The Rudolf Steiner Archive

[ 1 ] In vain did Aristotle resist the Platonic division of the conception of the world. Aristotle saw Nature as a uniform entity containing the ideas as well as sense-perceptible objects and phenomena. Only in the human spirit can the ideas have an independent existence, but in this state of independence they have no reality. Only the soul can separate the idea from the perceptible objects in conjunction with which they constitute reality. If Western Philosophy had adhered to a true understanding of Aristotle's conception, it would have been preserved from a great deal that necessarily appears erroneous to the Goethean view of the world.

[ 2 ] But this true understanding of Aristotelianism was at first an inconvenience to many of those who sought to acquire a thought-basis for Christian conceptions. Many of those who considered themselves “Christian” thinkers in the true sense did not know what to make of a conception of Nature that removed the highest active principle into the realm of experience. Many Christian Philosophers and Theologians therefore interpreted Aristotle in a new sense. They attributed to his views a meaning which in their opinion was able to serve as logical support of Christian dogma.—The mind is not intended to seek in the objects for the creative ideas. Truth is communicated to men by God in the form of revelation. Reason is only there to verify what God has revealed. Aristotelian principles were interpreted by the mediaeval Christian thinkers in such a way that the religious doctrine of salvation received its philosophical corroboration from these principles. It is the conception of Thomas Aquinas, the most important of Christian thinkers, that first tries to weave Aristotelian thoughts into the Christian evolution of thought to the extent to which this was possible in his day. According to the conception of Thomas Aquinas, revelation contains the highest truths, the scriptural doctrine of salvation; but it is possible for reason to penetrate into objects in the Aristotelian sense and to extract their ideal content. Revelation descends so far, and reason can rise so high that at a certain point the doctrine of salvation and human knowledge can flow over into each other. Aristotle's mode of penetration into objects becomes, then, the means whereby Thomas Aquinas attains to the sphere of revelation.

[ 3 ] With Bacon and Descartes began an era where the will to seek for truth through the inherent power of the human personality asserted itself. Habits of thought had taken such direction that all endeavour ended in setting up views which, in spite of their apparent independence of the preceding Western world-conception, were in fact, only new forms of it. Bacon and Descartes had also acquired a distorted conception of the relation of experience and idea as heritage from a thought-world into which degeneration had entered. Bacon had perception and understanding only for the particulars of Nature. He believed that he arrived at general laws for natural events by gathering together equivalent or rather similar elements from the varied domain of space and time. Goethe speaks of Bacon in these apt words: “For even although he indicates that one should only gather the particulars together for the sake of being able to select from them, to coordinate them, and eventually to arrive at universalities, yet, with him, the particular cases retain undue prominence, and before one is able to arrive at simplification and finality through induction—even such induction as he recommends—life is spent and one's forces are worn out.” For Bacon these general rules are the means whereby reason is able to survey the region of the particulars. But he does not believe that these rules are rooted in the ideal content of the objects and are actual, creative forces of Nature. Therefore he does not directly seek for the idea in the particular, but abstracts it from a multiplicity of particulars. Those who do not believe that the idea lives within the single object will not be disposed to seek for it there. They accept the object as it is offered to external perception pure and simple. Bacon's significance lies in the fact that he pointed to the external mode of perception that has been undervalued by the one-sided form of Platonism already referred to. He emphasised the fact that in this external mode of conception there lies a source of truth. He was not, however, in a position to establish the rights of the world of ideas in relation to the world of perception. He pronounced the ideal to be a subjective element in the human mind. His mode of thinking is an inversion of Platonism. Plato sees reality only in the world of ideas, Bacon only in the world of perception that is free of ideas. In the Baconian conception we have the starting-point of that tendency of thought which still dominates investigators of Nature to-day. This tendency of thought suffers from a false view of the ideal element of the world of experience. It could not come to terms with the view of the Middle Ages that had arisen as the result of a question wrongly put and which led to ideas being regarded as mere names and not realities inherent in things.

[ 4 ] Three decades after Bacon we have the views of Descartes, proceeding, it is true, from a different standpoint, but no less influenced by one-sided Platonic modes of thought. Descartes also suffers from the hereditary sin of Western thought, from mistrust in an impartial observation of Nature. Doubt as to the existence of objects, doubt as to whether objects are capable of being cognised is the starting-point of his research. He does not concentrate his gaze on the objects in order to gain access to certainty, but he seeks a tiny door, a bye-way in the truest sense of the word. He withdraws into the most intimate region of thought. “All that I have hitherto believed to be truth may be false,” he says to himself. “My thoughts may be based on illusion. But the one fact remains that I think about the objects. Even if my thought amounts to falsehood and deception, I think, nevertheless. If I think, I also exist. I think, therefore I am.” Descartes believes that he has here obtained a permanent point of departure for all further reflection. He puts another question to himself: Is there not in the content of my thinking still something else that points to true existence? And then he finds the idea of God, as the idea of an All-Perfect Being. As man himself is imperfect how comes it that the idea of an All-Perfect Being is able to enter his world of thought? It is impossible for an imperfect being to produce an idea of this kind out of itself. For the greatest perfection which it is capable of conceiving is still imperfect. This idea must therefore have been put into man by the All-perfect Being himself. God must therefore exist. But how can a perfect Being deceive us by an illusion? The external world which presents itself to us as real must therefore be, in fact, a reality. Otherwise it would be a delusive image imposed on us by the Godhead. In this way Descartes tries to acquire the trust in reality which, as the result of inherited conceptions (Empfindungen), he did not at first possess. He seeks for truth by the most artificial means. He proceeds merely from thought. To thought alone he concedes the power to produce conviction. Conviction in regard to observation can only be acquired when it is imparted by thought. The consequences of this view were that it became the endeavour of Descartes' successors to establish the whole compass of truths which thought is able to evolve out of itself and prove. Their aim was to find the sum-total of all knowledge out of pure reason. They wanted to proceed from the simplest, immediately evident perceptions and to traverse progressively the whole orbit of pure thought. This system was supposed to be built up according to the model of Euclidean Geometry. For it was held that this too proceeds from simple, true premises and evolves its whole content merely by a chain of deduction, without recourse to observation. Spinoza endeavoured to give such a system of reasoned truths in his “Ethics.” He takes a number of conceptions: Substance, Attribute, Mode, Thought, Extension and so forth, and examines their connections and content purely with the reason. The essence of reality is considered to express itself in the thought structure. Spinoza considers that the only knowledge corresponding to the real essence of the universe and yielding adequate ideas is that which exists as a result of this activity that is alien to reality. Ideas derived from sense-perception are to him inadequate, confused, mutilated. It is easy to see the after-effects of the one-sided Platonic view, of the antithesis between perceptions and ideas in these conceptions also. Only those thoughts that are evolved independently of observation have any value for knowledge. Spinoza goes still further. He extends the antithesis to the moral sense and the actions of human beings. Feelings of unhappiness can only spring from ideas derived from sense perception; such ideas generate desires and passions in man, who becomes their slave if he gives himself up to them. Only that which originates from the reason can give birth to feelings of unqualified happiness. Hence the highest bliss of man is life in the ideas of reason, devotion to knowledge of the pure world of ideas. A man who has overcome all that is derived from the world of perception, and yet lives in the realm of pure knowledge, experiences the highest bliss.

[ 5 ] Not quite a century after Spinoza there appeared the Scotchman, David Hume, with a mode of thought again assuming knowledge to be derived from perception only. Only single objects in space and time are given. Thought connects the single perceptions together, not, however, because there lies in the objects themselves anything corresponding to such a connection, but because the intellect is accustomed to bringing them into connection. Man is accustomed to see that one thing follows another in time. He forms for himself the idea that there must be sequence. He calls the first, cause; the second, effect. Man is further accustomed to see that a thought in his mind is followed by a movement of his body. He explains this by saying that the mind brings about bodily movement. Man's ideas are habits of thought and nothing more. Perceptions alone have reality.

[ 6 ] The combination of the most varied trends of thought that had come into existence through the course of the centuries appears in the Kantian view of the world. Kant also has no natural sense of the relation of perception and idea. He lives in the midst of philosophical preconceptions which he has assimilated from the study of his predecessors. One of these preconceptions is that there exist necessary truths, brought into being by pure thought, free of all element of experience. In Kant's view the proof of this is afforded by the existence of mathematics and pure physics which contain such truths. Another of his preconceptions consists in denying to experience the possibility of attaining to equally necessary truths. Mistrust of the world of perception is present in Kant also. These thought-habits of Kant are further influenced by Hume. Kant admits that Hume is right when the latter asserts that the ideas into which thought unites the single perceptions are not derived from experience but that they are added by thought to experience. These three preconceptions are the basis of the Kantian thought-structure. Man is in possession of essential truths, but these essential truths cannot be derived from experience, because experience has nothing of the kind to offer. Man, however, applies them to experience. He connects the single perceptions in conformity with these truths. They are derived from man himself. It is inherent in his nature to bring things into a connection that is in line with the truths which have been acquired by pure thought. Kant goes still further. He credits the senses also with the capacity for bringing what is imparted to them from without into a definite order. This order does not flow in from outside with the impressions of the objects. The impressions receive spatial and temporal order for the first time through sense-perception. Space and Time do not appertain to the objects. Man is so organised that when the objects make impressions on his senses he brings them into spatial or temporal order. From without man receives impressions, sensations only. Their arrangement in space and in time, their association into ideas is his own work. But neither are the sensations derived from the objects. Man does not become aware of the objects themselves but only of the impression they make upon him. I know nothing about an object when I have a sensation. I can only say I am aware of the appearance of a sensation in myself. I cannot experience the attributes which enable the objects to evoke sensations in me. In Kant's view man has nothing to do with the things-in-themselves, but only with the impression they make upon him and with the connections into which he himself brings these impressions. The realm of experience is not received objectively, from without, but is only instigated from without; it is produced subjectively from within. The character it bears is not imparted to it by the objects but by the organisation of man. It has therefore no existence per se apart from man. From this point of view the postulation of essential truths—truths that are independent of experience—is possible. For these truths are related merely to the way in which man determines his world of experience from out of himself. They contain the laws of his constitution. They have no relation to things-in-themselves. Kant, then, has found a way out which enables him to adhere to his preconception that there are essential truths which hold good for the content of the world of experience without being derived therefrom. In order to discover this way out he had, of course, to decide in favour of the view that the human mind is incapable of knowing anything about things-in-themselves. He had to limit all knowledge to the phenomenal world which the human organisation weaves out of itself as the result of the impressions produced by the objects. Why should Kant trouble about the essential being of the thing-in-itself if he could only preserve the eternal, necessary truths in the sense in which he conceived of them? One-sided Platonism produced in Kant a harvest that is paralysing to knowledge. Plato turned away from perception and directed his gaze to the eternal ideas, because it seemed to him that perception did not make manifest the essence of the objects. Kant, however, renounces the conception that the ideas open up a true insight into the essential being of the universe if only there remains to them the attribute of eternity and necessity. Plato adheres to the world of ideas because of his belief that the true being of the universe must be eternal, imperishable, unchangeable, and because he can ascribe these attributes only to the ideas. Kant is content with merely predicting these attributes of the ideas. They need not then any longer express the essential being of the universe.

[ 7 ] Kant's philosophical mode of conception was nourished in a yet higher degree by the trend of his religious sense. He did not proceed from vision of the living harmony of the world of ideas and sense-perception in the being of man, but he put this question to himself: Can anything be cognised by man, as the result of experience of the world of ideas that can never enter into the realm of sense perception? A man who thinks in the Goethean sense seeks to cognise the world of ideas in its real nature by apprehending the essential being of the idea, realising how this allows reality to be perceived in the world of sense-appearance. Then he may ask himself: To what extent does this experience of the real character of the world of ideas enable me to penetrate into the region wherein the relationship of the supersensible truths of Freedom, of Immortality, of the Divine World Order to human knowledge is discovered? Kant denies that it is possible to cognise anything about the reality of the world of ideas from its relationship to sense-perception. Out of this assumption there arose for him, as a scientific result, that which, unconsciously to him, was demanded by the trend of his religious sense: that scientific cognition must come to a standstill before problems which concern Freedom, Immortality, and the Divine World Order. It followed that, for him, human cognition can only reach to the boundaries enclosing the realm of sense and that in reference to everything that lies beyond faith alone is possible. He wanted to set bounds to cognition in order to preserve a place for faith. It inheres in the character of the Goethean world-conception first to provide knowledge with a firm foundation as the result of perceiving in Nature the world of ideas in its true being, in order hereafter, within this world of ideas, to proceed to experience lying outside the sense world. Even when regions are cognised which do not lie within the realm of the sense world, the gaze is directed to the living harmony of idea and experience, and certainty of knowledge is sought as a result of this. Kant could discover no such certainty. He therefore set out to discover, beyond knowledge, a foundation for the conceptions of Freedom, of Immortality and of the Divine World Order. Inherent in the character of the Goethean world-conception is the desire to know as much of the “things-in-themselves” as is permitted by the comprehension of the true being of the world of ideas within Nature. The nature of the Kantian world-conception makes it deny to knowledge the claim of being able to illuminate the world of the “things-in-themselves.” Goethe wants to kindle in knowledge a light that will illuminate the true essence of the objects. He realises that the true essence of the objects so illuminated does not lie in the light, but in spite of this he maintains that this true essence may become manifest as a result of the illumination. Kant insists that the true essence of the illuminated objects does not inhere in the light; the light therefore can reveal nothing of this true essence.

[ 8 ] The Kantian world-conception can only appear to Goethe's in the following light: the Kantian world-conception has not arisen as the result of the removal of old errors, nor of a free, original penetration into reality, but as the result of a logical interblending of acquired and inherited philosophical and religious preconceptions. It could only emanate from a mind where the sense of the living, creative activity in Nature has remained in an undeveloped condition. And it could only influence minds that also suffered from the same defect. The far-reaching influence which Kant's mode of thought exercised on his contemporaries proves to what an extent they were living under the ban of a one-sided Platonism.

General discouragement in the field of philosophy – cowardice of thought – Volkelt as an example -—. It was he who, in the introduction to his “Traumphantasie” (1875), sharply criticized the only apparent resignation, but in truth half-heartedness and discouragement of thought, which no longer wants to boldly tackle the central problems of existence. (1884), Basel inaugural address: On the Possibility of Metaphysics. The expression of this despondency is the emergence of the many epistemologies - Lotze's saying about sharpening knives - but the knives have remained blunt - epistemology has not grasped the actual fundamental philosophical task - Lasalle's saying: “Philosophy can be nothing but the consciousness that the empirical sciences attain of themselves.”

All our philosophical science is under the spell of Kantianism. Since Otto Liebmann (1865) proclaimed the motto “back to Kant”, it has not been abandoned by research. Our most important natural scientists are subject to it.

All higher thinking of our nation is based on the fundamental tone of Kant's world view. We believe that with Kantianism we have now overcome dogmatism; in truth, we have exchanged nothing but a bad dogma, an article of faith: the belief in Kant's infallibility. Before Kant, there were dualists, monists, and pluralists. There was a limit to science, but not a limit to knowledge. It was Kant who first drew limits to our knowledge. Kant established a dualism, a two-worlds theory, which has forever blocked our access to the foundations of existence. Kant exchanged the certainty and security of our knowledge for its absoluteness.

He examines our cognitive faculty in order to gain an understanding of its capabilities. He finds two roots: sensuality and reason. Our mental organization creates our experience with the material of sensations. Therefore, cognition is limited to the latter. Skimming over experience is impossible because of the nature of the cognitive faculty. The In-Itself is forever unknowable. Theoretical reason only as a regulative. Surrogate practical reason. Ethics of the categorical imperative. Should. Kantianism perfect dualism. Two worlds: the world of the self and the world of experience. Two principles of knowledge: knowledge and belief. The subjectivism that this entails has not been abandoned.

As long as the trick of looking around the corner, i.e. 'without imagining, is not invented, Kant's proud self-modesty will have it that of the being, its that can be recognized, but never its what.

This dogma is the rock on which every opposing opinion is dashed. Otto Liebmann calls the sentence a sacrosanct principle. Hartmann's transcendental realism is based on it. Necessary consequences, e.g. spiritism. Du Bois-Reymond's view. Ignorabism. Subjectivism in modern science a consequence of Kantianism.

But how did the world of ideas come to be indicated? The split into subject and object is a product of our organization. Not a manifold is given to us, but we split the one into a manifold. Not unity is an illusion, but multiplicity. The task of science must therefore be: to overcome the multiplicity in the mind that is caused by our organization and to reshape it into unity. An element of science is only justified if it is split off from the whole of reality somewhere. Science is therefore only ever an association of the elements of reality that have been split up by our organization. The nature of the association must arise from the nature of the elements themselves. Immanent theories. They are contrasted with the transcendent theories. Atomism and metaphysical theories. The hypothesis is justified only insofar as it presupposes things that are relatively inaccessible to us only because of their remoteness in space and time. Metaphysical hypotheses are a non-starter. What matters is not that the consequences of a hypothesis are confirmed, but that the content of a hypothesis can be proven as a fact if the empirical possibility were present. Extension of this principle to inorganic and organic natural sciences. Haeckel's monism is therefore correct in principle. If we understand ourselves correctly, the world does not lead us out of itself. It must be explainable from within itself. There is only one world of experience, but it contains all the elements for its explanation and comprehensibility. There is nothing inexplicable in nature. The things that are supposed to be inexplicable to us must first be invented. Nothing truly real is incomprehensible; only the fantastic entities that humanity has created as reality and beyond that, are incomprehensible. We always remain only before the self-created barriers of knowledge.

[ 1 ] In vain did Aristotle protest against the Platonic splitting of the world picture. He saw in nature a unified being, which contains ideas just as much as it does the things and phenomena perceptible to the senses. Only within the human spirit can the ideas have an independent existence. But in this independent state they cannot be credited with any reality. Only the soul can separate them from the perceptible things with which, together, they constitute reality. If Western philosophy had linked onto the rightly understood views of Aristotle, then it would have been preserved from much of what must appear to the Goethean world view as aberration.

[ 2 ] But Aristotle, rightly understood, to begin with made uncomfortable many a person who wanted to gain a foundation in thought for the Christian picture of things. Many a person who considered himself to be a genuinely “Christian” thinker' did not know what to do with a conception of nature which places the highest active principle into the world of our experience. Many Christian philosophers and theologians' therefore gave a new interpretation to Aristotle. They attached a meaning to his views which, in their opinion, was able to serve as a logical support for Christian dogma. Man's spirit should not seek within things for their creative ideas. The truth is, indeed, imparted to human beings by God in the form of revelation. Reason is only meant to confirm what God has revealed. Aristotelian principles were interpreted by the Christian thinkers of the Middle Ages in such a way that the religious truth of salvation received its philosophical reinforcement through these principles. It is the conception of Thomas' Aquinas, the most significant Christian thinker, which first seeks to weave the Aristotelian thoughts as far and as deeply into the Christian evolution of ideas as was possible at the time of this thinker. According to this conception, revelation contains the highest truths, the Bible's teachings of salvation; it is possible, however, for reason to penetrate deeply into things, in the Aristotelian way, and to bring forth from them their content of ideas. Revelation can descend far enough, and reason can lift itself high enough, that the teaching of salvation and human knowledge merge with one another at a certain boundary. Aristotle's way of penetrating into things serves Thomas, therefore, as a way of coming to the realm of revelation.

[ 3 ] When, with Bacon of Verulam and Descartes, an era began in which there asserted itself the will to seek the truth through the human personality's own power, then habits of thought tended to lead one to strive only to set up views which, in spite of their seeming independence from the preceding Western world picture, were nevertheless nothing but new forms of1t. Bacon and Descartes had also acquired, as heritage of a degenerate thought world, the pernicious way of looking at the relationship of experience and idea. Bacon had a sense and an understanding only for the particulars of nature. By collecting that which, extending through the manifoldness of space and time, is alike or similar, he believed he arrived at general rules about the processes of nature. Goethe aptly says of him, “For, though he himself always indicates that one should collect the particulars only in order to be able to choose from them, to order them, and finally to arrive at universals, nevertheless, he grants too many rights to the individual cases, and before one can achieve through induction—even the induction which he extols—this simplification and conclusion, the life is gone and the forces consume themselves.” For Bacon these general rules are a means by which it is possible for reason to have a comfortable overview of the region of particularities. But he does not believe that these rules are founded in the ideal content of things and that they are really creative forces of nature. Therefore he also does not seek the idea directly within the particular but rather abstracts it out of a multiplicity of particulars. Someone who does not believe that the idea lives within the individual thing also can have no inclination to seek it there. He accepts the thing the way it presents itself to mere outer perception. Bacon's significance is to be sought in the fact that he drew attention to that outer way of looking at things which had been denigrated by the one-sided Platonism characterized above, that he emphasized that in it lies a source of truth. He was not, however, in a position to help the world of ideas in the same way to establish its rights over against the perceptible world. He declared what is ideal to be a subjective element within the human spirit. His way of thinking is Platonism in reverse. Plato sees reality only in the world of ideas, Bacon only in the world of perception without ideas. Within Bacon's conception there lies the starting point for that attitude of thinkers by which natural scientists are governed right into the present-day. Bacon's conception suffers from an incorrect view about the ideal element of the world of experience. It could not deal rightly with that medieval view, produced by a one-sided way of posing the I question, to the effect that ideas are only names, not realities lying within things.

[ 4 ] From other points of view, but no less influenced by one-sidedly Platonizing modes of thought, Descartes began his contemplations three decades after Bacon. He is also afflicted with the Original Sin of Western thought, with mistrust toward the unbiased observation of nature. Doubt in the existence and knowability of things is the starting point of his research. He does not direct his gaze upon the things in order to gain access to certainty, but rather he seeks out a very little door, a way, in the fullest sense of the word, of sneaking in. He withdraws into the most intimate region of thinking. Everything that I have believed up to now as truth might be false, he says to himself. What I have thought might rest upon delusion. But the one fact does remain nevertheless: that I think about things. Even if I think lies and illusion, I am thinking nevertheless. And if I think, then I also exist. I think, therefore I am. With this Descartes believes that he has gained a sound starting point for all further thinking about things. He asks himself further: is there not still something else in the content of my thinking that points to a true existence? And there he finds the idea of God as the most perfect of all beings. Given that man himself is imperfect, how does the idea of a most perfect being come into his world of thoughts? An imperfect being cannot possibly produce such an idea out of himself. For the most perfect thing that he can think is in fact an imperfect thing. This idea of the most perfect being must itself therefore have been placed into man. Therefore God must also exist. Why, however, should I. perfect being delude us with an illusion? The outer world, which presents itself to us as real, must therefore also be real. Otherwise it would be an illusory picture that the godhead imposes upon us. In this way Descartes seeks to win the trust in reality which, because of inherited feelings, he lacked at fIrst. He seeks truth in an extremely artificial way. He takes his start one-sidedly from thinking. He credits thinking alone with the power to produce conviction. A conviction about observation can only be won if it is provided by thinking. The consequence of this view was that it became the striving of Descartes' successors to determine the whole compass of the truths which thinking can develop out of itself and prove. One wanted to find the sum total of all knowledge out of pure reason. One wanted to take one's start from the simplest immediately clear insights, and proceeding from there to travel through the entire sphere of pure thinking. This system was meant to be built up according to the model of Euclidean geometry. For one was of the view that this also starts from simple, true principles and evolves its entire content through mere deduction, without recourse to observation. In his Ethics Spinoza attempted to provide such a system of the pure truths of reason. He takes a number of mental pictures: substance, attribute, mode, thinking, extension, etc., and investigates in a purely intellectual way the relationships and content of these mental pictures. The being of reality supposedly expresses itself in an edifice of thought. Spinoza regards only the knowledge arising through this activity, foreign to reality, as one that corresponds to the true being of the world, as one that provides adequate ideas. The ideas which spring from sense perception are for him inadequate, confused, and mutilated. It is easy to see that also in this world conception there persists the one-sided Platonic way of conceiving an antithesis between perceptions and ideas. The thoughts which are formed independently of perception are alone of value for knowledge. Spinoza goes still further. He extends the antithesis also to the moral feeling and actions of human beings. Feelings of pain can only spring from ideas that stem from perception; such ideas produce desires and passions in man, whose slave he can become if he gives himself over to them. Only what springs from reason produces feelings of unqualified pleasure. The highest bliss of man is therefore his life in the ideas of reason, his devotion to knowledge of the pure world of ideas. Whoever has overcome what stems from the world of perception and lives on only within pure knowledge experiences the highest blessedness.

[ 5 ] Not quite a century after Spinoza there appears the Scotsman, David Hume, with a way of thinking that again lets knowledge spring from perception alone. Only individual things in space and time are given. Thinking connects the individual perceptions, not, however because something lies within these perceptions themselves which corresponds to this connecting, but rather because the intellect has habituated itself to bringing things into relationship. The human being is habituated to seeing that one thing follows another in time. He forms for himself the mental picture that it must follow. He makes the first thing into the cause, the second into the effect. The human being is habituated further to seeing that a movement of his body follows upon a thought of his spirit. He explains this to himself by saying that his spirit has caused the movement of his body. Human ideas are habits of thought, nothing more. Only perceptions have reality.

[ 6 ] The uniting of the most diverse trends of thought which have come into existence through the centuries is the Kantian world view. Kant also lacks the natural feeling for the relationship between perception and idea. He lives in philosophical preconceptions which he took up into himself through study of his predecessors. One of these preconceptions is that there are necessary truths which are produced by pure thinking free of any experience. The proof of this, in his view, is given by the existence of mathematics and of pure physics which contain such truths. Another of his preconceptions consists of the fact that he denies to experience the ability of attaining equally necessary truths. Mistrust toward the world of perception is also present in Kant. To these habits of thinking there is added the influence of Hume. Kant agrees with Hume with respect to his assertion that the ideas into which thinking combines the individual perceptions do not stem from experience, but rather that thinking adds them to experience. These three preconceptions are the roots of the Kantian thought structure. Man possesses necessary truths. They cannot stem from experience, because it has nothing like them to offer. In spite of this, man applies them to experience. He connects the individual perceptions in accordance with these truths. They stem from man himself. It lies in his nature to bring the things into the kind of relationship which corresponds to the truths gained by pure thinking. Kant goes still further now. He credits the senses also with the ability to bring what is given them from outside into a definite order. This order also does not flow in from outside with the impressions of things. The impressions first receive their order in space and time, through sense perception. Space and time do not belong to the things. The human being is organized in such a way that, when the things make impressions on his senses, he then brings these impressions into spatial or temporal relationships. Man receives from outside only impressions, sensations. The ordering of these in space and in time, the combining of them into ideas, is his own work. But the sensations are also not something that stems from the things. It is not the things that man perceives but only the impressions they make on him. I know nothing about a thing when I have a sensation. I can only say that I notice the arising of a sensation in me. What the characteristics are by which the thing is able to call forth sensations in me, about them I can experience nothing. The human being, in Kant's opinion, does not have to do with the things-in-themselves but only with the impressions which they make upon him and with the relationships into which he himself brings these impressions. The world of experience is not taken up objectively from outside but only, in response to outer causes, subjectively produced from within. It is not the things which give the world of experience the stamp it bears but rather the human organization which does so. That world as such, consequently, is not present at all independently of man. From this standpoint the assumption of necessary truths independent of experience is possible. For these truths relate merely to the way man, of himself, determines his world of experience. They contain the laws of his organization. They have no connection to the things-in-themselves. Kant has therefore found a way out, which permits him to remain in his preconception that there a necessary truths which hold good for the content of the world of experience, without, however, stemming from it. In order to find this way out, he had, to be sure, to commit himself to the view that the human spirit is incapable of knowing anything at all about the things-in-themselves. He had to restrict all knowledge to the world of appearances which the human organization spins out of itself as a result of impressions caused by the things. But why should Kant worry about the being of the things-in-themselves so long as he was able to rescue the eternal, necessarily valid truths in the form in which he pictured them. One-sided Platonism brought forth in Kant a fruit that paralyzes knowledge. Plato turned away from perception and directed his gaze upon the eternal ideas, because perception did not seem to him to express the being of things. Kant, however, renounces the notion that ideas open any real insight into the being of the world, just so they retain the quality of the eternal and necessary. Plato holds to the world of ideas, because he believes that the true being of the world must be eternal, indestructible, unchangeable, and he can ascribe these qualities only to ideas. Kant is content if only he can maintain these qualities for the ideas. Ideas then no longer need to express the being of the world at all.

[ 7 ] Kant's philosophical way of picturing things was in addition particularly nourished by the direction of his religious feelings. He did not take as his starting point to look, within the being of man, at the living harmony of the world of ideas and of sense perception but rather posed himself the question: can, through man's experience of the world of ideas, anything be known by him which can never enter the realm of sense perception? Whoever thinks in the sense of the Goethean world view seeks to know the character of the world of ideas as reality, by grasping the being of the idea through his insight into how the Idea allows him to behold reality in the sense-perceptible world of semblance. Then he can ask himself: to what extent, through the character experienced in this way of the world of ideas as reality, can I penetrate into those regions within which the supersensible truths of freedom, of immortality, of the divine world order, find their relationship to human knowledge? Kant negated the possibility of our being able to know anything about the reality of the world of ideas from its relationship to sense perception. From this presupposition he arrived at the scientific result, which, unknown to him, was demanded by the direction of his religious feeling: that scientific knowledge must come to a halt before the kind of questions which relate to freedom, immortality, and the divine world order. There resulted for him the view that human knowledge could only go as far as the boundaries which enclose the sense realm, and that for everything which lies beyond them only faith is possible. He wanted to limit knowing in order to preserve a place for faith. It lies in the sense of the Goethean world view first of all to provide knowing with a firm basis through the fact that the world of ideas, in its essential being, is seen connected with nature, in order then, within the world of ideas thus consolidated, to advance to an experience lying beyond the sense world. Even then, when regions are known which do not lie in the realm of the sense world, one's gaze is still directed toward the living harmony of idea and experience, and certainty of knowledge is sought thereby. Kant could not find any such certainty. Therefore he set out to find, outside of knowledge, a basis for the mental pictures of freedom, immortality, and divine order. It lies in the sense of the Goethean world view to want to know as much about the things-in-themselves as the being of the world of ideas, grasped in connection with nature, allows. It lies in the sense of the Kantian world view to deny to knowledge the right of shining into the world of the things-in-themselves. Goethe wants, within knowledge, to kindle a light which illuminates the being of things. It is also clear to him that the being of the things thus illuminated does not lie within the light itself; but he nevertheless does not want to give up having this being become revealed through the illumination by this light. Kant holds fast to the view that the being of the things illuminated does not lie in the light itself; therefore the light can reveal nothing about this being.

[ 8 ] The world view of Kant can stand before that of Goethe only in the sense of the following mental pictures: Kant's world view has not arisen through any clearing away of old errors, nor through any free, original descending into the depths of reality but rather through a fusing together of acquired and inherited philosophical and religious preconceptions. This world view could only spring from an individual in whom the sense for the living creativity within nature has remained undeveloped. And it could only affect the kind of individuals who suffered from the same lack. From the far-reaching influence which Kant's way of thinking exercised upon his contemporaries, one can see how strongly they stood under the spell of one-sided Platonism.

[ 1 ] Our thinking has a twofold task: firstly, to create concepts with sharply delineated contours; secondly, to bring together the individual concepts thus created into a unified whole. In the first case we are dealing with the activity that makes distinctions; in the second, with the activity that joins. These two spiritual tendencies by no means enjoy the same cultivation in the sciences. The keen intellect that enters into the smallest details in making its distinctions is given to a significantly larger number of people than the uniting power of thinking that penetrates into the depths of beings.

[ 2 ] For a long time one saw the only task of science to be the making of exact distinctions between things. We need only recall the state of affairs in which Goethe found natural history. Through Linnaeus it had become the ideal to seek the exact differences between individual plants in order in this way to be able to use the most insignificant characteristics to set up new species and subspecies. Two kinds of animals or plants that differed in only the most inessential things were assigned right away to different species. If an unexpected deviation from the arbitrarily established character of the species was found in one or another creature that until then had been assigned to one or another species, one did not then reflect how such a deviation could be explained from this character itself; one simply set up a new species.

[ 3 ] Making distinctions like this is the task of the intellect (Verstand). It has only to separate concepts and maintain them in this separation. This is a necessary preliminary stage of any higher scientific work. Above all, in fact, we need firmly established, clearly delineated concepts before we can seek their harmony. But we must not remain in this separation. For the intellect, things are separated that humanity has an essential need to see in a harmonious unity. Remaining separate for the intellect are: cause and effect, mechanism and organism, freedom and necessity, idea and reality, spirit and nature, and so on. All these distinctions are introduced by the intellect. They must be introduced, because otherwise the world would appear to us as a blurred, obscure chaos that would form a unity only because it would be totally undefined for us.

[ 4 ] The intellect itself is in no position to go beyond this separation. It holds firmly to the separated parts.

[ 5 ] To go beyond this is the task of reason (Vernunft). It has to allow the concepts created by the intellect to pass over into one another. It has to show that what the intellect keeps strictly separated is actually an inner unity. The separation is something brought about artificially, a necessary intermediary stage for our activity of knowing, not its conclusion. A person who grasps reality in a merely intellectual way distances himself from it. He sets in reality's place—since it is in truth a unity—an artificial multiplicity, a manifoldness that has nothing to do with the essential being of reality.

[ 6 ] The conflict that has arisen between an intellectually motivated science and the human heart stems from this. Many people whose thinking is not yet developed enough for them to arrive at a unified world view grasped in full conceptual clarity are, nevertheless, very well able to penetrate into the inner harmony of the universe with their feeling. Their hearts give them what reason offers the scientifically developed person.

[ 7 ] When such people meet the intellectual view of the world, they reject with scorn the infinite multiplicity and cling to the unity that they do not know, indeed, but that they feel more or less intensely. They see very well that the intellect withdraws from nature, that it loses sight of the spiritual bond joining the parts of reality.

[ 8 ] Reason leads back to reality again. The unity of all existence, which before was felt or of which one even had only dim inklings, is clearly penetrated and seen by reason. The intellectual view must be deepened by the view of reason. If the former is regarded as an end in itself instead of as a necessary intermediary stage, then it does not yield reality but rather a distorted image of it.

[ 9 ] There are sometimes difficulties in connecting the thoughts that the intellect has created. The history of science provides us with many proofs of this. We often see the human spirit struggle to bridge the differences created by the intellect.

[ 10 ] In reason's view of the world the human being merges with the world in undivided unity.

[ 11 ] Kant pointed already to the difference between intellect and reason. He designated reason as the ability to perceive ideas; the intellect, on the other hand, is limited merely to beholding the world in its dividedness, in its separateness.

[ 12 ] Now reason is, in fact, the ability to perceive ideas. Here we must determine the difference between concept and idea, to which we have hitherto paid no attention. For our purposes until now it has only been a matter of finding those qualities of the element of thought that present themselves in concept and idea. The concept is the single thought as it is grasped and held by the intellect. If I bring a number of such single thoughts into living flux in such a way that they pass over into one another, connect with one another, then thought-configurations arise that are present only for reason, that the intellect cannot attain. For reason, the creations of the intellect give up their separate existences and live on only as part of a totality. These configurations that reason has created shall be called ideas.

[ 13 ] The fact that the idea leads a multiplicity of the concepts created by the intellect back to a unity was also expressed by Kant. But he presented the configurations that come to manifestation through reason as mere deceptive images, as illusions that the human spirit eternally conjures up because it is eternally striving to find some unity to experience that is never to be found. According to Kant, the unities created in ideas do not rest upon objective circumstances; they do not flow from the things themselves; rather they are merely subjective norms by which we bring order into our knowing. Kant therefore does not characterize ideas as constitutive principles, which would have to be essential to the things, but rather as regulative principles, which have meaning and significance only for the systematics of our knowing.

[ 14 ] If one looks at the way in which ideas come about, however, this view immediately proves erroneous. It is indeed correct that subjective reason has the need for unity. But this need is without any content; it is an empty striving for unity. If something confronts it that is absolutely lacking in any unified nature, it cannot itself produce this unity out of itself. If, on the other hand, a multiplicity confronts it that allows itself to be led back into an inner harmony, it then brings about this harmony. The world of concepts created by the intellect is just such a multiplicity.

[ 15 ] Reason does not presuppose any particular unity but rather the empty form of unification; reason is the ability to bring harmony to light when harmony lies within the object itself. Within reason, the concepts themselves combine into ideas. Reason brings into view the higher unity of the intellect's concepts, a unity that the intellect certainly has in its configurations but is unable to see. The fact that this is overlooked is the basis of many misunderstandings about the application of reason in the sciences.

[ 16 ] To a small degree every science, even at its starting point—yes, even our everyday thinking—needs reason. If, in the judgment that every body has weight, we join the subject-concept with the predicate-concept, there already lies in this a uniting of two concepts and therefore the simplest activity of reason.

[ 17 ] The unity that reason takes as its object is certain before all thinking, before any use of reason; but it is hidden, is present only as potential, does not manifest as a fact in its own right. Then the human spirit brings about separation, in order, by uniting the separate parts through reason, to see fully into reality.

[ 18 ] Whoever does not presuppose this must either regard all connecting of thoughts as an arbitrary activity of the subjective spirit, or he must assume that the unity stands behind the world experienced by us and compels us in some way unknown to us to lead the manifoldness back to a unity. In that case we join thoughts without insight into the true basis of the connection that we bring about; then the truth is not known by us, but rather is forced upon us from outside. Let us call all science taking its start from this presupposition dogmatic. We will still have to come back to this.

[ 19 ] Every scientific view of this kind will run into difficulty when it has to give reasons for why we make one or another connection between thoughts. It has to look around for a subjective basis for drawing objects together whose objective connection remains hidden to us. Why do I make a judgment, if the thing which demands that subject-concept and predicate-concept belong together has nothing to do with the making of this judgment?

[ 20 ] Kant made this question the starting point of his critical work. At the beginning of his Critique of Pure Reason we find the question: How are synthetical judgments possible a priori?—this means, how is it possible for me to join two concepts (subject, predicate), if the content of the one is not already contained in the other, and if the judgment is not merely a perception judgment, i.e., the establishing of an individual fact? Kant believes that such judgments are possible only if experience can exist only under the presumption of their validity. The possibility of experience is therefore the determining factor for us if we are to make a judgment of this kind. If I can say to myself that experience is possible only if one or another synthetical judgment is true a priori, only then is the judgment valid. But this does not apply to ideas themselves. For Kant these do not have even this degree of objectivity.

[ 21 ] Kant finds that the principles of mathematics and of pure natural science are such valid synthetical principles a priori. He takes, for example, the principle that \(7 + 5 = 12\). In \(7\) and \(5\) the sum \(12\) is in no way contained, concludes Kant. I must go beyond \(7\) and \(5\) and call upon my intuition; ¹ then I find the concept \(12\). My intuition makes it necessary for me to picture that \(7 + 5 = 12\). But the objects of my experience must approach me through the medium of my intuition, must submit to the laws of my intuition. If experience is to be possible, such principles must be correct.

[ 22 ] This entire artificial thought-edifice of Kant does not stand up to objective examination. It is impossible that I have absolutely no point of reference in the subject-concept which leads me to the predicate-concept. For, both concepts were won by my intellect, and won from something that in itself is unified. Let us not deceive ourselves here. The mathematical unit that underlies the number is not primary. What is primary is the magnitude, which is so and so many repetitions of the unit. I must presuppose a magnitude when I speak of a unit. The unit is an entity of our intellect separated by the intellect out of a totality, in the same way that it distinguishes effect from cause, substance from its attributes, etc. Now, when I think \(7 + 5\), I am in fact grasping \(12\) mathematical units in thought, only not all at once, but rather in two parts. If I think the total of these mathematical units at one time, then that is exactly the same thing. And I express this identity in the judgment \(7 + 5 = 12\). It is exactly the same with the geometrical example Kant presents. A limited straight line with end points \(A\) and \(B\) is an indivisible unit. My intellect can form two concepts of it. On the one hand it can regard the straight line as direction, on the other as the distance between two points \(A\) and \(B\). From this results the judgment that a straight line is the shortest distance between two points.

[ 23 ] All judging, insofar as the parts entering into the judgment are concepts, is nothing more than a reuniting of what the intellect has separated. The connection reveals itself at once when one goes into the content of the concepts provided by the intellect.

• 1. Anschauung—“Intuition” is the conventional translation of Kant's Anschauang.—Ed.

The lectures this week are to be arranged in such a way that each day is devoted to a different subject, so that it can be seen what is to be achieved as a fertilization of the individual subject areas and branches of practical life by spiritual science. Today we shall begin with the subject that is most closely related to spiritual science as it is meant here: the subject of philosophy. What I myself will have to say here is intended as a kind of introduction to the questions that will be dealt with in the course of today.

I would like to start from one of the most interesting and even most significant phenomena of recent philosophical development. It is certainly not always the case that the most significant and interesting phenomena are those that are soon recorded in the usual historical works. And so I would like to start from a phenomenon that has yet to be expressed historically, from the whole meaning of a philosophical work published in 1888 by Ludwig Haller, a government councilor and public prosecutor, entitled “All in All: Metalogic, Metaphysics, Metapsychics». I may all the more base myself on this phenomenon in the life of philosophy, as anyone who has followed my own literary career can see that I myself have remained quite uninfluenced by this phenomenon, because that which constitutes my position on philosophy already contained in my writings that appeared before this “Metalogik, Metaphysik, Metapsychik,” and what I said later is only a proper and consistent elaboration of what was contained in my first writings.

Above all, in the prosecutor and government councilor Ludwig Haller, who wrote nothing but the aforementioned work, we encounter a person for whom what is called philosophy is not just a specialized science—although in a certain respect he is thoroughly qualified to engage with this specialized science—but for whom what he presents comes from direct personal philosophical experience. We are dealing with a personality for whom philosophical endeavor has become the most intimate personal experience. And if we go straight to the most significant thing about Ludwig Haller, then we have to note that he is actually at loggerheads with the whole way of philosophical thinking in modern times. He has obviously been around a lot in all kinds of philosophy and also in those works of literature in which “philosophy of life” bubbles. He has familiarized himself with the philosophical thinking of his time and he has found – this is, as I said, his opinion – that with this philosophical thinking one actually goes around in a kind of unreal circle, that with this philosophical thinking one never comes into a position to delve into reality itself.

Ludwig Haller wants to penetrate into spiritual reality with his philosophy, which he, having evidently outgrown more religious ideas due to his education, calls “the divine” or even “God”. In this “divine” or in “God” he seeks the source of all that which, as the actual essence, also lives in the human soul and of which the human soul must also become aware. But he comes to the conclusion that this soul, by processing the conceptual fabric that is customary in his time, cannot penetrate into this center of its being, where it is one with the divine-spiritual of the world.

Since the thought-weaving of philosophers at the end of the 1980s, when the aforementioned work was published, was still influenced by Kant in many ways and thus Kantian thought lived in this thought-weaving, Ludwig Haller felt compelled above all to deal with Kantianism and all that stems from Kantianism. But precisely in all the thoughts in which something Kantian somehow flows in, he saw the unreal, that which can never be immersed in the reality of the world. And he was actually unhappy about the fact that he, because he wanted to speak philosophically in his time, had to deal with this thinking, which was thoroughly infected by Kantianism, that he had to keep coming back to it, to deal with Kantianism. He found very sharp words, first to characterize Kantianism itself, and then also for the having to deal with Kantianism, which he found so unappealing. I would like to share with you two samples from this assessment of Kantianism, so that you can see what a person for whom philosophy is an innermost personal matter struggles with in our times.

On one occasion, Ludwig Haller speaks of Kantianism in such a way that he says of it: the “pseudo-dialectical, half-true, deeply dishonest character of this misosophy, which tries to steal the weapons from the arsenal of light in order to use them in the service of darkness”. On another occasion, he becomes, I might say, literarily enraged that he repeatedly finds himself compelled to deal with Kantian thought because he must engage with his contemporaries , and he says: “I, who could and would like to talk about God and his glory, see myself condemned again and again to talk about Kant and his wretchedness – I, a dandy's dandy.”

I wanted to point out this phenomenon because it is an imprint of the struggles that a truly philosophically inclined nature had to endure at the end of the 19th century. Today, what is meant by philosophical speech and writing is also taken to mean that it is a matter that, so to speak, hovers a bit above people's heads, and that one is not personally involved in it. That is why the inner tragic phenomena of philosophical life are far too little appreciated in our time. And I believe that this phenomenon, which is one of the most tragic inner philosophical experiences of our age, is actually quite unknown in wider circles.

Those who are truly familiar with the intellectual life of our time know how much of such moods has been lived in people of our age. And actually, if one wants to explain the essence of philosophical thought in our time, one must speak precisely of these phenomena, which are not considered by the philosophical experts, but which are all the more important for the actual human experience.

Now, building on this phenomenon, I would like to characterize another one that is basically also only a subjective, personal philosophical experience, so to speak. The philosopher Eduard von Hartmann, who became better known as Ludwig Haller, dealt with Ludwig Haller. In this discussion, one point is of particular importance. Ludwig Haller, who makes a lot of work for himself, as you saw, he calls himself “a dandy dandy” because of this making-a-lot-of-work-for-himself, with the introduction into the Kantian-infected thought-weaving of his time, of our age - he he feels, namely, by going from concept to concept with his thinking, by abandoning himself to philosophical thinking, which can be clearly seen to permeate his book from cover to cover — he feels that the concepts he is now following with his thinking take on a remarkable inner life. It is as if the concepts in his mind began to lead an independent life. He emphasizes this in the most diverse places in his “Metalogic, Metaphysic, Metapsychic”.

If we want to explore this interesting phenomenon from a psychological perspective, we cannot do other than say the following: Ludwig Haller puts all his energy into the particular nature of contemporary philosophical thinking. But his inner human experience actually wants something different; he cannot come to this other because in the 1880s there was not even a trace of a truly modern spiritual science. What could fill this human inner life with real spiritual science is lacking. But I would like to say that he lives in it in a strangely instinctive, unconscious way. He is unaware of this, but he notices from this strange phenomenon that the world of concepts comes to life for him and leads an independent life.

Anyone who is able to conduct research in the sense of the spiritual science represented here is very familiar with this independent life of concepts. But they can also master it. They can master it in the sense that one can master the transition from one mathematical concept to another mathematical concept in the ordinary process of mathematization. But this mastery must be achieved through inner practice. It is quite natural that one enters into a life that is very far removed from ordinary consciousness when one suddenly notices – something that otherwise only the food in our organism does, that they lead their own life in digestion without our intervention – that the absorbed concepts begin to lead their own inner life. It is not incomprehensible, but very, very understandable, that a philosopher like Eduard von Hartmann, who was indeed brilliant, who also achieved something quite penetrating in some areas, but who had completely outgrown the philosophical thinking of his time, could not do anything special with this experience of Ludwig Haller. And when Eduard von Hartmann writes his critique of Ludwig Haller, one notices that on the one hand he feels quite queasy. What is to become of it, the modern philosopher asks himself, when the concepts to which I devote myself suddenly begin to dance like goblins within me, to embrace each other or the like? That is something terrible, one cannot expose oneself to it! And so, as a true contemporary philosopher, he also offers this criticism in a very significant way by saying that he never noticed anything of this playful, goblin-like activity of concepts that have come to life independently.

We can readily believe Eduard von Hartmann when he says that he felt this inner sultriness when reading Ludwig Haller's “Metalogik, Metaphysik, Metapsychik”. However, as his critique shows, this did not stop him from reading the whole book, and in a sense he even found it very significant. I believe that many others who have been professionally involved with philosophy in the period since 1888 have hardly got beyond the first pages of this book, if they have even seen the title page!

What I am pointing out to you is a very significant phenomenon. And we can only understand it if we follow the philosophical development of the West as I have tried to do in my book “The Riddles of Philosophy”. If we go into what I have explained in detail there with reference to the history of philosophy, and what I can only hint at here, we see that in the age of Greek philosophy the whole human soul was different from what it later became and especially from what it is in our time. We see how in Greek philosophizing, what we call thinking, what we call imagining, is linked in a similar way to the conditions of the external world, insofar as it presents itself to man, as for us only the qualities of sensory perception. When we perceive, we ascribe, at least in naive consciousness, the sensual qualities to what we perceive. Certainly, the epistemological discussions since Locke and others think differently, but they need interest us less at this moment; I want to refer only to naive consciousness for the fact that has been brought up. In this naive consciousness, one attributes the sensory qualities red, blue, white, warm, cold, lukewarm, sweet, bitter, etc., to things, and today it is clear that what one thinks and imagines about sensory objects is separated from the objective in the process of becoming conscious, that it is experienced subjectively. But the Greeks attributed their thinking, their ideas, to the object just as we attribute red, blue, sweet, bitter and so on to the object; they had what they experienced in knowing, to an even greater extent, so to speak, in perceiving than we have. They were fully aware that they perceived the conceptual content at the same time as the red, green and so on.

And what emerged in the most logical way in Greek thought, I would say, was basically a peculiarity of the general enquiring consciousness right up to the 13th, 14th, 15th centuries, up to the Galilei-Copernicus period. Anyone who delves into what has come to light in scientific achievements, which, after all, were still one and the same with philosophical research for that time, anyone who delves into the corresponding literature, insofar as it exists, will say that these older researchers and thinkers, when they talk about things, still describe the objective aspects of things, whereas today's researchers think entirely separately from things and ascribe them to the subject.

One can follow, and this pursuit is extraordinarily interesting, how in the age of scholasticism, philosophical life takes the direction of becoming clear about how what we call thinking in concepts may still be thought of as connected to the objective. Before the scholastic age, the connection between what is experienced as an idea and concept in things was self-evident. This connection only became a question, a mystery, when the conceptual and the imaginative were separated from what is called objective perception in human experience. And it was out of this philosophical experience that scholasticism arose, the problem of which should be studied much more thoroughly today than it is studied, the problem of 'realism' and 'nominalism'. Today, these words conjure up completely different ideas than they did in the scholastic era. In the age of scholasticism, a realist was, for example, Ihomas of Agquino, who attributed an objective reality to concepts and ideas, so that he said: Concepts and ideas have something objective in their content, something that does not merely belong to the subject, that is not merely thought. A nominalist was someone who sought reality only in that which lies outside the conceptual, who saw in the concepts only something by which man summarizes what is given to him as perception, so that for the nominalist, the concepts were mere names.

Such a problem always arises in the development of humanity when something is experienced inwardly. In the Middle Ages, people had to undergo this inwardly, that they became more and more familiar with the conceptual life in their own inner being, that they saw what is called the external world only in the perceptible. Hence the question arose for him: How can one justify relating to external perceptions in some way that which one basically has only as a name within oneself, which one grasps only by associating it with external perceptions? A significant skepticism emerges from nominalism.

And basically, what then emerged in Kantian philosophy is nothing other than, I would say, the last consequence of this scholastic problem. It is just that Kant arrived at his formulation of the scholastic problem in a peculiar way: in the age in which Kant, as a young man, was pursuing his philosophical studies, a somewhat diluted Leibnizianism prevailed in the circles in which Kant was pursuing his studies. Leibnizianism, which is something great in its own way, albeit somewhat abstract, and which still has a connection to the spirit of reality, was philosophically sublimated and diluted in Wolffianism, which formed the stage of Kant's youth. During this time, people were already dealing with the demands of mathematizing science, with the demands of science, which is precisely composed of the results of external observation of the world. But out of the old habit that man has something to say when something is being determined about the world, one had established the broad doctrine of reason alongside this empirical science, alongside this science of experience. It was decreed that uncertain judgments can be gained through experience, through empiricism, about everything that is transitory; but these judgments are directed only at the transitory and are uncertain. One cannot know whether what one recognizes through observation and intellectual knowledge about any fact of the transitory world must necessarily be so for all time. We cannot even know that the sun must rise every morning, because we have only the one piece of empirical evidence that it has risen every morning so far. From this we can conclude that it will also rise in the future; but it is just an empirical conclusion. Beyond this empirical science, Wolffianism, and Kant in his youth, were looking for a rational science, in complete harmony with Wolffianism. It is characteristic that one of Wolff's books is called: “Rational Thoughts about God, the World, and the Soul of Man, and about All Things in General.”

So the aim was, on the one hand, to gain empirical knowledge about the world, insofar as it is accessible to experience, and, on the other hand, to gain rational knowledge that extends over everything, which, so to speak, is to be gained from reason alone. And so, alongside, say, revealed theology, a rational, a rational theology was established, alongside empirical psychology a rational psychology, alongside the knowledge of the world gained through experience, a rational geology, and so on. The underlying reason for this search for a particular science of reason was that people said: there is no certainty for scientific research in an external world. But if one wants to have such certainty, it can only be gained by deriving it from reason itself.

However, the whole research of Wolffianism is still based on the fact that a reality has first been placed in this reason, from which man then derives his “truths of reason”, in some transcendent way.

In Kant's work, two things occurred, and anyone who studies Kant with an open mind will be sharply reminded of what emerges in his work from two sides: on the one hand, he had become accustomed to searching for “certain judgments”. For example, he had said to himself: in mathematics we have such judgments that always apply quite necessarily, that cannot come from experience because experience does not give rise to such judgments. We also have such judgments in some areas of scientific thought, which are valid forever, and which can only be gained from the human being itself. There must be certainty in philosophy. That was one side of what Kant wanted. And anyone who does not grasp how firmly Kant stood on the ground: there must be certainty — also in the sense of Wolffian philosophy — does not understand Kant, because he cannot engage with Kant's insistence on the certainty of certain judgments.

But Kant had become disillusioned with Wolffianism, in terms of its content, through his study of Hume, the English philosopher who wanted to be a mere philosopher of experience. And he said to himself, precisely under the influence of Hume: there is no such thing as spinning a reality out of reason; there is actually only experience. — That was the second side.

On the one hand, there must be certainty; but everything that appears in experience, which is the only basis for real knowledge, does not provide certainty. How can we escape from this dilemma? And the very compulsive search to escape from this dilemma is basically the main impulse of Kantian thinking. I have presented this in detail in my writing “Truth and Science” and have further illuminated it in my “Philosophy of Freedom.” Kant's search did not actually lead to the recognition of anything essential, but to the question: How do you achieve absolute certainty?

Kant's problem is not a problem of truth, nor of knowledge, but of certainty. And if you don't grasp it as a problem of certainty, you can't really understand it. Kant seeks the solution by saying: the human soul is certainly not suited to distilling judgments of reality out of reason, but these judgments do come about; they are applied to external experience, as can be seen, for example, in mathematics. We do not merely look at such figures (it is drawn), but we look at them mathematically and say: there are two triangles or, drawn differently, it is a hexagon. We mix what we spin out of reason inwardly with what comes to us through external experience. We impose what we recognize inwardly a priori over what we experience a posteriori.

Thus Kant came to say: Knowledge of truth cannot be gained from reason. But human reason is applied to experience. It imposes its judgment on external experience. It itself makes its judgment on external experience. Because Kant said: There must be certainty in philosophy, one must be able to find certainty, but one does not find it by searching in a Wolffian way, by believing that one can gain a reality in reason and let experience run alongside – because Kant could not could not bring it together, so he said: Man spins out of his reason that which experience then takes up; man makes knowledge himself; the things of experience are therefore certain and certain to the extent that we make them certain out of our minds.

You see, actually the essence of knowledge is dethroned. Actually, knowledge is eliminated. And it is eliminated in such a subtle way that the Kantians still adhere to this subtlety today and do not realize what is actually involved. When someone like Ludwig Haller comes along and feels how Kantian thinking has actually lost touch with reality, how it snaps at certainty in the unreal, then he finds words like the ones I have shared with you. He finds that human ingenuity is being applied to an impossible problem, to a problem that does not shed light on knowledge but shrouds it in fog. That is why Ludwig Haller says, as he feels it: This misosophy tries to steal its weapons from the arsenal of light and use them in the service of darkness.

But on the other hand, one must also recognize how this whole development of modern times was basically necessary. The development of human thinking and human research since Greek times was not a line of development that can only be followed in the way I have just done, but can also be followed in another direction. I also pointed this out in my book 'Riddles of Philosophy'. Today, we have a knowledge of nature that attempts to understand natural phenomena purely in terms of their essence.

It may be said, however, that the very knowledge of nature which today always prides itself on understanding natural phenomena purely, hardly succeeds in understanding natural phenomena purely, that is, in no longer penetrating them with the web of thoughts of that which is only made in the concept, inwardly subjectively. — All kinds of hypotheses are still being put forward about the external course of phenomena, not only justified ones but also unjustified ones.

But one person did emphasize in modern times, and relatively early on, that in terms of observing external natural processes, this modern age must strive towards the pure phenomenon, towards pure phenomenology. And that person was Kant's opposite number, Goethe. He demanded that phenomena and appearances express themselves purely. He emphasized that what takes place in the development of understanding must remain completely separate from what is presented as a description of phenomena and of the phenomenal process itself. And in the most stringent and admirable way, Goethe repeatedly demands this pure phenomenalism.

But the more one strives towards this pure phenomenalism, the more one must strive for a special peculiarity of the conceptual world. And this peculiarity of the conceptual world is also highly achieved. This peculiarity is thoroughly justified for a certain age of human development. Anyone who, since the age of Cartesius, has not limited himself to studying philosophy, but who has an organ for also entering into the good sides of

of scholastic philosophy and medieval philosophy, and who does not see Aristotle and Plato through the spectacles of modern philosophers and historians of philosophy, but can place them before his soul in their original form, he knows that the way in which the world of concepts and ideas lives in the human soul is quite different today than it was in ancient Greece and even in the scholastic Middle Ages. In the scholastic Middle Ages, the soul still felt that, in experiencing the concept, there was something substantial in this concept, just as there is still something substantial in the red and blue that one perceives. Only in recent times has the concept become a complete image. Only in recent times has the concept been completely emptied of its content. Only in recent times has it become possible in the development of humanity and in philosophy to do what I have called pure thinking in my “Philosophy of Freedom”.

If one tries to eavesdrop on the problem of freedom, as I attempted in my “Philosophy of Freedom,” one simultaneously becomes acquainted with this modern character of thinking. One becomes acquainted with a thinking that is basically emptied of all external experiential content. It is brought up on this external experiential content, but lives only as subjective fact.

It is just as true to say of this pure thinking, and I made this clear in the new edition of my Philosophy of Freedom, that it takes place in the realm of the will. But the will has been transformed into thinking, as it were. It is the result of the kind of thinking that has stripped away all external experience. This pure thinking is only an image, and is entirely an image. And if one is at all to arrive at a philosophical understanding in our age, one must reach the soil in which this pure thinking is found.

Goethe sensed what lies in this pure thinking. Others can only feel it with him. That is why they always quote a Goethe saying incorrectly, which says something like that the kind God has saved him from “thinking about thinking”. As Goethe meant it, it is already correct. Goethe never “thought about thinking” because, admittedly, one cannot achieve this pure thinking with the thinking that one has become accustomed to. One must look at it as an image. So that one can say: the thinking itself that one wants to recognize, pure thinking, becomes a looking at this pure thinking. Pure thinking can be achieved not dialectically but vividly. One arrives at this point in philosophical development at the problem of freedom, which is why freedom, real freedom, is not possible at all without attaining this pure thinking, which is a mere image.

As long as a reality within us motivates our actions, our actions cannot be free. Therefore no instinctive action, no traditional action, no action under a habit is really free, but only an action that can follow the images that weave in pure thinking. As soon as you follow a reality, you are pushed. If you want to be free, you must include the unreal in your will. When you bump into something, you feel that the object has an effect on you. When you perform an act under an instinct, under an urge, you must feel that there is something pushing, that there is no freedom. But when you stand in front of a mirror, see the image in the mirror, you will be clear about the fact that the mirror image can never give you a slap in the face, that the mirror image can never push you. The image cannot do anything on its own. It is he who must act, who must act when he confronts this image. But since the image does nothing, the act then becomes a free act. Only a thinking that is not rooted in reality, but is pure image, can motivate a free act. That is why the problem of freedom is the problem of modern thinking, of pure thinking. But in this thinking, one is standing in a world of images.

Modern philosophy, everything that lives in this modern philosophy through Kant and the Kantians, comes instinctively, although it usually does not understand this pure thinking, to this pure thinking. When one begins to think in modern times and trains one's thinking in natural science, which claims all authority for itself and would be real natural science, real science of reality, if it stuffed anything else into us than mere images, one must, when one moves one's thinking in this direction, first approach an unreal. In the thinking through whose peculiarities we are passing with our modern philosophical and scientific development, we have no reality; we have only an image of reality. And in looking at this thinking, we come on the one hand to the problem that concerns the newer epistemologists. They would like to build a bridge from what is inwardly experienced to what outwardly exists in being. They do not realize that they are not building a bridge from one reality to another, but from something that lives in images to something that is supposed to be reality.

And on the other hand, we come to the point where conscientious natural philosophers admit to themselves: with this unrealistic thinking, with this thinking that is absorbed in the pictorial character, we cannot immerse ourselves in reality. The point “where matter haunts” cannot be reached. Because one weaves in pictures. Modern philosophy weaves in images, is unaware of it, and seeks reality in these images. Hence the feeling of a “misosophy” in Ludwig Haller, hence the feeling that one cannot enter into reality if one moves in this thinking.

That is the problem of the more recent development of philosophy: that human history must necessarily drift towards a pure comprehension of unreal pictorial thinking. For the sake of the development of freedom, modern humanity had to rise to this unreal pictorial thinking. But one cannot remain in it if one is a fully human being, if one feels reality in all human beings. For one must feel the contradiction between what is pressing and living and weaving in the human being, and what stands before consciousness as a mere environment of unreal images. We are not dealing with a merely logical or formal problem, but with a real one, which has arisen because man has gradually withdrawn his thinking, his imagining, from external reality.

In the external world there remains for him the dark, obscure matter that he cannot grasp. But his thinking has not become a reality, it has become an image. And he must go further in this image. Thinking, which today is a mere image, was still the content of perception for the Greeks. This thinking has moved in the direction from outside in. It proceeds in such a way that man first submerges into the outer world by thinking. Now, with his philosophizing, he has reached the point where he is weaving in the thinking that has been peeled from the outer world. He must continue in this direction. He must seek reality again. Matter has given man in ancient times and up to our age the support for thinking by making thinking real for him. But thinking, because it had to become the basis for the development of human freedom, has passed into the pictorial character. Thus it hovers between external experience and inner experience. It must submerge into this inner experience. It must in turn become reality. Man must plunge with full consciousness into the regions where Eduard von Hartmann and with him all modern philosophers feel so sultry, because thoughts seem to begin to dance like goblins.

When the human being with his thinking goes out of the pictorial character – where, if he weaves and lives in it, because they are only images, he does not need to be so sultry – when he steps out and enters into his own reality, then, through the exercises of spiritual science, he must indeed include the possibility in his inner abilities to move around in this self-life of the conceptual world, as otherwise in mathematical thinking. He must acquire the ability to grasp reality independently in this self-life. Just as we do not feel stifled when things out there in space do not stand still — lest our knowledge be disturbed — but when they move, run, so man must, in the ascent to spiritual explanation, to spiritual revelation, become capable of giving his image-concept a content again.

If one grasps the actual, pressing philosophical life of the present at this point, then one comes away from all the talk that the philosopher cannot understand what the spiritual researcher is saying. He can understand it as soon as he has understood the pictorial character of his thinking, but also as soon as he has understood that thinking has come to this pictorial character because it moves in world history from the outside in, from the direction of the spirit in matter to the contemplation of the pure spiritual world.

In this way, philosophy must be continued by receiving it from spiritual science, from spiritual research, by immersing thinking in what spiritual science, spiritual research, has to say. This is what I wanted to show you, even if only in a sketchy way with a few lines: in what way philosophy is to be fertilized by spiritual science. In the next few days, we will talk about how other branches of human thought and action can be fertilized by this spiritual science.

Closing words on the occasion of the disputation on philosophy

In the course of the disputation, questions arose that naturally required a broad discussion from a technical point of view. Since we cannot discuss everything in one evening, I would just like to make a few methodological suggestions regarding the questions that arose and that, at least in my opinion, were not formulated very clearly. These suggestions point in the direction in which certain solutions to such questions must be sought.

In view of such questions as, for example, that of the “subjectivity of perception”, there is a lot of confusion of ideas in the most recent philosophical development, an accumulation of concepts that tend to obscure and tangle the problems rather than to illuminate them and lead to a certain solution.

For when one wishes to raise questions concerning the relation between object and subject in perceiving in terms of representation and knowledge, it is always a matter of arriving at the questions by means of the most careful analysis of the facts. For often the questions themselves are wrongly formulated from misconceived ideas. And so it is often the case with questions about the “subjectivity of perception”.

The difficulty was indicated by the example of the partially color-blind person, who is assumed to see a, say, green landscape differently than the so-called normal-sighted person. The difficulty lies in this idea of the partially color-blind person: to what extent must one ascribe subjectivity to what the so-called normal-sighted person, I say quite explicitly, the so-called normal-sighted person, sees?

Well, the first thing to do is to present the whole problem in such a way that it appears correct. “Correct” means that the way in which the elements that have to be brought together to form the problem, that this how of bringing together is done in the right way. Just suppose someone says: Yes, the external world, which appears to me, say, in a green landscape with a green tint, gives me cause to reflect on whether the quality “green” is objective, whether I can ascribe it to the world of objectivity, or whether it must be addressed as subjective. In order to even formulate the problem, one must consider such things as, for example, this: Yes, how does it actually behave when I look at something that is white or yellow, for my sake, through green glasses? There we see it tinged green. Is that now to be ascribed to the sphere of objectivity, or must one speak of subjectivity here? We will soon realize that we certainly cannot ascribe this green, which I see through green glasses, to what is out there. We cannot speak of objectivity in relation to the external environment. But it will certainly not be possible to say that this green tint, which I have seen through green glasses, is based on something subjective. It is objectively determined in a perfectly lawful way, without what I am designating here as green actually being green.

You see, by forming this idea, I am putting the problem in a special light, where I have to consider that which certainly does not belong to the external world, but objectively, as having arisen in an objective way; because the glasses do not belong to me, so they certainly cannot be included in the sphere of subjectivity. Such things might even appear to be sophistry. And yet such sophistries are very often what leads one to put the elements that are supposed to lead one to the questions in the appropriate way, to bring them together. For if one sees through such apparent sophistries in the right way, one will see through the whole threadbareness of the everyday concepts of “subject” and “object”, which have gradually been introduced into modern philosophical reflection. And if one gets into the right line of questioning, one will probably be led more and more to the path that I believe in, which I have taken in my writings “Truth and Science” and “Philosophy of Freedom,” where one does not take the starting point from the concepts of “subject” and “object”, but seeks something independently of these concepts that must lie beyond the sphere of subjectivity and objectivity: that is the function of thinking.

The function of thinking! If you look at the matter independently, thinking actually appears to go beyond the subjective and the objective. And with that, you have gained a starting point from which you can then be led in the appropriate way to where the problem of “subjectivity” and “objectivity”, which presents such difficulties, is at stake. For one is led—and you will find this path thoroughly followed in these two books of mine—not to ask: How does an external “objective” world affect some “subjective” world, for which, say, the mediator is the eye? —but one is led to something quite different. One is led to ask: What is the fact of the senses themselves? What essence does one sense show? For example, the constitution of the eye?

One will then find that in the problem one sets oneself in this way, something comes to light that I want to make clear through a comparison, because I have to be brief – it could, of course, be encompassed with the adequate concept in an explanation lasting hours: I can also look through a pair of glasses and still see the world around me as the naive consciousness perceives it, with its color tinglings, with all its sensory qualities. I must only look through colorless transparent glasses; I must not look through glasses that change the outer world itself for me. And I must now find my way into the difference between glasses that change the outer tinting and glasses that are colorless and transparent and avoid any outer tinting. From this comparison – as I said, long-winded considerations could be used instead of the comparison – I will find: if I take the structure of the so-called normal eye, I have given it a structure that proves to be transparent, that can be compared to the transparent-colorless glass. I find nothing in the normal eye that indicates that the external world is qualitatively changed in any way. But I must not conduct this investigation with the ordinary concepts that I have in everyday consciousness, but with the imaginative consciousness that can truly penetrate the structures of the eye.

For the imaginative consciousness, a so-called normal eye is a transparent organ. An eye that is partially colorblind proves to be comparable to colored glasses for the imaginative consciousness, as something that does, however, make a change in the “subject”.

Thus, by conceiving of subjectivity in a higher sense, one comes precisely to regard the sensory apparatus in the broadest sense as that which can be compared to the transparent, which is precisely designed in such a way that it suspends the production of sensory qualities within itself. One learns to recognize as pure fantasy the idea that in this ideationally transparent sensory apparatus – which is precisely arranged in such a way that it cancels out any production of the sense qualities within itself – something could arise that would first evoke sense qualities, that would be there for something other than the sense qualities.

As I said, I only want to point in this direction. And at the same time, I want to point out that ordinary philosophizing should be aimed at saying: the facts of the world, when examined without prejudice, show me results that are simply insoluble for ordinary mind-consciousness; the facts themselves show me that I must go beyond this ordinary mind-consciousness. It is not honest to conclude, let us say, from the fact of partial color blindness that color qualities are subjective. For every such conclusion contains some logical error that can always be somehow demonstrated. It would be honest to say: one simply does not come to any result with ordinary philosophizing if one wants to solve the difficulty that arises from the comparison of partial color blindness with the vision of the so-called normal eye. The usual consciousness has the task, at this point, of presenting the difficulties and saying, “There they are.” And if one were to become truly aware of the scope of logic, of real-logical thinking within consciousness, one would, I might say, find problems lying everywhere and say, There is one more, insoluble for ordinary consciousness, the second, the third --- and would be glad that in many respects ordinary philosophy is nothing more than a hint at problems and a creation of an atmosphere of waiting for these problems to be solved from a higher level of consciousness. It is only the urge to come to terms with ordinary consciousness that spreads a fog over the problems and does not want to admit that one can only raise the problems with it and that one must point out that the human soul must now undergo a development and exercises to solve these problems. The law of specific sensory energies is certainly not something that can be dealt with within ordinary consciousness.

As I said, I only wanted to point out the main point of the discussions on the subject of colors, and to point out that, above all, philosophy and also philosophical physiology, philology and so on, in the present day would need a very conscientious delineation of what they actually bring before ordinary consciousness through their thinking.

This is the one thing I would like to draw attention to, as I said, quite inadequately. It should only point in one particular direction; but more cannot be done in such a short discussion.

The second point I would like to make – again, purely from a methodological point of view – is the problem of categories that arises here. Of course, one could talk for hours about the categorial nature of human thought, but I would like to point out just one thing for now: within the actual table of categories, “subjectivity” and “objectivity” do not appear at all. And the fact that within the actual category table, the actual, the original category table, “subject” and “object” do not occur at all, this in itself constitutes a kind of proof of the essence of categorical thinking: if one takes the categories in the way not as they arise from some sort of proof, but simply, I might say, as they are derived from logic, then, by dint of being posited, they must be applicable to that which is above 'subjective' and 'objective'. That to which the categories are applicable must be supersubjective and superobjective. But the fact that the categories are applied by man himself is a clear proof that in categorical thinking there is not a subjective, but a subjective-objective.

This is the problem that Goethe also thought about so much. And the way he thought, which led him to always seek out the point where subjectivity and objectivity disappear for the human being in human experience, this endeavor actually made him the opposite of Kant.

Of course it is perfectly true that, as has been said, one could also work out of Kant in a positive sense; but one can work out of everything in the world in a positive way, even out of the greatest error! For there is nothing in the world from which one cannot also extract something positive. We have this positivity, this seeking out of the positive, listed among the basic exercises for those who want to attain higher knowledge. I need only remind you: you will find it discussed in the second part of my “Occult Science”. Of course, this should not blind us to the recognition of aberrations. And finally, if we consider the historical, we can say that a great deal has been worked out positively from Kant. There are not only the critical Kant philologists, not only the neo-Kantians of the likes of Liebmann, Volkelt and so on, but there is the very active Marburg School – Cohen, Cassirer, Dilthey and so on – which tried to work out the positive from Kant in a certain sense.

Now, I have shown how little this 'positive elaboration from Kantianism' can lead to a realistic view: in my 'Riddles of Philosophy', where I also briefly discussed these efforts of the Marburg School. So it is also the case with the category problem that it is necessary to present it correctly in its entire inner essence before the soul in order to see how, precisely through the category problem, the question of the “subjective” in contrast to the “objective” cannot be posed as it has been done by more recent philosophy under the influence of Kantianism. This almost epistemological harnessing to subjectivity is something that has introduced countless unjustified ideas into our modern philosophy and caused us to lose ideas that were already there and that, if developed in a correspondingly straight line, could have led to something quite fruitful.

I must repeatedly draw attention to the fact – which I have already done several times – that an extraordinarily talented 19th-century philosopher, Franz Brentano, published the first volume of his “Psychology” in 1874. It is basically an ingenious book. This volume of Brentano's “Psychology” was published in the spring of 1874. He promised the second volume for the fall of the same year. The three following volumes were then to appear shortly thereafter. Brentano had initially calculated this “psychology from an empirical point of view” to consist of five volumes. The first volume was only a preparation. In it, however, there is a highly remarkable passage in which Brentano indicates how he was in fact aiming at the most significant psychological problems. He says: If all modern thinking should lead only to the examination of how representations arise and fade away, how they associate with each other, how memory is formed, and the like, and if one could only come to uncertainty about about the actual psychological questions of Plato and Aristotle, for example, whether the soul remains when its external physical body decays, then one would not have gained much for the needs of man through modern science! Well, from everything else that Brentano suggests in the first volume of his “Psychology from an Empirical Point of View,” one can already see how he wanted to bring the problem through his five volumes to these fundamental questions of Plato and Aristotle.

The strange thing is that the second volume did not appear in the fall. It did not appear the next year either. And in the nineties, Brentano promised once again that he would now set about creating at least a kind of surrogate in a kind of descriptive psychology. So the second volume of “Psychology” was supposed to appear in 1874. Nothing appeared until the nineties; then a second promise appeared, but was not fulfilled! Franz Brentano died in Zurich a few years ago. The promise has not been fulfilled to this day. It has remained with the first volume of “Psychology from an Empirical Point of View.” Why? Because Brentano, in his Privatdozentenschrift, posited the sentence, “Philosophy has to follow the same methods that are applied in natural science,” because Brentano wanted to remain true to this methodological sentence that he had posited at the time, and with which one could not make any progress. Brentano was much too honest a nature to want to make headway by any other means than by the means of the external scientific method. Therefore, he simply remained silent about what came after the first volume.

I have expressed this in my book “Von Seelenrätseln” (Mysteries of the Soul). Brentano's pupil Kraus has indeed said that there were all sorts of other reasons why Brentano did not publish the later volumes; but it must be said that if the reasons were only those that Kraus pointed out, then Brentano must have been a real philistine. And he certainly was not that. He was a personality who followed the impulses of his inner being and only those impulses! But there was something in Brentano that at least gave him hope that one could penetrate into the things of the world. And basically every such philosopher – and there are few who have had this hope in a well-founded way in modern times – has turned against Kant, and of course Franz Brentano as well.

There was something in him that justified this hope. And I find that in a concept that, I might say, occasionally emerges from Brentano's philosophy, and which he borrowed in the sense of an older philosophy – of the kind that still drew from reality, as I suggested this morning: it is the concept of intentional inwardness, which he applies to the concepts of cognition and perception.

This concept must be formulated. Then, from there, one will get an approximation of what I just hinted at: to examine the extent to which the human sense organ is a self-extinguishing one, to which one must not ascribe that it could be the producer of sense qualities. And this concept – now not of the real interiority of some process, but of intentional interiority – contains within itself the life of pointing, which then becomes observable for the imaginative conceiving. And this life of pointing, which is given with the concept of intentional inwardness, then brings the possibility of grasping what, since Johannes Müller, the physiologist from the first half of the 19th century, has been so inadequately grasped in the doctrine of “specific sensory energies”. So that one would like to say that the comparison with the transparent, colorless glass is not quite appropriate for the reason that one has to imagine not an inanimate colorlessness, thus a self-abolition, but a living and precisely through its liveliness and thereby standing in a corresponding process within, which allows an objective experience by not taking in the objective, but by grasping out of itself the process of pointing through and in pointing to this objective.

I have found what lies in a renewal of this concept of intentional interiority, in the sense of a modern world view, only in some recent American philosophers who—probably even without knowing the concept I have just mentioned—try to grasp the continuity of human consciousness. Let us say, for example, that in the twenty-ninth year of life a person looks back, with the help of memory, on what he went through in the eighteenth year of life. Then, if we grasp it inwardly, what returns to the person in the twenty-ninth year of life is something similar to what could be described as an intentional innesein. And in relation to this process, this concept appears again in some recent American epistemologists.

It is precisely in such phenomena that one can see how conceptual work is alive in contemporary philosophical endeavor. But this work must become honest in the way I have described, by coming to show clearly that problems exist; but ordinary consciousness, ordinary intellectual activity, can only pose the problems; and now one must move on to the solution of the problems. If one were to develop scientific honesty in this way, it would be the basis for moving on to the imaginative and the other stages of knowledge.

These are only very inadequate, methodological suggestions.

[ 1 ] Thinking has a twofold function to discharge: first, to form concepts with sharply outlined contours; secondly, to unite the single concepts thus formed into a unified whole. In the first instance, we have to do with the activity of differentiation; in the second with that of combination. These two mental tendencies do not by any means enjoy equal favor in the sciences. The number of persons possessing the acumen which differentiates even down to the minutest trifles is noticeably greater than that of persons possessing the combining power of thought which penetrates to the depths of things.

[ 2 ] For a long time the function of science has been supposed to consist in an adequate differentiation among things. We need only recall the state of natural history in Goethe's day. Through the influence of Linnaeus, it had become the ideal of this science to investigate the differences among individual plants sufficiently to succeed in setting apart new classes and sub-classes on the basis of the most insignificant characteristics. Two species of animals or plants differing only in the most unessential details were forthwith assigned to different classes. If some creature hitherto assigned to a certain class was discovered to show an unexpected divergence from the arbitrarily determined class-character, the result was, not an effort to discover how this divergence might be explained on the basis of that very class-character, but on the contrary a new class was at once set up.

[ 3 ] This differentiation is the work of the intellect. It has only to divide and to retain the concepts in this process of division. It is a necessary stage preliminary to all higher forms of scientific knowledge. First of all, must we have definitely fixed, sharply outlined concepts before we can seek for a harmony among these. But we must not stop at the stage of division. To the intellect, things are divided which a fundamental human need requires us to see united. To the intellect, cause and effect are divided; mechanism and organism; freedom and necessity; idea and reality; spirit and Nature; etc., etc. All these differentiations are established by the intellect. They must be established, because otherwise the world would appear to us as a blurred, obscure chaos which would form for us no unity except in the sense that it would be utterly indeterminate.

[ 4 ] Intellect itself is not capable of passing beyond this process of division. It holds fast to the divided members.

