religion & politics

Dostoevsky's genius reaches its pinnacle in the poem of the Grand Inquisitor. This ecstatic and prophetic moment of socio-political analysis of the saeculum obscurum of the Roman Catholic Church dramatically polarizes the unadulterated Christianity represented by the prisoner Jesus—an illustration of the marginalized, disenfranchised, and enslaved human being—against the institution of power, embodied by the authoritarian theocratic dictatorship and the politicization of religion in the person of the Grand Inquisitor. The poem remains an inexhaustible analogical reference for analyzing contemporary socio-political and religious relations and retrospectives on the historical development of these relationships. Having said this, the short story within the novel The Brothers Karamazov should not be viewed merely as a critique of the Roman Catholic Church and its historical socio-political aspirations. It also serves as an ad intra critique of modern institutionalized Christianity that often reduces religion, as the image of the Holy, to mere domination by the secular, thereby adopting its form and leaving behind only faint imitations of the sacred.

Several crucial moments are significant for this work and its paradigmatic nature concerning the theo-political hermeneutics of power structures, particularly religious ones. Beyond the ad intra critique of religious institutions as a form of politicizing religion, the significance lies in how the concept of freedom is contemplated. The Grand Inquisitor perceives freedom as an ontological gift but a practical impossibility. Another essential aspect of the discourse of political theology is the interpretation of the Roman Church as a historical force that restrains chaos and holds back the Apocalypse—Kat-echon (Greek: τὸ κατέχον)[1], that is, a force that represents the "restraining power of sovereign authority."[2] This is particularly important considering the political reflections of the German legal theorist Carl Schmitt, who explored this concept by examining the relationships between the Roman Catholic Church and the state.[3] In the following sections, I will elaborate more extensively on these points.

At the heart of the Grand Inquisitor's poem is a stark critique of the Roman Catholic Church's long-standing political ambitions, marked by its politicization, institutionalization, and secularization. Dostoevsky's view of the Roman Church is not just critical but also deeply dichotomous and dramatic. In general, his position on Rome and the West is widely known for its criticism, antagonism, and polarization that reaches Manichean proportions. This dichotomous perception is underlined by the great Serbian theologian St. Justin in his dissertation, who states: "Dostoevsky incisively analyzed the spirit of Roman Catholicism and its terrible secret in the Grand Inquisitor […] By analyzing the soul of Europe to its primal foundations, Dostoevsky discovered that its secret is the devil."[4]

One of the central messages of Fyodor's poem is the author's desire to argue the thesis that the rule over humanity by any means necessary is Rome's primary centuries-old political aspiration, which diametrically opposed the goal of "dominating humanity through divine-human means,"[5] which is the goal of Eastern Orthodoxy. The level of dichotomization between East and West is significant, yet it must be acknowledged that Dostoevsky distances himself from mere generalization, as seen in Alyosha's response to Ivan Karamazov.

The parallel Dostoevsky draws between the Grand Inquisitor and the 'wise spirit' who tempts Jesus in the Gospels is worth noting. The Inquisitor's arguments echo the temptations that challenge Jesus with questions of economic, religious, and political supremacy. The Gospel tells us that the devil tempted Jesus three times:

1. He tempted Him to "turn stones into bread," a metaphor for economic power.

2. He suggested that He jump from the pinnacle of the temple and perform a miracle, a clear analogy to religious power.

3. He showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and offered Him absolute dominion, an analogy to political power.

Dostoevsky seizes this moment in the Gospel and transposes it to the specific historical context of the poem, highlighting that the Roman Catholic Church succumbed to the same temptations that Jesus faced. Dostoevsky goes further and, through the words of the Inquisitor, reveals the sinister "secret" of the politicization and secularization of the Roman Church: "And will I hide our secret from you? Perhaps you want to hear it from my mouth, then listen: we are not with you but with him; that is our secret! [...] We took from him Rome and the sword of Caesar. We proclaimed ourselves earthly kings."[6] Thus, its historical designation is revealed. However, it is not the concrete culmination of earthly domination, as that work is "still in its beginning."[7] The Roman Church has transformed into a state, having succumbed, according to Dostoevsky, to the "third temptation of the devil."[8]

