The Development of Philosophical Thought in Ukraine

Hryhorii Skovoroda: His Life and Philosophy

Hryhorii S. Skovoroda was born on December 3 (November 22, Old Style), 1722, in the village of Chornukhy in the Poltava region, into a Cossack family, and he died at dawn on Sunday, November 9 (October 29), 1794, in the village of Pan-Ivanivka (now Skovorodynivka, Zolochiv district, Kharkiv region), where he was buried, and where there is now a literary-memorial museum in his honor. His father sent him to the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy in the fall of 1734, where he studied until 1741. Without completing his studies, Skovoroda spent three years in Saint Petersburg as part of the court choral chapel. In 1744—1745, he resumed his studies at the Academy, but in late August 1745, he left with General Fedor Vyshnevsky’s expedition to the Hungarian city of Tokaj. Enjoying the favor of the general, Skovoroda lived and studied abroad for five years, residing in Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna, Venice, Florence, and possibly Rome. Scholars believe he attended the University of Halle in Germany, where he attended lectures by Christian Wolff.

In the fall of 1750, Skovoroda returned to Kyiv, and by late 1750 or early 1751, he began teaching a course in poetics at the college in Pereiaslav. In October 1751, he returned to the Academy and continued studying theology, completing a four-year course in two years. In the spring of 1753, he moved to the village of Kavrai to work as a private tutor for the son of landowner S. Tomara, and by 1759, he was teaching at the Kharkiv College. Until 1766, he taught poetics, classical languages, and "rules of morality" there. Skovoroda made one final attempt to resume teaching at the Kharkiv College in the 1768—69 academic year, delivering a course on ethics, but after that, for the remaining 25 years of his life, he wandered around Sloboda Ukraine and wrote his works.

Skovoroda is remembered by his contemporaries, and later by the entire nation, as a thinker whose principles of life and teachings were aligned, known for his love of freedom and vast erudition. His philosophical works include 14 dialogues, five treatises, as well as translations. His philosophical insights are also present in his poetry (the collection "Garden of Divine Songs"), fables (the collection "Kharkiv Fables"), and letters.

The central theme of Skovoroda's philosophical quest is the justification of a holistic ethical doctrine and reflections on human happiness. The metaphysical foundation of this teaching is the concept of "two natures." Everything that exists has two natures: the visible, accessible to the senses, and the invisible, accessible only to intellectual observation. The visible nature, or matter, has a variety of manifestations and properties. The invisible nature is the foundation of the visible; it determines and gives it constancy. Skovoroda writes about these two natures in his work "Introduction to Christian Morality" (1766, revised in 1780): "The whole world consists of two natures: one visible, the other invisible. The visible nature is called creation, and the invisible one is God. This invisible nature, or God, sees through all creation and holds it together; He has always been, is, and will be everywhere. For example, the human body is visible, but the mind that sees through and sustains it is not."

In his final work, "The Snake’s Flood" (1791), Skovoroda points to the ancient roots of the idea of two natures: "All three worlds consist of two essences, which form a unity, called matter and form. These forms are called ideas by Plato, that is, visions, types, images. They are the primordial, non-manmade worlds, the hidden threads that hold the fleeting shadow, or matter." Form, or idea, exists alongside matter, yet at the same time, it is the fundamental principle relative to matter, determining its development. The notion of the eternity of matter is repeatedly emphasized by Skovoroda. In "The Icon of Alcibiades," he writes: "If you tell me that this external world ends in certain places and times, having its proper limit, I too will say that it ends, that is, begins. You see, the boundary of one place is at once a door opening into the field of new spaces, and so, when the egg spoils, a chick begins. And so everything goes on infinitely. The all-encompassing beginning and this world, being its shadow, have no boundaries. Materia aeterna (eternal matter)."

In his concept of God, Skovoroda leans more towards a pantheistic understanding than an orthodox Christian one.

Besides the doctrine of two natures, Skovoroda's metaphysics also develops the idea of "three worlds." This idea is most clearly articulated in the dialogue "The Snake’s Flood": "There are three worlds. The first is the universal, inhabited world, where all the born creatures live. This, composed of countless world-worlds, is the great world. The other two are particular and small worlds. The first is the microcosm, or little world, that is, man. The second is the symbolic world, that is, the Bible. In any inhabited world, the sun is its eye, and this eye is the sun. And since the sun is the head of the world, it is not surprising that man is called the microcosm, or the little world. And the Bible is the symbolic world because it contains the figures of heavenly, earthly, and deep creatures to be monuments leading our thoughts into the understanding of eternal nature, hidden in the perishable just as a drawing is in its colors."

