The Golden Mean | Avoiding the Overcorrection Dilemma

As we move through Libra season—a time astrologically associated with balance, harmony, and justice—it feels especially fitting to reflect on the importance of moderation in both our personal and collective actions. Libra, ruled by Venus and symbolized by the scales, seeks equilibrium, urging us to weigh all sides before making decisions. This period encourages a deeper evaluation of how we navigate conflicts, both externally and within ourselves, and invites us to embrace a middle path rather than react in extremes. But as Libra teaches us the importance of balance, we also see how, in practice, the pursuit of justice and reform can easily tip into overcorrection.

In the world of politics and social movements, there’s a concerning trend that rises time and again: people who set out to fight for a cause or fix a wrong sometimes end up embodying the very things they were initially fighting against. It’s like trying to steer a car out of a skid, only to overcorrect and veer into the ditch on the other side. This tendency to swing too far in the opposite direction can be more than ironic—it can, at times, cause unintended harm. This dynamic can be understood through Aristotle’s theory of the golden mean, which emphasizes the importance of balance and moderation, suggesting that virtue lies between two extremes—deficiency and excess. The lesson Libra season offers, alongside Aristotle’s insight, is that in seeking balance, we must avoid the temptation to overcorrect. Instead, true progress and justice are found in carefully considered actions, aligned with both wisdom and a sense of equilibrium.

Throughout history, when movements fail to achieve balance, they tend to embody the same oppression they once fought. Consider the Red Scare and McCarthyism in the 1950s. Initially rooted in legitimate concerns about national security during the Cold War, fear of communism escalated into a widespread witch hunt. Innocent people were blacklisted, careers destroyed, and lives upended based on unsubstantiated accusations. This overcorrection not only violated basic civil liberties but also reflected an excess of fear and a deficiency in trust. The original intent—to protect the nation—was overshadowed by paranoia and injustice, demonstrating how neglecting moderation can lead to the very oppression that was meant to be prevented. Or take the French Revolution, which began as a fight for freedom and equality but spiraled into the Reign of Terror. In their zeal to eradicate tyranny, the revolutionaries adopted extreme measures that mirrored the despotism they sought to escape.

Even in modern times, movements like cancel culture have shown how efforts to hold individuals accountable can sometimes spiral into widespread condemnation, with little room for dialogue or redemption. While it’s important to address harmful behavior and promote social responsibility, the methods employed can sometimes lack nuance and empathy. This reflects how overcorrection, driven by a sense of moral urgency, can stifle conversation and polarize society. Recognizing the valid concerns that fuel such movements is essential, but so is ensuring that our responses remain balanced and constructive. As humans, we seem to oscillate between extremes, hoping to address a problem but sometimes complicating it further. There’s something undeniably reassuring about feeling we’re on the “right side” of a cause. It feels empowering to believe our mission is just, our motives pure, and our actions necessary. But as history suggests, when we become too absorbed in our own righteousness, we risk recreating the very issues we aimed to resolve. In our rush to correct the past, we might inadvertently mirror the very forces we sought to dismantle, all while believing we’re still doing the right thing.

Here’s where it gets nuanced: often, this overcorrection is influenced by ego and unacknowledged personal issues. Carl Jung’s concept of the Shadow helps us understand this dynamic. The shadow represents the parts of ourselves we repress or deny, and when left unacknowledged, these aspects tend to project outward. People can become so deeply invested in their cause that they fail to see how their unchecked motives—often stemming from unresolved personal conflicts—drive them toward extreme actions, mirroring the very behaviors they once opposed. When we attach ourselves to a cause, it bolsters our sense of identity, giving us a feeling of virtue and purpose. But this attachment can also lead us to support extreme actions without realizing how closely they resemble the injustices we intended to challenge. Erik Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development provide another lens here—particularly his focus on identity versus role confusion. Unresolved identity conflicts can leave individuals vulnerable to rigid thinking, where they overidentify with a cause in an attempt to create stability. This overidentification can amplify the risks of extremism. The golden mean would encourage us to seek balance, addressing both personal growth and societal change without overinvestment in a single ideology.

This brings to mind George Orwell’s 1984. One of the most striking lines from the book is: “The object of power is power.” Orwell warns us about the danger of pursuing control for its own sake, even under the guise of noble intentions. When maintaining control becomes the goal, chaos and confusion can be manufactured as justifications for extreme measures. In the novel, the Party thrives on instability, ensuring power remains concentrated in its hands. In real life, we sometimes see leaders or movements use similar strategies—exaggerating threats, stoking fear, and offering extreme solutions that conveniently lead to more control. In this way, overcorrection isn’t always a mistake; sometimes, it’s a deliberate tool for maintaining power. Just as power unchecked becomes tyrannical, so too does any cause or movement that fails to self-regulate, pushing society toward chaos rather than balance. John Stuart Mill’s warnings about the “tyranny of the majority” echo these concerns. Without balance, even well-meaning movements can enforce rigid social norms that suppress dissenting opinions, repeating the patterns of control they originally opposed. It underscores the necessity of safeguarding individual liberties while pursuing collective goals.

