The Master and Margarita: Objective Truth and Social Science
I’m about 100 pages into Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, a satirical novel originally published in an abridged version in the 1960s but published in its entirety in the 1970s. Being only a third of the way through the work, I cannot confidently say my initial thoughts about the book will hold weight to its end, but I have a feeling they might.
So far, I get the sense that Bulgakov is continuing some of the work that Dostoyevsky did during his time, namely that of critiquing the rejection of the transcendent in the name of so-called science.
One of the main characters, Ivan, who is a poet commissioned to write a piece against Christianity, witnesses the death of a friend after having a conversation with Satan, who has a pet cat which can walk on its hind legs, talk, and perform human-like actions (I won’t elaborate on the details here, as I’m hoping such a statement will entice you to read the book.). After his friend’s death, Ivan frantically tries to alert those around him that the Devil is on the loose in the city and is ultimately responsible for his friend’s demise.
As one may expect, those around him believe him to be insane, and as a result, Ivan is placed in a mental institution.
I grant that, if someone ran up to me and told me that he had had a conversation with Satan, and that that talk had led to the death of his friend, I, too, would be skeptical (Though, I would now be more open to such an event than I would have even a year ago, as I’m beginning to understand and believe more of what St. Paul meant when, in Ephesians 6:12, he said, “…we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”.). However, Bulgakov is using the hyperbolic events to get the reader’s attention about how quickly we are to suppress the transcendent for that which is real, especially in this so-called scientific age in which we live—an age in which our scientists bring their own presuppositions, conclusions, and feelings into their work to prove a claim, instead of working toward a claim (Note: When I use the word science, I’m not restricting the discussion to the work done in a laboratory or hospital by men and women in white lab coats or scrubs, or even that work done by non-professionals; I’m also including the study of systematic behaviors and evidence used to validate some kind of truth statement, one that, as stated above, many times, has already been arrived at before evidence is observed. Today, the term science is being used ambiguously to bolster arguments against truth, particularly truth with apparent transcendent properties—thus, my use of so-called to describe the science to which I’m referring.).
One of the “branches” of science that Bulgakov’s novel has led me to consider deeply is that of social science, which is focused on the study of human behavior within societies.
In the West, which is becoming increasingly plagued by postmodernism (i.e., the rejection of objective truth at the altar of subjectivity), many are taking it upon themselves to reject that which they know to be true (and have found to be true) in exchange for a lie (a reality that St. Paul, in Romans 1, deemed as one of the many inherent issues of humanity). What makes our day increasingly alarming is, many in society no longer live such lives privately, but are proud of their debauchery. This is not to say that those who choose to embrace lies within the privacy of their own homes are not given over to depravity; in fact, most people likely adopt lies behind closed doors and have a live-and-let-live attitude. However, the voices of those who seek to establish and live out their “own truth”, even if these voices are a minority, are often louder than the rest.
From these booming voices, you’ll often hear they know something to be true because they feel it so strongly, as if the increased intensity with which one feels something automatically validates the sensation.
One of the many tragedies of adopting such a worldview is, people who reject objective truth for that which they have deemed true for themselves are seeking an easy path to freedom, yet they will end up enchained.
Freedom, which can only be achieved by living based on truth, must be fought for, and as in any battle, suffering is inevitable.
Therein lies the problem.
Obviously, the vast majority of people do not enjoy suffering, but it’s an unavoidable reality in the sinful world in which we live—a reality, though, that can be endured, and in the end, overcome, if one fights by living a truthful life.
In response to my reflection on The Master and Margarita and social science, I’ve been meditating on the following words from Christ: “If you continue in My word, then you are truly disciples of Mine, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free” (John 8:31b-32), as well as the words from St. Paul, who said, “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty” (2 Corinthians 3:17).
The truth—that which is actually true—always liberates.
In their words, and through their lives, however, Christ and St. Paul show us that, while freedom is attainable through truth, it does not come without a high cost, namely the cost of self-denial in pursuit of that which is higher.
No one better summarizes this for us than the author of Hebrews, when he commissioned us to follow Christ’s example: “Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1-2).
Just as Christ did on His way to the cross, we, too, must endure that which is set before us, pressing on by looking to that which is higher than ourselves, namely that which is true. Let us move past clinging to what feels real, even if the intensity of those feelings seems undeniably strong and even if those around us are screaming that we can define reality ourselves, to what actually is true.
