As we will see, Fyodor Dostoevsky starts off very strong in The Brothers Karamazov. Almost as soon as the book begins, he has us contemplating God, faith, and the afterlife. This is an odd topic indeed for a whodunit centered around what bears a striking resemblance to a discombobulated family reunion. There are all sorts in the Karamazov family, and Dostoevsky leverages their variety well. It seems that for every vice, there is a man with it, and one for every virtue as well, though these can be more subtle in their nature. There is, however, one man of virtue who stands out from the rest. He mentors the eventual hero of the novel and is even a bit of a celebrity himself–Father Zosima. It is he that we find discussing God, faith, and the afterlife with Madame Hohlakov in the opening chapters of part 1 of the book, and it is his ethic which we will be looking at next.

It seems that Zosima’s ethic can be encapsulated in one word–altruism. It seems altruistic, but it is an altruism not so much focused on sacrifice for the other as on intentions. It’s the hedonistic paradox aimed at self fulfillment instead of pleasure. One cannot fulfil the self by seeking to do so. The aim of one’s actions cannot be toward self-fulfillment or they will miss the mark every time. One can fulfill one’s self only by actively loving the other. We can deduce the majority of Zosima’s ethic from two quotations. When Madame Hohlakov confesses her “lack of faith” to Father Zosima, she wants proof, proof of “life after death” (55). Father Zosima responds, “‘One cannot prove anything here, but it is possible to be convinced’” (56). “‘How? By what?’” Madame Hohlakav asks (56). It is in the following response that we begin to see just how extreme Father Zosima’s philosophy really seems, even among his fellow monks. He replies, “‘By the experience of active love. Try to love your neighbors actively and tirelessly…And if you reach complete selflessness in the love of your neighbor, then undoubtedly you will believe, and no doubt will even be able to enter your soul’” (56).

From these and many other remarks, it is clear that Zosima  seems to preach an ethic that is extreme indeed. An ethic that goes beyond self-fulfillment via active love, to active love alone. The self seems to get lost in the active love of the other. Indeed, Zosima says that only when you have reached “‘complete selflessness in the love of your neighbor’” will you have faith without a doubt (56). But let’s see if we can shed some light on his underlying assumptions  by considering another of Zosima’s teachings.

Midway through the novel there is an entire section dedicated to Zosima’s life and teachings. Here there is a subsection entitled (i) Of Hell and Hell Fire: A Mystical Discourse, where Zosima discusses what hell is and how one exists there (322). He describes hell as follows: “‘The suffering of being no longer able to love’” (322). It is clear that Zosima believes the absence of the ability to love causes suffering, but what isn’t quite as apparent is what Zosima must believe to make such a claim. He must believe that love itself, active love, brings joy and fulfillment.

What we find then, and in Hell of all places, is that Zosima’s ethic isn’t quite what it seems. It’s not a call to abandon the self. It’s not a call to sacrifice one’s happiness for another. It’s a call to come back to our roots and live as we were created to live. It’s a call to the active love of another, with the benefit of self-fulfillment and joy. You see, we weren’t created to be happy, we weren’t created even to seek it. We were created to love, and the former follows. This is at least what I think Zosima would say.