Somewhat maniacally, Napoleon dedicates himself to quiet training of the dogs at young age. It is similar to how in Huxley, Brave New World, the newborn go through a comprehensive system of hypnopaedia. These dictators, for good reason, focus their energy on training the young—the ones who will have power and voice, the ones who do not know what life was like before their birth. They are, simply put, the fearless dictator’s white canvas.

I see that this is a political commentary. But out of all the other characters in the book contributing to the theme of political corruption, one jumped out, and that was Benjamin—he who chose not to take either side but simply prophesy that no matter which side they chose, life was going to continue as it always has been—badly. He simply foretells the tragedy to come at not even midpoint of the book.

His wisdom is disturbing because it is cynical, but piercing because it is true. It seems like for him, there is a sense of great liberty in knowing that everything was meaningless.

Not a coincidence that I love the book of Ecclesiastes, and Benjamin. But simply stopping at the knowledge of vanity brings me no joy—I have yet to find and internalize a meaningful answer. That we seek revolution, but as its namesake, we return to where we originally were. Desperately seeking for this answer in The Idiot. Or more broadly, in mimicking the Holy Fool.