“Society’s absolute truths are pliant enough to tie in knots. War makes murder patriotic. The very notion of proprietary possession is a social construct. And offense to these absolute truths is so commonplace that one might wonder as to whether or not require constant violation to keep themselves intact at all.” Belatedly, it jolted something like guilt through him, to so blithely discuss murder, with Gellert, of all people. “More correct is not The correct, and thus a wholly more appealing notion, equipped with adaptive potential and the opportunity for improvement. An absolute correctness errs, for me, too close to ‘piety,’ and all too often those who believe they possess it find themselves in the seats of power. For better or worse, it’s a man’s quality, his capacity, that confers the right to rule, not the merits of his philosophy.” Having wound himself back to more comfortable territory, his voice turned wry again. “Perhaps if we lived in a world with an absolute good, this would not be so?”
“Mmm.” Gellert made a vague, noncommittal sound that nevertheless could not help sounding the slightest bit amused. “The foundation of your argument is fallacious. Society’s so-called absolute truths may be pliant, but yet every culture on earth reverts to the same basic principles on which to build their laws and ordinances. They do not see killing during war as murder because they have justified it as being for a cause more important than appeasing their conscience. Every society in the world had its mores, and even as its culture develops, there are some that remain static.”
From the slightly disdainful tone to Albus’s final sentence, he could infer Albus’s growing discomfort with the conversation, and it was not difficult to guess why. Best for him to take Gellert’s remarks and twist them into irony, if they cut a little too close to something he feared might be true. About Gellert. About himself. After those letters, it suddenly felt all too easy to begin to piece together the enigma that had been that summer, and the mystery that had been the emotions of Albus Dumbledore.
He pretended not to notice the inflection to Albus’s voice, though, answering that final question as if it had been a somewhat serious one. “There may not be an absolute good, but there is the common good. Any man who can improve the well-being of the greater populace deserves, and would receive, my vote.” He quirked a brow in Albus’s direction, uncertain just how much Albus could read into Gellert’s motivation behind this discussion. If he knew how to pick apart which of the things Gellert said, he actually believed. Horrifically doubtful, but it always served to hope.
Between Albus and Gellert, a devil would find himself two well-versed advocates. That was the fun of it all, he supposed, having someone who could truly understand a conversation on more than the most cursory levels, could enjoy debate for the sake of debate without becoming emotionally invested.
“Society is too bloodthirsty to live without an element of criminality. That societies develop mores is an apt concession, but they are ceaselessly defied. The purpose of maintaining order and promoting the well-being of the whole isn’t solely through subscription to popular morality-- its desire to punish and deride must also be sated to appease the more vicious components of humanity, making such desires not simply palatable, but morally praiseworthy. That’s the trick, of course, the erroneously dubbed ‘paradox.’ To serve the greatest possible good, one must often not only ignore moral trends, but enable conformers to make proper use of their ignorance.”
There was more to it, naturally, than simply discussion for its own sake. Albus had the benefit of hours of such conversations, of knowing Gellert’s true mind on the matter. It was easier to ignore that he enjoyed this when he was able to tell himself that some productive, comparative end was being served.