The Conflict between Good and Evil in Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment

The corpus of Russian literature is revered globally, housing some of the most monumental works in the novelistic tradition, particularly reflective of the spirit of its time. "Critics universally recognize the nineteenth century as the zenith of Russian literature, often referred to as its golden age. This period was inaugurated by luminaries such as Pushkin and Gogol and drew to a close in 1881 with Dostoevsky's demise"1

This epoch witnessed burgeoning interest in Russian narratives, with its authors esteemed among the literary elite for their profound insights into the human condition and their expressive portrayal of deep-seated emotions and sentiments. Among these literary giants was Fyodor Dostoevsky, esteemed as a foremost novelist of the nineteenth century. His narratives, intricately tied to the exploration of the human psyche, were rendered with a blend of philosophical depth and artistic flair.

Dostoevsky is celebrated not only for his philosophical, psychological, or mystical insights but for forging an innovative chapter in the annals of European literature: "Reflecting on Dostoevsky's expansive creative endeavors and the varied aspirations of his spirit, it becomes evident that his ultimate contribution does not reside solely in his philosophical or psychological explorations, but rather in his creation of a novel literary genre that continues to resonate across generations."2

He consistently championed lofty ideals in his writings, vehemently denouncing evil and lauding virtue: "It is imperative to acknowledge that Dostoevsky's literary crusade against the forces of evil and his relentless battle against the shadows remain unparalleled."3 His works persistently grapple with the dichotomies of human existence, such as the conflict between consciousness and the unconscious, emotion versus reason, and duty against desire, which can disorient individuals and predispose them to profound psychological distress.

"Crime and Punishment," a seminal work by Dostoevsky released in 1866, delves into the grave concerns of crime and its intricate connections with social and moral dilemmas. His tenure in prison was a pivotal period during which he immersed himself in the plights of the incarcerated, fostering a profound understanding of their struggles. This novel transcends the bounds of mere adventure or detective fiction; it embodies a profound reflection on the societal conditions of 1860s Russia, a time characterized by burgeoning capitalism, which precipitated sweeping social changes, escalated crime rates, and intensified poverty and misery. Dostoevsky's narrative weaves these elements into a vivid portrayal of the era.⁴

Dostoevsky's commitment to this novel was intense and laborious. He describes his process: "The novel spans six parts. By the end of November, I had completed a substantial segment, but subsequently, I destroyed all that work. At that moment, I acknowledged my dissatisfaction with the draft. A new structure and a revised plan began to crystallize in my mind, prompting me to start anew. My current efforts involve working tirelessly day and night, though progress is painstakingly slow."5

Despite these challenges, his efforts culminated in a work of remarkable depth. The authenticity of his depiction of life, particularly among the narrow streets and impoverished conditions of St. Petersburg, focuses on the spiritual and moral struggles of the working class. His characters are crafted with a blend of vivid realism and nuanced human complexity, avoiding reduction to mere symbols, yet distinctly embroiled in the perennial battle between virtue and vice.6

The central inquiry of the novel asks: What are the manifestations of the conflict between good and evil in "Crime and Punishment"?

Humans grapple with their desires and impulses, revealing their vulnerabilities through their failures to satisfy these urges, often limited by the capabilities and opportunities dictated by their circumstances. 1The endeavor to meet their psychological needs underscores a quest for happiness, highlighting the fragility of the human spirit in the face of its wants and perceived shortcomings—an opening for errant behavior, as "the unknown within humans manifests as a covert struggle with suppressed elements."2

The psychological architecture of humans is a battleground among the id, ego, and superego. When the ego fails to restrain the id—a reservoir of suppressed instincts—and yields to its demands, it shapes the personality of a criminal. This introspection into the psychological tumult within the human soul brings us to the profound internal conflict experienced by the protagonist, who stands as one of the most psychologically tormented figures.

Raskolnikov, a young man expelled from university, harbors a conviction to prove his superiority by justifying the murder of an elderly woman. This notion took root in his psyche, further reinforced by an overheard conversation describing the woman as a near-expiry detriment to the impoverished who dealt with her: "An elderly woman, nearing the natural end of her life, poses a menace to the destitute who pawn their last belongings to her, only to receive a fraction of their value."3

Though he meticulously plans his crime and convinces himself of its necessity, he wavers, plagued by doubt about his capacity to execute the act, "No, this is folly, this is absurd. Could it really be that such a diabolical thought has occurred to me? All this is too filthy, too vile."4 His inner turmoil escalates as he questions his own resolve: "Why am I going there now? Am I truly capable of that act? Is it genuinely serious? It's merely a fanciful notion, nothing more."5

The ego initially discerned and restrained the id's impulsive desires, providing the hero with a glimpse of the erroneous nature of his thoughts. Nevertheless, this restraint was fleeting, as his psyche became overwhelmed by an external force, compelling him forward: "As if someone had seized his hand, guiding him blindfolded with an irresistible force, or as if he were caught in the relentless pull of a machine, his clothes snagged by its gears, dragging him inexorably forward."6

In this moment, the ego's control faltered, and Raskolnikov succumbed to his desires, bolstering his resolve with assertions of his intellectual supremacy and unbridled will, "Enough retreating, you mirages! Back, you illusory fears; recede, you phantoms! Life is real, and I am alive this very moment! My existence did not cease with the demise of that old woman. I reign in a realm of reason, light, power, and will."7

Following the crime, Raskolnikov confronts a harrowing realization: he is merely an ordinary human, plagued by fear and misled by his own intellect, "It was my intellect that led me, and that is precisely what doomed me."1 This internal strife rages within Raskolnikov both before and after the crime, as depicted through his introspective monologues.

These narratives provide a window into his complex motives, turbulent emotions, and disturbed thoughts. He faces one of the most profound psychological conflicts imaginable, grappling with internal contradictions that may manifest as moral imperatives, conflicting emotions, or latent tensions that erupt in distorted expressions of conflict, especially in the development of symptoms and behavioral disorders.2This conflict is inherently personal and does not typically extend to others, yet it is from this internal battleground that the struggle between good and evil emerges.

Raskolnikov, in a philosophical treatise, categorizes individuals into two distinct groups: those who adhere to the law and those who believe they possess the right to transgress it, proclaiming that intelligence and reasoning form the foundation of human supremacy. Influenced by these convictions, he resolves to commit what he perceives as a morally justified murder—an act of eradicating evil to deliver humanity from its own malevolence.

This act, he reasons, will not only redeem him from his impoverished state but also enable him to assist his mother, sister, and Sonya, who is compelled to sell herself to provide for her family. Thus, he views his crime as a singular evil deed outweighed by numerous acts of goodness: "A crime committed with a just, noble intention, one evil act in exchange for a hundred acts of benevolence, a solitary and singular evil deed, followed then by a hundred deeds of goodness."3

Through this act of murder, he aims to eradicate a societal ill, believing that by eliminating her and redistributing her wealth among the impoverished, he could negate the original act of evil.

Yet, the ethical dilemma remains: Is it justifiable to sacrifice one life for the well-being of many? This question challenges the moral frameworks as discussed by Kant, who asserted that humans, through their autonomy and rational capacities, are able to derive ethical principles and adhere to them, independent of the deviations driven by personal desires and whims. True happiness, according to Kantian ethics, is derived from preserving human dignity and adhering to laws that safeguard and uphold human life.

In a profound demonstration of altruism, Raskolnikov, a noble young man, prioritizes the welfare of others above his own, exemplifying his commitment to selflessness. He generously supports the widow of his friend Marmeladov following a tragic accident, offering her financial aid, "Take this sum, I believe it to be twenty rubles; if this provides even the slightest relief, rest assured, I will return to assist further..."^4

A destitute student, moved by compassion for a poor, miserable woman, relinquished all his possessions to aid her, an action that greatly impressed even Porfiry, the police chief, who questioned the rationality of such generosity: "Did you not act irrationally there? You gave a widow all the money you had for funeral expenses. Could you not have significantly helped her by giving at least fifteen rubles, instead of extravagantly donating all you possessed?"5. This act is a testament to his prioritization of others' welfare over his own, as emphasized emphasized in the Quran, reflecting Raskolnikov's profound sense of altruism.

Raskolnikov's benevolence extended to a chance encounter on the street with an elderly woman and a child begging for alms.1 Moved by their plight, he remarked humorously about their misperception of his own circumstances before giving away his last five kopecks, "It's amusing she thinks I am better off... Here, take these five kopecks, take them, kind mother," the beggar responded with gratitude, "God protect you..."2. Despite his dire financial needs, Raskolnikov did not hesitate to extend his help, embodying the essence of a noble character, paradoxically noted by an observer, "One grants authority while wearing such tattered rags."3

His character and acts of kindness were recognized during his trial for the murder of the old woman and her sister, as recounted by his friend Razumikhin: "He exhausted his last resources during his university days to aid a poor companion suffering from tuberculosis. He took care of him, met his needs, and alleviated his burden for a full six months. After his companion's death, Raskolnikov looked after his father; an infirm old man left alone in this world, and later admitted him to an old folks' home, eventually undertaking the expenses for his burial as well."4

In another instance, Raskolnikov's altruism was demonstrated when he risked his life to save two young girls from a fire. The landlady of his building witnessed this heroic act, "He rescued two small children from a fire one night in a dwelling that was ablaze, sustaining several burns in the process."5

Raskolnikov also intervened to help a distressed girl he found on the street, preventing a man from exploiting her vulnerable state. He engaged a policeman to protect her, "While digging in his pocket for twenty kopecks, he instructed, 'Listen! Take this money, call a cabman, and have her taken home. Let’s not leave her at the mercy of this despicable scoundrel who might harm her further.'"6. Later, he reflected on his involvement and questioned his impulsive need to protect, "It cost me twenty kopecks, and it will cost the fancy gentleman another amount, only to leave the girl in his hands. Why did I interfere in matters that do not concern me? Why did I feel compelled to act as a protector? Is it even my right to protect anyone? Let them devour each other – what do I care?"7

These reflections highlight the complexities of Raskolnikov’s character, illustrating his internal conflict between his noble deeds and the malicious intent he sometimes suspects in others. This duality underscores a broader philosophical question: "Some argue that life on Earth cannot be comprehended without acknowledging the inherent pain and injustice, which alone provide humans with the discernment of good and evil."8

Through his actions, Raskolnikov exhibits a deep moral consciousness and a commitment to the public good, striving to deliver benefits selflessly, motivated by an intrinsic desire to do good without expectation of reward.

How, then, could a young man known for such noble deeds reconcile these with the act of murder? It seems inconceivable that the same hands used for helping could also commit a crime. He wrestled with significant moral decisions about life and death, questioning how he could equate human blood with trivial gains, "Blood, likened to champagne, spilled freely, elevating some to the heights of the Capitol as heroes who have served humanity."9 Despite his transgressions, he maintained a belief in his honor and superiority, "He committed murder, yet he sees himself as an honorable man, scorning others while masquerading as an angel among angels."1

Raskolnikov justifies his actions by likening the old woman to a deleterious insect, a bane to society, whose removal he deemed necessary. Yet, his rationale for the murder, cloaked in ostensibly altruistic motives, was fundamentally flawed—a mere veneer for his deeper, selfish intentions. He perceived the murder as an act of eradicating evil; however, by committing homicide, he not only violated natural law but also transgressed divine decree, equating his actions with those of any other murderer who defies the sacredness of life as ordained by God: (And do not kill the soul which Allah has forbidden, except by right. That is what He has instructed you that you may use reason.) It is God alone who is the arbiter of life and death, and no individual has the authority to usurp this divine prerogative.

In Dostoevsky's narrative, characters often grapple with the theme of self-sacrifice, exemplified by Sonya Marmeladov. Despite the degradation of her circumstances—selling her body to support her family—Sonya's sacrifices are driven by a profound commitment to her loved ones, "This poor girl sacrificed herself for her evil stepmother and for the other small children, a girl who pitied her father despite his failings."2 Sonya's actions reflect the quintessence of self-abnegation, placing the needs of her family above her own, maintaining her dignity and faith even in the face of societal scorn.

