FREEDOM AND SELF-KNOWLEDGE IN THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF ANTON CHEKHOV A Thesis Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School University of Missouri-Columbia In Partial Fulfillment Of the Requirements for the Degree Master of Arts by JOSEPH BARTLETT Dr. Timothy Langen, Thesis Supervisor JULY 2005 For the benefit of Mr. Kite. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am grateful to all those who lent their support and assistance in the completion of this project. Of course, no such research project can be done by one person alone, and this was certainly no exception. I thank my professors and committee members, in particular my advisor Dr. Timothy Langen, for the direction they provided me in the course of the completion of this project. I thank my many friends and relatives who reminded me that I was capable of getting to the end. Special thanks are due to those whose influence and ideas found their way into the pages of this paper; certainly it would be lacking without them. ii TABLE OF CONTENTS ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS …..……………………………………………………………... ii Chapter I. INTRODUCTION ……………………………………………………..……. 1 Overview of the problem and text to be considered II. CONSIDERATION OF THE TEXTS ………………………………..……... 5 Analysis of the problem of freedom and self-knowledge as appears in the texts of Chekhov’s plays III. THE FORMAL PROBLEM …………………..………………...…………. 16 Analysis of inaction as a literary dilemma in the genre of drama IV. THE MATERIAL PROBLEM …………………………………..……...…. 20 The problem of freedom and self-knowledge as manifest in Chekhov’s characters and characterizations V. THE REPRESENTATIONAL PROBLEM ……………………..…….…… 25 Applications of the literary problems of freedom and self-knowledge to analogous philosophical questions VI. CONCLUSION …………………………………………………….....……. 26 Summary of research and synthesis of Chekhov and Bakhtin’s ideas as a possible solution, both literary and philosophical iii I. Introduction With an entire dramatic repertoire consisting of only five major works, Anton Chekhov firmly planted himself into the ranks of the elite, and to this day is almost universally revered as one of the finest playwrights of all time. Yet these five plays defy virtually every convention of great dramatic literature. Most notably, Chekhov departs from perhaps the genre’s most fundamental convention, namely that, in a successful play, some action must take place. Instead, Chekhov’s dramatic works feature characters whose most striking trait is their ability to lament at great length their desire to perform actions, but ultimately actually do nothing. So complete is their inability to act, they are unable even to determine what qualifies as an action. They all long to find some action that is good or significant and, despite the many opportunities they encounter, none of their goals ever come to fruition. Drama seems to be a rather peculiar place to find such overriding themes of inactivity, as it is in drama that the audience most expects that some sort of action will take place. These plays serve as a laboratory for mental experiments about such philosophical concepts as libertarian freedom1, self-knowledge and the definition of an action. Many of the concepts relevant even to current debate on these topics find themselves manifest in the traits Chekhov’s characters exhibit. His plays address, often in quite a direct fashion, issues at the heart of philosophical debates about the possibility of human freedom. These questions often 1 Here I mean to identify the sort of freedom with which philosophy of action concerns itself, and do not mean to exclude alternate conceptions of that freedom (e.g., compatibilism or soft determinism), but rather to differentiate this sense of freedom from other sorts (e.g., political or economic freedom). While my own research focuses solely on libertarian freedom, it is not clear that either Chekhov or his characters make this distinction. 1 find analogues in literary theory, where similar questions arise about the possibility of free action, not for humans, but for literary characters. In “The Author and Hero in Aesthetic Activity” Mikhail Bakhtin examines the literary question of individual freedom in light of self-knowledge. Here Bakhtin proposes a theory of surplus vision, whereby he argues that all literary characters lack certain sorts of self-knowledge that can be obtained only through the observation of someone other than the character himself: When I contemplate a whole human being who is situated outside and over against me, our concrete, actually experienced horizons do not coincide. For at each given moment, regardless of the position and the proximity to me of this other human being whom I am contemplating, I shall always see and know something that he, from his place outside and over against me, cannot see himself. (Bakhtin 22-23) Bakhtin’s primary interest is in the epistemic relationship between the literary character (i.e., the hero) and the author of a text. Because the author always retains an advantage of surplus vision as the character’s creator, it seems that the character is always prevented from acting independently of the author. Put simply, it seems that a character cannot write himself; this right is retained by the author. Because of the author’s epistemic advantage—his surplus vision, to use Bakhtin’s terminology—the character’s ability to act independently is impeded, perhaps irrevocably. According to Bakhtin, the ability of a character (or actual person, for that matter) to act freely resides in his capacity for surprisingness. On his view, an action is performed freely if and only if nobody else could have reliably predicted that action. In the case of the relationship between a literary character and his author, this seems especially problematic: because of the character’s inability to act independently of the author’s pen, the prospects for 2 true freedom seem unpromising. The same sort of concern regarding freedom and foreknowledge arises in questions of human freedom, particularly as it relates to divine foreknowledge. God, it is argued, is ever aware of the actions of humans, and cannot be surprised; thus, no true human freedom exists.2 One need not extend the analogy to God, however, to observe the dilemma in human behavior. In fact, the majority of human actions require no such divine omniscience to be predictable; most of us who have known any person for a significantly long period of time can attest to having very little trouble predicting said person’s actions with a high degree of both accuracy and frequency, even absent divine revelation. On a Bakhtinian view of freedom, either in the case of literary characters or humans, free action is a rare occurrence. The capacity to act surprisingly (a necessary condition for a truly free action in the Bakhtinian sense) is predicated upon