In this context, it is essential to note that Max Weber, one of the founders of modern sociology, carefully distinguishes between the concepts of power and authority. Weber defines power as the ability to enforce compliance - to coerce, whereas authority is the legitimate right and expectation that one's proposals will be accepted and followed.[9] In other words, power always implies the potential use of force behind it, while authority suggests the freedom of will. Authority is recognized, as illustrated in the moments when people immediately recognize Jesus[10], surround him, and follow him. Later, Dostoevsky describes the fear among the people—the "timid and obedient populace"—who recoil before the symbol of power, the figure of the Grand Inquisitor. Religion that plays on the card of power, earthly domination, "a church that rises to the level of the state,"[11] theocratic dictatorship, and the coarse politicization of religion is not possible without the element of coercion, which, though latent, is always present. The situation is undoubtedly more dramatic in Dostoevsky's poem, where the potential for coercion transitions from latent to concrete materialization in violence and torture. Like Nietzsche, Dostoevsky delved deeply into the dark abysses of humanity, revealing an anthropological truth that the will to power drives human will. The Christian religion is not immune to this anthropological deviation. Through its processes of institutionalization throughout history, it has transitioned from victim to persecutor, from a marginalized symbol of martyrdom to a politically dominant institution of power.

The institutionalization of Christianity began in the fourth century with the recognition of its status as a religio licita. At the same time, the politicization of religion gained momentum after Emperor Theodosius' decision in 380 AD to declare Christianity the state religion. This Copernican shift in the relationship between the Roman Empire and the Church is often referred to in the West as the Constantinian Shift, where Christianity transitioned from a persecuted religion to an institution of political power. However, this shift, as understood by contemporary Protestant theologian Stanley Hauerwas, is not a cause for celebration but a call for critical reflection. Hauerwas defines the Constantinian Shift as the process through which the Church evolved from a minority religious community to a dominant, imperial, and state religion. Further institutionalization of the Christian religion led to the emergence of caesaropapism and papocaesarism. This concept can be analogous to the later interpretation of sacralization[12] by Karl Barth and the notion of cheap grace[13] by Bonhoeffer. Following the Roman Empire's footsteps, Christians attempted to expand the Heavenly Kingdom by employing principles of secular governance. Although understandable, this is nonetheless very detrimental, as Hauerwas believes, because it replaces the politics of salvation with the idea of secular rule by Christians and Christianity as a religion.[14] This term, frequently adopted by Hauerwas from Yoder (Howard Yoder), emphasizes the need for the Church to "overcome the era of Constantinian Christianity and understand that it is not there to rule that society or to have special privileges from the ruling elite."[15] It is clear, therefore, that the task of political theology is to make the Church more present and steadfast in society as a moral support for the community. While Moltmann puts the priority on politics as a means of acquiring power over the state or the future world, for Hauerwas, the Church as a community of Saints assumes that role. Thus, as an alternative polis or civitas, the Church represents the bearer of a specific theology of politics.

As noted before, the concept of freedom in "The Grand Inquisitor" is perceived as an ontological gift but a practical impossibility. The only freedom that is not existentially unbearable is the one that represents the impossibility of choice when it is in the form of conscious subjugation and surrender to a higher instance – in this case, the Church as an Institution of power. Thus, freedom represents a kind of illusion. Within the context of political theology, we can make a comparison with the contemporary man who consciously subjugates his freedom to the institutions of state power, that is, its legal norms, as well as the corporate social mentality of modern democracies, the capitalist society, and the global hegemony of ruling forces.

At one point, Dostoevsky highlights a fundamental flaw of contemporary liberation theology: "A small part of humanity cannot rule over all the rest as if they were slaves, yet all civil institutions in Europe, now completely idolatrous and entirely pagan, have been created for this purpose alone."[16] Dostoevsky's words prophetically reveal the moral downfall and consumerist ethos of contemporary capitalist society, which banalizes humanity, inverts concepts and values, and where a lack of empathy becomes an everyday occurrence. The modern man is a tyrant in a civilized and acceptable way. Berdyaev states: "The modern man is a tyrant, if not on a large scale, then on a small one, if not in the state or on the paths of world history, then in his family or workplace. He has an eternal tendency toward despotism, power, domination, and exploitation."[17] This tendency inevitably transposes to the entire human society. The contemporary economic constitution of society dictates the pace of life in which the human being turns into a part of the vast consumerist machinery that unscrupulously devours available human and natural resources to maintain the existing order. The modern man consciously becomes a slave to the subservient mentality dictated by global geopolitical and economic interests.

