This chapter is a fairly technical spelling-out of how Aristotle conceives of his model. It's an analog to mathematics, but it isn't meant to be a mathematical model, just like one. His model for motion in the Physics in which there are two contraries and a substrate is the real model, as I have already mentioned. We are, in this case, the substrate that unifies the contraries and allows for motion between them: we have the capacity to be cowardly or brave, and can shift our position between those extremes in search of the right balancing point.
There are three kinds of disposition, then, two of them vices, involving excess and deficiency respectively, and one a virtue, viz. the mean, and all are in a sense opposed to all; for the extreme states are contrary both to the intermediate state and to each other, and the intermediate to the extremes; as the equal is greater relatively to the less, less relatively to the greater, so the middle states are excessive relatively to the deficiencies, deficient relatively to the excesses, both in passions and in actions. For the brave man appears rash relatively to the coward, and cowardly relatively to the rash man; and similarly the temperate man appears self-indulgent relatively to the insensible man, insensible relatively to the self-indulgent, and the liberal man prodigal relatively to the mean man, mean relatively to the prodigal. Hence also the people at the extremes push the intermediate man each over to the other, and the brave man is called rash by the coward, cowardly by the rash man, and correspondingly in the other cases.
That's a good point about how we perceive each other, as well as the effect we tend to have on each other in deliberating together. The rash man thinks of the brave man as cowardly; and by associating with the rash, the brave man may move away from the correct balancing point as they draw him towards their position. It's important to choose your friends carefully if you are to live the best life.
These states being thus opposed to one another, the greatest contrariety is that of the extremes to each other, rather than to the intermediate; for these are further from each other than from the intermediate, as the great is further from the small and the small from the great than both are from the equal. Again, to the intermediate some extremes show a certain likeness, as that of rashness to courage and that of prodigality to liberality; but the extremes show the greatest unlikeness to each other; now contraries are defined as the things that are furthest from each other, so that things that are further apart are more contrary.
To the mean in some cases the deficiency, in some the excess is more opposed; e.g. it is not rashness, which is an excess, but cowardice, which is a deficiency, that is more opposed to courage, and not insensibility, which is a deficiency, but self-indulgence, which is an excess, that is more opposed to temperance.
Another demonstration that the 'mean' he keeps talking about is not the middle point: sometimes one of the extremes is more opposed to the 'mean' than the other, i.e., the right balancing point may not be in the exact middle.
This happens from two reasons, one being drawn from the thing itself; for because one extreme is nearer and liker to the intermediate, we oppose not this but rather its contrary to the intermediate. E.g. since rashness is thought liker and nearer to courage, and cowardice more unlike, we oppose rather the latter to courage; for things that are further from the intermediate are thought more contrary to it.
Again, "one extreme is nearer," i.e., we aren't talking about the 'mean' in a strictly mathematical sense even though that term is preferred by translators. The mathematical similarity is analogical, rather than logical.
This, then, is one cause, drawn from the thing itself; another is drawn from ourselves; for the things to which we ourselves more naturally tend seem more contrary to the intermediate. For instance, we ourselves tend more naturally to pleasures, and hence are more easily carried away towards self-indulgence than towards propriety. We describe as contrary to the mean, then, rather the directions in which we more often go to great lengths; and therefore self-indulgence, which is an excess, is the more contrary to temperance.
Another good point about human psychology by Aristotle: relatively few of us are inclined to being insensible to pleasure, so it's really self-indulgence we're guarding against on that particular scale. The other contrary doesn't hold much interest for most of us.
3 comments:
Just chiming in here to say I'm still reading along. After getting my head around book 1, Aristotle's points in book 2 (so far) have made sense, particularly with your comments and explanation. So, I'm still here, just don't have much to say.
That's ok. That's what I hoped would happen, in fact, if we took our time and mapped down the opening carefully. Once you get the mental model right, the rest of the work becomes straightforward by comparison.
There's a lot of groundwork to do for a contemporary thinker who won't have encountered some of these concepts in what we call 'modern life,' as well as some places where it's easy to misunderstand and go astray. Getting those parts settled early and carefully makes the rest easier.
By the way, when I talk about the 'balancing point,' that's my own way of describing what Aristotle is after. He doesn't use that phrase or anything like it, but I think it's helpful in thinking about how a 'mean' or 'intermediate' can be 'closer to one end than the other.'
I'm thinking of that thing we do to test the balance of a blade, where you put it longways across one finger and find where it balances. The blade may be longer than the hilt, but the hilt is more densely constructed; if so, the blade's tip may be much further out from your finger than the tip of the hilt, but it balances there. That's just another analogy, of course, and it's one I'm creating and importing to the text. It's not there in the original; I just find it helpful in conceptualizing the model.
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