[ 5 ] The task of passing beyond this belongs to reason. It must cause the concepts formed by the intellect to pass over into one another. It has to show that what the intellect keeps in strict separation is in reality an inner unity. The division is something artificially introduced, a necessary intervening stage for our knowledge, but not its conclusion. Whoever apprehends reality only intellectually alienates himself therefrom. In place of reality, which is in truth a unity, he sets up an artificial multiplicity, a manifoldness, which has no relation to the essential nature of reality.

[ 6 ] This is the source of the discord which arises between intellectually pursued knowledge and the human heart. Many persons whose thinking has not so developed as to enable them to reach thereby a unified world-view which they can grasp with complete conceptual clarity are, nevertheless, capable of penetrating through their feeling to the inner harmony of the world as a whole. To these is given by the heart that which the scientifically trained receive from the reason.

[ 7 ] When such persons meet the intellectual view of the world, they reject with scorn the endless multiplicity and cling to that unity which they do not know, indeed, but which they sense more or less vividly. They see very well that the intellect is alienated from Nature, that it loses sight of that spiritual bond which units the parts of reality.

[ 8 ] Reason leads back to reality. The unity of all being, which had before been felt or only vaguely sensed, is completely fathomed by reason. The intellectual view must be deepened by the view of reason. If the former is looked upon, not merely as an inevitable transitional point, but as an end in itself, it does not yield reality but only a caricature.

[ 9 ] Difficulties at times arise in combining the thoughts formed by the intellect. The history of science affords numerous evidences of this fact. We often see the human mind struggling to reunite the differences created by the intellect.

[ 10 ] In the reasoned view of the world, man finally arrives at undivided unity.

[ 11 ] Kant called attention to the difference between intellect and reason. Reason he defined as the capacity to perceive ideas; whereas intellect is restricted to seeing the world in its dividedness, in the isolated-ness of single parts.

[ 12 ] It is true that reason is the capacity to perceive ideas. Here we must define the difference between concept and idea, to which we have hitherto paid no attention. For our purpose up to this point it was necessary only to discover those qualities of thought which are present in both concept and idea. The concept is a single thought as grasped by the intellect. If I bring a number of such single thoughts into a living flux so that they pass over into one another, become united, thought-structures thus arise which exist for the reason alone, which cannot be attained by the intellect. The creations of the intellect surrender their isolated existence to the reason, and thenceforth they live only as parts of a totality. These structures formed by the reason we shall call ideas.

[ 13 ] That the idea reduces to unity a multiplicity of intellectual concepts was stated also by Kant. But he defined those structures which come to manifestation through the reason as mere phantasms, as illusions, eternally reflected before the human mind because man is forever striving to attain a unity of experience which is never given to him. The unities which are formed in ideas do not rest, according to Kant, upon objective relationships; they do not flow from the thing itself, but are mere subjective norms according to which we bring order into our knowledge. Kant, therefore, designated ideas, not as constitutive principles which must be determinative for things, but as regulative principles which have meaning and significance only for the systematics of our knowledge.

[ 14 ] But, if we observe the manner in which ideas come into existence, this point of view is shown at once to be fallacious. It is true, of course, that the subjective reason has a craving for unity. But this craving is void of content, a mere empty striving toward unity. If reason is confronted by something absolutely lacking such unity of nature, reason cannot produce the unity out of itself. But, if reason is confronted by a multiplicity which admits of being reduced to an inner harmony, then reason brings this to pass. Such a multiplicity is the world of intellectually formed concepts.

[ 15 ] Reason does not presuppose a determinate unity, but the empty form of unification; it is the capacity to bring harmony to light when harmony exists in the object itself. Concepts themselves unite in the reason to form ideas. Reason brings the higher unity of the intellectual concepts into evidence, the unity which the intellect possesses, indeed, in its images but lacks the capacity to perceive. The fact that this truth is overlooked is the cause of much misunderstanding as to the application of reason in the branches of scientific knowledge.

[ 16 ] To a slight extent every science in its very rudiments, and even ordinary thinking, has need of reason. When, in the proposition: “Every body possesses weight,” we unite the subject-concept with the predicate-concept, we have already a union of two concepts and, therefore, the simplest activity of the reason.

[ 17 ] The unity which reason takes as its object is existent prior to all thinking, prior to all use of the reason; only, it is concealed; it exists merely as a potentiality, not as an actual phenomenon. Then the human mind introduces division in order that we may have a complete view into reality through the reason's unification of the separated members.

[ 18 ] Whoever does not presuppose this must either look upon all thought-combinations as the arbitrary work of the subjective mind, or else assume that the unity exists behind the world we experience, and that it forces us, in a manner unknown to us, to reduce the multiplicity again to unity. In that case, we unite thoughts without any insight into the true reasons of the interrelation which we bring about; in that case, truth is not cognized by us but forced upon us from without. All knowledge which proceeds from this presupposition we may call a dogmatic knowledge. To this we shall later return.

[ 19 ] Every such scientific point of view will meet with difficulties when called upon to explain why we bring about one or another combination of thoughts. That is, this point of view requires that we seek for subjective reasons for combining objects whose interconnection on objective grounds is concealed from us. Why do I form a judgment when the thing which requires the interconnection of subject-concept and predicate-concept has nothing to do with the forming of this judgment?

[ 20 ] Kant took this question as the point of departure for his critical work. At the beginning of his Critique of Pure Reason we find the question, How are synthetic judgments a priori possible?—that is, How is it possible that I unite two concepts (subject and predicate) if the content of the one is not already contained in the other, and if the judgment is not a mere experiential judgment, the fixing of a single fact? Kant considers that such judgments are possible only when experience cannot exist except on the presupposition of their validity. The possibility of experience is, therefore, determinative if such a judgment is to be formed. If I can say to myself that experience is possible only in case this or that synthetic judgment is a priori true, then the judgment possesses validity. But this principle cannot be applied to ideas themselves. According to Kant these never possess that degree of objectivity.

[ 21 ] Kant decides that the propositions of mathematics and pure natural science are a priori such valid propositions. He takes, for example, the proposition 7 + 5 = 12. In 7 and 5 the sum 12 is, he concludes, by no means contained. I must go beyond 7 and 5 and call upon my sense of sight, whereupon I find the concept 12. My vision makes it necessary that the proposition 7 + 5 = 12 shall be assumed. But the objects of experience must approach me through the medium of my sense of sight, thus blending themselves with its principles. If experience is to be possible at all, such propositions must be true.

[ 22 ] Before an objective examination, this whole artificial thought-structure of Kant fails to maintain itself. It is impossible that I have no clue in the subject-concept which directs me to the predicate-concept. For both concepts are attained by my intellect, and that in reference to a thing which in itself constitutes a unit. Let no one be deceived at this point. The mathematical unit which lies at the basis of number is not primary. The primary thing is the magnitude, which is a certain number of repetitions of the unit. I must assume a magnitude when I speak of a unit. The unit is an image created by our intellect which separates it from a totality just as it separates effect from cause, substances from their attributes. When I think 7 + 5, I really hold 12 mathematical units in mind, only not all at once but separated into two parts. If I think the group of mathematical units all at once, this is absolutely the same thing. This identity I express in the proposition 7 + 5 = 12. The same is true of the geometrical examples cited by Kant. A limited straight line with the termini A and B is an indivisible unit. My intellect can form two concepts of this. At one time it may consider the straight line as a direction and at another as the distance between the two points A and B. From this fact comes the judgment: The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.

[ 23 ] All judgments, in so far as the members which enter into the judgment are concepts, are nothing more than the reunifying of that which the intellect has divided. The interconnection comes to light as soon as one enters into the content of the intellectual concepts.

[ 1 ] What I discuss in this work previously formed the content of lectures which I gave in the course of the past winter at the theosophical library in Berlin. I had been invited by Count and Countess Brockdorff to talk on mysticism before an audience to whom the things dealt with in this connection are a vital question of great importance.—Ten years ago I would not yet have dared to comply with such a wish. This must not be taken to mean that the world of ideas to which I give expression today was not alive in me at that time. This world of ideas is already wholly contained in my Philosophie der Freiheit, Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, (Berlin, 1894). But in order so to express this world of ideas as I do today, and thus to make it the basis of a discussion as is done in this work, something is needed in addition to an unshakeable conviction of its conceptual truth. This requires an intimate familiarity with this world of ideas, such as can only be attained in the course of many years of one's life. Only now, after I have acquired this familiarity, do I dare to speak in the way which one will discover in this work.

[ 2 ] He who does not encounter my world of ideas with an open mind will discover contradiction upon contradiction in it. Only recently have I dedicated a book on the philosophies of the nineteenth century (Berlin, 1900) to the great scientist Ernst Haeckel, a book which I terminated with a justification of his ideas. In the following expositions I speak with assenting devotion about the mystics from Meister Eckhart to Angelus Silesius. Of other “contradictions” which someone or other might enumerate, I shall not speak at all.—I am not surprised if I am condemned by one side as a “mystic,” by the other as a “materialist.”—If I find that the Jesuit priest Müller has solved a difficult chemical problem, and if I therefore agree with him without reservations in this matter, one can hardly condemn me as an adherent of Jesuitism without being considered a fool by the judicious.

[ 3 ] One who like myself goes his own way is bound to be exposed to many misunderstandings. But fundamentally he can bear this easily. Such misunderstandings are generally self-evident for him when he considers the mental make-up of his critics. It is not without humorous feelings that I look back upon many a “critical” judgment I have received in the course of my career as a writer. At the beginning everything went well. I wrote about Goethe and in connection with him. What I said sounded to many as though they could fit it into their preconceived notions. This was done by saying, “A work such as Rudolf Steiner's introductions to the scientific writings of Goethe can be described honestly as the best that has been written on this question.” When later I published an independent work I had already become much more stupid. For now a benevolent critic gave the following advice: “Before he continues to reform and brings his Philosophy of Spiritual Activity into the world, one must urgently advise him first to penetrate to an understanding of those two philosophers (Hume and Kant).” The critic unfortunately knows only what he can manage to read in Kant and Hume; thus he really only advises me to see nothing in these thinkers beyond what he sees. When I shall have achieved this he will be satisfied with me.—When my Philosophie der Freiheit appeared I was in need of being judged like the most ignorant beginner. This judgment I received from a gentleman whom hardly anything forces to write books except the fact that there are innumerable volumes by others, which he has not understood. He informs me with much thoughtfulness that I would have noticed my mistakes if I “had pursued deeper psychological, logical, and epistemological studies;” and he immediately enumerates for me all the books which I should read in order to become as clever as he: “Mill, Sigwart, Wundt, Riehl, Paulsen, B. Erdmann.”—Especially diverting for me was the advice of a man who is so impressed by the way he “understands” Kant that he cannot even imagine someone's having read Kant and nevertheless having an opinion different from his. He therefore indicates to me the chapters in question in Kant's writings from which I might acquire an under standing of Kant as profound as his own.

[ 4 ] I have here adduced a few typical judgments concerning my world of ideas. Although they are insignificant in themselves they appear to me to be well suited to indicate symptomatically certain facts which today constitute serious obstacles in the path of one who writes on questions of higher cognition. I must go my way, no matter whether one gives me the good advice to read Kant, or whether another accuses me of heresy because I agree with Haeckel. And so I have written about mysticism without caring what the judgments of a credulous materialist may be. I would only like, so that no printer's ink is quite needlessly wasted, to inform those who may now perhaps advise me to read Haeckel's Welträtsel (The Riddle of the Universe), that in the last months I have given about thirty lectures on this book.

[ 5 ] I hope to have shown in my work that one can be a faithful follower of the scientific philosophy and still seek out the paths to the soul into which mysticism, properly understood, leads. I go even further and affirm: Only one who understands the spirit in the sense of true mysticism can attain a full understanding of facts in the realm of nature. One must only beware of confusing true mysticism with the “mysticism” of muddled heads. How mysticism can err I have shown in my Philosophie der Freiheit.

Berlin, September, 1901
Rudolf Steiner

Those who seek the deeper impulses in the intellectual life of the present day will be confronted by three personalities. In a one-sided way, but with monumental greatness, each of these personalities represents what moves our time most deeply: Haeckel, Tolstoy, Nietzsche. Truth, goodness, beauty are called the eternal ideals of humanity. It is as if each of the three personalities had taken from another of these ideals the means of expression with which they say what they have to say. Haeckel speaks the language of truth, Tolstoy that of goodness, Nietzsche that of beauty.

From the development of modern thought as a whole, we must gain the points of view from which we can form a view of the three representative men of our world view. For the time being, we must let our gaze wander to two deeds in this development. After that great deed in the sixteenth century which Copernicus accomplished, and through which man attained his presently valid view of the earth, according to which it is a star among stars. And one must look to the other deed of the nineteenth century, through which the organic-living, indeed man himself, was recognized as a natural being. The names Lamarck and Darwin will first come to mind when we think of this deed. But Goethe was its first herald.

Noble be man,
Helpful and good!
For that alone
Distinguishes him
From all beings,
That we know.
...
According to eternal, honorable,
Great laws
We must all
Of our existence
Complete circles.

In these words, spoken by Goethe as early as the last third of the eighteenth century, lies the proclamation of a "natural creation story".

It took a long time for man to become accustomed to seeing the "eternal, honorable and great laws" as the solid pillars of his knowledge of the world. Medieval man looked up at the starry sky and saw -- not such eternal, honorable laws, but human-like intelligences. And right up to the eighteenth century, man did not see "eternal laws" in the structure of his organism and in that of other living beings, but the reign of an "eternal wisdom", which he could only think in the manner of human reason. Christianity was a powerful promoter of this way of thinking. It had degraded "mere, coarse matter" to a being of a lower kind. How was it to be content with this matter and its innate laws when it came to explaining the marvelous movements in the celestial ether or the purposeful structure of organic beings! Science had to conquer piece by piece of our world structure for the "eternal, honorable laws". Copernicus did this for the starry heavens, Goethe, Lamarck, Darwin for what lives on earth.

And to the same extent that science tore away piece by piece from the old world view, to the same extent the Christian spirit became tougher in saving what it could still save for itself. Luther had to leave the world of space to science. He wanted to claim the world of the soul for religion all the more energetically. He made a strict distinction between the explanation of the world and the Gospel. No science should be able to harm the latter; it should remain the faith that leads to salvation. It is no coincidence that Luther's Protestant doctrine entered world history at the same time as the new scientific explanation of the world. It had to come if faith was to be valid alongside knowledge. It had to be assigned the area that had not yet been touched by science.

And like Luther to Copernicus, Kant stands opposite the modern "natural history of creation". At the end of the eighteenth century, everything seemed to have fallen prey to rational thinking. Then Kant came along and declared that man was not at all predisposed to recognize the real nature of things. Kant betrayed the deepest impulses of his thinking when he wrote the words: "I therefore had to destroy knowledge in order to make room for faith." In Kant's opinion, this knowledge is only limited; it can never penetrate to where the objects of faith, God, freedom and immortality, have their domain. Faith has its eternal justification alongside reason and science.

It was only a necessary consequence of such presuppositions that Kant was of the opinion that the construction of a living being would never be as explainable to man as a machine is. The history of the creation of the organic living must remain supernatural: for Kant, that was the last word in wisdom.

The nineteenth century gradually wove the living into the web of "eternal, honorable laws". Kant appears to us today like a new Luther, like the last of the line of those spirits who still wanted to save something, as much as possible, for the faith inaccessible to science. Development is moving beyond these spirits. The "natural history of creation" can no longer accept the piece of faith that Kant wanted to save. The scientific way of thinking is in the process of completely dissolving the Christian way of thinking. Kant is only interesting to us as one of the last great representatives of the Christian spirit.

When Haeckel, Tolstoy and Nietzsche asked themselves, each in their own way, in the last third of the nineteenth century, how to live with the new ideals of humanity, they were faced with a world view that had been revolutionized by science.

