And in Dostoevsky’s world (and perhaps in ours), sincerity is indistinguishable from insanity.
We call this "being street smart."
The tragedy of The Idiot is that Myshkin cannot save anyone. The world isn't broken because people are ignorant; the world is broken because people choose the lie over the truth. We prefer Rogozhin’s violent passion to Myshkin’s gentle clarity because passion is exciting and clarity is boring. o idiota dostoievski