Her moral fortitude starkly contrasts with the reprehensible nature of her actions, a paradox that Raskolnikov poignantly acknowledges during a confrontation with her: "How can such shame and such vile acts coexist with the noblest feelings and the holiest sentiments?" 3 Sonya, in her response to Raskolnikov's moral quandaries, loses her composure, admonishing him, "Be quiet, be quiet, you have strayed from God, so God struck you and delivered you to the devil,"4 her words not merely reprimands but heartfelt entreaties for redemption, accompanied by tears, "Begging me to change my life, crying, yes, crying... Imagine! Do you believe this?"5

Sonya's plea highlights her intrinsic purity and her conservative soul, urging Raskolnikov towards righteousness despite her own transgressions, which she views as the ultimate betrayal of her virtues: "Indeed, you are sinful, and your greatest sin is that you sacrificed yourself and destroyed yourself, you betrayed yourself for nothing."6 She perceives her own actions as self-destructive, an erosion of her essence, akin to Raskolnikov's crime.

Raskolnikov, reflecting on Sonya's plight, sees a mirror of his own transgressions in her sacrifices, "Did you not do as I did? You too broke the law, you too destroyed a life, your own life... But what's the difference?"7 This dialogue encapsulates the moral and existential dilemmas central to Dostoevsky's exploration of crime, punishment, and redemption, revealing the complex layers of human conscience and the profound struggles that define the human condition.

Both Raskolnikov and Sonya perpetrated acts that not only breached their own ethical boundaries but also inflicted harm upon humanity by distorting their emotions and flouting moral laws. They ventured into malevolence under the delusion of performing benevolent deeds, which, according to Raskolnikov, were driven by base desires for pleasure: "With simplicity and naivety, without suspicion, I assert that she sought pleasure just as I did."1 This pursuit of pleasure was marred by egotism and self-indulgence.

The character of Sonya, with certain traits reminiscent of Marta Al-Bania from Gibran Khalil Gibran's "Spirits Rebellious," represents the tragic figure forced into prostitution. Despite the grimness of her reality, her actions echo a certain purity of intention.

Dunya, Raskolnikov's sister, also exemplifies sacrificial love through her decision to marry the reprehensible Luzhin, setting aside her own aspirations for the sake of her brother's future: "If she were seeking her own well-being, she would refuse to sell herself even to avoid death. Yet, for the sake of another, she is prepared to make this ultimate sacrifice."2 Her plans are not for personal gain but are envisioned as stepping stones for her brother, "She has crafted a grand vision for your future, believing firmly that you will eventually become an assistant, and perhaps a partner, to Pyotr Petrovich in his legal practice."3

This profound familial love and sacrifice, however, are viewed critically by Raskolnikov, who believes that any form of self-sale, regardless of the intention, is inherently corrupt: "You are selling yourself for money, thus you are behaving reprehensibly regardless of the justification,"4he argues, perceiving her marriage as a transaction rather than a bond formed from affection. "She desecrates her soul and corrupts her moral sense by binding herself indefinitely for what she perceives as beneficial."5

The man Dunya intends to marry, Luzhin, is a stark embodiment of a degenerate bourgeois ethos—arrogant, despicable, and the epitome of malevolence, "A coward and also a vile man is he who describes him as a coward."6 His desire to marry Dunya is predicated not on affection but on a strategic calculation to dominate and control: "You expressed to your fiancée that her poverty, which you found appealing, provides an advantageous opportunity for a man to lift a woman from the depths of despair, thereby securing her dependence on the benefits he grants."7

Luzhin's approach to marriage is exploitative, viewing Dunya's financial desperation as a leverage point, reminding her that he chose her despite societal rumors, implying that she owes him gratitude, if not more: "I chose to marry you even as your reputation was tarnished by public discourse, believing that by restoring your standing, I am entitled to expect, if not demand, some form of compensation."8

Luzhin's public persona is meticulously crafted to present an image of respectability and kindness, a stark contrast to his true, malevolent nature: "I wager he wears the Saint Anna order on his coat at social gatherings, portraying himself as a man of honor to impress influential figures."9 This facade is maintained to deceive others into believing his noble pretense, while his actions reveal the dark reality of his character.

Luzhin further compounded his malevolence by falsely accusing Sonya, a vulnerable figure, of theft, publicly shaming her in an attempt to degrade her further: "Sonya Ivanovna, immediately following your visit, I discovered a hundred-ruble note missing from the table."10Sonya, genuinely innocent, was devastated by these allegations.

