Nicholas Berdyaev, the
Russian Idea, and Liberty
“My whole feeling for life is born of an intense love of freedom,” writes Nicholas Berdyaev near the beginning of his autobiography.[1] Berdyaev is one of the pre-revolutionary thinkers whose works Soviet ideologists suppressed for decades. As restrictions ended in the twilight of Communism, Russians rediscovered Berdyaev and others as they sought to fill the vacuum left by the bankrupt official ideology of Marxism-Leninism. The freedom to which Berdyaev was devoted was not liberal individualism. He defined it as “personalism,” a respect for the individual in the context of community. He understood community in terms of what he called “the Russian idea.” For him this was a national mission characterized by devotion to a common good rooted in Christianity. Berdyaev was a self-proclaimed anarchist who regarded political power and institutions of any kind as damaging to both freedom and community. Despite his disdain for politics, Berdyaev’s understanding of liberty and community is an important basis for a Christian philosophy of citizenship and public life. His critique of power is a reminder of the need to protect the integrity of persons from being devalued by the claims of collectivities. However, to embrace his anti-institutionalism fully is to undermine the renewal of public life in Russia.
Berdyaev was a disciple of Vladimir Solovyev, a philosopher who inspired a new perspective on how to deal with the “cursed questions” provoked by escalating demands for modernization and social justice in Russia after the Crimean War. The cycle of reform and repression increasingly polarized the nation between defenders of the tsarist autocracy and revolutionaries calling for the wholesale abolition of traditional political and social values in the name of radical socialist or liberal visions. Religion and nationalism were pitted against secularist, universalist and rationalist ideologies. This new perspective was epitomized by a collection of essays published under the title of Vekhi (Landmarks)[2] in 1909, nine years after Soloviev’s death. Contributors to Vekhi affirmed the need for reform in both state and church while criticizing the revolutionary intelligentsia for an unwarranted faith in radical change and a willingness to justify anything in the pursuit of it. After the Bolshevik revolution there was a sequel to Vekhi entitled Iz glubiny (Out of the Depths),[3] an expression of hope that someday Russia would evolve into a more moderate state. Many years later Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn edited a third volume in the genre, Iz pd glub (From under the Rubble),[4] criticizing the Soviet system. Solzhenitsyn’s thought has been characterized as “Christian personalism,” defined as the idea that “individuals develop themselves only by realizing their responsibilities before others and in particular before their family and society.”[5]
The Bolshevik Revolution put an end to thinking about the relationship between Western liberal ideas and traditional Russian values. The demise of the Soviet Union renewed it. Russia under Peter the Great joined the rest of Europe in the journey toward a modern, secular society, however laggard and fitful its progress. In the 1860s Tsar Alexander II initiated changes that became known as the “Great Reforms.” They ended with Alexander’s assassination by revolutionaries. Those who thought the reforms went too far blamed them for encouraging rebellion by those who thought they did not go far enough. Nevertheless, a rule of law continued to evolve and voluntary organizations proliferated.
The well-known slogan of the reactionaries, “autocracy, Orthodoxy and nationality” assumed that in Russia religion and patriotism could have no relation to liberalism. The Slavophile movement, the most vigorous expression of Russian nationalism, seems at first glance to have shared that assumption. It rejected liberal individualism, regarding it as part of the modernization threatening a sense of community that was uniquely Russian. Slavophiles condemned Catholics and Protestants alike for a rationalist outlook that undermined true spirituality. Yet Slavophiles, like liberals, were critical of the tsarist autocracy and valued individual freedom. They sought to forestall modernization and the Western, individualist values it implied by reforming the traditional communal life of rural Russia in order to preserve that way of life. However, promoting the legal rights of individuals as well as accountability in the bureaucracy was also part of Slavophile doctrine.