Skovoroda saw the goal of knowledge as the comprehension of the essence, the inner meaning of things. Through sensory knowledge of the external, one can penetrate into the invisible, the essential. However, the knowledge of nature is not the ultimate goal; self-knowledge is the final aim. Man, in relation to the world, holds the central place in Skovoroda's thought. According to him, everything that happens in the world matters only insofar as it finds its fulfillment in man. "And what is man?" he writes in the book "Askhan," "Whatever it may be: action, deed, or word — all is vanity if it does not find its fulfillment in man himself."

For Skovoroda, the issue of man is connected with a critique of the immorality of the world. In "The Grateful Herodias," the world is described as "a sea of drowning men, a land struck by pestilence, an enclosure of fierce lions, a prison of captives, a marketplace of fornicators, a sweet-loving bait, a furnace kindling lust, a feast of the possessed, a choir and dance of the drunken mad." And in a letter to Yakiv Pravitsky in Babai, Skovoroda writes: "Let us flee the world, remaining in the harbor and despising the deceptions of the world. The world is avarice, ambition, carnal pleasure."

To resist the temptations and attractions of the world, a person must find moral support within themselves, discovering the "true" person within. Throughout Skovoroda's works runs the call to "know thyself." To know oneself is to discover the spirit within, to reveal God in man: "To know and comprehend the true person, to discern the shadow we all dwell upon. For the true person and God are one and the same."

Skovoroda considered the science of man and his happiness the highest of all sciences. He saw the immediate manifestation of happiness in "inner peace," "heartfelt joy, and spiritual strength." This is achieved through "affinity" with a certain kind of labor. True happiness lies in free work done according to one’s calling ("kindred work rejoices the soul"). In this context, to know oneself means to discover one’s natural vocation for a particular type of activity. Skovoroda believed that the purpose of his philosophy was to teach true happiness. Happiness is not tied to wealth but to the inner world, to finding and befriending oneself.

Although Skovoroda harshly condemned the immorality of the world, this does not indicate a tragic attitude towards life and the world. When a person finds themselves, they are capable of constructing their relationship with the world according to the principles of play. In "The Icon of Alcibiades," Skovoroda recounts a parable: a hermit lived in deep solitude...

Each day, at the break of dawn, he would enter a vast garden. In that garden lived a beautiful and remarkably gentle bird. He observed the bird's strange qualities with great interest, amused himself by attempting to catch it, and so the time passed unnoticed. The bird, intentionally landing nearby, played along with his attempts to catch it and seemed countless times to be within his grasp, yet he was never able to capture it. "Do not grieve over this, my friend," the bird said, "that you cannot catch me. You will spend your life trying to catch me only to never succeed, but rather, to entertain yourself."

One day, his friend came to visit. After greeting each other, they engaged in friendly conversation. "Tell me," the guest asked, "how do you amuse yourself in your desolate wilderness? I would die of boredom in such a place!" But the hermit replied, "First, you tell me what it is that brings you joy in the company of others. I would die of sorrow amidst it."

"My amusements come from three sources," the guest answered. "First, I do good deeds for both my family and strangers. Second, I enjoy good health. And third, I find pleasure in the companionship of friends."

"As for me," said the hermit, "I have two pastimes: the bird and the beginning. I always try to catch the bird, but I can never succeed. And I possess a thousand and one intricate knots of silk. I search for the beginning among them, but I can never untangle them."

"Your amusements seem childish to me," the guest said. "But if they are innocent and can bring you joy, then I forgive you." And with that, he left his friend with his playful beginning.

This parable is highly illustrative. Through it, Skovoroda depicts his relationship with the world. The sage tries to grasp the world, to seize its meaning and its origin, and likewise, the world attempts to capture the human being, striving to overwhelm them with passions. A harmonious relationship with the world resembles a playful contest, one that manifests in any sphere of life, whether in farming or philosophy. In the dedication to his work "Dialogue, or a Conversation about the Ancient World," he writes: "Many ask, what does Skovoroda do in life? How does he amuse himself? I rejoice in the Lord. I find joy in God, my Savior. Amusement, in Roman, is oblectatio, in Greek, diatribe, in Slavic it is glum or glumlinnia, which is the summit, the pinnacle, the flower, and the seed of human life. It is the center of every life." From this perspective, the epitaph on the philosopher’s grave—"The world tried to catch me, but failed"—becomes more comprehensible. Yes, the world tried to catch him, but Skovoroda evaded it, though not entirely. Skovoroda also sought to capture the world, its origin and essence, but did he succeed? That is not the point. The point is to live a worthy life in perpetual, joyful pursuit.

