The Rudolf Steiner Archive

3. Thinking in the Service of a Worldview

[ 1 ] When I observe how a billiard ball, upon being struck, transfers its motion to another, I have absolutely no influence on the course of this observed process. The direction and speed of the second ball are determined by the direction and speed of the first. As long as I remain merely an observer, I can say something about the motion of the second ball only after it has occurred. The situation is different when I begin to reflect on the content of my observation. The purpose of my reflection is to form concepts about the process. I relate the concept of an elastic ball to certain other concepts of mechanics and take into account the specific circumstances prevailing in the case at hand. I thus seek to add a second process to the one taking place without my intervention, one that unfolds in the conceptual sphere. The latter depends on me. This is evident in that I can content myself with observation and refrain from seeking concepts altogether if I have no need for them. But if this need does exist, then I am not satisfied until I have brought the concepts of sphere, elasticity, motion, impact, velocity, etc., into a certain relationship to which the observed process stands in a specific relation. Just as certain as it is that the event takes place independently of me, so certain is it that the conceptual process cannot take place without my intervention.

[ 2 ] Whether this activity of mine is truly the outflow of my independent being, or whether the modern physiologists are correct in saying that we cannot think as we wish, but must think as determined by the thoughts and thought connections currently present in our consciousness (cf. Ziehen, Leitfaden der physiologischen Psychologie, Jena 1893, p. 171), will be the subject of a later discussion. For now, let us simply note the fact that we constantly feel compelled to seek concepts and conceptual connections for the objects and processes presented to us without our intervention, which stand in a certain relationship to them. Whether this activity is in truth our own, or whether we perform it in accordance with an unalterable necessity, we shall leave open for the time being. That it initially appears to us as our own is beyond question. We know full well that the concepts of objects are not given to us at the same time as the objects themselves. That I myself am the agent may be based on an illusion; in any case, this is how the matter presents itself to immediate observation. The question now is: what do we gain by finding a conceptual counterpart to an event?

[ 3 ] There is a profound difference in the way I perceive the relationship between the parts of a process before and after I have discovered the corresponding concepts. Mere observation can track the parts of a given process as they unfold; however, their connection remains obscure until concepts are applied. I see the first billiard ball moving toward the second in a certain direction and at a certain speed; I must wait to see what happens after the shot is made, and even then I can only follow it with my eyes. Suppose, at the moment of the collision, someone blocks my view of the field where the event is taking place; then I—as a mere observer—have no knowledge of what happens afterward. The situation is different if I have found the appropriate concepts for the constellation of relationships before the view was blocked. In this case, I can describe what happens even when the possibility of observation ceases. A process or object that is merely observed reveals nothing of its own about its connection to other processes or objects. This connection only becomes apparent when observation is combined with thought.

[ 4 ] Observation and thought are the two starting points for all human intellectual endeavor, insofar as one is conscious of such endeavor. The workings of common sense and the most intricate scientific research rest upon these two pillars of our mind. Philosophers have taken various fundamental opposites as their starting points: idea and reality, subject and object, phenomenon and thing-in-itself, self and non-self, idea and will, concept and matter, force and substance, the conscious and the unconscious. However, it can easily be shown that all these opposites must be preceded by observation and thought, as the most important for human beings.

[ 5 ] Whatever principle we may establish, we must demonstrate it somewhere as having been observed by us, or express it in the form of a clear thought that can be conceived by anyone else. Every philosopher who begins to speak of his fundamental principles must make use of conceptual form, and thus of thought. In doing so, he indirectly admits that he already presupposes thought as a prerequisite for his activity. Whether thought or something else is the main element of the world’s development is not yet decided here. But it is clear from the outset that without thought, the philosopher cannot gain any knowledge of it. Thinking may play a secondary role in the coming into being of worldly phenomena, but it certainly plays a primary role in the formation of a view regarding them.

[ 6 ] As for observation, it is inherent in our nature that we require it. Our thinking about a horse and the object “horse” are two things that appear to us as separate entities. And this object is accessible to us only through observation. Just as we cannot form a concept of a horse by merely staring at it, we are equally incapable of producing a corresponding object through mere thought.

[ 7 ] In terms of time, observation even precedes thinking. For we must first come to know thinking through observation. It was essentially the description of an observation when, at the beginning of this chapter, we illustrated how thinking is sparked by a process and goes beyond what is given without its intervention. Everything that enters the sphere of our experiences is first made known to us through observation. The content of sensations, perceptions, intuitions, feelings, acts of will, dreams, and figments of the imagination, as well as concepts and ideas—all illusions and hallucinations—are given to us through observation.

[ 8 ] However, thinking, as an object of observation, differs significantly from all other things. The observation of a table or a tree occurs in me as soon as these objects appear on the horizon of my experiences. But I do not observe my thinking about these objects at the same time. I observe the table; I engage in thinking about the table, but I do not observe that thinking at the very same moment. I must first place myself in a position outside my own activity if I wish to observe not only the table but also my thinking about it. While the observation of objects and events and the thinking about them are entirely everyday states that fill my ongoing life, the observation of thinking is a kind of exceptional state. This fact must be taken into account accordingly when it comes to determining the relationship of thinking to all other objects of observation. One must be clear that, in observing thought, one applies to it a procedure that constitutes the normal state for the consideration of the rest of the world’s content, but which, in the course of this normal state, does not occur for thought itself.

[ 9 ] One might object that what I have said here about thinking also applies to feeling and other mental activities. For example, when we experience the feeling of pleasure, it is also aroused by an object, and while I observe this object, I do not observe the feeling of pleasure itself. This objection, however, is based on a mistake. Pleasure is by no means in the same relationship to its object as the concept formed by thought. I am most certainly aware that the concept of a thing is formed through my activity, whereas pleasure is produced in me by an object in a similar way, such as the change that a falling stone causes in an object upon which it strikes. For observation, pleasure is given in exactly the same way as the process that causes it. The same does not apply to the concept. I can ask: why does a certain process produce the feeling of pleasure in me? But I cannot at all ask: why does a process produce a certain set of concepts in me? That would simply make no sense. When reflecting on a process, it is not at all a matter of an effect on me. I cannot learn anything about myself by knowing the corresponding concepts for the observed change that a stone thrown against a windowpane causes in it. But I do learn something about my personality when I know the feeling that a certain event arouses in me. When I say of an observed object: “This is a rose,” I am not saying the slightest thing about myself; but when I say of the same thing: “It gives me a feeling of pleasure,” I have characterized not only the rose but also myself in my relationship to the rose.

[ 10 ] There can therefore be no question of equating thinking with the feeling of observation. The same could easily be inferred for the other activities of the human mind. In relation to thinking, they belong in the same category as other observed objects and processes. It is simply part of the peculiar nature of thought that it is an activity directed solely toward the observed object and not toward the thinking person. This is already evident in the way we express our thoughts about a thing, in contrast to our feelings or acts of will. When I see an object and recognize it as a table, I generally do not say: I am thinking about a table, but rather: this is a table. However, I will say: I am pleased with the table. In the former case, it is simply not important to me to express that I am entering into a relationship with the table; in the latter case, however, it is precisely this relationship that is at issue. With the statement “I am thinking about a table,” I have already entered the state of exception characterized above, in which something is made the object of observation that is always included in our mental activity but not as an observed object.

[ 11 ] It is the peculiar nature of thought that the thinker forgets the act of thinking while he is engaged in it. It is not the act of thinking that occupies him, but the object of thought that he is observing.

[ 12 ] The first observation we make about thought, then, is that it is the unobserved element of our ordinary mental life.

[ 13 ] The reason we do not observe thinking in our everyday mental life is simply that it is based on our own activity. What I do not produce myself enters my field of observation as an object. I face it as something that has come into being without me; it approaches me; I must accept it as the prerequisite for my thought process. While I reflect on the object, I am engaged with it; my gaze is directed toward it. This engagement is precisely the act of thinking. My attention is directed not toward my activity, but toward the object of that activity. In other words: while I think, I do not look at my thinking, which I produce myself, but at the object of thought, which I do not produce.

