Although writing in 1866, it feels as though Dostoyevsky were speaking directly to you and me, talking about our own time. A pestilence has indeed struck the world, but not just a pestilence affecting our physical health. We are living in a time when it really does seem that there is an epidemic of anxiety, one that has multiple causes that Dostoyevsky imagined in the nightmare he describes. People infected with ripe over-confidence in exclusive truth that is not open to challenge. People judging each other so harshly and with such strong language that discourse becomes manic and unproductive. People living in desperation, envy and loathing, despite the extraordinary human progress of the last few centuries.13 How can we move beyond this troubling vision?