The Rudolf Steiner Archive

2. How Does One Refute Theosophy?

[ 1 ] The topic of today’s lecture may seem surprising at first. But Theosophy does not merely seek to convey findings from supersensory research; rather, it aims to infuse human life with strength and a zest for living. It aims to be a kind of art of living—albeit under certain conditions. It is not something that seeks to gain rapid acceptance; rather, theosophy draws from sources of deep insight. Therefore, it cannot seek to win over large numbers of people; it is not a doctrine that seeks to be propagated to broad circles through fanatical proselytizing. [Such a movement must keep itself aloof from fanaticism.] The theosophist must make the opposite of fanaticism his most important characteristic—[compassion for others should be the hallmark of the theosophist.] He must be able to penetrate [into the souls of others], into the souls of opponents [and gain an understanding of their justified objections].

[ 2 ] And who would deny that there are many valid objections to be raised against Theosophy? After all, Theosophy, or spiritual science, speaks of the most sacred and worthy matters, appealing first and foremost to the heart rather than to reason. And the heart is easily inclined to surrender to things that speak of the elevation of the life force. To penetrate the depths of what Theosophy means requires a long journey—one that by no means all those who, from the heart, agree with the Theosophical way of life actually undertake.

[ 3 ] If anyone today approaches Theosophy, it must be acknowledged that this presents great difficulties. Doubts upon doubts pile up. Consequently, a scientifically educated person in particular—if they possess a genuine sense of truth—cannot easily make sense of it. Added to this is the fact that today, all sorts of things are called “theosophy” that are of little substance. Therefore, let us first outline the basic principles of what we wish to call theosophy, [before moving on to the doubts].

[ 4 ] First, we must understand the structure of the human being. The human being does not consist solely of the physical body, nor solely of what we can perceive with our intellect, which is bound to the brain; rather, it must be asserted that incorporated into the physical body is a series of higher, supersensible members, namely, first, the etheric or life body, which permeates the physical body everywhere: The etheric body prevents the physical body from succumbing to the forces of the external, physical world. It succumbs to these forces only when, at death, it is forsaken by the etheric body. Then the physical forces act upon the components of the human body, causing them to decompose and disintegrate. The existence of this etheric body can be established through clairvoyant investigation. However, one can also see that it is necessary—that we need a defender against the otherwise inevitable physical decay. Other living beings are also endowed with an etheric body as long as they are living beings. Even plants possess it.

[ 5 ] Human beings also possess a soul of consciousness, or an astral body. We share this with the animal kingdom. It is the vehicle for all the instincts, passions, and desires we experience in our lives. What we no longer share with animals is what we call our human sense of self. Because human beings can say “I” to themselves, they are the crown of creation. From the moment a child becomes capable of saying “I” to itself, our human consciousness—our memory—begins. We thus distinguish between a physical body, an etheric body, an astral body, and the “I.”

[ 6 ] But Theosophy differs from the generally accepted view not only in this respect, but also in that it regards the inner essence of the human being—the “I”—as not being limited to an earthly existence between birth and death. Theosophy seeks to show that everything expressed through the “I” in a human being was not merely predisposed in a single lifetime. Rather, this central core of the human being carries over from earlier stages of existence. In a certain sense, the human being shapes his or her own body before fully entering it with his or her sense of “I.” Theosophy further asserts that after death, the human being merely sheds his or her physical form, but the core of the being continues to live on even after physical death, only to enter into a new physical life later on.

[ 7 ] The vicissitudes of human fate can only be understood by recognizing the repeated earthly lives of the same human being. We see one person as miserable and unhappy in life, another as happy. Science must inquire into the causes of this unprecedented inequality in life’s destinies. Spiritual science asserts that human beings have fashioned their own destinies in their previous lives; depending on how they live now, their future fate in the next life will take shape.

[ 8 ] That this might be the case is already evident to a certain extent from the course of his current life. If, for example, someone emigrates to America, his fate will essentially be shaped by what he was previously in Europe. What he has learned here will have a very significant impact on his progress and the course of his life over there. Whether he was, for example, a shoemaker or a banker here will, when he begins a new life in America, greatly influence the shape that this life takes. However, once he has been in America for a while, he will have learned new things; he will have become a different person. Various life experiences are necessary for a person to mature; it is impossible for all of this to take place in a single lifetime between birth and death. The fruits of our past lives ripen for us in this present life, and what we learn now will benefit our future lives.

[ 9 ] Theosophy, therefore, teaches the immortality of the central core of the human being. Between death and rebirth, the soul passes through entirely different, purely spiritual states of a longer duration.

[ 10 ] Theosophy states that during sleep, a person leaves their physical and etheric bodies in bed; the astral body and the “I”—that is, the bearer of consciousness—step out and live an existence in supersensible worlds during sleep.

[ 11 ] The whole thus appears as a closed system. We shall see, in a certain sense, from what sources theosophy draws its knowledge of this system. This is achieved through clairvoyant research. How does one acquire this ability? It must be said that these clairvoyant powers can be awakened in a person through meditation. Through this, the soul can be made into an instrument of research in the spiritual realm—a form of research that is just as precise and methodical as that employed, for example, by chemists and physicists who use physical means to investigate matter. In this way, powers lying dormant within the human being are brought to the surface. We recall here Goethe’s words about the spiritual eyes and spiritual ears that can be opened within the human being.

[ 12 ] Having said that, let us turn to the objections raised against Theosophy. Of course, we cannot exhaustively address all objections to Theosophy. We will consider only a few that may present serious and significant difficulties for an honest conviction. Anyone who is completely under the spell of modern science may, when first encountering Theosophy, come to the following conclusion; they may [rightly] say: Yes, I believe that women who lack a critical disposition [who do not critically engage with science but follow the promptings of their hearts] and have not learned to think logically allow this spiritual science to solve the mysteries of the world for them. And, for all I care, men who simply do not know science. Just consider this one thing: You believe you need an etheric body as the carrier of the life forces within the body. Do you not know that in doing so you are quite amateurishly harking back to the time when it was assumed that organically formed substances could not be produced in the laboratory, but only in a living organism? That is why, back then, one had to assume that special life forces were at work in all living things. But advancing research [in the nineteenth century] has shown that the simplest of these substances can be produced in the laboratory through purely chemical means, just as they are in the living organism. This has disproved the old doctrine of the life force—vis vitalis—or life ether, for it has been demonstrated—albeit initially only in the simplest organisms—that the organic structure of nature is built up in the same way as the inanimate, inorganic world. It is entirely reasonable and legitimate to think that, once the first step toward the chemical production of organic matter has been taken, this process will continue [to the point where living beings are produced in the laboratory], even if, at present, only a few substances can be produced in this way. This provides experimental proof that the same laws operate in the inanimate as in the living. It is therefore a sign of ignorance when Theosophy still maintains that life in a body can only be explained by a “life body.” – Such a researcher might say: What subtle research has had to strive to elucidate step by step, you Theosophists simply seek to make easy for yourselves with your fanciful “life body.” You claim, to be sure, that it is visible to the supersensory faculty of perception, but the above has proven that it is not needed at all—it is simply not necessary. However, a fundamental requirement for serious knowledge must be that it makes no unnecessary assumptions. – Anyone who weighs matters as theosophists ought to do should sense that there is much seriousness and dignity in such an objection.

[ 13 ] But let’s look further. Theosophy claims that to explain the phenomena of consciousness, one needs an astral body and a self. One can certainly concede what even rigorous researchers such as Du Bois-Reymond say—that what we experience within ourselves as inner life is not possible through purely material processes within the brain. So let us assume that we must for the time being forgo an explanation and add the famous “Ignorabimus.” But is it justified to say that if something else—something supernatural—emerges from matter, this is an independent entity? An opponent of theosophy might say this with some justification. He could point to magnetic forces, which, after all, emanate from an inorganic substance—the magnet—and are bound to that magnet. Thus, a supersensible force such as magnetism is indeed produced from the material world. Furthermore, the same applies to the manifestation of other forces, such as gravity, which is bound to the planets. Why should it not be the same with what we scientifically know as states of brain excitation, and with what takes place in human consciousness and inner life? There is absolutely no compulsion to explain phenomena of consciousness in any other way. Even phenomena not yet researched can be explained in this manner. In any case, the hasty assumption of an astral body to explain these processes is amateurish. Even where we are currently forced to say “Ignorabimus,” we must calmly wait to see what serious research will eventually have to say on the matter.

