The world as we know it today is plagued by a tsunami of consumerism that is constantly lapping at our doorsteps. Our minds are bombarded with intrusive thoughts, and our hearts struggle to find peace and rest. The expectations of our society and culture threaten to steal our authenticity and unique personalities. Too often, we do not do what we truly love because we are afraid that it will not conform to the expectations of the society around us. This problem is nothing new and has plagued societies for generations, leading to some of the most momentous cultural rifts and shifts in history.

The Russia of the 19th century was no exception. Pressured from the inside to find its own unique identity, she found herself at an impasse. Would Russia conform to the influence of her western neighbors, namely France and Germany, or would she chart her own course, unique and distinct from them? Since Peter the Great, the Russian aristocracy had been on a mission to become more western in its customs. St. Petersburg served as Russia’s monument of westernization; her very walls had an aura of modernization and triangulation. Petersburg was Russia’s pride, not because it represented the uniqueness of her culture, but because it championed her participation in the broader culture of western Europe. St. Petersburg was a city that borrowed, copied, and stole. She copied the architecture of the Swedes, stole the language of the French, and borrowed the military discipline of the Prussians. Russia was a melting pot with an uncertain future.

However, all this began to change following Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1805. The war with the French forced Russia to find her own identity, unique to those around her. Most memorably, it brought the Russian peasant out of his oblique reclusion and into the center of Russia’s quest for a uniquely Russian identity. Ready to help in this quest was the literary genius, Nikolai Gogol.

Gogol was different from his fellow Russian authors in that he sought to inspire change on the individual level. Orlando Figes, in his epic history Natasha’s Dance,¹ poignantly speaks to this when he says that “Gogol preached that Russia’s salvation lay in the spiritual reform of every individual citizen.”² In Gogol’s opinion, Russia had been corrupted by its plagiarism of the West and needed to return to its roots, found in the simplicity of the peasant. No work depicts this better than Gogol’s masterpiece, The Overcoat.³ Written from the perspective of a poor government laborer, Gogol brilliantly depicts the battle between Russian authenticity and Western consumerism.

In The Overcoat, the soul of the true Russian is poisoned by the pursuit of tangible objects. These objects become the lust of every common man, promising happiness when acquired. Akaky, Gogol’s protagonist, is introduced as a simple yet committed man who goes about his work with joy. Although he finds himself in a monotonous copying position in the employ of the government, Akaky seems to exude some of the qualities so well known to the Russian peasant. We see this authentic Russian spirit in the way that Akaky goes about his work.

You would scarcely have found another who was so wedded to his work. It would be an understatement to say that he served with diligence; nay, he served with love. In his work, his copying, he beheld a world that was colorful and attractive.⁴

This powerful excerpt gives the reader a window into what Gogol identified as true “Russianness.” To interact with one’s work with love and imagination, and to find meaning in the process of creativity, is at the heart of the Russian spirit. Unlike many of his comrades, Akaky seems unaffected by the societal pressures around him. His joy comes from within and is not contingent on his social status. This is not the case for Akaky’s fellow workmen.

Not once in his life had he paid any attention to the daily happenings and goings on in the street, which are always so keenly observed by his young colleagues in the service, whose eyes have been so sharpened by careful practice that they will even notice someone on the other side of the street who has allowed the ankle strap on his trousers to come unstitched—a mishap that is sure to make them smile maliciously.⁵

The difference between Akaky and his fellow Peterburgians is stark. The mechanization and commoditization of Petersburg society have caused Akaky’s fellows to become obsessed with the outward accoutrements of the individual. They judge the quality of the individual on the basis of the “stuff” that they wear, neglecting to examine the state of one’s soul. For the Petersburgian, objects and the pursuit of these objects became their source of joy and satisfaction.

Tragically, Akaky himself falls prey to this poisonous pursuit of objects. Finding himself in need of a new overcoat, Akaky becomes consumed by the idea of obtaining a coat that would increase his standing in society. His whole life begins to bend to the demands of his coat. Gogol goes so far as to say that his pursuit of a new coat replaces, in Akaky, the need for food. In place of food, Akaky finds strength in the very idea of obtaining a new coat. A kind of madness seems to take over him: “he derived spiritual nourishment, feeding on the dream of his new coat.”⁶ It seems that Gogol is connecting the commoditization of Russia, and by proxy its westernization, with the demise of true spirituality. Items take the place of God in the soul of man, leaving little room for genuine worship of the Creator. Sadly, Akaky’s zealous pursuit of a new coat leads to a tragic end. Upon obtaining his new coat, he experiences a sudden feeling of euphoria, finding acceptance and popularity among those who had previously disdained him. However, his ecstasy is short-lived. Akaky’s coat is stolen from him, and with it his joy and identity.

In conclusion, Gogol’s genius work sheds light not only on the cultural tensions at play in 19th-century Russia but also has implications for our modern world. Like Akaky, we find ourselves at a crossroads between the expectations of our society and the authentic “good life.” We must choose to conduct our lives in a way that values wisdom, experience, and authenticity above the pressure to fit into our modern society and its expectations.

1. Orlando Figes, Natasha’s Dance: A Cultural History of Russia (New York: Penguin Press, 2002). ↩︎
2. Figes, Natasha’s Dance, 317. ↩︎
3. Nikolai Gogol, Plays and Petersburg Tales, trans. Christopher English (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). ↩︎
4. Gogol, Plays and Petersburg Tales, 118. ↩︎
5. Gogol, Plays and Petersburg Tales, 118. ↩︎
6. Gogol, Plays and Petersburg Tales, 127. ↩︎

Featured image courtesy of Viktoriia Ananeva on Unsplash.