An ambivalent attitude toward liberty and rationalism is evident in the novels of Dostoevsky. His characters are able to choose, but their choices can be disastrous. Liberty is a burden under which people like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment break down and coolly calculate murder. In the Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky uses the story of the “Grand Inquisitor” to warn that freedom is a burden. Many are willing to give it up for the sake of security, and the powerful are only too willing to accommodate them for the sake of order. Even if one decries oppression, faith in liberty and rationality will not prevent evil. Revolutionaries like Stavrogin in The Possessed are willing to cause great harm in the name of progress. The surest liberty, Dostoevsky teaches us, is a spiritual freedom that comes when one is willing and able to endure suffering by the grace of God.
Solovyev and Berdyaev also resembled Dostoevsky in that they criticized the Orthodox Church while continuing to base their values on Christian principles. The pre-revolutionary interplay between liberty and traditional values was also evident in efforts to reform the Church. Key to this was the concept of sobornost’, approximately meaning true communion among believers. It values individual freedom as a logical implication of the divine character of each person while also affirming the importance of the body of believers. Applied to church governance, sobornost’ sought to balance hierarchical with democratic principles. The individual parish was to be the primary governing body of the church. Clergy were to be elected. The Patriarch was not to have absolute power. The Church Council that finally convened in 1917 might have been as significant to Russian Orthodoxy as the Second Vatican Council later proved to be for Roman Catholicism, but it was forced to disband in the wake of the Revolution, its work unfinished.
Liberals
also called for toleration of minority faiths and the strengthening of
non-church schools as a step toward democratization in the countryside. Many parish priests and editors of leading
church periodicals supported these initiatives. Sergei Witte, the tsar’s prime minister, called for a
revitalization of parish life. One liberal
Christian paper asserted that Christian truth should be applied to public life
and not just to personal behavior and private relationships. It advocated reconstructing society on the
basis of Christian principles.[6] The church hierarchy firmly opposed reform,
whether inside or outside of the church.
It was uncritical in its support of the autocracy. After tsarist troops violently crushed a
peaceful protest before the palace on “Bloody Sunday” in 1905, the leadership
of the Church justified the action with a narrow interpretation of the
admonition in Romans 13 to obey those in authority.[7] Generally the mass of people neither
received nor sought much moral guidance from their parish priests.[8]
Solovyev was less interested in any organizational reform within the church than he was in a theology of engagement between the church and the world. He was a principal exponent of what became known as the “Russian theology.”[9] Its central assumption is that God is continuously at work in the world, transforming human beings and their works according to his ultimate intention for them. This process of reconciliation counteracts the alienation and fragmentation so evident in the world. God gives humans the freedom to participate in this process of creative redemption, even as he has freely chosen to be spiritually present in the world. In the Russian theology sobornost’ involves a union of faith and reason. Positivism’s faith in human reason alone is but a pale shadow of a much richer reality. Solovyev advocates a theocracy defined not as the exercise of power by the church, but as the discovery and application of Christian principles to all areas of life.
Despite some theological
differences, Berdyaev’s thought reflects Solovyev’s combination of respect for
reason and human freedom with faith in a divine superintendence of human affairs. This divine authority is the basis both for
protecting that freedom and for limiting the pretensions of individuals as well
as human institutions. Although in the
late Soviet period the was a surge of interest in Vekhi’s attempt to
find a middle way between revolution and tradition, the “rediscovery” of Russia
has gone in different directions. The
reformist, religious direction associated with Solovyev and Berdyaev has proven
to be less popular than some others.
The Russian Orthodox Church has gone in a direction that is markedly
more conservative religiously and politically.
The revival of Russian Orthodoxy has been only a part of a broader
nationalist resurgence glorifying the history and culture of pre-revolutionary
Russia and longing to reconstitute it in some measure. A variant of this is a nationalism that has
reconsidered the rather hasty burial of the Soviet past. Others associate
national purpose less with symbols of the past than with new entrepreneurial
opportunities. What is the significance
of Berdyaev’s understanding of community in the Russian context?
