The mind can justify things that the heart cannot. In the cold deliberation of an armchair, we can logically think through all manner of things. And yet, there’s a difference between rationalizing something and doing it. There’s often a kind of block that comes on, or a visceral rejection of an action that’s utterly reasonable, yet somehow utterly undoable.

This is one of the great themes of Dostoyevsky’s “Crime and Punishment”.

The novel features a young man, Raskolnikov, who seems to know his philosophy. He knows well the utilitarian theories that say that an action is good if it creates the greatest outcome. Raskolnikov sees himself as a strong and powerful leader – a new Napoleon-type figure who’ll do whatever is in the interests of the greater good.

And so, Raskolnikov justifies murder. He identifies an elderly lady whom he’ll kill and steal from, at least in part to help support his family. He views this person as entirely evil and cruel. She’s a parasite to society, and the world would be better off without her there. Much of the first part of the book is spent building up to this act. It’s Raskolnikov rationalizing to himself the utilitarian merits of taking a life.

Of course, things do not go according to plan. The murder is botched, brutal and bloody, and he ends up killing the old lady’s younger, pregnant sister. The rest of the novel depicts Raskolnikov’s descent into madness. He’s overcome by a sense of guilt and paranoia. Everything seems cramped, squalid, and clogged and there’s a feverish hue to things.

Crime and Punishment forces the reader to examine that bit of himself he has to live with. There’s a part of each individual, called the psyche, conscience, or even soul, that guides and commits him to things. When one acts against this, or ignores its pull, it can have profound, scarring, and traumatic effects.

No matter how much one hates someone, he aches to see him sad. No matter how much one knows someone’s a bad influence, he feels he can’t cut him out of his life. And, even if one justifies a killing, he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Dostoyevsky knew that people might all think or say one thing, but their being often won’t follow along.