[ 14 ] I am in the same situation even when I allow this exceptional state to occur and reflect on my own thinking. I can never observe my present thinking; rather, I can only make the experiences I have had regarding my thought process the object of thought afterward. I would have to split myself into two personalities: one that thinks, and the other that observes itself in the act of thinking, if I wanted to observe my present thinking. I cannot do that. I can only carry this out in two separate acts. The thinking that is to be observed is never the thinking that is currently in progress, but rather another. Whether I make my observations for this purpose on my own past thinking, or whether I follow another person’s thought process, or finally, whether I, as in the above case with the movement of billiard balls, assume a fictitious thought process—it does not matter.

[ 15 ] Two things are incompatible: active creation and contemplative observation. Even the first book of Moses knows this. In the first six days of creation, God brings the world into being, and only once it exists is it possible to contemplate it: “And God saw everything that He had made; and behold, it was very good.” So it is with our thinking. It must first exist if we are to observe it.

[ 16 ] The reason that makes it impossible for us to observe thought in its actual unfolding is the same reason that allows us to perceive it more directly and intimately than any other process in the world. Precisely because we produce it ourselves, we know the characteristic features of its course, the manner in which the events involved take place. What in other spheres of observation can only be discovered indirectly—the objective connection and the relationship between individual objects—we know in a completely immediate way when we think. Why, in my observation, thunder follows lightning, I do not know offhand; why my thinking connects the concept of thunder with that of lightning, I know immediately from the contents of the two concepts. Of course, it does not matter at all whether I have the correct concepts of lightning and thunder. The connection between the ones I have is clear to me, and indeed through them themselves.

[ 17 ] This transparent clarity regarding the thought process is entirely independent of our knowledge of the physiological foundations of thought. I am speaking here of thought insofar as it arises from the observation of our mental activity. How one material process in my brain triggers or influences another while I am performing a mental operation is not at all relevant here. What I observe in thinking is not which process in my brain links the concept of lightning with that of thunder, but rather what causes me to relate the two concepts in a specific way. My observation shows that, for my mental associations, I have nothing to guide me except the content of my thoughts; I do not orient myself according to the material processes in my brain. In an age less materialistic than ours, this remark would of course be entirely superfluous. At present, however, when there are people who believe that if we know what matter is, we will also know how matter thinks, it must be said that one can speak of thinking without immediately coming into conflict with brain physiology. Today, many people find it difficult to grasp the concept of thinking in its purity. Anyone who immediately counters the mental image of thinking I have developed here with the statement by Cabanis: “The brain secretes thoughts just as the liver secretes bile, the salivary gland secretes saliva, etc.,” simply does not know what I am talking about. They seek to discover thinking through a mere process of observation, in the same way we proceed with other objects of the world’s content. But they cannot find it this way, because, as I have demonstrated, it eludes normal observation precisely in this regard. Whoever cannot overcome materialism lacks the ability to bring about within himself the exceptional state described, which brings to his consciousness what remains unconscious in all other mental activity. One cannot speak to someone who lacks the good will to adopt this perspective about thinking any more than one can speak to a blind person about color. Let him not, however, believe that we regard physiological processes as thinking. He does not explain thinking because he does not perceive it at all.

[ 18 ] But for anyone who has the ability to observe thought—and with good will, every normally constituted person has it—this observation is the most important one they can make. For they observe something of which they themselves are the creators; they are not confronted with an object that is initially foreign to them, but with their own activity. They know how what they observe comes about. They see through the circumstances and relationships. A firm point has been gained from which one can search, with justified hope, for an explanation of the rest of the phenomena of the world.