an awareness of the expectations that others hold: only by first knowing these expectations can an actor subvert those expectations and behave in a surprising manner. Thus free action requires a special form of self-knowledge, namely that which is received from an external perspective and then integrated into the subject’s self-conceptualization. Bakhtin refers to this capacity to act surprisingly as a loophole, a means of overcoming the deterministic limitations on ordinary behavior. Chekhov’s plays are rife with discussions about what constitutes a free (or meaningful or good) action and how one may successfully be completed, though they notably 2 This argument by analogy extends only to views that fall under the broad umbrella of classical theism (i.e., those versions of theism that assert a fixedness of facts about the future that, like any other facts, are known to God). It seems that perhaps open theism may escape the analogy, as it asserts that facts about future events are undecidable and, therefore, unknowable even to God. 3 lack instances of such successful completions of actions. This raises a twofold problem: First, we must identify the deficiencies in Chekhov’s characters that prevent them from performing, or even identifying, actions. Second, there is an aesthetic issue at stake: His plays seem to work on some level, though not in any way that we generally associate with what we expect a good play to do. While his plays do serve as a laboratory of sorts for various thought experiments, his tremendous reputation attests that they also succeed artistically, though not in any way that most critics find easily identifiable. This notorious difficulty (i.e., finding an adequate answer to the seemingly simple question “why are Chekhov’s plays good?”) may be referred to as a formal problem. We must, it seems, be able to answer this question, lest our other questions be unworthy of further discussion. If we are to discuss Chekhov’s exploration of philosophical ideas in his art, we must first be able to defend the claim that he is doing legitimate art; given that his works conform to none of the standards by which art in the genre of drama is conventionally judged, it seems unsatisfactory simply to accept at face value that Chekhov’s plays are in fact art. One may still read his plays as elaborately constructed (and oddly formatted) hypothetical cases, the likes of which one might commonly encounter in an article in a philosophy journal, but few would defend the notion that every academic who employs a hypothetical example to demonstrate a point is, in doing so, writing literature. Unless Chekhov’s plays can be shown to hold some merit qua literature (i.e., art), discussing them as such seems nonsensical. The lack of action in Chekhov’s plays poses not only a formal, but a material problem as well. His characters claim to want to perform good or significant actions, but are either unwilling or unable to do so. They do not perceive themselves as free and, at least in the 4 Bakhtinian sense, they are not. Surprises are rare in Chekhov’s plays; perhaps the most notable is Lopakhin’s purchase of the orchard in The Cherry Orchard. Neither the audience nor the other characters in the play expects this turn of events; in fact Lopakhin can hardly believe it himself. Setting aside this exception, however, the vast majority of Chekhov’s characters find their situations unchanged by play’s end. While in many cases they plot to change their circumstances somehow, these plans are never brought to fruition, though not for lack of opportunity. Whatever Chekhov is attempting to accomplish artistically, it seems that he intends for his plays to reflect the world as it is. In each of his plays, Chekhov creates a world that operates according to the same laws and principles of the actual world. Thus we may look at Chekhov’s characters as types that may exist in the real world. Because his worlds so mirror the actual world, the problem of inaction in his plays is not only a formal and material problem, but a representational one as well. By posing a problem of free action for his characters on both the formal and material levels, Chekhov also posits an analogous problem on a representational level. Because he constructs the worlds in which his plays take place so that they represent the actual world, whatever philosophical problems (and solutions) we encounter in those worlds, we may try to apply parallel principles to the actual world. Thus, if freedom is a problem for Chekhov’s characters, by implication, his plays point to problems regarding freedom for humans in the actual world as well. II. Consideration of the Texts Chekhov’s first play Ivanov (1887) is rich with discussions of the possibility of self- knowledge. In its third act the play’s title character and his antagonist, Lvov, openly dispute the self-knowledge question in the form of a bitterly personal dispute. The context of their 5 disagreement is the primary dilemma of the play: Ivanov’s wife Anna is dying; meanwhile, rather than attending to her and cherishing the remaining time he has with her, he begins an affair with Sasha Lebedeva, the 20 year old daughter of the local council chairman. Lvov, Anna’s physician, lashes out in fury against Ivanov’s despicable behavior. Their argument quickly turns to considerations of the possibility of being aware of the motivations for one’s actions. In this confrontation Ivanov insists that it is impossible for a man ever to know the complete truth about the motivations for his actions: You think I’m an open book, don’t you? … How simple and straightforward. Man’s such a simple, uncomplicated mechanism. No, Doctor, we all have too many wheels, screws and valves to judge each other on first impressions or one or two pointers. I don’t understand you, you don’t understand me and we don’t understand ourselves. (Chekhov 44)3 For Lvov, the matter of Ivanov’s marital infidelity is a simple question of good and evil. Ivanov, looking past the moral dimension of his behavior, returns Lvov’s outrage directly back to him by crying foul about Lvov’s daring to stand in judgment of Ivanov in the first place. Nobody, on Ivanov’s view, stands in the correct epistemic relationship to another person (or even to himself) to make informed judgments about the moral status of that person’s behavior. With his response, Ivanov clearly understands the perception the doctor has of him: he acknowledges Lvov’s belief (one, it seems, that is shared by many characters in the play) that he married Anna simply for her money. From this, he infers that the doctor has made certain inferences about his motivations for pursuing his affair with Sasha who, after all, is young enough to be his daughter. Ivanov anticipates these criticisms from Lvov, and 3 All citations in this section are from Ronald Hingley’s English translation of Chekhov’s five major plays. 6
Description: