knowledge of philosophy in its widest ramifications.
It is true that I have ignored many of the representatives of professorial philosophy, many exponents of philosophy at the seminaries, and other philosophical writers. But those who take the trouble to examine sketches of the history of Russian philosophy will find that, while many noted Russian names are not to be found in the present work, on the whole my choice of representative thinkers will appear justified. And that is the real question—whether the thinkers I have selected do truly characterise Russia. My own opinion is that the substance of their doctrines and the historical succession of the writers I have selected as representative, combine to justify my choice.
It is not fortuitous that not one of these men ever secured a professorial position at a state university, and the fact is extremely characteristic of Russia. (Solov'ev fruitlessly endeavoured to obtain a professorship, as Kirěevskii had done before him.) Moreover, in all lands where freedom is unknown, the official representatives of science, and above all of philosophy, are on the whole conservatives and supporters of the government, especially in those domains which are closely connected with politics by direct or indirect ties. Science and philosophy are not identical with official science and philosophy, with the teachers appointed by government, or with the teaching caste to which these belong. It suffices, in this connection, to become acquainted with the ideas of Pobědonoscev (who was a professor) and with ​those of the other conservative thinkers whose views I have summiarised.
An account of the views of some of the leading economists, sociologists, and historians, would be both interesting and instructive. But the writers chosen suffice for our purpose, all the more seeing that in the studies of which the present work is the first instalment the author proposes to give a sociological analysis of the work of Dostoevskii and of modern Russian literature from Puškin onwards.
No stress has been laid upon the so-called formal (i.e. methodological) problems considered by professional philosophers, though these have not been entirely ignored.
§ 187.
THE account of the character of Russian philosophy given in § 38 has been confirmed by the detailed treatment of the ideas of representative Russian thinkers. One conclusion emerges with especial force, and it is that Russian philosophical thought lacks epistemological foundation. As Radlov puts it, the leading Russian thinkers manifest no interest in epistemological problems; they are concerned with social and political questions, with the questions of the day; Russian philosophy has a markedly practical character, and it is chiefly devoted to the study of ethical problems.
Politics is based upon morality, it is the function of politics to elucidate and to realise ethical principles on behalf of and in the social whole; but morality is associated with religion and the church. There is, consequently, no contradiction involved in the two assertions I have made, that Russian philosophy is predominantly the philosophy of history and the philosophy of religion, and that Russian philosophy is preeminently practical and ethical.
Ethics, ethical principles, must naturally be based upon a sound theory of cognition. If, therefore, we say that Russian philosophy has not adequately examined its epistemological groundworks, this implies that Russian ethical thought exhibits similar defects.
The lack of a sound theory of cognition in Russia is pecu​liarly associated with the meagre influence that has been exercised in that country by the writings of Kant. It is true that the Russians, after becoming acquainted with the French philosophy of the enlightenment, turned therefrom speedily and characteristically to German philosophy. When this happened, however, Schelling, Hegel, and Feuerbach were their teachers, rather than Kant; to Fichte, again, they paid little attention, whereas the influence of Schopenhauer was considerable, Auguste Comte and his positivism cooperated with Hegel and Feuerbach; positivism in its various forms (Marxism was one of them) held the field.
I am not contending that Kant remained utterly unknown. We have learned that in the ethical sphere Solov'ev and Lavrov were Kantians. Tolstoi, too, in great measure adopted the Kantian ethic. But there was little understanding of Kant's theory of cognition, of his critique of pure reason. Recently, however, the so-called neokantianism has wielded considerable influence in Russia, so that of late the epistemological problem has received more adequate consideration on Kantian lines.
§ 188.
THE world-wide importance of Kant depends upon the Kantian criticism. Epistemologically considered, criticism as a philosophical doctrine signifies critical and cognitive reflection of a sceptical character, as opposed to the blind faith that has hitherto prevailed. Criticism is the opposition of philosophy to theology, opposition based on grounds of principle. Regarded, finally, from the outlook of universal history, Kant, as opponent, alike of theology and of the scepticism of Hume, signifies that with the coming of Kant mankind is ripening to an age of reflection, and that men are beginning to abandon the myths that have hitherto dominated ​their minds, to abandon mythology and therewith theology (which is a further development of mythology). Consequently modern philosophy since Kant has been predominantly philosophy of history and philosophy of religion; the modern man has begun to consider the course of his own development cognitively and critically. Kant provides the epistemological basis of the antitheological enlightenment, and his successors devote themselves to the analysis of mythology and theology. This, from the standpoint of universal history, is the significance of the closer study of myths initiated by Vico, and continued by Hume, Comte, Feuerbach, Spencer, and our immediate contemporaries. The theologians endeavour to maintain theology against the onslaughts of philosophy; philosophers incline to forget the profound mental labours undertaken by modern theologians to defend their doctrines and methods against philosophy, they tend to ignore the literature of apologetics.
I must again refer the reader to §§ 41 and 41 a. Our aim here is to deduce the consequences to Russian thought of the facts and ideas detailed in those sections.
The Russians failed to accept Kant because they were and still are more inclined towards mythology than the Europeans. Under European influence, Russians could be induced to negate myth, to negate theology, but they could not be induced to criticise myth and theology. Russian thought is negative, but not critical; Russian philosophy is negation without criticism.
This explains why Russian negation remains believing negation. The educated Russian abandons the faith of his childhood, but promptly accepts another faith—he believes in Feuerbach, in Vogt, in Darwin, in materialism and atheism. We have seen how Bělinskii, Herzen, and their successors struggled to escape from scepticism to faith. In the case of all these writers I have had occasion to insist upon their lack of criticism. I showed, for example, how Lavrov declined from Kant to Bruno Bauer.
Extremely characteristic is the unbridged transition from the old faith to the new. The mental development of Bělinskii offers a classical example. We see in him what negation is without criticism, without epistemological criticism.
This longing for faith as an escape from scepticism is no mere search for a religious belief. Other things will do in ​default of religion, but the Russian must always have something to believe in. It may be the railway (Bělinskii); it may be the frog (Bazarov, the nihilist); it may be Byzantinism (Leont'ev); and so on. Leont'ev actually forces himself away from scepticism, positively talks himself into belief.
Russian thought further displays its tendency towards myth in this respect, that down to to-day in Russia far more than in Europe, poets are the true educators of the people. Puškin, Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoevskii, Tolstoi, Čehov, Gor'kii—these are the thinkers of Russia. It is the thinker as poet, not the thinker as man of science, to whom Russia listens. Now the poet stands nearer to myth than does the philosopher.
Whilst Russia, therefore, has numerous literary critics, the country knows little of epistemological criticism. And when, in Russia, the problem of criticism is philosophically considered, the consideration is confined, characteristically enough, to the ethical aspects of the matter.
​Now we can understand why the Russians preferred Schelling and Hegel to Kant and Hume. Schelling, as against Kant, introduced mythology into philosophy; and Hegel, despite his opposition to theology, furthered both theology and mythology by his dialectic with its suspension of the principle of contradiction.
In this connection, too, certain separate doctrinal items brought forward by Russian thinkers acquire meaning and importance. I may refer, for example, to Solov'ev and his commendation of the "fantastic imagination" in poesy, which Kirěevskii had rejected (the fantastic imagination, be it noted, not simple imaginativeness, not the "exact fantasy" of Goethe!). See Vol. I, pp. 245 et seq., Vol. II, pp. 269 and 270.
§ 189.
AS a rule the fundamental problem of the theory of cognition is represented in contrast with rationalism and empiricism. In Russian philosophy, too, we find this contrast sustained, German philosophy in general and Kant in especial being rejected by the Russian defenders of empiricism. Since Bělinskii, and above all since Herzen, empiricism has been proclaimed as the starting-point of philosophy. Herzen and his successors declare themselves positivists and materialists, but none the less they cling to the rationalistic Hegel. Herzen enters no protest against rationalism; he merely demands positivist disillusionment, which he counterposes to mysticism, romanticism, and illusion (§ 80). It is not on account of rationalism that Herzen joins issue with Granovskii, nor is it rationalism that causes Herzen's opposition to the slavophils; the divergencies here are the outcome of Herzen's antagonism to religion, theology, and metaphysics. But it is precisely here that the Russian empiricists lack epistemological criticism. Kant did not counterpose empiricism to rationalism! Kant advanced from the lines established by Plato, but his criticism was ultimately directed, not against empiricism, but against the extravagances of ​Platonism. Plato was the first philosopher to declare that myth has a place in philosophy; Hume's scepticism and Kant's criticism were launched against myth and mysticism.