Undoubtedly, Dostoevsky's words seem to anticipate the sentiments expressed by liberation theologian Hugo Assmann in the 1970s: "If today the historical condition of dependency and dominance over two-thirds of humanity, with its 30 million annual deaths from hunger and malnutrition, does not become the starting point of all Christian theology in Western countries, theology will not be able to realize its fundamental message historically. [...] Therefore, it is necessary to save theology [the Church, in the context of Dostoevsky's poem] from its brazenness."[18] Assman's statement underscores the crucial role of theology in addressing societal issues, highlighting its contemporary relevance and one of its primary goals – the political hermeneutics of society on the one hand and the self-critical reflection of Christian institutions and traditions on the other. The role of theology in providing a voice for the marginalized is a cornerstone of justice in our society.

How much has theology, after four decades, accepted the burden of humanity, those marginalized and disenfranchised, those whose voices are unheard, whose cries are silenced, whose last sobs have disappeared before the harsh and unscrupulous reality? What idea can still change such a reality? Is there a revolution, an ideology that has not promised, offered liberation, and then turned into slavery? Indeed, only an idea that carries the logos of the Crucified, the shame of the Cross – a symbol of suffering and liberation for all those forgotten by this world, for whom Christ died and with whom He still dies today, with whom He suffers, with whom He hopes, and with whom He will resurrect. Such an idea comes from the East and Orthodoxy, Dostoevsky believed.

A third significant aspect of political theology is interpreting the Roman Catholic Church as the katechon. This restraining force opposes the chaos rule, reminding us of Carl Schmitt's theo-political discourse. His view of history implied a linear progression initiated by Christ's incarnation and its fulfillment with Christ's second coming – the parousia. For example, verses from the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians, 2 Thessalonians 2:1-8, hold particular significance for Schmitt. The deuter-Pauline conception of the katechon reflects his eschatological perception of history. The katechon represents the person (or force) that delays the coming of the Antichrist at the end of history, in other words, "the chaos that comes from below."[19] The katechon propels history; time would have ended long ago without it. It halts the flow of time leading to the appearance of the Antichrist, a metaphorical representation of a diabolical political system, in his interpretation, Communism or the mechanization of the world.[20] The emperors of the Roman and Medieval German Empires can be interpreted in this context as establishing political order within the secular domain, which slowed down the arrival of the Antichrist.[21] Schmitt adopted this interpretation from Tertullian, who projected this concept onto the Roman Empire and the Roman Catholic Church. The essence of politics is to be realistic, reflected in recognizing and restraining the forces of chaos that threaten to nullify and destroy political existence.[22]

The metaphysical polarity in Schmitt's discourse is not just striking, but it also carries profound implications that delve into the very fabric of our existence. The concept of chaos, the absence of a clear and authoritarian political order, is a projection of a spiritual and metaphysical reality that transposes into our material existence. Divine intervention precisely prevents the order of chaos, and the concept of the katechon is a projection of divine influence within the historical context, as no other understanding of history is possible for Schmitt.[23] The metaphysical projection of the world and law, rights and the state, and concepts of transcendence are recurrent themes in Schmitt's discourse[24]. Jürgen Manemann emphasizes that: “Schmitt's theological reflection gravitates within a framework close to Gnosticism, burdened by an ontological dualism between the fallen – material, which stands opposed to the spiritual world.”[25] His legal-juridical perception of history stems from his professional vocation, described in an apologetic tone by Jacob Taubes: “It is difficult for theologians and philosophers to accept, but it applies to a jurist: as long as it is possible to find any legal form [...] it must be unconditionally done. Otherwise, chaos will prevail. Schmitt was concerned with one thing: That the Party, chaos, does not surface, but that the state remains. At any cost.”[26]

Here, we see diametrically opposite views of the Roman Church in Dostoevsky and Schmitt. Dostoevsky assumes the Roman Catholic Church as an institution of power embodying the apocalypse. At the same time, Schmitt sees it as slowing it down, representing a socio-political subject capable of preserving the existing order from anarchistic tendencies and chaos. Schmitt considers Dostoevsky as one of the last bearers of anti-Roman sentiment, viewing the Roman Catholic Church in the figure of the Grand Inquisitor as a 'secular force' and a 'complex administrative apparatus' whose identity of power and continuity derives from the Roman Empire.[27] Schmitt, in line with his theo-political discourse, a term that refers to his analysis of the interplay between theological and political concepts, aligns himself with the Grand Inquisitor, as the Grand Inquisitor represents the order of a harmonious socio-political structure, contrary to the figure of Jesus, who is not truly Jesus but an anarchistic–atheistic projection by the author of the poem. Moreover, he sees Dostoevsky's poem as an anarchistic and revolutionary tract imbued with the spirit of atheism. Berdyaev also believed that the poem had a specific revolutionary and anarchistic spirit.[28]