[ 19 ] The feeling of having such a firm point of reference led the founder of modern philosophy, Renatus Cartesius, to base all human knowledge on the proposition: I think, therefore I am. All other things, all other events exist without me; I do not know whether as truth, or as an illusion and a dream. Only one thing do I know with absolute certainty, for I bring it into being myself: my thinking. Whether it may have another origin, whether it may come from God or elsewhere; that it exists in the sense in which I myself bring it forth, of that I am certain. Cartesian had no justification at first to ascribe any other meaning to his proposition. He could only assert that within the content of the world, I apprehend myself in my thinking as in my most intrinsic activity. As for what the appended phrase “i” (I think, therefore I am) is supposed to mean, there has been much debate. But it can have meaning only under a single condition. The simplest statement I can make about a thing is that it is, that it exists. How this existence is to be defined more precisely, however, cannot be said immediately in the very moment for any thing that enters the horizon of my experiences. Every object must first be examined in relation to others in order to determine in what sense it can be spoken of as existing. An experienced event can be a sum of perceptions, but also a dream, a hallucination, and so on. In short, I cannot say in what sense it exists. I will not be able to deduce this from the event itself, but I will learn it when I consider it in relation to other things. Yet again, however, I cannot know more than how it stands in relation to these things. My search only finds firm ground when I find an object from which I can derive the meaning of its existence from the object itself. But that is myself as a thinker, for I give my existence the specific, self-contained content of thinking activity. Now I can proceed from there and ask: Do other things exist in the same sense or in a different sense?

[ 20 ] When one makes thought the object of observation, one adds to the rest of the observed content of the world something that would otherwise escape attention; but one does not change the way in which human beings relate to other things. One increases the number of objects of observation, but not the method of observation. While we observe other things, a process—which I now include in the events of the world—intervenes in the world’s happenings that is overlooked. There is something present that differs from all other events and is not taken into account. But when I consider my own thinking, no such unaccounted-for element is present. For what now hovers in the background is itself, once again, merely thought. The observed object is qualitatively the same as the activity directed toward it. And this, in turn, is a characteristic peculiarity of thought. When we make it the object of our consideration, we are not compelled to do so with the aid of something qualitatively different, but we can remain within the same element.

[ 21 ] When I incorporate an object presented to me without my intervention into my thinking, I go beyond my observation, and the question arises: what gives me the right to do so? Why don’t I simply let the object affect me? In what way is it possible for my thinking to have a relation to the object? These are questions that everyone must ask themselves when reflecting on their own thought processes. They fall away when one reflects on thinking itself. We add nothing foreign to thinking, and thus have no need to justify such an addition.

[ 22 ] Schelling says: To know nature is to create nature. — Anyone who takes these words of the bold natural philosopher literally will likely have to forgo all understanding of nature for the rest of their life. For nature exists once, and to create it a second time, one must recognize the principles according to which it came into being. For the nature one first wanted to create, one would have to copy the conditions of existence from the one that already exists. This observation, which would have to precede creation, would, however, constitute the recognition of nature—even if, after the observation has been made, the act of creation were to be entirely omitted. Only a nature that does not yet exist could be created without first recognizing it.

[ 23 ] What is impossible in nature—creating before recognizing—we accomplish through thought. If we were to wait to think until we had recognized it, we would never get around to it. We must resolutely set our minds to it, so that we may subsequently arrive at its understanding through observation of what we have done. It is only through the observation of thought that we ourselves create an object. The existence of all other objects has been provided for without our intervention.

[ 24 ] One could easily counter my statement—“we must think before we can consider thinking”—with another equally valid one: “we cannot wait to digest until we have observed the process of digestion.” That would be an objection similar to the one Pascal raised against Descartes, claiming that one could also say: I go for a walk, therefore I am. Certainly, I must also digest resolutely before I have studied the physiological process of digestion. But this could only be compared to the contemplation of thought if, instead of contemplating digestion thoughtfully afterward, I were to eat and digest. It is, after all, not without reason that while digestion is not the object of digestion, thought can very well become the object of thought.

[ 25 ] There is no doubt about it: in thought, we hold onto world events by a thread, and we must be present if anything is to come to pass. And that is precisely what matters. That is precisely why things seem so mysterious to me: because I am so uninvolved in their coming to pass. I simply find them as they are; but in thought, I know how they are made. Therefore, there is no more fundamental starting point for observing all world events than thought.