Haeckel found himself in the world situation in the sense of the naive naturalist. What science presented to him was the truth. And the truth is both good and beautiful to him. He constructs the world of living beings right up to human beings according to "eternal, honorable laws". He radically rejects everything that does not bow to this explanation of the world. He has no time to ponder whether the spirit, drunk with beauty and striving for moral perfection, can find its account in the world built by reason and science. Rather, both are self-evident to him. Tolstoy and Nietzsche are different. They could not find their ideals in the new world situation from the outset. In both of them the old Christianity lives on as the basic mood of their being. Tolstoy believes that man can only feel happy in actions that are inspired by a genuinely Christian attitude. It is not the truth of science, but love, such as pure Christianity achieves in man, that can lead to the highest satisfaction. Truth must be subordinated to love, reason to goodness. What is the point of all science with its explanation of the spirit according to "eternal, honorable laws", since this spirit rests firmly and securely within itself and must acknowledge the primal law of love as its essence, without all science? Before all scientific research, the spirit knows its essence. Tolstoy fights the scientific confession because he believes that it degrades the spirit to a mere natural being, because it wants to recognize it from the outside, since it is closest to itself and finds its essence within itself. Tolstoy therefore preaches a return to a truly Christian view of the spirit. The spatial and the temporal belong to science. But the spatial and the temporal are sinful. It is precisely in overcoming the spatial and temporal that the spirit must find its essence. When he comes to the conviction that his individual existence is sinful and that he can only find his bliss in the love of the universe, then man has reached his goal. Never has this view been described more captivatingly than by Tolstoy in the novella "The Death of Ivan Ilyich". Dying, man comes to the conviction that existence is always full of injustice. This conviction gives death its deepest meaning. One dies with the confession that one can only live unjustly. Thus, dying, one overcomes existence and justifies it by declaring it null and void. He who dies as an esteemer of life does not die with the true, human confession. Death is the annihilation of individual existence, and only he who believes in the justification of this annihilation at the moment when this annihilation actually occurs dies with the truth in his heart.

There can be no greater contrast to this glorification of death than Nietzsche's drunkenness of life. For Nietzsche, too, the material world governed by "eternal, honorable laws" has no value in itself. He harbored this attitude in every period of his life. The Christian contempt for material existence is in him. Like all of us, he carries it in his blood. But just as Tolstoy wants to build his higher Christian world beyond this one, Nietzsche wants to build a blissful but no less temporal one within the unsatisfactory temporal one. He begins by contrasting Christianity with Greekness. And in Greek he sees the embodied world of beauty, of the strong, ideal enjoyment of life. The world can only be endured as an aesthetic phenomenon, as a manifestation of art. Whoever can transfigure the world through beauty is a true human being. Nietzsche also wants to overcome the immediate life of everyday life; however, he does not want to overcome it through death, but through a higher life. And when Nietzsche immerses himself in modern natural science, he does not become its opponent like Tolstoy, but rather detaches from it what can be useful for his philosophy of the highest enjoyment of life. He develops the superman from the human being. The purpose of existence should not be what is, but what can become. And it makes Nietzsche drunk with enthusiasm for the "eternal, great laws", because he can say to himself: they develop the superman from the human being, just as they developed the human being from the worm. The temporal, the real, albeit the future-real, becomes the content of Nietzsche's wisdom. And can one imagine a sharper contrast than Tolstoy's longing for death and Nietzsche's drunkenness with life, as expressed in the idea that all things, as they are today, will return eternally?

So Tolstoy's view of the world is completely reversed when we move from him to Nietzsche. What is an end becomes a means. The great geniuses of mankind: Confucius, Buddha, Socrates, Christ are the great teachers of mankind for Tolstoy. They should sacrifice themselves for others. For Nietzsche, all other people are only there in order to reach the great spirits via a detour. Humanity must sacrifice itself in order to produce from its bosom a few great individuals who are there for their own sake. Anyone who values existence as Nietzsche does can probably think like this. This existence has all the more value the more enjoyment of life can be sucked out of it. The great enjoyers of life best fulfill the goal of existence. For their sake, this existence seems justified. Not so for Tolstoy. The great enjoyers of life are the worst victims of the vain, worthless existence, if they do not enter into the service of universal love, which brings redemption to all men from the earthly, vain existence.

Thus, the three strange representatives of our contemporary education stand opposite each other: the naive truth researcher Haeckel, for whom everything old must perish because the new truth is destined to triumph, the prophet of goodness Tolstoy, who wants to lead a true Christianity into the souls of his fellow human beings, which should make them overcomers not only of the old Christianity, which clings to nothingness, but also of science, which is just as attached to nothingness, and Nietzsche, who also wants to overcome the old Christianity, but wants to form a higher humanity out of the spirit of the new science, which overcomes the void in the earthly, because within this earthly it finds the truly valuable, which is worthy of enjoyment, which is not contemptible despite its temporality and spatiality, because it represents the highest content of life. Beauty and genuine enjoyment of life are to him what good is to Tolstoy, what truth is to Haeckel.

We have seen how Schiller grew up out of the ideas of the Eighteenth Century and how the ideals of the Age of Enlightenment had taken root in his soul. They had already assumed their peculiar form when he left the Karlsschule and wrote the above-mentioned theses.

If we want to describe these ideas in a word, we may say that the main problem was the emancipation of personality. This liberation from age-old tradition goes still further. When medieval man before the age of “Illumination” thought about his relation to himself, to nature, the universe and God, he found himself ready established within the universe. He worshipped the same God without, who dwelt within his own soul; the same forces which were active in the world without, were active in man's own soul; there was a certain unity to be seen in the laws of the universe and in the nature of man. We need only think of men like Giordano Bruno: This monistic conviction of the relationship of nature to man can be found in his writings.

There was thus no gulf between what we may call the moral claim and the objective laws in nature. This opposition only arose later when man excluded nature from divine influence. The attitude which has grown up in materialism, knew no relation between nature and moral feeling or what man develops within himself as a moral claim.

This was the origin of Rousseau-ism, which is fundamentally a revolutionary feeling, a protest against the whole line of development hitherto. It teaches that when we observe man's demand for freedom and his assertion of morality, a harsh discord appears. It asks whether there really can be such a difference between the objective world and human nature, that men must long to get out of it, to escape from the whole of their civilisation.

These spiritual struggles found expression in the temperament of the young Schiller; and in the three dramas of his youth this longing receives a new form. In the “Räuber,” in “Fiesco” and “Kabale und Liebe” we see depicted concretely, with a vast pathos, the demand that man must do something to produce this harmony. In the figure of Karl Moor, we see the creation of a man who bears in himself the opposition between the objective order and the demand made by his humanity, and feels called upon to produce some harmony between nature and himself. His tragedy arises because he believes that he can restore the law by lawlessness and arbitrariness. In “Fiesco” the longing for freedom crashes on the rock of ambition. The ideal of freedom fails through this disharmony in the soul of the ambitious Fiesco, who cannot find his way so far as to put order into the moral ideal. In “Kabale und Liebe” the demand of human nature in the uprising middle-classes stands opposed to the demands of the world as they were expressed in the ruling classes. The relation between moral ideals and general ideas applicable to the world had been lost. The discord echoes grandly, for all their youthful immaturity, from the first dramas of Schiller.

Such natures as Schiller's find themselves less easily than the one-line, simpler and. unsophisticated type, just as we see in natural evolution that lower creatures require shorter periods of preparation than the more highly developed animals. Great natures have to pass through the most varied phases, because their inmost qualities have to be fetched up from the deepest levels. Anyone who has much in him and comes into the world with a claim to genius, will have a hard path, and will have to work through many earlier stages—as the analogy of the embryonic development of higher animals shows us.

What Schiller lacked was knowledge of man and of the world. His first plays show him with all the defects which arise from that fact, but with all the merits which hardly appear again later so clearly. This judgment is made from a fairly high level; we have to realise what we owe to Schiller's greatness. But things could not remain thus for long. Schiller had to rise beyond this limited horizon; and we see how in his fourth play, Don Carlos, he works his way to another standpoint. We may look from a double angle, first from that of Don Carlos, second that of Marquis Posa. Schiller himself tells us how his interest at first lay with the youthful fiery Carlos and then passed to the cosmopolitan Posa. That indicates a deep change in his own personality.

Schiller had been summoned by his friend Körner to Dresden, so that he might work there in peace. There he grew acquainted with a philosophy and view of the world which was to have a great influence on his own personality. Kantianism was a necessary study for a person like Schiller, and we shall understand his standpoint yet more deeply if we delay a moment over what was then working upon him.

At that time, we can see two quite definite currents in German intellectual life. The one is that which finds most definite expression in Herder's Ideas for the history of the philosophy of mankind; the other the Kantian philosophy. In Herder we have the passion to put man into relation with the whole of nature and to understand him in that relation. It is this striving for unity which makes Herder appear so modern a man. ... Arguments brought now-a-days against Kantianism with its dualism (which is still regarded as only an academic philosophy), exist already in Herder's Metacritic. The whole embraces a mass of great ideas; there is a striving after the unification of nature and man. From the lowest product of nature right up to the thought of man there is one law. What is seen in man as the moral law, is in the crystal the law of its form. One fundamental evolution runs through all that is, so that that which forms the flower in the plant, develops in man into humanity. It is the world-picture which appeared in Goethe also and which he expressed in Faust in the words:

How all weaves itself to a whole; one thing works and lives in the other,

and which he describes in his Hymn to Nature.

Goethe is wholly permeated by this striving for unity, as it found expression in Giordano Bruno, the Pythagorean. He stands completely within the stream:

What were a God who only touches from without,
And lets the All run past in cycles?
His task it were to move the world within,
To foster nature in himself, himself in nature.

That is the monistic stream, to which Schiller at that period still was a stranger. For him there was still a two-ness, a dualism.

In his Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason Kant had set a definite limit to human knowledge. Man's capacity for knowledge extends as far as reason goes. It can only give him the external, and cannot pierce to the real being of things. That which is the thing-in-itself, is hidden behind the appearance; man cannot even speak of it. But there is something within man which cannot be mere appearance. That is the moral law. On the one side—the world of appearance; on the other—the moral law, the categorical imperative, the “Thou shalt,” which may not be doubted, which rises above knowledge and cannot be taken as appearance. Thus in Kant's philosophy we have not merely a duality such as we saw before, but the whole world of human spiritual life is divided into two halves. That which is to be superior to all criticism, the moral law, is not knowledge at all, but a practical belief, which contains no limits of knowledge but only moral postulates. Thus Kantianism appears as the .most abrupt exposition of dualism.

Before Kant there was a science of external appearance, and then a science of reason which could penetrate by innate activity to God, soul and immortality: that is the form of the Wolffian philosophy. Kant, who had studied the English Sensationalists, Hume and Locke, was at this juncture led to have doubts: how shall we get anywhere if we have always to test the highest ideas of God, Freedom and Immortality by their reasonableness. He says in his introduction to the Critique of Pure Reason “I had to destroy knowledge in order to make room for faith.” Because we must believe, and in order that we may believe, he thrust down knowledge from her throne. He wanted to start from foundations which left no room for doubt. Knowledge cannot ever reach to these things, but the “Thou shalt” speaks so decisively that the harmony which man is unable to discover, must be accomplished by God. And so we have to postulate a God. As physical beings we are enclosed in barriers, but as moral beings we must be free. This gives an unbridgeable dualism; there is no balance between man and nature.

Schiller, who in accordance with his temperament still held to the opposition between nature and man, pictures in Don Carlos the growth of man beyond nature to his ideals. He never puts the question of what is possible, but only the question of the “Thou shalt.” In Don Carlos it is not a criticism of court-life that we have: That passes into the background behind the practical moral postulates. “Man, be such that the laws of your action could become the universal laws of humanity.” That was Kant's demand; and in Marquis Posa, the cosmopolitan idealist, Schiller sets up a claim for the independence of the ideal from all that comes from nature.

When he finished Don Carlos, Schiller stood in the completest possible opposition to the view of Goethe and Herder, and therefore at the beginning of his life at Weimar no contact with them was possible. But Schiller became the Reformer of Kantianism: he strove for a monistic view, but could find the unity only in the aesthetic sphere, in the problem of beauty. He shows us how man only lives fully when he both ennobles nature up to his own level and draws morality from above into his nature. The categorical imperative does not subdue him to its sway, but he serves willingly what is contained in the “Thou shalt.” Thus Schiller reaches the heights and rises above Kant. He opposes Kant who makes of man not a free being but a slave, bowed beneath the yoke of duty. He saw clearly that there is something in man quite different from this bowing beneath the yoke of the “Thou shalt.” In monumental phrases we find expressed his approximation to the essential of Goethe's and Herder's attitude: “Gladly serve I my friends, yet alas I do it with pleasure; thus it irks me to find that there's no virtue in me.”

Kant had degraded what man does willingly from his own inclination, and set on a higher level what he did from a sense of duty. Kant apostrophises passionately the stern duty which has nothing attractive in her. Schiller raises man from his own weakness, when he makes the moral law a law of his own nature. Through the study of history, through honest inclination and devotion to human life he reached the harmony that had been lost and thus to an understanding of Goethe. Schiller describes in splendid words in the memorable letter of 23rd August 1794, what was Goethe's way:

“I have for a long time, even though from a distance, observed the course of your spirit and with ever new wonder noted the path you have traced out for yourself. You seek for the necessary in nature, but you seek it along the hardest path, from which all weaker forces would shrink. You take all nature as a whole in order to illuminate a part; and in the totality of their appearances you seek the basis of explanation for the individual.”

Here Schiller had reached the height to which he had to evolve. Though he had started from a dualism, he had now reached the unity of man and nature.

Thus he attained to that form of creation which was peculiarly his in the latest period, from the middle of the nineties onward, and to friendship with Goethe. It was a historical friendship because it did not look only for the happiness of their two selves but was fruitful for the world and for humanity.

In this friendship of Goethe and Schiller we have not merely Goethe, and Schiller, but a third something: Goethe plus Schiller. Anyone who follows the course of the spiritual life, will discern in it one being, which could only exist, because in their selfless friendship and mutual devotion something developed which stood as a new being above the single personality. This mood will give us the proper transition to Goethe and to all that he meant to Schiller.

1.

In the history of recent Western philosophy, Rudolf Steiner appears as a unique personality because his whole philosophical work is not the result of a thinking effort, but is based on spiritual experiences. In the world of the East it goes without saying that a great thinker is at the same time a great initiate; in the West, however, it never before occurred that a whole philosophical system was based on immediate spiritual experience. For this reason Steiner had to face the greatest mistrust from the world of the “official” philosophers.

It was Eduard von Hartmann whose works Steiner carefully studied, who influenced his early writings, and to whom he dedicated his doctoral thesis, Truth and Knowledge, published in 1892; and that despite the wide difference in their views. Following Kant, Hartmann believed that true reality can never be grasped by means of our consciousness, and that the experiences of our consciousness are nothing but an unreal reflection of reality. In contrast, there was no doubt for Steiner that “the experiences of our consciousness can enter the true realities by means of strengthening of our soul forces, and that the divine spiritual principle manifests itself in man if he makes this manifestation possible by his soul life.” (See Steiner's autobiography, The Course of My Life.) The unconscious realities of the world which, according to Hartmann, are veiled forever from our knowledge, “can be brought to our consciousness again and again, by means of the efforts of our soul lives,” as Steiner expressed it in the book quoted above. We are by no means separated from the realities of the world forever, but only so long as we are perceiving by means of the senses exclusively. Actually, the world of the senses is spiritual. If by enhancing our soul life, we succeed in experiencing the ideas working in the world of the senses, then we are able to experience the world in its reality. Steiner calls his philosophical system, “concrete” or “objective idealism.”

From his early youth on, Steiner felt the kinship between this kind of idealism and Goethe's world conception. In contrast to almost all philosophers, his education was not a classical, but a technical one-as if this were a kind of presentiment of the world in which, and into which, Steiner wanted to work later. He graduated from the Institute of Technology in Vienna where he was strongly influenced by his personal connection with the famous Goethe researcher, Karl Julius Schröer. Upon Schröer's warm recommendation, Steiner was invited to edit, in 1884, the natural scientific writings of Goethe in the great Goethe edition of Kürschner's Nationalliteratur. Four years later he was invited to join the work at the Goethe Archives in Weimar. Here Steiner lived from 1889 to 1897.

