And in Dostoevsky’s world (and perhaps in ours), sincerity is indistinguishable from insanity.
But in 1869, Fyodor Dostoevsky—the master of psychological torment—wrote a novel called The Idiot . And if you pick it up expecting a story about a man with a low IQ, you are in for the most uncomfortable spiritual sucker punch of your life. o idiota dostoievski
Because Myshkin’s compassion is a mirror. When you look at a truly good person, you don’t see their goodness; you see your own flaws. Myshkin doesn’t judge anyone—he pities them. And nothing enrages a guilty person more than unearned pity. And in Dostoevsky’s world (and perhaps in ours),
We call this "being street smart."
Here is the thesis: