Questions about the The Brothers Karamazov

[pentangle]

I read this months ago but can't stop thinking about it because I'm such a shameless Ivan/Katerina. Here are some questions:

1) (Betrayal and selfless love) Dostoevsky seems to imply that Alyosha's love for Dmitri (and everyone) is ideal or better than the kind of self abnegating simp love Katerina provides, since I guess the latter is controlling in ways the former isn't. But isn't her response kind of reasonable given that she's betrothed to Dmitri? Her position's more entangled and emotionally and socially vulnerable than Alyosha's - since she's Dmitris' fiancee she presumably has a stake in his choices, so rationally she'd need to be controlling if he can't control himself. When he does retarded shit and betrays her it directly impacts her, while Alyosha can sort of just stand outside the prison and drop some encouraging words. How would Dostoevsky think she *ought* to have responded? Should she have just accepted the betrayal and grieved it and moved on from him (isn't this in a sense still less giving and devoted than what she actually did, since it involves abandoning him to his vices)? Technically everyone in the book endures some form of betrayal, but the sheer extent of it for Katerina and Smerdyakov makes it hard to imagine how or what an Alyosha-like response could even look like on their ends (except maybe forgiveness, or something). Nobody even wants their counsel or help or whatever.

TL;DR I guess another more succinct way the tension above manifests is in Dostoevsky’s take on Ivan and Katerina's respective actions: he seems to fault Ivan for abandoning his brothers when they needed him, while simultaneously faulting Katerina for not abandoning her ex-fiance??

2) (Moral responsibility and control) When Zosima says "There is only one salvation for you: take yourself up, and make yourself responsible for all the sins of men." I can't wrap my head around how you can be "responsible" for the sins of men without venturing into the territory of controlling them. If someone does something retarded, in what sense can you exercise this kind of moral responsibility without attempting to fix it for them, explain the errors of their ways, etc. etc. (Katerina-style)? What does it mean to be responsible for the "sin" of a person if not to attempt to fix or change them? There's a bunch of shit in the book that suggests that Alyosha thinks that transformation could only happen internally and not be imposed externally by another person (e.g. him not really engaging with Ivan's otherwise pretty reasonable arguments about the problem of evil), but if that's the case then how can someone else be "responsible" for someone else's lack of insight?

3) (Moral responsibility for thought crimes) The book seems to imply Ivan's in some sense morally responsible for the central tragedy because his ideas in "enable" or sanction Smerdyakov's actions. This seems kind of odd to me - how long does causal chain extend? You can't really control how people receive your ideas, and is the mere exploration of a genuine question something you have to be cautious about just because some other guy might run with it in a direction you never intended? Can you be morally responsible for something without *intending* the consequences of that thing?

4) (On what prompts moral salvation) Why did being thrown in prison prompt Dmitri to finally take an interest in moral salvation but not Katerina's suffering (obviously caused by him)? More generally, what makes a person collapse inwards like this if not argumentation or guilt or reason?

5) (On shame) Why does Dmitri respond to the perception that Katerina's morally righteous and forgiving by doubling down on his selfishness (by further indulging in his own shame, which is inherently a self absorbed emotion), but when Alyosha *also* behaves in morally righteous and forgiving ways, Dmitri doesn't have the same reaction? I don't think Katerina's righteousness is fake, it's just also enmeshed with a kind of attachment that seems to naturally follow from her unique relationship to Dmitri.

 

[herefortheactualthreads]

here talk to chatgpt:

Spoiler: long

These are beautifully sharp and hard questions. The Brothers Karamazov is a book obsessed with moral asymmetries—between people, their conditions, their duties—and your discomforts are Dostoevsky’s own, baked deeply into the novel. He doesn’t resolve them cleanly, and part of his brilliance is making readers wrestle with the contradictions. Let’s work through each point:

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1.​

You’re right to notice the inconsistency in how Dostoevsky frames Katerina and Ivan’s responsibilities versus Alyosha’s detachment. Katerina is emotionally, socially, and morally bound to Dmitri in a way Alyosha isn’t. Her attempt to control him comes from a real vulnerability—if Dmitri self-destructs, she’s implicated and harmed in ways Alyosha will never be. So why does Dostoevsky seem to lionize Alyosha’s detached compassion while judging Katerina’s entangled, agonizing devotion?


Here’s one take: Dostoevsky seems to suggest that love that is entangled with control or debt isn’t truly redemptive, even if it’s passionate, loyal, and sacrificial. Katerina’s love is bound up with a contract—“I saved you once; now you owe me.” Alyosha’s love is more like Zosima’s: it makes no demands. But your challenge stands: is that kind of love only possible from a position of relative freedom or privilege?


If Katerina just let go of Dmitri, yes, that would be less controlling—but also, arguably, less devoted. She wants to carry the cross with him. Dostoevsky might still say: then carry it silently. Love that demands acknowledgment becomes distorted.


So how should she have responded? Dostoevsky doesn’t offer a neat model. But in Zosima’s and Alyosha’s way of being, real love isn’t about control or even guidance—it’s presence, endurance, humility, and yes, often silence. She might have grieved and stepped back without using her love as a kind of moral or emotional leverage.

TL;DR: Dostoevsky critiques love that becomes a claim upon the other, even when it’s justified. Alyosha’s love costs him less in some ways, but it also asks for nothing. Katerina’s love is powerful, even noble—but Dostoevsky might say: the more entangled it becomes with pride, the less salvific it is.

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2.​

Zosima’s ideal—taking responsibility for the sins of others—feels like it would lead to Katerina-style interventionism. But Dostoevsky clearly means something else. His paradox is that true moral responsibility doesn’t involve fixing others—it involves changing yourself in response to their suffering or wrongdoing.


