The philosophical cornerstone of Fyodor Dostoevsky's writing is "egoism," a consuming self-consciousness with an overwhelming desire to continually express one's superiority over others. In short, it is an obsessive concern for status. Dostoevsky's protagonists, especially the "underground man," are filled with mental snobbery checked by an uncooperative reality, like the narrator of the short masterpiece, "A Gentle Creature" (1876). Here the protagonist cannot comprehend his own folly or the resultant human impact of his delusion: his wife's suicide by jumping out their apartment window. The narrator's blinding egoism is also the principal character trait of Donald Trump, a mindset that kills human spirituality.
In "A Gentle Creature," Dostoevsky's writing notes show his
intent to build a narrator with "immeasurable vanity. His wife cannot fail to notice that he is
cultivated, but then realizes, not very much.
Every gibe (and he takes everything as a gibe) angers him." The character
"needs to confide himself [to others], which peeps out his terrible misanthropy
and ironically insulting mistrust." Dostoevsky's notes are an eerily accurate
description of Donald Trump in 2016, especially Trump's reactions to any
criticism (even from the Pope).
Dostoevsky uses the pawnbroker profession (usury) to
crystalize his narrator's "egoism." Money is the principle expression of status
during the Golden Age of the 1870s, "a colossal façade" of riches, luxury, and
general prosperity, according to Dostoevsky. Obsession with status seeking
through money, a lust for admiration, masks the narrator's strong personal
feelings of inferiority. The narrator only sees himself through the capitalist's
lens, refusing to accept other, more human, perceptions outside of this
criterion. Trump's supporters, including many Evangelical leaders, focus with this same limitation. Trump's overt racism, misogyny, inhumanity,
and disregard for facts—repeatedly excused as "political incorrectness"—ignore a much broader human lens to
embraces a periscopic assessment: Trump as a successful businessman, a money-maker
deserving of respect who will help followers make more money too.
The narrator in "A Gentle Creature" holds the same value
system, a Golden Age set of materialist beliefs which drive his marriage. He
courts his future wife at the pawnshop, where the narrator pounces upon her
financial desperation to secure her hand. In retelling the story, the narrator
casts himself as a Romantic hero, yet later reluctantly admits that she took a
long time to say "yes." A power struggle ensues where the narrator believes
that any empathy, tenderness, apology or forgiveness on his part will be
perceived as weakness or self-doubt. "Admitting her into my house, I desired full
respect. I wished that she should look at me worshipfully... and I desired full
respect. And I deserved it!"
Instead of bowing down, the wife intensifies a battle of
wills to the point where she holds a loaded gun to his head one morning at
daybreak. Waking from sleep, the narrator freezes and then closes his eyes again,
completely at her mercy. According to the narrator's account of this horror, it
is not the wife's moral strength, but his own cool possession that saves his
life.
After this close encounter, the wife does not even look at
her husband again and grows ill. "Believe it or not," the narrator reports, "I
was becoming loathsome to her." In contrast, the narrator basks in his
perceived superiority, his complete victory. "I grew triumphant, and the very
knowledge of it proved sufficient to me. Oh, I was content as never before." Trump
would have the same inward elation upon winning the 2016 presidential election.
A victory would simply affirm his status and prove that he is a "winner," not a
"loser." As he has suggested in the past, Trump may even win the election and
then resign, because ego fulfillment is his true objective.
In "A Gentle Creature," the narrator's psychological triumph
leads to an epiphany: He is alone. Desolation results from unending egoism and
status-seeking, achieved through beating rather than embracing others. Egoism
reaps a harvest of divisiveness. The absence of love is the core of death, an
inhuman world, and the antithesis of Christianity (and every other religion). "Man
on earth is alone—this is the calamity!" the narrator laments. "Everything is
dead, and everywhere—nothing but corpses. Only men, and around them,
silence—such is earth. 'Love each other'—Who said this? Whose covenant is
this?"
America may be asking the same questions on Wednesday morning.
Lee Miller graduated from Cornell University
and has taught writing for over 13 years at the secondary and post-secondary
levels. This column examines current
events through the lens of quality literature.
Santa Fe Reporter