The Danger of Being Too Good

Book Discussion

Too much goodness can become a form of violence. Prince Myshkin, the protagonist of Dostoevsky’s novel The Idiot, is the best illustration of this.

In classical literary interpretations, Myshkin is celebrated as a holy fool who is also a moral absolute dropped into a corrupt society. He does what he thinks is right though it goes against social conventions totally. For example, he can walk into a party to which he has not been invited. When people laugh at him for such acts, he laughs with them. When he first visits the Yepanchins, the three daughters of the house call him an ass and then laugh. He does not take offence; instead he joins their laughter.

Myshkin absorbs all the evil around him. People lie to him, deceive him, mock him, even slap him. He has no complaints. He forgives all wrongs. He understands people, their limitations. He empathises with them.

He is too good, in short. His kind of goodness is dangerous in the human world which isn’t quite good. A world in which goodness can bring about one’s own destruction. No wonder Jesus counselled his followers to be as cunning as the serpents even while retaining dove-like innocence. Innocence alone will destroy you. Prince Myshkin is not just innocent; he is naïve.

Myshkin’s naivete poses threats to himself as well as others around him.

Nastasya Filippovna is the greatest casualty of Myshkin’s innocence. Nastasya has been dishonoured by Totsky and hence she sees herself as a victim and wallows in self-blame. She becomes self-destructive too. Myshkin’s goodness becomes pity for her. She becomes a suffering soul. The problem is Myshkin’s all-too-good compassion serves only to confirm her worst self-image: that she is irreparably damaged and fit only for sacrifice. Myshkin offers to marry her out of pity. But he is incapable of raising her to a woman worthy of love and respect, a woman who is capable of redemption through choice.

In other words, Myshkin offers salvation without the conscious longing for it, forgiveness without the demand for it, and understanding without personal transformation. His goodness lacks discernment. It lacks accountability. It is like the foolish generosity of a man who opens his treasure chest in the marketplace and lets anyone and everyone carry away what they wish.

Myshkin’s naïve love for Nastasya fails to see her as an equal, as a person who must choose and be chosen. Instead Myshkin traps her in the role of the eternally fallen woman for whom he has all his pity. Pity is not a great virtue at all.

The charming Aglaya Yepanchin is another woman who suffers much because of Myshkin’s goodness. She is drawn to the prince’s purity but is soon made to suffer because of the man’s lack of clarity, courage, and commitment. Myshkin can see suffering clearly, feel compassion deeply, but cannot act decisively. When asked to choose between Aglaya and Nastasya, Myshkin dithers. He is incapable of choosing between pity and love. It is his goodness that makes him incapable. His goodness cannot leave anyone out – whatever the reason. In effect, however, people desert him; they can’t understand the ambiguities of such goodness – moral as well as emotional ambiguities.

Such ambiguities hurt others. Compassion becomes cruelty. Goodness becomes wicked in effect. Myshkin cannot confront the moral darkness of a man like Rogozhin because his naïve compassion mistakes understanding for courage. What use is such goodness which cannot even question the evil around it and instead allows it to spread its tentacles far and wide?

Goodness must be guided by wisdom. Love must be guided by judiciousness. Otherwise the sacrifices made by people like Myshkin go in vain. In fact, the world sends Myshkin back to the mental asylum from where he had come into the novel in the first place.

Many critics have found similarities between Myshkin and Jesus. There are similarities, no doubt. But there is a big difference. Just imagine Jesus refusing to become human enough to judge, act, and limit himself. Even love has limits.

Simple innocence – without the understanding of the inevitable human complexities – can wound as deeply as cruelty!

Was Myshkin incapable of that complexity?

Did Jesus run away from that complexity? [This is a personal question that I grappled with for long.]

Maybe it is not their goodness that drove Myshkin back to the asylum and Jesus to his cross. Maybe it was their refusal to make the right choices.

Note: It is impossible to limit any Dostoevsky novel to a blog post. I have merely looked at a fraction of the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

This post is part of the Bookish League blog hop hosted by Bohemian Bibliophile