As a fruit of this research work, his book, A Theory of Knowledge Implicit in Goethe's World Conception, Fundamental Outlines with Special Reference to Schiller, was published already as early as 1886. (Further editions appeared in 1924, 1936, 1949 and 1960 respectively.) Up to then, Goethe's scientific endeavors had been considered as mere poetic presentiments of the truth. It was Steiner who proved that all of Goethe's various individual discoveries and presentiments had their origin in a total view, and that this is what matters.

2.

Goethe's understanding of nature brought him in opposition to Kant. The problem here is the limitation of our knowledge. In this difference of views, Steiner in his interpretation of Goethe took the side of the latter, in opposition to Kant, and thus put himself in opposition to the Neo-Kantians, whose views were taught in all German universities at that time. Otto Liebmann who renewed Kantianism in the second half of the nineteenth century, had proclaimed that the human consciousness cannot be enhanced. The same line of thought was the foundation upon which Johannes Volkelt had based his thesis that the world known to man has to be separated sharply from the other world, that of the “things in themselves” which, as such, is unknown to man. Thus, the follower of Kant believed that man's knowledge is limited, and that man can never cross this limit; however, in his Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, Steiner makes the statement that with his thinking, man lives in the reality of the world as a spiritual world, and that the world of the senses is, in truth, a manifestation of the spiritual principle.

In this, Steiner was in full agreement with Goethe. Goethe had conceived the great idea of metamorphosis. According to the latter, the world is a manifestation of ideal forces in the world of the senses. All plants, for example, are nothing but materializations of the one, ideal archetypal plant. The archetypal plant is the fundamental design of all plants: the knot and the leaf. We have to think of this fundamental design as a living, working idea which cannot be seen by means of our sense organs but which manifests itself in the world of the senses. Whenever this fundamental design materializes physically, it varies in a manifold manner, and in accordance with any of these variations, the different plants are formed, following the living archetypal pattern. The archetypal plant is the Proteus who hides himself and manifests himself in all these various forms and whoever is able truly to imagine this archetypal plant, can somehow invent new plants which do not, or do not yet, exist in the world of the senses.

Time and again, Steiner pointed to a conversation between Goethe and Schiller which took place in the summer of 1794 during which Goethe claimed to look at nature in such a way that nature is to be thought of as “working and living, and having the tendency from the whole into the single parts.” In the course of this conversation, Goethe drew a sketch of the “archetypal plant” as a physical super-physical form according to which all existing plants are shaped. Schiller, the follower of Kant, answered that this “archetypal plant” is nothing more than an idea which man builds up in order to understand the particulars. Goethe did not agree with this. He said that in the spirit, he saw the whole in the same way as physically he saw the particulars; there was no fundamental difference between the spiritual and the physical view. To him both were parts of the reality. Whereupon Schiller answered, “This is not an experience; this is an idea.” To this Goethe replied, “I am very happy about this, that I do have ideas without my knowledge, and that I even see them with my very eyes.”

This conversation reveals two typical approaches to the problem of the relationship between a spiritual and a sense experience. Schiller, on the one hand, emphasizes the contrast: the two experiences can never be united. In Goethe's view, on the other hand, the idea and the sense perception complete each other, forming two means of knowledge by working together. Man has to let things speak to him in a twofold way: one part of their reality is given him without his cooperation, if only he opens his senses; the other part, however, can be grasped by him by means of his thinking only, and if he is blessed as was Goethe, he is able to see it with his very eyes. However, together the two parts form the complete whole of the object itself.

Schiller considers the ideal part as a subjective addition on the part of man. Though Kant had realized that we have to use the concept of the inner functionality if we really want to understand the various products of nature, and that we cannot grasp the reality without this concept, he still allotted it to the “reflective power of judgment” of man only; or, in other words, he considered this concept to be nothing but an invention of man, though an indispensable one. In contrast to this, the young Schelling in 1797, exclaimed, entirely following Goethe's ideas, “No longer is there any reason to be afraid of statements!” And consistently, he wanted nature explained from the side of the idea. And here are Goethe's words: “By looking at ever-creative nature, we become worthy of spiritually participating in her productions. Didn't I, first unconsciously, and only following an inner urge, time and again insist upon that archetypal, typical principle? I even succeeded in building up a description which follows the formative forces of nature; and nothing was able any longer to prevent me from courageously undergoing the adventure of the reason, as the Old Man from Konigsberg himself calls it.” But for Kant, the “Old Man from Konigsberg,” the postulation of an objectively existent idea still remained an “adventure of the reason.”

But how is man able to grasp this idea which, of its own nature is non-physical, yet working in the physical world of the senses? Goethe considered himself as possessing a power of judgment by looking at an object (an “anschauende Urteilskraft”); he says that the thinking itself must be metamorphosed, must be enhanced, in order to experience the idea of metamorphosis; a spiritual activity is needed, a dynamic thinking.

3.

By adopting Goethe's theory of knowledge, Steiner also answers the question as to what meaning man's activity of knowledge has in the cosmos. The positivistic thinkers consider knowledge nothing but a mere comprising of individual objects into groups; and these groups are for us, then, abstract concepts or names. Thinking as such serves economic purposes exclusively, but it will never create anything new, although the latter might be of great importance for man. In contrast to this, Steiner states that Science is by no means a mere repetition of what is presented to us by our senses, in some abbreviated form, but rather it adds to it something fundamentally new, something which can never be found in the mere perception, or in the experience. This fundamentally new principle, however, is by no means something of a subjective nature which, according to Kant, man projects on the given perception, or on nature, but rather the true essence of the world of the senses itself. The physical phenomena are riddles which the thinking solves; but what this thinking thus brings about, is the objective world itself. For the world is presented to us by two means: by sense perception and by spiritual knowledge. Both are parts of the objective world. According to Kant, the unity of the objects as it is expressed in concepts, is merely loaned to them by man's I; every connection, he says, originates in our “transcendental apperception.” Steiner, on the other hand, says that just the opposite is true: that objects have their ideal content within themselves. The objects, however, are not presented to our senses in their completeness. By thinking about the objects, we develop the ideas which are working in the specific objects, thus adding to the perception what has been missing from it. This missing, however, is not an objective fact but only the consequence of the fact that by means of our senses we perceive the world in a fragmentary manner only.

Consequentially, the idea is, and works objectively; however it is not presented to our sense organs but appears, in our own thinking, on the subjective stage of our consciousness. This is the reason why it seems to us to be subjective only. Man, by means of his thinking, reveals the ideal nucleus of the world. If it were supposed that man's spirit did not exist, the ideas as expressed in natural laws would be working, but they would not be expressed, not grasped as such. Thus, our intellect does not create order in the objective outer world, but restores the order and the unity of this objective world, which has been interfered with by its own means of understanding, subject to two ways of knowledge. This, however, entitles him to grasp the concept as such, thus adding to the already existing form of existence, a completely new form. (Here the question arises as to whether or not Peter Wust was influenced by Steiner when in the former's Dialektik des Geistes, Dialectic of the Spirit, page 293 in the original German edition, he expresses almost the same lines of thought.)

Human thinking frees the ideal pure form as such; thus, man becomes a creator. Without him, thinking would not exist.

4.

Steiner's Anthroposophy—with which we are not dealing here—differs from the “mystical” schools in the extremely high value it accords to thinking. This high evaluation of thinking originates here, in Steiner's philosophy: man has his right place in the cosmos as a thinking being.

Thinking, on the one hand, and perception, on the other, belong together; however, we experience them as separated. Perceptions are presented to us; facing them, we are merely passive; thoughts, again, have to be brought about by the effort of our soul forces. The world insofar as it is perceived, cannot solve any riddles; there, dreams and hallucinations are presented to us in exactly the same way as is the world of the senses. Thoughts, however, are completely familiar to us, and—fundamentally, at least—are transparent. If we wish to find relationships within the world of sense perception, we have to use our thinking forces.

However, what is added to the perception by our thinking is by no means of a merely subjective nature. For it is not we who “have” the thinking, but rather it is the thinking which “has” us. We cannot combine contents of thoughts arbitrarily, but we have to follow their laws. The thinking does not produce the thoughts; it merely receives them, as does the eye the light, and the ear the sound. The only difference is that the senses work automatically while we remain passive, while, insofar as thinking is concerned, we have to activate it ourselves. Perceptions are given to us; concepts we ourselves have to work out.

Let us imagine a spirit to whom the concept is given together with the perception; such a spirit would never achieve the idea that the concept is not an integral part of the subject, but something of a “subjective” nature. Steiner suggests that in earlier times, as a matter of fact, all mankind experienced things in this way.

Therefore it is not the fault of the objects that we first confront them without the corresponding concepts, but of our own spiritual-physical organization. The abyss between perception and concept opens only at the moment when I, the perceiving subject, confront the objects. To explain the object by means of thinking means nothing other than to restore the connection which man's organization has broken up. It is up to man to gain knowledge. The objects themselves require no explanation. We are the ones who ask questions because we face the cleavage between perception and concept.

In this way Steiner has succeeded in building up a truly objective idealism, from Kant back to Plato, or forward to Schelling. What is new in Kant's philosophy—his idealism in contrast to dogmatism—remains in Steiner's world conception. Steiner, however, refuses to accept the subjective nature of this idealism, and with it, the disastrous division of the world into that of human experience and that of the objects in themselves. For Steiner, thinking is neither a mere subjective activity nor a shadowy imitation of the perception, but an independent spiritual reality.

5.

By considering from the outset the nature of the transcendental principle to be conceptual-spiritual, Steiner rejects the dogma of the modern theory of knowledge since Kant: that man is never able to grasp reality. In the thinking process, he himself participates in the transcendental order of laws of the objects. What here leads us constantly in the wrong direction is the fact that we think our I to be somewhere within our physical organization, and that impressions are given to it by the “outside.” The truth however is that our I is living within the order of laws of the objects themselves; but this life of the I in the region of the transcendental principle is not consciously experienced by man. It is rather his physical organization by which he experiences himself.

Steiner frequently uses the example of a mirror which reflects outer events; and this “mirror” is our physical body. The activity of the body represents the living mirror which reflects the life of the I, which in turn is of a transcendental nature. Thus the human I is able to enter the transcendental principle without “forgetting” itself. But the content of our ordinary, empiric, every-day consciousness is to what our I experiences in reality, as the reflection of the mirror is to the original.

This difference between our true life and that which is only “mirrored,” enables Steiner to settle the conflict between natural science tending toward materialism, and spiritual research presupposing the spiritual principle. Natural science studies nothing but the “mirrored reflection” of the reality which is bound to the brain; this “reflection,” of course, depends on the “mirror,” or in other words, on our nervous system. Man's illusion—though necessary for his every-day life—of thinking of his I as an entity living within his physical organization, is relatively justified here. However, the true innermost being of man will never be found within this physical organization, but rather in the transcendental field.

Thus man has to be considered as a being who, on the one hand is living in the spiritual world itself, and on the other, is receiving its experiences “mirrored” by its physical organization. The world of the senses is, in reality, a spiritual world, but it does not appear to us as such.

The training indicated by Steiner in his various anthroposophical books seeks to stimulate man's soul development to the point where he is able to experience this spiritual world consciously; and this training consists of laborious spiritual exercises which require, above all, a great deal of patience and perseverance.

For those of us who are not—or are not yet—in the position to come to spiritual experiences, Rudolf Steiner's philosophy will still be a highly important contribution toward man's understanding of himself and of the world in which he lives—even though this philosophy can be used only to guide the student on his own right way. However, this whole philosophy is by no means meant to be a mere theoretical line of thought; rather does it find its true completion in the realms of its practical effects. Steiner had good reasons for giving his book—in the original German at least—the title, Die Philosophie der Freiheit, that is, literally, The Philosophy of Freedom, and he poses the question: When is an action free? And he answers this question by stating that it is free when it has its origin in pure thinking. At first glance, Steiner's philosophy of ethics may appear intellectualistic. As in the theory of cognition we have to differentiate between subjective perception on the one hand and the objective concept on the other, in the same way, in the realm of ethics we have to differentiate between motives which originate in the perception and those having their origin in pure thinking. In the first instance we cannot call the deed a free one, since this kind of action is prompted by our surroundings, by our feelings and our will, as well as by our personal nature. None of these is truly free. Only the action motivated by our thinking is truly free. For this kind of action is objective; it is not in the least connected with our I; the world of thinking is common to all of us.

Spinoza, the great Dutch philosopher of the 17th century, objected to the doctrine that man's actions are free by saying that if a stone thrown by someone were endowed with consciousness, it would also make the statement that it flies “freely.” To this Steiner replied that it is not the consciousness as such that builds up in people's minds the belief that they are free; rather it is the fact that man is capable of comprehending the rationality of his motives—provided they are rational. Only that action can be called free which has been determined by the rationality of its ideas.

But how does man materialize his rational motives? The answer is, By means of his moral imagination, which enables him to obtain his motives from the world of ideas. The unfree man is determined passively by the motives of his surroundings which also include his innate nature. The free man, on the other hand, acts according to his moral intuition which, though his own, nevertheless lifts him from the level of his limited I to the objective world of thinking.

Now the problem arises, How can objective morality be united with personal initiative? Steiner strongly rejects Kant's ethics which claim his “categorical imperative” to be a general law which extinguishes the personality. He claims just the opposite, namely a purely individual ethic, expressing it thus: “I do not ask anybody, no man and no law; I perform my action according to the idea which guides me. In so doing, my action is my own, and not the execution of the will of an authority. The urging of my desires means nothing to me, nor does that of moral laws; I want simply to do what seems right to me.” In strict opposition to Kant, any action dictated by a general law appears to him as unfree, heteronomous, while only those actions are autonomous which originate in a law given by man's own self. In a letter dated December 5, 1893, addressed to John Henry Mackay, the follower of Max Stirner, Steiner expressly laid stress on the full agreement of his own philosophy of ethics with that of Stirner, presented in the latter's book, Der Einzige und sein Eigentum, The Individual and His Property.

The moral imagination must, out of necessity, be individual. This is the point which counts. However, here we find no opposition between individuality and the general law; we all share in the world of thinking, we all live in one spiritual world. Thus, despite the fact that every single human being draws from his own personal world of ideas, there cannot be any conflict. People are living together, not there is one spiritual cosmos, common to all. This is one of the most important aspects of the picture of Man. For the idea of man is that of a free being. However, we are still rather far from this goal, which belongs to the future. Man's evolution toward this highest goal is far from completed; Man has not yet become a reality. There is something very special in relation to the idea of Man: while all other ideas have materialized, have become one with their perception, as we have seen above, that of Man is still waiting for its materialization, its incorporation. It is Man alone who is able to complete this. While nature performs the task of completion in the case of the plant and animal, so far as Man is concerned nature can do no more than pave the way toward this completion. But it is only and exclusively Man himself who is able to take the last and the decisive step. Books have been written on the question whether or not Man is free, but the manner of asking the question is wrong, for it can never be answered objectively-theoretically. The answer is given by a process of self-liberation.

Rudolf Steiner enthusiastically follows the theory of evolution as it was developed by Darwin and Haeckel. However, he goes far beyond its mere biological aspect. The moral life of man is the continuation of his biological development. Creating new moral ideas out of our “moral imagination”—as, for instance, Gandhi's “non-violence,” or Albert Schweitzer's “reverence for life”—is a “jump” in evolution comparable to the “jump” which creates a new species in the plant or animal kingdom. In a letter dated August 26, 1902, addressed to Wilhelm Hübbe-Schleiden, Steiner wrote, “Nature achieves the most important moments in evolution every time she makes her typical jumps.”

The evolution of mankind as a whole within the hierarchy of the Spiritual Beings is a process of cosmic importance.

HUGO S. BERGMAN
The Hebrew University,
Jerusalem, 1961

Translated by Stephen Michael Engel