Michael Sandel has complained that liberalism is impoverished when its advocates suppress meanings and memories in favor of procedural values and rights.[10] Moral and religious discourse about what is good for society is an essential part of public life. At the heart of Bedyaev’s thought is a concern to know the meaning of Russia’s life as a nation.[11] He does not think of liberty apart from community.[12] He associates capitalism with individualism and decries it as alien to any sense of community. Money and property are inevitably associated with domination, and this demoralizes people more than anything else. People in societies dominated by liberalism become enslaved by material wants and the need to maintain position and reputation. Freedom is often nothing more than the ability to acquire and protect what one can gain through privileges that many in a society do not share. Industrialization has alienated individuals and destroyed community. Here Berdyaev reflects the influence of the Marxism to which he was once devoted. Capitalism (or modernization) is associated with the material necessity that defines society. In contrast, socialism promises community, defined by personal commitment and cooperation for the common good. He readily admits that personalism is more compatible with socialism than with liberalism. Anticipating liberation theology, Berdyaev plainly states that “Christianity is a religion of the poor.” (A less ideological variant of this way of thinking is found in the work of the “village writers,” authors in Brezhnev’s Russia who decried the effects of Soviet industry on rural environments.)
However, Berdyaev is also critical of any ideology, including socialism or nationalism, which claims ultimate loyalty. This is collectivism, which “objectifies” persons and so diminishes their worth. In memorable phraseology he decries the use of people as “fertilized soil” for the ambitions of the powerful. He associates true community with sobornost’, whose essentially spiritual nature cannot really be insititutionalized. The basis of this spiritual association is kenosis, the self-emptying of God into his creation to redeem it. Sobornost’ does not mean defining a nation in terms of religion. “Outward, objectified universalism” is different than “inward, existential universalism.” Community, then, must be disassociated as much as possible from institutions and power.
Tim McDaniel[13] argues that the “Russian idea” has always spelled tragedy in Russian history. It is an “imperial, corporate spirit imposed from above” that crushes freedom. The idea that Russia has a national mission has been used by tsarist autocracy and Communist totalitarianism to justify repressive and expansionist policies. There is reason to fear that a future form of Russian nationalism or even fascism could be built on a similar basis. Emphasizing the importance of a unity based on nationality, religion or ideology discourages diversity and dissent and encourages cultivation of a sense of superiority to those in “out” groups. James Scanlan dismisses the “Russian idea” as merely a poorly defined protest against modernization arising out of romanticism. Aileen Kelly holds that the only really legitimate values in politics are those related to procedures or the regulation of conflict. There is no “transcendental basis” for judgment among competing values. The erosion of transcendental foundations, however, does not mean that we must resign ourselves to nihilism or cynicism. On the contrary, freedom and morality can only exist in an unprogrammed world.[14]
These warnings about the Russian idea may be appropriate to more recent and more expansive interpretations of Russia’s mission. But Berdyaev is more careful in defining a national purpose for Russians. A century ago Solovyev warned against a “zoological nationalism,” glorifying one’s own group while denigrating outsiders.[15] Berdyaev took the same position, commending Dostoevsky’s statement that to be a genuine Russian is to be a brother to all men. (He also criticized Dostoevsky for contradicting this in other, narrowly nationalistic statements.) To Berdyaev, Russia’s mission was a spiritual one motivated by a sense of obligation to all of humanity. It is not a messianism requiring power to advance it. An interesting aspect of this mission is Solovyev’s idea that Russia’s role is to serve as a mediator between East and West.
This appeal to bridging the gap between cultures is particularly attractive at a time which some have characterized as a “clash of civilizations.” However, even such an attractive mission seems vague and grandiose. Can a modern state really have a national purpose or spiritual mission, even if it is not backed up by power? Can diverse states pretend to have a single national identity? The “Russian idea” seems most meaningful if it is understood as label for common values or conceptions of the common good with which particular interests must come to terms. Such values should be the product of discourse, and it should not be assumed that they are immutable. Rightly understood, Berdyaev’s Russian idea is not an ideological appeal, even if his phrase has been used ideologically. It is a reminder that liberty ought not be thought of apart from accountability to some community.
Dostoevsky said that man’s highest value, freedom, is possible only if God exists. This assumption underlies Berdyaev’s systematic exploration of the meaning of liberty in Slavery and Freedom. Liberty is necessary for human beings because they are persons created by God. Because personality is the result of a unique, creative act, the individual is more important than any collectivity. An individual’s essential value is based neither on nature (merely the product of a biological process) nor on necessity (what he or she can do). This is ultimately the basis for according individuals rights as well as for rejecting totalitarian ideas, which fail to respect them. To the degree that power, money or anything else has the effect of making the person into little more than an object, it is a source of slavery. It is also possible to enslave oneself through self-love, self-abnegation, a thirst for pleasure and resentment. However, when individuals live up to their divine call to be creative beings, they advance the Kingdom of God. This exaltation of the individual is striking in the context of Orthodoxy. Its tendency has been to portray God as distant and incomprehensible, leading individuals to expect tragedy and be fatalistic rather than hopeful.[16]
Berdyaev’s personalism is not a celebration of liberal individualism. His individual is not self-sufficient, but an “ontological” individual. This means that one who has the power to choose must be held responsible for the choices made. These choices may not be for oneself alone. One must be willing to confess one’s error when the inevitable wrong choices are made. A person belongs to this world and the next, and no individual is fulfilled without communion with others.
Berdyaev’s view of liberty therefore seems to reflect the Catholic view that choice itself is not enough. Knowledge of the good—of universal principles of justice—is critical if freedom is to be meaningful.[17] However, Berdyaev warns that personality must not be subordinated to socialization or to the common good. These are defined by social institutions, which by their very nature suppress personality. If this is so, one wonders, how can Berdyaev’s persons be held accountable at all? His answer is bound up with the fundamental distinction between society and community. In society individuals are objectified; they are “its.” In community they are “thous.” God is not an “it.” He transfigures human beings and bestows infinitude upon them.
When and
where does community exist? It seems
like a rather episodic and mystical phenomenon. Berdyaev does not associate the institutional church with
community. It is a social construct and
therefore cannot really be holy; it is as likely to objectify persons as any
other organization. The real church is
existential. Community exists whenever
there is fellowship with God and with others.
This fellowship is characterized above all by honest communication
motivated by a common search for truth.
A Christian who is truly free expects eternity to erupt into historical
time at any moment. The believer is not
anxious about where history is going or bound to accept historical
“necessity.” Therefore he or she is
free to participate in history as a meaningful drama and bold in advancing the
radical values of the Kingdom of God, exemplified in the Sermon on the
Mount. In this Berdyaev seems to share
the perspective of the Anabaptists. In
language prefiguring that of John Howard Yoder,[18]
he warns that what is deemed necessary
ought not be the basis for our values.
He also cautions against believing that eventually human progress will
bring about world peace. At bottom
freedom is a spiritual state and has essentially nothing to do with
institutions.
It is no surprise that Berdyaev believes the Kingdom of God is best described as anarchy, not a monarchy. Politics is inevitably based on lies. All states tend toward totalitarianism. The modern state, characterized by its bureaucracy, represents depersonalization in the extreme. Berdyaev does not even offer any comfort to those who seek to replace the conventional state with some form of anarchy, for any political order humans seek to establish—whether monarchy, democracy or anarchy—is an objectification and therefore not a source of true freedom. He scoffs at the idea that states can be justified insofar as they pursue a common good that also benefits the individual. States routinely use instruments of evil to do good. It is impossible to expect state actions to be compatible with Christian and humanist virtues.
This jaundiced view of politics is not unique in Russian and Orthodox intellectual circles. Slavophiles like Peter Chaadaev believed that law was far less important to public life than spiritual unity. This perspective is similar to the Anabaptist interpretation of the Apostle Paul’s unfavorable comparison between law and grace in the book of Romans. Although Luther agreed that true Christians did not need the law to behave in a godly manner in society, he rejected the conclusion that therefore government was irrelevant and even harmful to Christians. Like the Slavophiles, the Anabaptists believed genuine Christian community could pervade society, at least in certain times and places. Luther did not. Leo Tolstoy demonstrated the insignificance of politics and political leaders in War and Peace. Eventually he accepted the radical implications of this and became the Russian Christian anarchist par excellence. Even the culture in which Russian Orthodoxy is rooted, Byzantine Christianity, has a significant anarchist element.
It assumed that politics was inherently immoral. The effect of this was to dampen any expectation that morality could influence public life, or even to discourage serious Christians from being involved in politics at all.[19]
Maintaining
a distinction between community and society requires at the very least a
certain distance from politics. Even
those like Luther who argued that strong government was necessary in a sinful
world did not believe that political leaders were exempt from criticism when
they fell short of Christian moral standards. The Christian idea that government alone could never be sufficient
for human development was fundamental to the establishment of the idea of
limited government. There is a closer
relationship between the growth of community and liberty than power. Skepticism about politics implies not only
opposition to regimes in power but also criticism of the ambitions of
revolutionaries to create something better.
Berdyaev’s harsh judgments about politics were not exclusively directed
against governments. “Revolutions,” he
said, “always end badly.” His Christian
anarchy, therefore, is a challenge to any who would rely on political power as
a force for good, regardless of political doctrine. Its anti-institutional implications and dualistic mentality
toward morality and politics are evident in the attitudes of many in
post-Communist Russia.
Plato’s “noble lie” for the sake of unity and Rousseau’s acceptance of the necessity that dissenters may have to be “forced to be free” were ominous indications of how ignoring the distinction between society and community could endanger liberty. This danger was realized in the failed but costly pretensions of twentieth-century totalitarianism. Berdyaev’s awareness of the inherent tension between institutions and human freedom prevented him from offering “the Russian idea” as a blueprint for utopia. In this he seems to define freedom in terms of negative liberty, which emphasizes limits to political power rather than the use of political power to enhance the development of individuals. However, he defines persons not primarily as autonomous individuals but as creative and moral beings destined for community. If government can actually enhance the ability of individuals to be creative and to develop their moral capacities, would this not be a justification for positive liberty? For all his suspicion of institutions, Berdyaev seems to associate liberty not only with rights but also with virtue.
What he lacks is an appreciation for the fact that society and community cannot so easily be separated. Societies (or political systems) can be differentiated according to the degree to which they provide or allow opportunities for community. A community is less likely to be repressive if it is one of a number of communities in a society. Communities do not exist in a vacuum. They cannot escape the “necessities” of society. Crime, poverty, ignorance and other dangers to human life and health are not conducive to community, even though suffering can be an occasion for moral development.
Similarly, everyone, in whatever position, is faced with ethical choice. This may involve conflict between ends and means, evaluating competing ends or weighing the consequences of actions. Unless there is at least an attempt to implement values in one way or another, they are merely abstractions. Institutions and procedures—even bureaucracies—are unavoidable. Berdyaev fails to recognize that institutions—and especially law and government—are crucial to preserving liberty. Freedom may be fundamentally spiritual, but indifference to the relationship between institutions and liberty is morally irresponsible.
Nevertheless, Berdyaev is right in warning that any institution can be a threat to liberty. The Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church stated that if Orthodoxy ceases to be the principal expression of Russian faith and values, the spiritual unity of the nation would be disrupted and the Church could no longer be an effective moral witness. A journalist complained that in post-Communist Russia profession of the Orthodox faith has replaced Communist Party membership as a means to political power.[20] The growth of the Russian Orthodox Church’s institutional influence has not necessarily enhanced liberty. One Moscow priest warned of the danger of religious pluralism and called democracy “an idol that will be broken like communism.” This is suggests the repression that prevailed a century ago, when anyone converting from Orthodoxy faced a loss of civil rights.[21] The narrow nationalism with which also characterized the Church under tsarism has also reappeared to a significant degree. Berdyaev’s conception of Russia’s spiritual mission remains a challenge to such nationalism.
Berdyaev’s discussion of freedom in terms of the dignity of the person is an eloquent statement of the deeply Christian basis of liberty. One of the most important implications of personalism is freedom of speech. If every person is valuable, everyone deserves an opportunity to be heard. Dialogue is central to learning and to community.