[ 26 ] I would now like to mention a widespread misconception that prevails with regard to thought. It consists in saying: thought, as it is in itself, is not given to us anywhere. The thinking that connects the observations of our experiences and interweaves them with a network of concepts is by no means the same as that which we subsequently extract again from the objects of observation and make the object of our consideration. What we first unconsciously weave into things is something entirely different from what we then consciously extract again.

[ 27 ] Anyone who draws this conclusion fails to realize that, in this way, it is simply impossible for them to escape thought. I cannot escape thought at all if I wish to observe thought. If one distinguishes preconscious thought from subsequent conscious thought, one should not forget that this distinction is entirely external and has nothing to do with the matter itself. I do not at all turn one thing into another by observing it through thought. I can imagine that a being with sensory organs of a completely different nature and with an intelligence that functions differently might have a completely different mental image of a horse than I do, but I cannot imagine that my own thinking becomes something else simply because I observe it. I observe for myself what I myself accomplish. How my thinking appears to an intelligence other than my own is not the issue here; rather, it is how it appears to me. In any case, however, the image of my thinking in another intelligence cannot be any truer than my own. Only if I were not the thinking being myself, but rather if thinking were presented to me as the activity of a being alien to me, could I speak of my image of thinking appearing in a certain way; but as for what the thinking of that being is in itself, I could not know.

[ 28 ] However, I currently have not the slightest reason to view my own thinking from a different perspective. After all, I observe the rest of the world through the lens of thought. Why should I make an exception for my own thinking?

[ 29 ] I therefore consider it sufficiently justified to base my view of the world on thought. When Archimedes invented the lever, he believed that with its help he could lift the entire cosmos out of its hinges, if only he could find a point where he could rest his instrument. He needed something that is sustained by itself, not by something else. In thought, we have a principle that exists by itself. Let us attempt to comprehend the world from this vantage point. We can grasp thought through thought itself. The only question is whether we can also grasp something else through it.

[ 30 ] So far, I have spoken of thought without taking into account its medium, human consciousness. Most contemporary philosophers will object: before there can be thought, there must be consciousness. Therefore, one must start with consciousness and not with thought. There is no thinking without consciousness. To this I must reply: If I wish to understand the relationship between thinking and consciousness, I must reflect on it. In doing so, I presuppose thinking. Now, one might reply: If the philosopher wishes to grasp consciousness, then he makes use of thought; in that sense, he presupposes it; but in the ordinary course of life, thought arises within consciousness and thus presupposes it. If this reply were given to the creator of the world who wishes to create thought, it would undoubtedly be justified. Of course, one cannot bring about thinking without first bringing about consciousness. But the philosopher is not concerned with the creation of the world, but with its comprehension. He must therefore seek the starting points not for the creation, but for the comprehension of the world. I find it quite strange when the philosopher is reproached for being concerned, above all else, with the correctness of his principles, rather than immediately with the objects he wishes to comprehend. The creator of the world had to know, above all, how to find a vehicle for thought, but the philosopher must seek a secure foundation from which he can comprehend what exists. What good does it do us to start from consciousness and subject it to i, if we know nothing beforehand about the possibility of gaining insight into things through thinking contemplation?

[ 31 ] We must first consider thought in a completely neutral way, without reference to a thinking subject or a thought object. For in subject and object we already have concepts that are formed by thought. It cannot be denied: Before anything else can be conceived, thought itself must be conceived. Anyone who denies this overlooks the fact that, as a human being, he is not the first link in the chain of creation, but its final link. For this reason, in order to explain the world through concepts, one cannot start from the earliest temporal elements of existence, but rather from what is given to us as the nearest, the most intimate. We cannot transport ourselves in a single leap to the beginning of the world to begin our contemplation there, but we must start from the present moment and see whether we can ascend from the later to the earlier. As long as geology spoke of fictitious revolutions to explain the present state of the Earth, it groped in the dark. Only when it began to investigate which processes are currently still taking place on Earth and deduced the past from these did it gain firm ground. As long as philosophy accepts all manner of principles—such as the atom, motion, matter, will, the unconscious—it will remain suspended in the air. Only when the philosopher regards the absolute last as his first can he reach his goal. This absolute last, to which the development of the world has led, is, however, Thinking.

