When the question is being asked about Russia’s greatest philosopher in history, the answer is unanimous: Vladimir Solovyev. Among them all, he alone answers the popular description of genius: obsessed with an idea (or ideas) and unmistakably daffy, to the point of balancing on the verge of insanity. In fact, living in a time of tight censorship and harsh reprisals for crossing the line of allowed speech, he was able to get away with all too many outrageous statements--- not only because he was the son of the much respected historian Sergey Solovyev, but also because he was characterized as demented by the ultraconservative entourage of Tsar Alexander III, and basically left alone no matter what he said. Vladimir was raised by his father in an atmosphere propitious for his intellectual development, where strict discipline went hand in hand with an intrepidly liberal outlook, encouraging independent thinking. Having entered Moscow University to study science, he later transferred to philosophy, and now found his vocation. His seminal 1874 dissertation on The Crisis of Western Philosophy was written as a critical response to, and repudiation of, Western preoccupation with materialism and philosophical positivism, in defense of idealism and spirituality rooted in the Christian religion. Curiously, prior to his plunge into philosophical studies, he had toyed with nihilism and even atheism, which his powerful father had disapprovingly allowed, expecting his son to outgrow his temporary infantile eccentricity. And so he did, although his extreme obsession with Christian virtues would now take him on a course bringing him even more trouble and severe censure than he could have incurred upon himself had he remained a nihilist thinker.
To be done with his biography, having finished his studies at Moscow University, Solovyev began his short-lived career as a teacher, first at his alma mater, then at the University of St. Petersburg, but, disgusted with academic formalities, he quit his job anyway, after delivering a shocking lecture on March 28, 1881, where he asked for Christian clemency for the assassins of the Russian Emperor Alexander II, sentenced to death. Happily out of the job, he committed himself to fulltime writing and traveling, until, a terminally sick man, he died at his friend’s country estate near Moscow, at the age of forty-seven, homeless and broke. (It would be a mistake, however, to feel indignation about his destitute state at the end: it was a self-inflicted misery, resulting from a conscientious choice of lifestyle.)
Turning now to Solovyev’s philosophy, its underlying idea was that of Sophia, the Soul of the World, which had appeared to him on several occasions in mystical visions. She was a mystical cosmic being, uniting God with this earthly world and representing eternal femininity in God, and, at the same time, God’s Design with regard to His Creation. We shall have a lengthier discussion of this later on in the entry Sophia placed in the Wishful Thinking section. It will suffice to say here that Solovyev himself refused to see Sophia as merely a fantasy of his. He was earnestly convinced that Sophia can be effectively realized on earth through a three-prong approach. Theosophy (as defined by him, and having nothing to do with Madame Blavatsky’s baby!) will form the conception of her; Theurgy will bring us to her; and Theocracy will be the installation of her.
On the basis of his core idea of Sophia, Solovyev also developed the key legal principles of God’s kingdom on earth. These too will be discussed in detail in our Sophia entry.
Solovyev also developed a moral code of conduct which required that Christendom live and act consistently according to the Biblical principles of Christianity. Although he was never an all-out defender of the Jews, and called their rejection of Christ their greatest mistake and world-historical tragedy, he blamed his fellow Christians for treating the Jews in an appallingly un-Christian manner, and he was convinced that as soon as the Christians renounce and repent their shameful treatment of the Jews, the latter would be able to see the light and embrace Christianity, just as Jesus wanted them to. In spite of this last sticking point, Russian Jews honored Solovyev’s efforts on their behalf by proclaiming him a “righteous Gentile,” and giving prayers for him in the synagogues around Russia. On receiving the news of his death, all Jewish communities called for a day of mourning and prayer for his soul.
Aside from his philosophy and theology Solovyev was a remarkable poet, considered a precursor of Russian symbolism of the early twentieth century. His influence on Alexander Blok and Vyacheslav Ivanov has been acknowledged. Every Russian literary critic and every scholar of the history of Russian literature recognizes Vladimir Solovyev’s very special and very prominent place in it as a unique phenomenon.