In the works of Hryhorii Skovoroda, one cannot help but notice his special affinity for ancient philosophy or sayings borrowed from the Bible. Behind this lies a principled stance on both his understanding of philosophy and his attitude toward his predecessors and contemporaries. Skovoroda consciously did not consider philosophy anything that did not pertain to the essential questions of human life, nor did he value that "philosophizing" which, though concerned with humanity, ignored the authority of the Bible.

The task of wisdom, for him, is the sphere of human happiness, a path outlined long ago by the ancient biblical prophets, for prophets and philosophers are one and the same. Skovoroda could not accept the Western philosophy of his time, because in the 18th century, it had distanced itself from the anthropocentrism upon which he stood. His contemporary, Kant, was preoccupied with the question of how, and to what extent, philosophy could be considered a science, given that Newtonian mechanics had become the model of scientific knowledge. From the onset of modernity to the 20th century, philosophers were increasingly concerned with the relationship between philosophy and science, which heightened the focus on the nature of knowledge and the process of acquiring it. To Skovoroda, this all seemed irrelevant, unworthy of true philosophical endeavor, and thus could not capture his interest. Therefore, he exhorts: "First, know yourself. Do not wander among the planets and stars. Return home." Does this not recall Socrates, who, in Plato's dialogue "Phaedo," spoke of his own path to true knowledge, which concerned not natural philosophy but self-knowledge? Socrates believed that physical knowledge was essentially indifferent to humanity, that the mysteries of the universe were divine matters, too vast for human understanding. What is within human power, that is what ought to be known. "Know thyself!"—the ancient call that, like a refrain, runs through Skovoroda's dialogues.

However, this does not mean that in the age of Enlightenment Skovoroda was an obscurantist. "I do not criticize the sciences," he says, "and I praise even the humblest craft. Yet it is worthy of condemnation when, relying on them, we neglect the highest science... happiness, which is necessary for all, unlike any other science." His concern was the distortion of the concept of wisdom: "Ah, our poor little knowledge and understanding," he laments. One cannot fully comprehend the world until they elevate themselves to God, discover Him within, for this is not achieved by pondering the external. "All the ministering spirits (understand, worldly sciences) rise above and sit higher than their queen—God's wisdom." And he adds, "Oh, what laughable wisdom, that does not know itself!"

It seems that Skovoroda's entire worldview is built around the idea of living in a manner that is "kindred" to his spirit. In this, he follows the spirit of the ancient Hellenistic schools. The leading schools of that era—Epicureanism, Stoicism, and Skepticism—focused all elements of their teachings (metaphysics, physics, logic, ethics, aesthetics) on resolving the central question: how can a person achieve happiness? From the ancient legacy, Epicurus is the closest to Skovoroda, whose saying, regarding the relationship between "the difficult and the unnecessary" and "the necessary and the not difficult," Skovoroda often cites. Epicurus himself writes: "What is natural is easy to attain, and what is empty is difficult to attain." A habit of simple, inexpensive food, according to Epicurus, promotes health, makes a person active, leads to inner calm, and the true sage understands that "the highest good is easy to achieve." The pursuit of inner balance and tranquility, based on reason, is a value that both Epicurus and Skovoroda share. "You criticize me for being naked and joyful. But it is precisely my reliable hope, not in wealth, that brings me joy."

Yet Skovoroda is not one to follow anyone's life program strictly. We find in his position differences from both Epicurean and Stoic traditions. For instance, he does not dwell on the theme of death, which so captivated Hellenistic philosophy. At the same time, valuing the authority of the Bible and being well-versed in it, he avoids mentioning the critical references to Epicureans and Stoics in the "Acts of the Apostles" (Acts 17:18).

So who is Skovoroda, in his own self-assessment, considering the demands he places on the philosopher-sage? "I neither plow, nor sow, nor trade, nor fight, I reject all worldly concerns. What do I do? This: I continually bless the Lord, I sing of His resurrection!" How does he regard himself as a philosopher? In a letter to M. Kovalinsky in October 1762 (when he was forty), he writes: "What is philosophy? The answer: to be alone with oneself, to know how to converse with oneself." This solitary pursuit is complemented by the fact that "for me, there is nothing more pleasant than conversing with a friend."

He supplements visible conversations with imagined ones, writing dialogues and sending them to his friends. He does what is fitting for an ancient philosopher: a free person, one who seeks no other benefit from their chosen pursuit than enjoyment.

It seems that above all, he cares about fortifying his own spirit in opposition to the world. The search for the true human within oneself is not only advice to others but a constant effort, an unceasing struggle against the temptations of the world. Skovoroda saw philosophy as a productive endeavor. He was convinced that in knowing the true human, we simultaneously become that person. In this, our native philosopher shares the general illusion not only of the Enlightenment era in which he lived but also the illusion of his ancient kindred spirits.