You are “responsible” in that you are part of the same fallen fabric. If your brother sins, you don’t correct him; you ask, “How am I complicit?” Not in a literal sense, but spiritually—what have I failed to love, notice, tend?


In other words, this is responsibility as solidarity, not oversight.


Alyosha doesn’t control Ivan or Dmitri. But he carries them spiritually. He doesn’t lecture, just stays near. That’s Dostoevsky’s model. Fixing someone might reinforce your ego. But bearing them humbly, without demand—that’s love.

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3.​

Ivan doesn’t intend the murder. But he does, through his ideas and negligence, clear the path for it. Dostoevsky’s view is unsettling: ideas aren’t neutral. When Ivan says “everything is permitted,” even hypothetically, it gives Smerdyakov a framework to act.


Dostoevsky’s claim isn’t that all thinkers are guilty for how people misuse their thoughts, but that moral detachment is an illusion. Ivan wants to play with fire philosophically while remaining untouched. The novel says: you can’t.

“Everyone is responsible for everyone” includes a kind of intellectual responsibility. If your thoughts sow despair or nihilism, you don’t get to claim innocence just because you didn’t pull the trigger.

You’re right this is a slippery slope. But Dostoevsky wants to provoke fear in the intellectual who thinks he can escape the moral implications of what he believes.

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4.​

Prison confronts Dmitri with himself in a way nothing else has. Katerina’s suffering is tragic, but it can be rationalized away—she’s noble, theatrical, high-strung. Prison is material, humiliating, inescapable.


Salvation in Dostoevsky rarely comes through reason or guilt alone. It comes when a person’s illusions about themselves collapse—and usually through suffering they can’t justify.


That’s why Zosima tells people not to argue but to love and suffer. Change is existential, not rational. Dmitri finally cracks because prison forces him to see himself as he is—naked, shamed, broken. Not because he loses the argument, but because the self he defended finally dies.

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5.​

This one is psychologically sharp. Katerina’s forgiveness hurts because it still carries attachment, expectation, and moral superiority—even if unintentional. Dmitri feels her forgiveness as condemnation.


Alyosha, by contrast, is gentle, non-possessive. He doesn’t need anything from Dmitri. His righteousness doesn’t imply “you’ve wronged me”—it’s pure presence, and so Dmitri can rest in it without shame.


Shame is an interpersonal emotion—it blooms when we feel seen and judged, even by those who love us. Katerina can’t not judge Dmitri—she’s too involved. Alyosha’s detachment makes his love feel safe.

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Final Thought​

You’re right to see the deep unfairness in how Dostoevsky distributes responsibility and grace. Alyosha is a moral saint partly because he is not entangled. He gets to be redemptive because he doesn’t bear the burdens Katerina or Ivan do. That doesn’t make Katerina’s failures worse—it makes her condition more human.


The novel’s greatness is that it shows these contradictions and never fully resolves them. But if there’s one unifying thread, it’s this: real love carries, suffers, forgives, and never demands anything in return—even when it would be perfectly reasonable to do so. That’s the way out. That’s the cross.


Let me know if you want to go deeper on any of these threads.

 

[Arcade Gannon]

3) (Moral responsibility for thought crimes) The book seems to imply Ivan's in some sense morally responsible for the central tragedy because his ideas in "enable" or sanction Smerdyakov's actions. This seems kind of odd to me - how long does causal chain extend? You can't really control how people receive your ideas, and is the mere exploration of a genuine question something you have to be cautious about just because some other guy might run with it in a direction you never intended? Can you be morally responsible for something without *intending* the consequences of that thing?

Ivan already thought his father was in danger of being murdered, and he was staying there partly to guard his father's life. By leaving, he made a clear statement that the crime could go ahead and happen and he wouldn't stop it. He was complicit.

 

[I hate women (like you)]

the love/romance aspects of the book didnt really interest me, but regarding 3: if you remember the one time Ivan and Smierdiakov talk right before Ivan leaves, the standard interpretation is that, while Ivan does not really say anything directly, Smierdiakov speaks to him not on the regular plane, but rather a subconscious one - Ivan does not order Smierdiakov to do anything consciously, but the hatred he harbors comes out anyway, and that is what Smierdiakov hears. What is more, don't forget that this is a religious book, a christian one, even though dostoyevski had a lot of heretical believes. In his view, a person is responsible not only for his actions, but also for what he hides inside. For example, remember how big of a deal it was when, while talking to Ivan, Alosha said 'расстрелять!'? Well, Alosha didnt do anything, right? But this is one of the two (I think) big times he showed the Karamazov in him. All of the brothers are internally contradictory to some extent, and here is Alosha's more, lets say, demonic side. Or the one time Alosha and Lise talk after the Fiodor Pavlovich's death. One of them says that the whole town is happy, maybe even laughing. If you associate this with Zosima's teachings and the way Dostoyevski blames Ivan for Fiodors death and the fact that the мужики (they embody the russian people as a whole) in the courthouse declare Dmitry guilty, even though, purely technically, he is not, everything becomes more clear. This all leads to a simple conclusion, if we read the brothers not as a thriller but as a religious book - every single person in the town is guilty, even though it was Smierdiakov who did it, the guilt is universal, all the brothers are guilty (Alosha - abandoned the father to be with Zosima, Ivan - left the father and lead Smierdiakov to kill him, Dmitri - the same inner hatred as Ivan but he was physically brutal and greedy - he even gets punished for the greed directly, he gets money in the form of the stolen Katerina money that is one of the more important pieces of evidence later on), and so is everyone else.
Dostoyevski isn't really big on 'controlling' even when it would lead to good results - thats the whole problem with ivan and his 'everything is permitted' (not in the idiot sense, but in the 'if there is no immortal soul, then it is even permitted to love people genuinely' that he explains during his talk with the devil), and his great inquisitor.