Solovyev was a good friend of Dostoyevsky, and it is well known that Alyosha Karamazov’s character was inspired by him. It is less known that the idea of writing the famous story The Kreutzer Sonata came to Leo Tolstoy after reading Solovyev’s book The Meaning of Love, which had a powerful effect on him. It is time now to say a few words about that book.
In The Meaning of Love Solovyev ridicules the belief that the objective of sexual love is procreation. Had it been the case, he argues, the greater the sexual attraction between a man and a woman, the stronger and the more talented their children would have been. However, the opposite is mostly the case. In fact, sexual love and procreation are in a reverse relationship: the stronger one is, the weaker is the other.
He goes on to suggest that sexual love is the only force capable of defeating human egoism. (Maternal love, for instance, is a form of egoism.) Thus sexual love, if handled philosophically, can be seen as having a vital role to play in the betterment of mankind.
Among Solovyev’s other works of major interest are these:
History and the Future of Theocracy (1886) was Volume I of his planned 3-volume theological monograph on a future reunification of Christian Churches under the aegis of the Roman Catholic Church. Needless to say, this idea and everything associated with it was anathema to the Russian Orthodox Church, but reflected its low moral standing in the eyes of the Russian Intelligentsia.
The Russian Idea (1888) was Solovyev’s controversial essay, in which he argued that the Russian Absolute State was standing in the way of Russia’s self-realization as the consummate Christian nation.
Russia and the Universal Church (written in French and published in 1889 in Paris), where he promoted the idea of a transnational Christian unity hoping to reach a reconciliation of the Russian Orthodox Church with her Roman Catholic counterpart, under the primacy of the Pope. This was Volume II of his proposed three-volume theological monograph on a future reunification of Christian Churches under the aegis of the Roman Catholic Church. For obvious reasons, this book could not be published in Russia.
Beauty in Nature (1889) was an essay which gave an exposition of Solovyev’s aesthetic theory, arguing that beauty is an objective reality transforming matter through its transcendental essence.
Justification of the Good: Moral Philosophy (1894-1897), which called for the development of a new moral philosophy and presents a lengthy exposition of Solovyev’s Christian ethics.
Three Conversations: On War, Progress, and the End of World History, Also Including a Short Tale of the Antichrist (1900), Solovyev’s last work, where he gave vent to his philosophical disappointment, and made dire predictions about the future of the world.
As I already said before and in several places elsewhere, Solovyev’s low opinion of the Russian Church and his readiness to bow to the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome, was by no means an anomaly of a sick mind, but an earnest reflection of the low depths to which the Church had sunk by that time. It took a Revolution and a sea of Christian blood to restore the Church’s prestige and ensure its reemergence as the guiding light and conscience of the Russian national spirit. But Solovyev did not live long enough to welcome its arrival as the purifying fire of history, brought down upon his great nation, to bring her closer to the fulfillment of her predestination.
To be done with his biography, having finished his studies at Moscow University, Solovyev began his short-lived career as a teacher, first at his alma mater, then at the University of St. Petersburg, but, disgusted with academic formalities, he quit his job anyway, after delivering a shocking lecture on March 28, 1881, where he asked for Christian clemency for the assassins of the Russian Emperor Alexander II, sentenced to death. Happily out of the job, he committed himself to fulltime writing and traveling, until, a terminally sick man, he died at his friend’s country estate near Moscow, at the age of forty-seven, homeless and broke. (It would be a mistake, however, to feel indignation about his destitute state at the end: it was a self-inflicted misery, resulting from a conscientious choice of lifestyle.)
Turning now to Solovyev’s philosophy, its underlying idea was that of Sophia, the Soul of the World, which had appeared to him on several occasions in mystical visions. She was a mystical cosmic being, uniting God with this earthly world and representing eternal femininity in God, and, at the same time, God’s Design with regard to His Creation. We shall have a lengthier discussion of this later on in the entry Sophia placed in the Wishful Thinking section. It will suffice to say here that Solovyev himself refused to see Sophia as merely a fantasy of his. He was earnestly convinced that Sophia can be effectively realized on earth through a three-prong approach. Theosophy (as defined by him, and having nothing to do with Madame Blavatsky’s baby!) will form the conception of her; Theurgy will bring us to her; and Theocracy will be the installation of her.
