Crime and Punishment

Raskolnikov, the protagonist in Dostoyefsky’s classic 19th century novel, had a theory. People are divided into two classes: those who are subject to the law and those who make the law. Most of us fall into the first class. We have a moral obligation to respect the rights of our fellow man. When we violate those rights we suffer the consequences of civic justice. But once in a while someone comes along who transcends any such obligation. Without pang of conscience that person is free to murder, steal, lie, pillage, or commit any crime because he is destined for greatness. Not only is he free of any sense of his own guilt, the rest of us hold him up as exemplary. The starving and half mad Raskolnikov used his theory to justify in his own mind the murder of his pawn broker. She was an old hag who profited from the misery of others. He would use her money to complete his studies and go on to all sorts of marvelous deeds. Wouldn’t that be the higher morality? But Raskolnikov botched his crime, hid the stolen goods under a rock without even counting the money, and sank further into depression and madness. He eventually confessed and was sentenced to hard labor in Siberia where he recovered his sanity and resolved to rebuild his life after serving his time. Dostoyefsky left him there, and left the reader to wonder whether it was the crime Raskolnikov regretted, or the failure. Put in such stark terms the whole idea is repugnant, but is it really? Don’t we use Raskolnikov’s logic more often than we admit? More often even than we realize? How many Americans idolize Che Guevara as a romantic revolutionary? From another view Che was a petty despot. Abraham Lincoln was the greatest of our presidents because he preserved the Union and freed the slaves at the cost of our bloodiest war. Lyndon Johnson concocted an incident in the Tonkin Gulf to gain public support for committing American troops in Vietnam. I’ve long forgotten who it was who asked “What’s wrong with a president lying if it serves the nation’s interest?” Wasn’t the Cold War worth winning? Al Gore blithely uses exaggeration and outright fabrication in his warnings about global warming. He got an Oscar for it. Many of the same people who praise Gore condemn George Bush for exaggerating the danger in Iraq to lead us into a war. Isn’t it just a matter of what cause the lie serves? If I support the cause is there no sin in the lie? Does the end justify the means? We grew up rejecting that in the communist credo but don’t we often think like that? It isn’t simply the petty crime we are willing to overlook. The English venerate Henry VIII, though there was much to condemn in his divorce proceedings. Russians exalt the murderous Peter the Great, as the French do Napoleon. My church holds up Louis IX as a saint, one of history’s most notorious anti-Semites. Who are we to condemn Arabs who regarded Saddam Hussein a national hero for thumbing his nose at Uncle Sam? What about the pro life zealot who bombs an abortion clinic, the globalization protester who riots and vandalizes, or the animal rights activist who throws paint on a woman’s fur coat? Theodore Kaczynski, the Unabomber, was protesting the industrial society. Are any of them on more solid moral ground than others? I don’t mean to equate Abraham Lincoln with Saddam Hussein. Our society has moved beyond tolerating the slaughter of innocents. We will not accept behavior in today’s leaders we will forgive in the distant past. But the logic is still there and it is still dangerous. There are many among us who put themselves above minor transgressions in support of greater good. The rest of us tend to go along, depending on the seriousness of the transgression and our personal view of the higher cause. We should all think carefully about that. It’s a short step to Raskolnikov’s depravity.