Their church made Platonists of the Russians; Greco-Russian Orthodoxy cherished the Platonic mythos; the slavophils turned naturally to Joannes Damascenus and to Plato. In this matter Solov'ev followed the slavophils and his church, but Solov'ev had understood Kant, hence his inward conflict representing the opposition between Kant and Plato (§ 144). Kant inclined rather to the school of Aristotle, whose logic was abhorred by the slavophils. Kant opposed the blind acceptance whether of empiricism or of rationalism, but the Russians failed to grasp this, and hence their unorganised vacillation between Platonism and nihilism. Solov'ev turned from Kant to Plato; the empiricists, turning their backs on Plato, lapsed into uncritical positivism and materialism.
§ 190.
KANT'S criticism as epistemological reflection concerning the range and limits of cognition, was rejected by Russian thinkers, who regarded it as a form of subjectivism. Kant's epistemological activism, his explanation of the process of cognition as an active procedure on the part of the understanding and as an auto-procreation of concepts (§ 44), was not comprehensible to the positivist Russians. The teaching of his church has accustomed the Russian to accept a ready-made and objectively given revelation; and in epistemology, therefore, he remains an extreme objectivist long after he has ceased to accept the data of revelation. The Russian nihilists and empiricists, the Russian materialists and positivists, remain epistemological objectivists. In like manner they remain objectivists vis-à-vis the chosen European authorities—for they are habituated to objective authority.
The Russians classed Kant with Fichte and Stirner. Subjectivism, conceived by them in its extremest manifestation, was resisted by them as solipsism; Bělinskii fought Stirner just as he fought Homjakov; Solov'ev discerned subjectivism, not only in rationalism, but also in sensualism, and in his dread of subjectivism sought refuge in myth and mysticism. Everywhere we find the same lack of criticism, ​the same failure to effect a careful estimate of the degree of subjectivism.
Subjectivism is regarded rather from the ethical than from the epistemological outlook. In this sense and with this scope, the "subjective method" was recommended by Lavrov and Mihailovskii; but subjectivism was looked upon chiefly as the doctrine of Stirner, and was rejected as egoism. It is because they use this ethical standard of measurement that the Russian Marxists (Plehanov, for instance) conceive subjectivism as a manifestation of scepticism and decadence, and combat it as unrevolutionary.
§ 191.
Bělinskii vigorously opposed extreme subjectivism. We have learned that Bělinskii inured himself against Fichte's solipsism by having recourse to Hegel's reality, but have seen that Russian reality brought him back to moderate subjectivism. He looked upon extreme subjectivism as egoism and narrowness, leading to misconduct and crime; on the other hand he regarded extreme objectivism as a form of superstition.
This analysis of extreme objectivism and extreme subjectivism possesses philosophical importance. Bělinskii accurately appraised the psychology of the extreme objectivist who, succumbing to a new mythology, naïvely and uncritically accepts the outer world as a fact and thus becomes its sport. No less accurately did he appraise the danger of extreme subjectivism, of solipsism, maintaining the ethical importance of our recognition of the reality of our fellow-men, of society and history, and of the godhead.
Jesus showed long ago that all thought and all action centres round the problem, how man conceives his relationship to his fellow-men and to God; and while Jesus tells us to love God and to love our neighbour, John amplifies the command in the words, "If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?" Epistemologically, metaphysically, and ethically, the problem of objectivism and subjectivism is the fundamental problem of all philosophy, Russian philosophy not excepted. The Russians, being acquainted with German idealism, felt ​very strongly that solipsism involved ethical and social isolation, and therefore rejected the doctrine. Bakunin was the first writer to proclaim that suicide was the logical outcome of this solipsistic isolation; Bělinskii and Herzen, taking a wider view, considered that solipsism culminated in crime and in murder, but these writers understood crime and murder to be manifestations of revolution, Herzen, too, coquetted with the Byronic view of these matters. Solov'ev accepted Dostoevskii's formula, in accordance with which murder and suicide issue from solipsism. Ropšin, too, agreed here with Dostoevskii. Mihailovskii associated the Faust problem with subjectivism, but considered that the decadent social order of capitalism was the nursery of Faust natures. From Plehanov and the Marxists we have a similar formulation of the problem, these writers passing to the other, the objectivist, extreme, and adopting solomnism.