On the basis of his core idea of Sophia, Solovyev also developed the key legal principles of God’s kingdom on earth. These too will be discussed in detail in our Sophia entry.
Solovyev also developed a moral code of conduct which required that Christendom live and act consistently according to the Biblical principles of Christianity. Although he was never an all-out defender of the Jews, and called their rejection of Christ their greatest mistake and world-historical tragedy, he blamed his fellow Christians for treating the Jews in an appallingly un-Christian manner, and he was convinced that as soon as the Christians renounce and repent their shameful treatment of the Jews, the latter would be able to see the light and embrace Christianity, just as Jesus wanted them to. In spite of this last sticking point, Russian Jews honored Solovyev’s efforts on their behalf by proclaiming him a “righteous Gentile,” and giving prayers for him in the synagogues around Russia. On receiving the news of his death, all Jewish communities called for a day of mourning and prayer for his soul.
Aside from his philosophy and theology Solovyev was a remarkable poet, considered a precursor of Russian symbolism of the early twentieth century. His influence on Alexander Blok and Vyacheslav Ivanov has been acknowledged. Every Russian literary critic and every scholar of the history of Russian literature recognizes Vladimir Solovyev’s very special and very prominent place in it as a unique phenomenon.
Solovyev was a good friend of Dostoyevsky, and it is well known that Alyosha Karamazov’s character was inspired by him. It is less known that the idea of writing the famous story The Kreutzer Sonata came to Leo Tolstoy after reading Solovyev’s book The Meaning of Love, which had a powerful effect on him. It is time now to say a few words about that book.
In The Meaning of Love Solovyev ridicules the belief that the objective of sexual love is procreation. Had it been the case, he argues, the greater the sexual attraction between a man and a woman, the stronger and the more talented their children would have been. However, the opposite is mostly the case. In fact, sexual love and procreation are in a reverse relationship: the stronger one is, the weaker is the other.
He goes on to suggest that sexual love is the only force capable of defeating human egoism. (Maternal love, for instance, is a form of egoism.) Thus sexual love, if handled philosophically, can be seen as having a vital role to play in the betterment of mankind.
Among Solovyev’s other works of major interest are these:
History and the Future of Theocracy (1886) was Volume I of his planned 3-volume theological monograph on a future reunification of Christian Churches under the aegis of the Roman Catholic Church. Needless to say, this idea and everything associated with it was anathema to the Russian Orthodox Church, but reflected its low moral standing in the eyes of the Russian Intelligentsia.
The Russian Idea (1888) was Solovyev’s controversial essay, in which he argued that the Russian Absolute State was standing in the way of Russia’s self-realization as the consummate Christian nation.
Russia and the Universal Church (written in French and published in 1889 in Paris), where he promoted the idea of a transnational Christian unity hoping to reach a reconciliation of the Russian Orthodox Church with her Roman Catholic counterpart, under the primacy of the Pope. This was Volume II of his proposed three-volume theological monograph on a future reunification of Christian Churches under the aegis of the Roman Catholic Church. For obvious reasons, this book could not be published in Russia.
Beauty in Nature (1889) was an essay which gave an exposition of Solovyev’s aesthetic theory, arguing that beauty is an objective reality transforming matter through its transcendental essence.
Justification of the Good: Moral Philosophy (1894-1897), which called for the development of a new moral philosophy and presents a lengthy exposition of Solovyev’s Christian ethics.
Three Conversations: On War, Progress, and the End of World History, Also Including a Short Tale of the Antichrist (1900), Solovyev’s last work, where he gave vent to his philosophical disappointment, and made dire predictions about the future of the world.
As I already said before and in several places elsewhere, Solovyev’s low opinion of the Russian Church and his readiness to bow to the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome, was by no means an anomaly of a sick mind, but an earnest reflection of the low depths to which the Church had sunk by that time. It took a Revolution and a sea of Christian blood to restore the Church’s prestige and ensure its reemergence as the guiding light and conscience of the Russian national spirit. But Solovyev did not live long enough to welcome its arrival as the purifying fire of history, brought down upon his great nation, to bring her closer to the fulfillment of her predestination.
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