Bulletin of the Santayana Society, No. 22 Fall 2004

              And We Didn't Even Get His Name:
Santayana's Existential Stranger
I met my first existentialist when I was a small boy. While my father and siblings
did other things on winter Saturday afternoons, my mother and I liked to watch
movies on television, and in those days our favorites were westerns.1 I especially
enjoyed the films in which a mysterious stranger comes to town, on his way to
nowhere In particular. The stranger's first stop is the livery stable, followed by the
saloon. His laconic manner of speaking and his rather detached but intimidating
disposition invites curiosity, but the stranger shares nothing, wanting only a bath, a
meal, a drink and his own company. Though nothing is known about him, one
suspects that he is a former lawman or outlaw, or both. He is lean and hard, and gives
the impression that he is highly skilled with a gun, and not to be messed with. The
stranger usually arrives during a conflict, sometimes between equally powerful forces,
but more often between the strong and the weak. He is content to mind his own
business and tries to avoid taking sides, but is eventually drawn into the dispute.
What I did not know then, but understand now, is that my western stranger is an
existentialist. It was for good reason the Camus titled his novel The Stranger; but
when I say existentialist, I do not wish to be too closely tied to the specific philosophy,
or philosophies associated with late nineteenth century and early twentieth century
French and German thinkers. The Western is the most American of film genres and
my overarching thesis is that it represents a form of existentialism developed in the
United States with little, if any, connection to developments In Europe. There remains
some controversy over the definition of existentialism, and whether it is a systematic
philosophy or more of a shared mood. We shall not argue that here. If we accept the
definition of existentialism as a philosophy (or attitude) that emphasizes the
uniqueness and isolation of the individual's experience in an indifferent universe,
regards human existence as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and
responsibility for the consequences of one's acts, we will be free to explore this strain
of American existentialism without undue emphasis on the European model.
Santayana's Dialogues in Limbo2 presents a Stranger who is remarkably similar to
the western stranger. An examination of these characters will establish the
existentialist credentials of both, and to the extent that Santayana's Stranger represents
essential themes of his philosophy, we can conclude that a significant dimension of
Santayana's philosophy is existential. Santayana's Stranger, like his western
counterpart, respects the contingency of the world, stresses the concrete over the
abstract, asserts the priority of the individual over the collective, and most of all values
freedom and responsibility.
If existentialism features the uniqueness and isolation of the individual
experience, what appellation could be more apt than "stranger"? The stranger is the
permanent outsider. He is homeless, living among others, but not really with them.
The Western stranger's outsider status is demonstrated by his peripatetic existence. He
does not actually live anywhere, but passes through, always to a different town, and
therefore remains the unknown alien. There are no references to origin or family, and
his wanderings seem to have no final destination.  His allegiances are purposeful and
1 This paper was presented to the Santayana Society at its annual meeting in Washington, D. C.
on December 29, 2003.
2 Dialogues in Limbo (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1957). To be abbreviated as DL.