In 2007 I set up a blog I called The Sanguine Fan. Its ostensible purpose was to promote a book I had just published. But it was really a vehicle for a certain kind of “pop philosophy” that interested me at the time. However I quickly ran out of ideas (and enthusiasm), and the blog petered out after a few months.
Here is the introductory blurb, and three of the posts that are still (just about) readable.
The Sanguine Fan
Edward Elgar composed some of the most exquisite music ever written. Listening to the slow movement of his second symphony is balm for the soul.
One of Elgar's less well known pieces is The Sanguine Fan, a title borrowed for this blog. The ballet for which he wrote this music was based on the familiar semi-circular device used by women of a bygone era to cool themselves. In this case, the fan was red in colour, or sanguine.
Sanguine also means optimistic. And fans can be enthusiastic followers of pop stars, footballers, and other celebrities. Which does not mean that this blog will reflect its author's fervour for any of his personal heroes, including Elgar. It should mean, however, that the tone of these musings about life and the world is hopeful, and even enthusiastic sometimes.
To be or to do
In our busy modern world, activity is valued highly. Almost the first question asked when two people are introduced at a social gathering is "What do you do?"
In many parts of the world the 'protestant work ethic' compels us to lead active and productive lives. Thus, economies grow and produce far more than their citizens can consume.
Where does all this lead us? Clearly to ever higher levels of prosperity, at least in much of the western world. And there is little doubt that if we were to collectively work less and consume less, those familiar economic indicators of GDP and GNP would decline. This raises the question as to whether or not this endless activity represents the primary purpose of mankind.
Do we regard ever-increasing economic growth as unquestionably good? Even when that leads us to earn a living doing something that does not actually benefit us directly (unless of course we spend our days growing and harvesting food for our own table)? Or that drives us to buy goods and service we often do not need?
We live in a world where successful corporations have lifespans longer than any of the individuals who work for them. For example, three companies still thriving today, Coca-Cola, Nokia, and American Express, were all founded in the 19th century. Each one has developed a life and a momentum of its own. Nowadays, their primary purpose is to keep going, and each one uses the energies and skills of its employees, from chief executive to mail-room clerk, to that end.
If we are part of this global consensus, it may be difficult to stand back and reflect on where it is taking us. Is this what it means to be human? To contribute to an economic system for as long as we are capable before handing the task on to the next generation, which then continues the cycle?
Or is there any value at all in doing nothing? Even for a few minutes a day? And 'doing nothing' meaning ceasing mental as well as physical activity? In other words, sitting still and emptying our minds of all distracting thoughts and anxieties?
"Ah!", you say, "that's meditation; sitting in the lotus position and chanting mantras."
But it's not. It simply means stepping off the carousel for a short time in order to become ourselves and, even for a little while, to stop being fodder for an insatiable machine.
And just maybe we will like the feeling of 'being' rather than 'doing'.
And then what?
Fear itself
Why is fear such a potent force in so many people's lives? Fear of failure. Fear of standing out. Fear of being rejected. Fear of taking risks.
Fear is a learned characteristic. As young babies we are hungry for new experiences. We explore our surroundings oblivious to any danger. Then we may touch something sharp or hot and realise that the world is not a benign playground created just for us. Perhaps it is that first experience of external pain that plants the seed of fear in our young minds.
And so we grow into adulthood accumulating fears. There are many things to be afraid of nowadays: being fired, mobile phone radiation, suicide bombers, becoming overweight. The list is endless. In an era of mass communication, there is bound to be some threat out there with the potential to strike fear into the most sanguine heart. Before we know it, we have become so completely moulded by our fears that we cannot see how things could be any different. We say to ourselves: "This is how I am. There is no point trying to be someone else." We learn to hunker down and live within constraints that are entirely self-imposed.
But at what stage in our lives is it too late to change who we are? Is it ever too late? The poet William Henley wrote
I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.
Individual sovereignty is a concept easy to forget in our interdependent society. Yet, who but ourselves should determine the kind of person we are? Certainly not any politician, movie star, or religious leader. We choose who we are, even when we imagine that the choice has been made for us.
That awareness alone should offer hope. Because every new day brings with it the opportunity to choose again.
Choosing
Why is it that most of us, at some points in our lives, find ourselves doing or saying something we realise later to have been wrong. How many times have we said, if only to ourselves, "How could I have said that? What possessed me?"
It can be a little frightening at first to find that there are occasions when we seem to lose absolute control over our own actions. Then, as we grow older and perhaps a little more cynical, we learn to accept that we are not always masters or mistresses of our behaviour. Perhaps we have too much to drink and commit some shameful indiscretion, or something just 'comes over' us, giving us cause to regret our actions later.
And this is not simply a personal or subjective phenomenon. People accused of crimes, even serious ones, have been acquitted or received lesser convictions if it has been demonstrated in court that they were not fully responsible for what they did. So our society seems to accept that we are not always personally accountable for our behaviour. But if this is the case, who is responsible?
Children's comic papers and cartoons often used to illustrate a moral dilemma by showing two tiny figures perched on a character's shoulders. On one shoulder was a horned devil holding a trident. On the other, a little winged angel all dressed in white. The demon was trying to persuade the character to do something naughty, while the angel urged him not to.
The writer, C. S. Lewis, developed this theme in his still-popular Screwtape Letters. Yet, he was careful to point out that the final decision about any moral question rested with the individual person.
So, what is the truth? Are we like leaves in the wind, buffeted hither and thither by forces greater than ourselves? Or are we sovereign in our own personal realms? Tempted towards evil, but always retaining free will to decide the sort of person we want to be?
In the whole history of mankind, is there even one example of someone whose will prevailed over external pressures or temptations, who refused to go against what he or she believed to be good? For if there is only one such example, then, because of our common humanity, it is also possible for any one of us.
One example? What about the alcoholic who forswears drink because of how it makes him treat his family? Or the poor young woman who returns a wallet dropped on the street to its rightful owner? Or the mother who forgives her child's killers rather than harbour revenge against them?
Our world is full of commonplace heroes, demonstrating daily that we can always choose goodness, no matter how difficult it may seem at the time.