[ 32 ] There are people who say: whether our thinking is correct in itself or not, we cannot determine with certainty. In this respect, therefore, the starting point remains, in any case, a doubtful one. This is just as reasonable as doubting whether a tree is correct in itself or not. Thinking is a fact; and to speak of the correctness or incorrectness of such a fact is meaningless. At most, I can have doubts about whether thinking is being used correctly, just as I can doubt whether a certain tree provides wood suitable for a practical tool. To show to what extent the application of thinking to the world is correct or incorrect will be precisely the task of this work. I can understand if someone harbors doubts that anything can be determined by thinking about the world; but it is incomprehensible to me how anyone can doubt the correctness of thinking in itself.

Addendum to the New Edition (1918)

[ 33 ] The preceding remarks point to the significant difference between thinking and all other mental activities as a fact that becomes apparent upon truly unbiased observation. Anyone who does not strive for this unbiased observation will be tempted to raise objections to these remarks, such as the following: when I think about a rose, this merely expresses a relationship between my “I” and the rose, just as when I feel the beauty of the rose. There is just as much of a relationship between the “I” and the object in thinking as there is, for example, in feeling or perceiving. Whoever raises this objection fails to consider that only in the act of thinking does the “I” know itself, in all the ramifications of the activity, as one being with the act. This is not entirely the case with any other mental activity. When, for example, a pleasure is felt, closer observation can very well distinguish to what extent the “I” identifies itself with an active agent and to what extent there is a passive element within it, so that the pleasure merely occurs for the “I.” And so it is with the other mental activities as well. One should simply not confuse “having mental images” with processing thoughts through thinking. Mental images can arise in the soul in a dreamlike manner, like vague inspirations. This is not thinking. — Of course, one might now say: if thinking is meant in this way, then volition is contained within thinking, and one is then dealing not merely with thinking, but also with the volition of thinking. Yet this would only justify saying: true thinking must always be willed. Only this has nothing to do with the characterization of thought as presented in these remarks. Even if the nature of thought were to necessitate that this be willed: what matters is that nothing is willed which, as it takes place, does not appear to the “I” entirely as its own activity, one that it can grasp. One must even say that because of the nature of thought asserted here, it appears to the observer as thoroughly intended. Anyone who truly endeavors to grasp everything that comes into consideration for the assessment of thought will be unable to avoid noticing that this mental activity possesses the characteristic of which we are speaking here.

[ 34 ] A figure whom the author of this book holds in very high regard as a thinker has objected to him that one cannot speak of thinking in the way it is done here, because what one believes one observes as active thinking is merely an illusion. In reality, one observes only the results of an unconscious activity that underlies thinking. It is precisely because this unconscious activity is not observed that the illusion arises that the observed thinking exists of its own accord, just as one believes one sees a movement when electric sparks flash in rapid succession. This objection, too, is based solely on an inaccurate view of the situation. Whoever makes it fails to consider that it is the “I” itself that, standing within thought, observes its activity. The “I” would have to stand outside of thinking if it could be deceived in this way, as in the case of rapid successive flashes of light from electric sparks. One could rather say: whoever makes such a comparison is gravely mistaken, much like someone who, observing a light in motion, would insist that it is relit by an unknown hand at every place where it appears. — No, anyone who wishes to see in thought something other than what is produced in the “I” itself as a comprehensible activity must first blind themselves to the simple facts of observation in order to then be able to base thought on a hypothetical activity. Whoever does not blind themselves in this way must recognize that everything they “add” to thought in this manner leads away from the essence of thought. Unbiased observation shows that nothing can be counted as part of the essence of thought that is not found in thought itself. One cannot arrive at anything that thinking brings about if one leaves the realm of thinking.