"Yagami-kun," L said suddenly, eyes glued to what appeared to be a thoroughly uninteresting article presumably related in some manner to the Investigation (in his mind, Light always capitalized "Investigation." Being as how it ruled his life, he figured he had the right). He had the tip of his thumb between his teeth, which meant he was thinking outside the box. "What are your thoughts on the morality of society?"
Light's eyebrows elevated a few degrees. L had done this before—attempted to pry Kira-like information out of him by use of his "opinion." It got bothersome after a while, but Light refused to back down from the challenge.
"That's sort of a loaded question, Ryuuzaki. Can you narrow it down at all?"
L paused for a moment, thumb becoming temporarily un-gnawed upon as he reached around his knees to extract a maraschino cherry from the porcelain bowl on his desk. He appeared to be formulating his thoughts into words.
"One might think," he began slowly, eyes never leaving the dull glow of his computer screen, "that morality is a matter of promoting the good of one's society, understood as an entity in its own right. The immediate problem is that we might reasonably doubt whether there really exists any such entity, or whether we can sensibly talk of it having a 'good', or welfare interests."
Light swiveled his desk chair to face him, sensing that this would end up requiring his full attention. The chain between them clattered noisily on the floor. "Okay," he said vaguely, unsure of the direction this would take. L didn't look at him.
"But even if we can ascribe a societal telos – longevity and power, say – there's the more fundamental problem that the society might be objectively bad, and so not worth helping at all."
Oh, yes. This was definitely a go-between for Kira. Light almost had to crack a grin at the absurdity of it all. "I think most people feel that way. It accounts for the general public, aside from some select individuals, that never seem to care at all for the advancement of their society. But that's just laziness, justified by dissatisfaction."
L finally blinked as the mesmerizing hum of his computer released him, and he glanced at Light with the bare briefness of a smile—the sly sort of smile that always made Light suspicious. "In that case, attend an experiment with me," he replied. "Imagine a dystopia of ruthless efficiency, where individuals are brainwashed from birth and tightly controlled by faceless institutions. Members eat dull, nutritious food; work productively on uninspired projects that increase the power of society's institutions—though never, of course, its private citizens— and reproduce in sufficient numbers to further support this 'purpose'."
"Sounds a bit like the society we live in now," said Light offhandedly, resting his chin on one hand.
"Do you think so?" replied L, in a manner that clearly said 'so does Kira, how interesting,' and plucked another cherry from the bowl. "This experimental society is little more than a virus, propagating itself to no higher end; still, we may suppose that this miserable situation is perfectly sustainable. So there seem no formal grounds to deny that the continued exploitation of the people could in fact be good for the State—society, as it were."
"In the scenario you're describing, "miserable" would have to be relative in itself," Light said. "It's entirely possible that the inhabitants of this world view the good of the society to be interchangeable with the good of the individual. How can we assume that the people in such a society, who have never known anything else, would be miserable?"
"Let us assume that they are, being that they are indeed self-sufficient and thinking individuals," said L in his peculiar not-quite-condescending-but-almost manner. "Now suppose, by some fluke, one individual manages to overcome his brainwashing. Is he morally obligated to continue to serve this society?" Another cherry popped between his lips and the thumb returned to its usual position, slightly stained with cherry juice. "On the contrary, it seems far more plausible that you're obligated to destroy the miserable institutions and start a whole new society in its place -- one that will be better for its inhabitants."
Light frowned, suddenly unsure of where this psychological banter was coming from. L was speaking the way he'd always said Kira thought—was it intentional? By appearing to agree with Kira's mindset, was he trying to lure Light into admitting that he thought the same way? Or was he actually agreeing with Kira…?
"The closest thing that applies to would be the American Declaration of Independence," he said thoughtfully. "If you find yourself in a society with institutions that do not support fundamental human ends, like the pursuit of happiness, then you should work to alter or abolish the institutions, replacing them with institutions that are more conducive to those ends."
"Yes," said L absently.
"But in that case, it tells of a complete disregard for the authority of government. Here in Japan, and virtually everywhere, it's been the cultural norm for thousands of years to operate by the standards of the government simply under the assumption that it operates to improve their lives is to better society, and vice versa, in most situations. If too many people try to question that sort of hierarchal authority, it creates a lesser form of anarchy."
"You are forgetting that we are examining a hypothetical society, one that discourages individuality and interpersonal thought," replied the detective, almost laying his cheek on one knee as he turned his head to look at Light. "It operates without regard to the citizens in favor of the political machine as a whole."
"But the entire point of a society is that what is best for the machine is best for the individuals composing it."
L shook his head, pulling the stem from another cherry with his usual two-fingered delicateness. "My point is simply that this convenient coincidence is not guaranteed to hold. And when they diverge, it is the welfare of the people, not the society, that matters." He swallowed this cherry whole, lacing his fingers over his knees and letting his eyes wander to the ceiling in thought. "I conclude, then, that people are not universally obliged to serve "their society", the institutional order they actually happen to find themselves in. At most, we are obligated to serve our collective, which is simply us – a plurality of persons – and not some impersonal entity that exists over and above us."
"That's what society is, by nature," Light protested. "Humans, as social creatures, need that structure. It changes, over time, but the basic fundamentals remain the same—some people are in authority and, in some way, dictate the behavior of those who aren't."
"You might," said L, "be confusing what I mean by "society" with a vision of "state." A collective operative does not necessarily equal a government. That is why I asked you your thoughts on the morality of society, and not the effectiveness."
"In that case, what is good for society may very well be bad for the state."
"True."
"The welfare of society might be compared to the total good of utilitarianism; both are aggregate measures which have no direct reflection in the real world. You can't read off total happiness or the wellbeing of society just from a few individuals, or from whether people express dissatisfaction or not. As an off the cuff description consider the wellbeing of society a measure of that societies competitiveness as compared to other societies."
L simply watched him out of the corner of his sleepless eyes. Undaunted, and oddly invigorated by the rare intellectual stimulus, Light wandered on.
"Your hypothetical society would also, eventually, fail. Other societies would technologically outpace it due to the achievement that comes with individual originality. By these standards your political machine is bad because ruthless efficiency fails at producing innovation and it can't attract members from other societies. It also has a hard time holding onto its own members, since no brainwashing is perfect. Thus in the long run it isn't very competitive."
"Nonsense," said L, rolling his eyes. " As the author of the thought experiment, I get to stipulate that my miserable society can and does outcompete the others, even in the long run. This is logically possible: there's a possible world where this is true, and it serves as my counterexample."
Light grinned, but continued. "But outcompetition is not, considering the properties of society by nature, possible. Besides, an effective hypothesis involves comparison. To be convincing you need to specify how it is better than any other possible society, not just the engineered less-efficient ones placed around it to prove your hypothetical point."
"You are becoming tangential."
"That may be. But I think your hypothesis is wrong."
L shrugged, plucking another cherry from his bowl. "And you are certainly allowed to, Yagami-kun."
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Author's note: Yeah… everybody's on and on about how these two are geniuses, IQs off the chart and whatnot… I'm like, "let 'em prove it." :)
This will almost certainly be continued, because philosophical debates plus Death Note equals a lot of fun for Nyx. This's probably what I'll do when Kingdom Come is giving me grief. Like now.
Feedback welcome, even stuff like "... wtf?" :D