Dostoevsky's poem possesses a strong, dramatic, and dichotomous tone that reverberates with the intensity and complexity of its central religious-political message. This was the only way to describe the crux of the poem, the message that Christianity without Christ is impossible. The Grand Inquisitor represents a totalitarian and closed system of power, fear, and coercion, one facet of this idea's projection. If we were to paraphrase this poem in a contemporary context as an intra-critical perspective of those Christian churches in the West that have, over the centuries, been engulfed by the ethos of humanism and thereby rendered their spiritual role meaningless, we would see that the Grand Inquisitor may not be a totalitarian institution of power. However, it renounces Christ in a completely different way, subordinating everything to man and anthropocentrism, humanizing the Church to the extent that it loses all divine and transcendent character.

Therefore, the Grand Inquisitor is putting theology in front of a challenge that is not just a matter of choice but a necessity. It is the modus operandi of the entire political theology: the self-critical reflection of Christian institutions and the Church on the one hand (ad intra), and the deprivatization of Christian religion in the context of a critical stance towards the socio-political context as a social affirmation and contextualizing theology on the other hand (ad extra). It presents us with the possibility of overcoming apathy and the transcendental dialectic of subjectless universalism, which speaks of God, but at the same time, its social indolence and political inertia postulate the thesis etsi Deus non daretur.

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[1] 2 Sol, 2,4

[2] Agamben, Giorgio, Homo Sacer: Suverena moć i goli život, (Zagreb: Multimedijalni Institut, 2006), 31.

[3] Schmitt, Carl, Der Nomos der Erde im Völkerrecht des Jus Publicum Europaeum, (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1974),7; Schmitt, 1974, 28-29.

[4] Popović, Justin., Filosofija i religija F.M. Dostojevskog, (Beograd: Naslednici oca Justina i Đelije, 1999), 185-187.

[5] See: Popović 1999, 191.

[6] Dostojevski 1974, 328. Italic is original.

[7] Dostojevski 1974, 328.

[8] Dostojevski 1974, 85.

[9] Weber, Max, Economy and Society, (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1978)

[10] "He appeared quietly, unobtrusively, yet – surprisingly – everyone recognized him immediately.", Dostoevsky 1974, 317.

[11] Dostojevski 1974, 85.

[12] See: Barth, Karl, The Epistle to the Romans, (Oxford University Press, 1968), 670.

[13] See: Bonhoeffer, Dietrich., The Cost of Discipleship (New York: Touchstone, 1995), 44.

[14] See: Hauervas, Stanley, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, (ur.) Scott, Peter, and Cavanaugh, T. William. The Blackwell Companion to Political Theology. (MA: Blackwell Publishing,.2004),1991.

[15] See: Hauerwas, Stanley, The State of the University, (MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), 4.

[16] Dostojevski, cited in Popović, 190.

[17] See: Berđajev, Nikolaj, O čovekovom ropstvu i slobodi, (Beograd: Brimo, 2001)

[18] Cited in Sobrino, Jon, Izvan sirotinje nema spasenja, (Rijeka: Ex-Libris, 2011)

[19] Taubes, Jakob, Pavlova politička teologija, (Rijeka: Ex-Libris, 2008), 187.

[20] See: Bredekamp, Holm, From Walter Benjamin to Carl Schmitt, via Thomas Hobbes, Critical Inquiry, Vol. 25, No. 2, "Angelus Novus": Perspectives on Walter Benjamin, (The University of Chicago Press, 1999),253.

[21] See: Hohendal, Peter, Political Theology Revisited: Carl Schmitt’s Postwar Reassessment, Konturen I, 2008, 19.

[22] See: Ostovich 2007, 64.

[23] Ich glaube nicht, daß für einen ursprünglich christlichen Glauben ein anderes Geschichtsbild als das des Kat-echon überhaupt mö glich ist.“ Schmitt, 1974:29.

[24] Schmitt, Carl, Political theology: four chapters on the concept of sovereignty, (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: MIT Press, 1985), 50.

[25] Manemann, Jürgen, „Beschleuniger wider Willen?“ Zur Katechontik Carl Schmitts, Jahrbuch Politische Theologie 3, 1999, 110.

[26] Taubes 2008, 186.

[27] See: Schmitt 1996, 2,4.

[28] See: Berđajev 2002.