A detailed consideration of the whole problem will find a more suitable place in the study of Dostoevskii, who devoted much attention to the matter. All that it is necessary to add here is that the Russians, while rejecting subjectivism, insist the more vigorously on the need for individualism. Individuality and its rights are defended against state and church, and in the sociological sphere the attempt is made to grasp the relationship of the individual to the nation. But the epistemological difficulties of the problem are not adequately faced (cf. § 172).
§ 192.
EPISTEMOLOGICAL weakness is, as already indicated, especially noticeable in the ethical domain, in the treatment of the fundamental problems of ethics. Of peculiar importance is the problem, upon what foundation the moral imperative is to be based.
In this respect two tendencies are manifested in Russian thought. Solov'ev holds firmly to the Kantian ethic, believing that the moral problem has been solved once and for all by Kant and his categorical imperative. Lavrov is likewise influenced in ethical matters by Kant, but Lavrov does not ponder the epistemological side so deeply as does Solov'ev.
In ethics as well as in other departments of philosophy, most Russian thinkers have been consistent empiricists, and ​have therefore abhorred Kant and his a priorist imperative. Yet these very empiricists, Černyševskii, Lavrov, Mihailovskii, and Kropotkin, whose main demand in ethics is that there should be no imperative obligation, do in practice arrive at an imperative. For Černyševskii, the ethical "scientific" imperative, the imperative firmly grounded upon scientific considerations, is equally valid in the other worlds of stellar space. Mihailovskii appeals to conscience and the sense of honour; he does not consider that consequences can be the measure of ethical value, and the proclamation "To the Younger Generation" is as scornful of utilitarian economics as if it had been written by the slavophils or by Carlyle. It is precisely these materialistic utilitarians and hedonists à la Černyševskii who cling to absolute ethical rules. Preaching egoism, laughing at the idea of self-sacrifice, they demand unconditional self-surrender on behalf of Russia. "Die for the mir," exclaims Černyševskii, that is, die for the peasant, die for the people. Even to the nihilists, ethics is the chief of the sciences, and in this respect the nihilists are followed by the Russian socialists, the narodniki, the social revolutionaries, the very anarchists.
De facto, therefore, these Russian thinkers are followers of Kant; or (if you will) are followers of Hume, who endeavoured to protect his ethics against his own scepticism. Whilst Kant with his imperative constructed a so-called formal ethic, Hume established an ethic which, though materialist, was none the less absolute.
In this matter Russian philosophy is wholly at one with German idealist philosophy, for both are predominantly moral outlooks on the world. Russia adopts the humanitarian ideal of the eighteenth century, preaches it, and endeavours to realise it in practice.
Hence arises the vigorous demand for a unified philosophical outlook, hence the demand that theory and practice shall be harmonised. "Word and deed" becomes the device, at least the device of the younger generation; of the "children" as contrasted with the "fathers."
It need not surprise us that voices were heard proclaiming deeds rather than words (Bakunin), and representing theory as inferior to practice (Pisarev). For the newest lovers or friends of practice, voluntarism serves as an epistemological pretext.
​Those of the younger generation understand by "practice," political practice, or, more definitely, revolutionary practice. Hence arises the problem, how an ethical foundation is to be supplied for revolutionary action.
This practical ethical philosophy imposes upon the Russian philosophers of history the important problem of historicism, by which I understand the contention that socio-political demands have an exclusively historical basis. Historicism is a widely prevalent theory, as is natural in view of the extensive development of the historic sense since the eighteenth century We have discussed evolutionism from this aspect (§ 39).
The Russians, following Comte, eagerly accepted positivist historicism, being impelled in the same direction by Hegel and Feuerbach. Marxism is historicism in an extreme form, and is therefore amoral ex hypothesi.
Philosophico-historical contemplation involves, therefore, the consideration of the fundamental problem of history. Has history a meaning, and what is the relationship of individual aspiration and effort to the evolution of the social whole? Apart from the temporary renunciation by Herzen of the teleological conception of history, Russian philosophers of history have been inclined to recognise that evolution, if it has not followed a plan, has at least proceeded in accordance with law; most of them, too, recognise logic (Bakunin) and ethics. Bělinskii protests against the blind fatality of time and fact, and defends the notion of personal freedom; Grigor'ev demurs to the subordination of the individual mind to the historical process of evolution; Bakunin demands a new morality; Lavrov and Mihailovskii attempt to give a "subjective" formula of progress; Solov'ev contrasts the prophetic founders of the future with the men of hard fact; the social revolutionaries and the anarchists reject Marxist historicism in their endeavours to bring about socialism and to effect a revolution. In all cases alike, the problem is this: How far can pursuit of a remote external end (an ultimate end) replace the need for a personal ethical decision—or at least in conjunction with such an ethical judgment be a co-deter- minant of action? I have again and again enunciated my own view of the answer to this question, and that view is further indicated by the fact that, in this summary, I am not devoting an independent section to the philosophy of history.
* ↑ For those who do not read Russian, practically the only survey of Russian philosophy hitherto available has been the section on Russia contributed by Kolubovskii to Ueberweg-Heinze, Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie des XIX Jahrhunderts, and this is merely bibliographical. Of Russian works I have alluded in § 38 to Radlov's sketch. I may also mention Grusenberg, Skizzen der gegenwärtigen russischen Philosophie, 1911.
* ↑ In Russia, prior to 1905, at the seminaries—Pobědonoscev notwithstanding—philosophy was in a sense freer than at the universities. At the former it was not so markedly subject to the direct pressure of the government.
* ↑ The history of Kantian thought in Russia is exceedingly interesting. Karamzin was one of the earliest admirers of Kant. Opponents of the Königsberg philosopher soon took the field; in 1807 Osipovskii of Kharkov criticised Kant's doctrine of space and time. Kant's fundamental ethical principles, on the other hand, secured acceptance, and Kunicyn, in St. Petersburg, based natural law upon Kant. Jurkevič opposed Kant, whilst Kavelin took Kant as guide in ethical matters. The most notable works on Kant containing critical discussions of the theory of cognition are those of Karinskii, professor at the seminary in St. Petersburg. More recently, A. I. Vvedenskii and Losskii have written on the Critique of Pure Reason; these writers' books have been translated into German.
* ↑ In exemplification I may refer to Lavrov, a writer much influenced by Kant, and will quote a passage from the fifteenth of the Historical Letters, which is entitled Criticism and Belief: "Will not the personality, if it be devoted to criticism and nothing else, tend ultimately to forfeit the energy indispensable for action? Criticism presupposes uncertainty, vacillation, the spending of time in weighing arguments pro and con. . . . If a political storm break over society and the leaderless masses become engaged in a wrong path, taking friends for foes and foes for friends, and through irresolution throwing away the advantages of power and enthusiasm, is it right for the first citizen who grasps the situation to renounce the opportunity because he critically refrains from drawing conclusions? . . . All this is perfectly true. And yet criticism is something which man must perforce undertake if he is to have a reasonable claim to be considered a fully developed personality. . . . A citizen who has held so completely aloof from the course of public affairs that he is taken by surprise when a mass movement occurs, is no effective factor in the commonwealth. . . . One who studies the motley play of history is thereby trained for the struggle, when the time comes to struggle. He needs criticism, not when the hour for action approaches, but in readiness for action . . . The severer, the more perspicacious, the colder, and the more comprehensive, his criticism has been, the more powerful and the more ardent will now be his faith. Faith can move mountains, faith and nothing else. . . . It is not enemies that are most dangerous to militant parties; their chief danger arises from those of little faith who stand in their ranks, from those indifferentists who assemble under their banner and often proclaim their watchwords more loudly than the most zealous among the leaders; the people who omit the work of criticism when it is still time to criticise, but who devote themselves to criticism when the time has come for action; those who are irresolute, who stand about doing nothing, or abandon the battle-field, when the actual fighting has begun. . . . Only in a limited sense, therefore, can it be said that there is any opposition between faith and criticism. What a man believes is a thing he no longer subjects to criticism. But this does not mean that what is the object of faith to-day may not have been subjected to criticism yesterday. Indeed, only those beliefs are rational, only those beliefs are enduring, which have been subjected to criticism. Criticism alone can bring firm conviction. None but the man who has attained to firm conviction can have that vigorous faith which is essential to energetic action. In this connection there is no essential contrast between faith and criticism, but merely a temporal succession. Criticism and faith are two different phases in the development of an idea. Criticism is the preparation for action; faith is the immediate cause of action."