Luzhin’s motives were sinister, as he himself had planted the note in her pocket—a fact later revealed by his own associate: "You scoundrel... Do you realize that he himself handed Sonya the money? I witnessed him secretly slip the note to her, though foolishly, I assumed it was an act of charity."1This reprehensible behavior underscores his propensity to sully reputations through deceit and manipulation.

Conversely, Svidrigailov presents a complex amalgam of vice and virtue. His character oscillates between moral decay and apparent tenderness: "Sometimes he embodies moral corruption, yet at other times, he displays a loving and tender demeanor, as evidenced by his care for Katerina Ivanovna’s children following her demise. Svidrigailov ensured the children were placed in suitable institutions, with funds he provided aiding their welfare."2

Although his actions suggest compassion, his engagement to a mere sixteen-year-old reveals a darker intent masked by a façade of nobility: "An angel, a widower from a noble family, possessing high connections and immense wealth."3 His portrayal, wrapped in alluring pretenses, conceals malevolent motives, reveling in the manipulation of a young girl’s innocence for ulterior purposes, "How can you not derive pleasure? How could there not be pleasure for a depraved libertine like you, recounting such exploits while fantasizing about other nefarious schemes?" This exposes the stark dichotomy within his character, blending genuine benevolence with profound moral corruption.

This grim reality paints a broader picture of a society beleaguered by injustice and corruption, orchestrated by figures like Luzhin and Svidrigailov. These individuals epitomize the dark undercurrents of society, perpetuating moral decay and ethical degradation.

In conclusion, Dostoevsky’s "Crime and Punishment" intricately explores the conflict between good and evil through its characters: a student criminal convinced of his societal beneficence through regicide, a young woman driven to prostitution to support her family’s welfare, a sister who selflessly consents to a loveless marriage to secure her brother’s future, and two men emblematic of villainy and malevolence. This battle of moralities within tormented souls adeptly captures the essence of what stirs in the human heart.

Thus, Dostoevsky masterfully portrays the agony and tribulations of Russian society within a philosophical and psychological framework, marked by poverty, misery, and the bleak reality of squalid neighborhoods, all while reflecting the profound psychological and emotional landscape of its characters.

Results

"Crime and Punishment" intricately showcases the age-old conflict between good and evil through its characters, some of whom embody virtue while others manifest inherent malevolence. The discussion of good versus evil often centers around the human soul's pursuit of pleasure, personal benefit, and selfish interests—themes profoundly explored by Dostoevsky in his examination of the human psyche and its inherent contradictions.

Dostoevsky stands out among novelists for his deep dive into the psychological intricacies of the human mind, presenting it as a battleground of conflicting desires and moralities. The dichotomy of good and evil is a perennial theme across various disciplines—philosophical, psychological, social, and religious—and this conflict remains vibrant and unresolved, destined to persist until the end of earthly existence as decreed by divine proclamation.

The human psyche is not static; it is perpetually evolving, influenced by surrounding circumstances. This complexity is evident in the psychological struggle among the id, the ego, and the superego, each striving to assert its dominance and fulfill its inherent functions.

Humans, as rational creatures, bear the responsibility of selecting their values, which in turn sculpt their interactions with the world and define their essence of being. The mind, a unique gift from God that distinguishes humans from other creatures, can paradoxically guide its bearer to both enlightenment and destruction.

The narrative illustrates that humans are not solely rational entities but an amalgam of intellect and emotion. Adherence to purely intellectual pursuits can lead to the commission of grave offenses; however, the awakening of conscience—a marker of remorse—can activate emotional responses that may culminate in intense self-reflection and even self-punishment.

Misinterpretations of freedom, when individuals presume absolute liberty in their actions, can lead to the infringement of others' rights and the desecration of societal norms, all under the pretext of personal freedom and unchecked egoism. In such contexts, the freedom to feel and express genuine emotion is often sacrificed at the altar of material gain.

True freedom is inherently personal yet bounded by a respect for its limits. The liberty to choose between good and evil forms the crux of human existence, demanding that each individual discern and navigate these moral dimensions independently.