History is filled with examples of movements that promised to correct past wrongs and build a better world, only to create new challenges. Take the communist revolutions in Russia and China, for instance. Both movements were fueled by visions of equality, fairness, and justice—they aimed to uplift the working class and create societies free from exploitation. But in practice, these revolutions encountered the complexities of human nature and governance. Russian communism, born from the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution, aimed to dismantle aristocratic rule and empower the masses. Yet, the new system quickly transformed into one of the most oppressive regimes in history. What began as an effort to liberate became a system of purges, surveillance, and famine. Similarly, in China, Mao Zedong’s vision of modernization through the Great Leap Forward led to widespread famine and loss of life. The Cultural Revolution, meant to cleanse society of capitalist elements, spiraled into chaos and violence. These overcorrections illustrate how noble intentions can result in devastating consequences when balance and moderation are disregarded. The golden mean would argue that the intent behind these revolutions—rooting out inequality—was noble, but the execution lacked equilibrium, leading to outcomes as harmful as the systems they replaced.

Here’s the core dilemma: utopias are elusive because humans, by nature, are complex and fallible. Psychological studies like the Stanford Prison Experiment attempted to illustrate how, when people are placed in positions of power—even temporarily—they can become abusive without realizing it. While this experiment has faced criticism over its methodology and ethical concerns, it raises important questions about human behavior and the potential for power to corrupt. In moments of moral outrage, we are most at risk of abandoning the golden mean. Extreme emotional responses can lead us to actions fueled by excess, where our anger outweighs our reason.

The allure of power, paired with the desire to correct perceived wrongs, creates a dangerous combination. Even the most well-intentioned systems can attract individuals who seek power or disrupt them for personal gain. And, truthfully, some people thrive in chaos, seeking to dismantle rather than rebuild. It’s not always about creating a better system—sometimes, it’s about taking advantage of disorder for power or ego. This is why any call for revolution should be approached with caution. It’s tempting, in moments of passion, to leap headfirst into dismantling what we see as broken. But history shows that these rushed decisions, fueled by emotion or prejudice, can blind us to complex realities and unintended consequences. Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral psychology explains how emotions like moral outrage can cloud our judgment, leading to sweeping changes without fully understanding the consequences. Real change demands careful thought, weighing both the short-term and long-term outcomes, especially those harder to foresee in heated moments.

Passion is powerful, but unchecked, it can become destructive. Our righteous anger or desire for justice might cloud our judgment, leading to sweeping changes without understanding their full impact. In these moments, we have to pause and ask: Is it truly necessary to overturn the entire system, or do we need to be more thoughtful about which parts require change? Are we throwing proverbial the baby out with the bathwater in our eagerness to fix things? Revolution, whether personal or societal, can be a force for good—but only when tempered by reflection. We must think deeply about what we’re dismantling and, more importantly, what we’re replacing it with. While some systems may need complete reimagining, others might only require thoughtful adjustments. This requires wisdom—the ability to look beyond the immediate problem and understand the complexities of sustainable solutions.

The idea of “smashing the patriarchy” resonates deeply with many. There’s no shortage of reasons to challenge patriarchal systems that have upheld inequality and rigid gender roles for centuries. But in the rush to dismantle such systems, we rarely stop to ask: What comes next? It’s easy to call for the end of the old, but building something better requires careful thought. Anthropological studies on matriarchal societies, like the Minangkabau in Indonesia, reveal that while these systems emphasize cooperation and nurturing, they are not without their own complexities. If we swing too far and attempt to replace one imbalanced system with another—say, an equally imbalanced matriarchy—are we really solving the problem, or just flipping the dynamics? While patriarchal systems have contributed to inequality, they also contain structures worth examining, such as organization and protection. Similarly, a matriarchy could offer strengths like nurturing and community-building. However, both systems have their weaknesses. Instead of focusing solely on tearing down, we might ask: What can we retain from these systems while creating a more balanced, inclusive approach? The goal isn’t to replace one form of imbalance with another but to find a harmonious middle ground. Real progress comes from thoughtful reflection—preserving what works, discarding what doesn’t, and integrating new ideas to build something more just and inclusive.

So how do we avoid the trap of overcorrection? Like the scales of Libra, it starts with balance, reflection, and humility. Even the most righteous causes are not immune to going too far. Real progress, much like the harmony that Libra strives for, is born from careful, measured actions—not from wild swings between extremes. In every aspect of life, whether personal or political, Aristotle’s golden mean encourages us to find equilibrium. The pursuit of justice, without moderation, risks tipping into its opposite.

If we are to build a more equitable world, we must remember that true progress lies not in radical swings but in the careful, considered steps toward lasting change. Libra teaches us that justice is not about extremes but about finding the sweet spot between competing forces. Change doesn’t come from flipping everything upside down but from finding a path that acknowledges complexity, embraces nuance, and works within the imperfections of real life. Just as Libra reminds us to seek harmony, we should ask ourselves: Are we catching ourselves before we swing too far? Are we staying mindful of balance, or are we letting ego drive us toward extremes? It’s a delicate dance, but it’s one we must master if we hope to build a fairer, more thoughtful world.