The key point of Crime and Punishment is well known within philosophical and literary circles, but relatively unknown to the average reader who doesn’t read into the context of Dostoevsky’s work.
Dostoevsky was part of a movement called the existentialist movement– a movement consisting of writers and philosophers that debated the meaning of life, morality and the existence of God. All of Dostoevsky’s work focuses around these important questions, with Crime and Punishment focusing on morality in particular.
To somewhat understand the context, it’s important to take a quick look back at the morality argument. The Reformation in the 16th century gave way to the criticism of Christian principles, ultimately resulting in the Enlightenment, where the concept of objective morality (as taught by Christianity) could be debated. Having come out of the Enlightenment not long before, the 19th century world that Dostoevsky finds himself in was characterised by what Nietzsche metaphorically refers to as the dusk of morality in his famous “parable of the madman”. The rejection of God by some, fueled by the Enlightenment and Darwinian morality, gave way to relativism– the concept that there is no such thing as right and wrong, but rather that morality is subjective. Without an objective reference frame by which to guide our moral values (i.e. God’s nature), there can be no valid standard by which to judge right and wrong objectively, meaning that morality depends on preference only.
Dostoevsky was a Christian objectivist. He believed that there is such a thing as right and wrong and that only the existence of God can justify the existence of this type of objective morality. As he writes in one of his other novels, The Brothers Karamazov: “if God does not exist, then everything is permitted”. And that’s the basis for Crime and Punishment.
In Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky explores the idea of objective morality by setting up the strongest possible counter-argument to his argument that morality is objective. He creates Raskolnikov, a poor, young student with great ambitions in 19th century St. Petersburg. Initially, Raskolnikov is swept away by the relativistic current that many of Dostoevsky’s opponents had been riding. He isn’t concerned by what is right or what is wrong at the beginning of the story; he is more concerned about his ambitions.
Dostoevsky essentially sets up the ideal situation in which, if relativism is to be true, Raskolnikov’s murder can be justified. He makes Raskolnikov a character with which the reader can empathise. He makes the victim, Alyona Ivanovna, a despicable old pawnbroker that profits unjustly off the backs of poor people and abuses her meek, somewhat mentally disabled younger sister by treating her almost like a slave. Not only does he want her dead, but a lot of other people do, such as the ones he hears talking in the bar. He also has a noble motive; he wants to run a law firm that helps unfortunate people and young students such as himself with the stolen money. Moreover, he really wants back the old watch that he had to pawn, which was a memento from his father.
From a relativistic (or, more accurately, utilitarian) point of view, Raskolnikov is clearly justified in murdering Alyona; not only does he have the motivation to do it but he also has valid reasons. However, things don’t go as planned. After Raskolnikov commits the murder, it doesn’t take him long to realise that things aren’t the same anymore. He feels crazed, in a feverish trance. He becomes guilt-ridden, which becomes more evident as the novel progresses. He subconsciously realises that he has broken an inviolable law; his “crime” (as in the title of the novel) is not simply against local law, as he formerly believed in his relativistic worldview, rather he has transgressed an objective moral law whose existence he previously denied. And he is not alone in this: the reader initially feels sympathetic for Raskolnikov’s cause, but his murder almost causes revulsion and apathy. We, as readers, are shown that neither Raskolnikov’s nor our preference can dictate morality, that we have an inner understanding of a greater moral law than that which we try to create for ourselves.
What makes Crime and Punishment great is that Dostoevsky’s portrayal of Raskolnikov’s behaviour after the murder is characteristic of the average murderer, according to psychoanalytic studies that were done subsequent to the writing of the novel. The growing guilt, to the point that he hides the stolen money and doesn’t touch them at all, along with the urge to confess his crimes, are highly typical of criminals. This urge drives him to first confess his crimes to Sonia, the selfless Christian girl whose circumstances forced her into prostitution. In the novel, by virtue of her adherence to traditional Christian morality, she is shown to have the best understanding of Raskolnikov’s situation and his need for forgiveness. She, like him, understands the immorality of her situation but, unlike him, doesn’t try to justify it under relativistic pretences. The only thing that ultimately reconciles Raskolnikov’s actions with his mind (and the moral framework it has finally accepted) is the acceptance of punishment or, in other words, his acceptance of the fact that his deed was objectively wrong and is therefore deserving of punishment. Hence the title of the novel.
I know this is a long post, but I’ve enjoyed writing it because Dostoevsky is my favourite author, and his work within the existentialist movement has interested me for a long time. I hope it has been of some use.