To be tolerant is to treat persons with respect, allowing them to speak and paying attention to what they say. Dialogue and tolerance do not necessarily lead to truth. They may indeed suppress truth if conclusions and strongly held values are ruled incompatible with openness. Like liberty they can provide the opportunity to undermine community or truth. To restrict liberty or dialogue or to encourage intolerance risks greater damage to individuals and communities, however.
The
relationship between dialogue and truth has important implications for
Christians, both in their own spiritual communities and in their relation to
the broader society. The freedom to
practice a faith is only part of religious liberty. In a truly free society people of any kind of belief or
non-belief must be able to advocate their convictions publicly or change their
religious and ideological commitments.
This can be socially disruptive.
Dialogue and advocacy need not be mutually exclusive, however. In deciding what is appropriate, it is
necessary to consider whether the power of the advocate is undermining the
liberty of the hearer. Within churches
truth ought to be valued and explained.
There ought to be liberty to seek it within the context of the
commitment of the community. The
private dialogue within a faith community ought also to encourage and empower
that community and its members to contribute to public dialogue. The personal reflections of free individuals
and dialogue radiating outward from the grassroots are surely part of what
Berdyaev calls a “molecular process,” in which the tissue of society is being
constantly renewed from below.
[1] Dream and Reality: An Essay in Autobiography (London: Geoffrey Bles), p. 18
[2] Boris Shragin and Albert Todd (eds.), Landmarks: A Collection of Essays on the Russian Intelligentsia—1909 (New York: Karz Howard, 1977).
[3] William Woehrlin (ed.), Out of the Depths = De Profundis: A Collection of Articles on the Russian Revolution (Irvine, CA: C. Schlacks, Jr. 1986).
[4] Alexander Solzhenitsyn (ed.), From Under the Rubble (New York: Bantam Books, 1976).
[5] Wayne Allensworth, The Russian Question (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield, 1998), p. 87.
[6] John Sheldon Curtiss, Church and State in Russia: The Last Years of the Empire, 1900-1917. (New York: Octagon Books, 1972), pp. 212-13
[7] Gregory L. Freeze, “Going to the Intelligentsia: The Church and Its Urban Mission in Post-Reform Russia,” in Edith W. Clowes, Samuel D. Kassow and James L. West, Between Tsar and People: Educated Society and the Quest for Public Identity in Late Imperial Russia (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), pp. 215-32.
[8] Vladimir Anderle, A Social History of Twentieth Century Russia (London: Edward Arnold, 1994), pp. 53-56.
[9] See Paul Valliere, Modern Russian Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), part II.
[10] See both Democracy’s
Discontent and The Limits of Liberalism
[11] My discussion of Berdyaev’s understanding of community in the Russian context is based on Nikolai Berdyaev, The Russian Idea (Hudson, NY: The Lindisfarne Press, 1992).
[12] My discussion of Berdyaev’s understanding of liberty is based on Nicolai Berdyaev, Slavery and Freedom (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1944).
[13] The Agony of the Russian Idea (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996).
[14] Aileen M. Kelly, Toward Another Shore: Russian Thinkers Between Necessity and Chance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998).
[15] Nicolai Petro, The Rebirth of Russian Democracy: An Interpretation of Political Culture (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1997).
[16] Peter Lowman, “Perceptions of a Great Country: Hunches and Pointers in Understanding Russia,”
East-West Church & Ministry Report vol. 8 no. 3 Summer 2000 (p. 2 of the article in the electronic edition).
[17] Donald DeMarco, “Does Freedom Have any Bearing on Social Justice?” Social Justice Review (January/February 2001) 28
[18] The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972).
[19] Warren Treadgold, “The Persistence of Byzantium,” The Wilson Quarterly (Autumn 1998) 89.
[20] Valery Kichin, “Ordered to Believe,” Izvestia, 15 January 2000 (translated by Paul D. Steeves and available on his website, “Russian Religion News” (http://www.stetson.edu/~psteeves/relnews/).
[21] Kent R. Hill, “Christian Mission, Proselytism and Religious Liberty: A Protestant Appeal for Christian Tolerance and Unity,” Religion, State and Society 25 (1997): 313, 317.