Locke is a representative figure of empiricism and natural theology; empiricism and natural theology, together with Baconian science (that is, experimental science), make up the basic tendency of modern and contemporary thought—in precise terms, these three are simply three aspects, in philosophy, theology, and science respectively, of the same intellectual current.
Reason and freedom are the key words in Locke’s view of religion, and of course they are also the main thread of modern and contemporary thought. Locke placed reason above revelation, holding that wherever reason can provide certain knowledge, faith should not interfere; if faith oversteps its bounds, fanaticism is inevitable. Only in those matters that reason cannot confirm and that do not contradict reason do we need to turn to revelation. On the one hand, Locke believed that Christianity is entirely built upon reason; on the other hand, he also retained the role of revelation—because reason alone is truly unable to shoulder the task of fully establishing morality.
This understanding of the relation between reason and revelation is the basis of Locke’s view of the relation between religion and society, as well as of his theory of religious toleration. Once the boundary between reason and revelation is set, the function of the church is also defined—the church no longer holds or dispenses truth. Revelation, to be sure, also provides truth, but the truth in revelation must after all be understood in reason; truth must first and foremost be rational, and thus truth comes from reason rather than from the church. So what is the church’s duty? Locke believed that the church’s duty could only be to exhort, admonish, and encourage—that is to say, the significance of the church lies in the cultivation of morality, and Locke elevated morality to the first principle of Christianity. At the same time, because both truth and faith can and must be accepted by reason, each person ought to use his own reason to understand religious belief; outward forms and rites are all unrelated to reason, and thus all secondary. And authority can only force people to accept religion in name, but cannot make them accept it in reason, so it must be discarded. Furthermore, Locke also drew a strict boundary between the sacred and the secular, believing that the church has no right to interfere in people’s secular rights. In brief, Locke clearly limited the role religion plays in society: the church is a voluntary association of people who agree on how salvation is to be attained and who are similar in their convictions; its social significance lies in promoting morality.
The relation between modern society and religion can be said to have realized Locke’s ideal, but at the same time the predicament brought about by such a relation between religion and society has gradually become apparent. Locke’s compromise-like opinion concerning the relation between reason and faith would lead to a series of dangers. Natural theology and empiricism reached their peaks in Newton and Hume respectively, but it was precisely Newton’s mechanical view of nature and Hume’s skepticism that caused natural theology and empiricism to collapse from within. As the power of reason increasingly expands, faith can no longer find a firm footing. If religion ultimately is left with nothing but moral exhortation, then by what can it exhort?
It was precisely from two opposite angles that Kant and Dostoevsky rethought the role religion ought to play.
The key words in Kant’s view of religion are still reason and freedom, but in Kant the understanding of these two terms differs from Locke’s. First, Kant explicitly distinguished speculative reason from practical reason. In speculative reason, which acquires knowledge, Kant said that one “must not suspend knowledge in order to make room for faith.” And in practical reason, Kant reversed the positions of reason and faith—not reason as the basis of faith, but faith as the basis of reason (this does not mean that faith can be derived from reason, but that faith makes practical reason possible)!
Reason cannot deduce religion. In the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant refuted the three traditional proofs of God’s existence offered by speculative reason, and what he especially emphasized was the refutation of natural theology—no matter how one argues, natural theology cannot derive God’s perfect goodness. Kant rejected any attempt to prove God’s existence through speculative reason, yet he designated God and immortality as the two postulates of practical reason. For practical reason is teleological; the very possibility of practical reason first requires an ultimate, absolute end.
At the same time, Kant also reversed the positions of morality and religion—not religion guiding people toward morality, but morality guiding people toward religion! Morality does not depend on religion; it is the absolute command in everyone’s heart. Regardless of belief, so long as a person is rational and honest, he must necessarily obey the moral law, and freedom is autonomy. Here Kant preemptively answered Dostoevsky’s perplexity that “if God does not exist, everything is permitted”—even without believing in God, one should still follow morality. If that is so, then what is religion’s function? Kant believed that religion provides neither knowledge nor morality, but rather “hope”—after I have followed morality and done what ought to be done, “what may I hope for?” This hope can only be sought in religion—because the real world is cruel and unjust, and those who do good often receive no reward in this life. Thus God must exist as absolute justice, and immortality as the promise of recompense. This also preemptively answers Dostoevsky’s perplexity that “I can accept God, but I cannot accept the world he created”; for Kant, it is precisely the cruelty and injustice of this world that impel people toward God.
However, although Kant’s view of religion is outstanding in theory, it is only outstanding in theory. The fact that it is systematic and rigorous in theory does not greatly increase religion’s appeal among the masses. The fact is that, in terms of winning over the masses, pure religion often cannot compare with “the devil’s” religion. This was profoundly suggested in Dostoevsky’s “The Grand Inquisitor.” What people are more willing to follow is often Satan’s temptations to Jesus—miracles, mystery, and authority. No matter how perfect or how pure the religion imagined by Kant and those great philosophers and theologians may be, if people do not accept it and instead submit to the devil’s temptations, what then? Kant portrays a religion “within the bounds of mere reason,” but people are not always so “rational”; the masses often need fanaticism and delusion, are willing to indulge in self-deception and anaesthesia, and the purest religion cannot satisfy them.
