In Chekhov’s comedy Ivanoff (sometimes written as Ivanov), as revised and first performed in St. Petersburg in 1889, he explores the issue of self-understanding.
Human beings can never understand themselves. The effort to understand oneself is based on the paradox of self-reference. Understanding, in the traditional sense, implies a subject-object relationship. There is a subject that understands or does not understand an object. But from a constructionist perspective, the object is constructed by the subject. There is no independent object out there in “reality” that can be known or understood as it exists in itself. The observer makes distinctions that allow it to indicate something; without those distinctions, there is nothing to indicate. For instance, the words “Anton Chekhov” are used to name something observed, and each observer who uses that name observes/constructs (or discusses or thinks about) Anton Chekhov has something different in mind.
Communication just needs to keep communicating. Understanding, contrary to the entire Western philosophical tradition, is not the goal of communication because communication has no goal apart from continued communication. For instance, scientists can never understand nature or the laws of nature because nature isn’t a thing out there to understand or misunderstand. Nature, like Anton Chekhov, or Nicholas Ivanoff (or Nikolai Ivanov or Николай Иванов) , or Hamlet, is a just a topic for communication. Natural laws are something to talk about, nothing more. We say we understand something when we have a sufficient grasp of some topic to keep talking or thinking about it.
The “comedy” of Ivanoff is all about the inability to understand oneself or others. It is not about the failure to understand, but rather the complete impossibility to understand. This is why the famous aphorism “Know thyself” is so misleading. The comedy of human interaction derives from the impossibility of understanding either other people or oneself. T.S. Eliot‘s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” captures this experience very well with the words,
Should I say: “That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.”
Prufrock is a man who cannot form a satisfying social connection. But in Ivanoff, we have dialogue such as the following:
LVOFF. Look here, whom are you trying to deceive? Throw off this disguise!
IVANOFF. You who are so clever, you think that nothing in the world is easier than to understand me, do you? I married Annie for her money, did I? And when her parents wouldn’t give it to me, I changed my plans, and am now hustling her out of the world so that I may marry another woman, who will bring me what I want? You think so, do you? Oh, how easy and simple it all is! But you are mistaken, doctor; in each one of us there are too many springs, too many wheels and cogs for us to judge each other by first impressions or by two or three external indications. I can not understand you, you cannot understand me, and neither of us can understand himself. A man may be a splendid doctor, and at the same time a very bad judge of human nature; you will admit that, unless you are too self-confident.
LVOFF. Do you really think that your character is so mysterious, and that I am too stupid to tell vice from virtue?
As psychic systems, we are black boxes to society. Society is nothing more than communication, but psychic systems do not communicate and they are inaccessible to communication. A mind, consciousness, psychic system (or whatever you choose to call it) is operationally closed. Interaction systems (conversations) and larger social systems can irritate psychic systems, but that is all.
Here is Ivanoff talking again with the foolish doctor, Lvoff (who serves as his dramatic foil):
LVOFF. . . The best cure for consumption is absolute peace of mind, and your wife has none whatever. She is forever excited by your behaviour to her. Forgive me, I am excited and am going to speak frankly. Your treatment of her is killing her. [A pause] Ivanoff, let me believe better things of you.
IVANOFF. What you say is true, true. I must be terribly guilty, but my mind is confused. My will seems to be paralysed by a kind of stupor; I can’t understand myself or any one else. [Looks toward the window] Come, let us take a walk, we might be overheard here. [They get up] My dear friend, you should hear the whole story from the beginning if it were not so long and complicated that to tell it would take all night. [They walk up and down] Anna is a splendid, an exceptional woman. She has left her faith, her parents and her fortune for my sake. If I should demand a hundred other sacrifices, she would consent to every one without the quiver of an eyelid. Well, I am not a remarkable man in any way, and have sacrificed nothing. However, the story is a long one. In short, the whole point is, my dear doctor—[Confused] that I married her for love and promised to love her forever, and now after five years she loves me still and I—[He waves his hand] Now, when you tell me she is dying, I feel neither love nor pity, only a sort of loneliness and weariness. To all appearances this must seem horrible, and I cannot understand myself what is happening to me.