Dostoevsky voiced his thoughts through Ivan’s mouth. But Ivan clearly does not represent Dostoevsky’s final conclusion; he is only a disturbance within the course of his thought. The real protagonist of The Brothers Karamazov, this thought-autobiographical work, is Alyosha, “so beloved” by all; in the first, preparatory novel, he appears more as an observer, but he will become the “strange man” and “activist” of the crucial second, “real” novel. Unfortunately, Dostoevsky died before writing the second part. We can only speculate about Alyosha’s fate.
From Dostoevsky’s late Diary of a Writer and from various other signs, it seems that Dostoevsky was ultimately heading back to the tradition of Eastern Orthodoxy—a prophecy by Father Paisy also hints at this: “You will come back again.” Dostoevsky said that this sentence ultimately grasped the true essence of Alyosha’s spiritual direction. That is to say, “returning to Eastern Orthodoxy” should have been the path Dostoevsky finally chose in the face of his perplexities.
So, compared with Catholicism and Protestantism, what is the fundamental characteristic of Eastern Orthodoxy? (It certainly is not the filioque.) The first difference was mentioned by Elder Zosima and Father Paisy: Catholicism accepted the devil’s third temptation and wanted to turn the church into the state, whereas the ideal of Eastern Orthodoxy is to turn the state into the church. Here one must pay attention to the distinctive ecclesiology of Eastern Orthodoxy—like Catholicism, Eastern Orthodoxy believes that the church is guided by the Holy Spirit, but in Catholicism only the pope is guided by the Holy Spirit, whereas in Eastern Orthodoxy the Holy Spirit acts upon the conscience of every believer. As Father Zosima’s exhortation says, the key to salvation lies in believers “not deceiving themselves”; that is to say, accepting the guidance of the Holy Spirit is the best service to God (Kant would probably appreciate this feature). Thus, it seems, just as Miusov accused it of being (before the elder could reply, Dmitri’s arrival cut him off), Eastern Orthodoxy does indeed have a socialist tendency to it (one thinks of the fact that later socialist countries were concentrated mainly in Orthodox regions—might there be a cultural factor here?). Dostoevsky also participated in socialist organizations in his youth; it is hard to say that he abandoned the ideals of his youth without reservation.
Orthodoxy’s greatest distinguishing feature does not lie in any doctrine or dogma, but is embodied in the holy and solemn icons—venerated in churches and monasteries, and in every believer’s home. People do not fuss over knowing religion through reason; on the contrary, they encounter religion more through the senses. Faith and love do not arise because of something or for the sake of something; the steadfastness of faith obtained through sensory contact is neither rational nor desirous, but artistic—or, to put it more bluntly, without any cause at all. The ancient Greek tradition inherited by Eastern Orthodoxy is not natural theology, but civic theology; the Greek temperament of Eastern Orthodoxy is more the spirit of Dionysus. Seen this way, Dostoevsky seems to be hinting at an irrationalist path. The similarities between Kierkegaard and Nietzsche and Dostoevsky are often mentioned, and Nietzsche in particular explicitly said that he benefited greatly from Dostoevsky. In his later years, Dostoevsky wrote in Diary of a Writer: “The immortality of the soul is life itself.” This inevitably brings to mind Nietzsche’s emphasis on the instincts of life.
We might as well regard Kant’s and Dostoevsky’s approaches as complementary, because the tension between reason and faith will always exist; faith can never be fully coordinated with reason, but neither can it be completely severed from reason.
Note: Because this article was to be used in a closed-book exam, I wrote it without any materials at hand, so of course there were no citations. And it was obviously written in a rather messy way, because this article was only meant to sort out my line of thought; what matters then is still mostly how I perform on the spot. The key issue is that the word count seems a bit excessive (the above is only a summary; there were many things I wanted to say that I didn’t write down, and I could easily have written another full version twice as long), so it will depend on how the first half of the exam paper goes.
1:51 a.m., January 11, 2007
At Yangroupaoju
In the actual answering I made quite a few changes in the Locke section, added some material to the Kant section, and even wrote down the Orthodox Church’s socialist tendency in the Dostoevsky section, which I had originally not planned to write about at all (just for fun). After finishing I added the line “the above goes off-topic”~~, which is another interesting topic. My whole line of thought revolved around the basic concern of the tension between reason and faith, and I did not cut directly into the relationship between religion and society according to the wording of the question. My idea was: the relation between religion and society—that is, the question of what role religion plays in society—is also based upon the question of the relation between reason and faith. But since it did not really fit the point of the question, I had no hope of getting a high score in this course; I’d be satisfied with a 3.0, I suppose. (In self-abandonment…)
Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.
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