[ 14 ] What used to be the bane of science—the so-called “theory of faculties” [in psychology]—is now behind us. A system had been built on the premise that: The soul can think, therefore it has the faculty of thinking. It can feel, therefore it has the faculty of feeling. According to this view, the soul was thus a system of nothing but nested concepts of faculties, without anyone realizing that this explained nothing, but merely substituted words for something that had not been explained. Now the opponent might say: Aren’t your astral and etheric bodies just as nested and incomprehensible as the old theory of faculties was? Such an objection can rightly be raised.

[ 15 ] Thus, theosophy is not for someone grounded in in-depth modern scientific knowledge. To such a person, theosophy appears amateurish in light of the demands of rigorous research. Theosophy further states: During sleep, the astral body and the “I,” along with consciousness, leave the human body. Since they are not present in what remains in bed, they must surely be found somewhere—they must be somewhere. Where else could they be found but in a spiritual world? In contrast, serious science asks: Is it really necessary to invoke a special, supernatural explanation for this state of sleep when the scientifically established explanations are sufficient? It is entirely possible to explain sleep simply. The scientific method approaches the matter quite differently; it states: When we are awake, the organism becomes worn down. Toxins are produced as a result of the activity carried out by the stimulated brain during the waking state. Once a sufficient amount of these toxins has accumulated, they suppress consciousness through mechanical or chemical action—in other words, the state of sleep sets in. At this point, it is not the organs that normally generate consciousness that are active, but rather other organs in the human body that continue to function; these, in turn, break down the toxins in the body that were produced by the activity of the organs of consciousness, and so on. Such a self-regulatory hypothesis is entirely plausible. But if this is a valid way to explain the alternation between sleep and wakefulness, then it is unacceptable to propose any other explanation. The theosophical theory is, at the very least, a bold assumption. The true facts of the matter will only gradually become clear, and until then, one must stick to the most obvious and simplest explanation of these phenomena.

[ 16 ] What, then, of theosophy’s claim regarding the repetition of earthly lives? Theosophy shows how human beings develop from childhood onward; this cannot possibly be explained entirely by mere heredity. Children of the same parents are fundamentally different, and so on. Therefore, there must be something else at play—something that is not inherited, something already present in the life-germ of the newborn human—in other words, something that can only be explained by repeated earthly lives. For example, twins can still be different, despite sharing the same genetic makeup.

[ 17 ] The scientific objection to this is as follows: What constitutes the essence of a human being is not something inherited solely from a single father or mother, but from a long, intermingled chain of ancestors. If Theosophy then goes on to ask: If you attribute everything to heredity, why is there any individuality at all in the development of a single human being? The objection is this: Human beings must therefore be different because so many different influences flow into each individual throughout life, [which have a formative effect on the person from earliest childhood onward]. Genius is a particularly good example of this. It manifests, endowed with special qualities that we can, however, already find predisposed in the various ancestors. In the case of genius, these qualities are then united as a grand sum total. Brentano explains the workings of the soul in a genius as the ability to rapidly piece thoughts together—that is, merely as a certain intensification of ordinary human thought activity. However, this greater mobility of the brain molecules can only be inherited. The researcher of the mind, on the other hand, says: This is actually not very logical. After all, the genius stands at the end of a line of inheritance; surely he would have to stand at the beginning of that line if it were to be passed down to descendants. The objection [to this], based on the greater excitability in the genius’s brain, must be accepted, and science can therefore conclude: Since this greater excitability causes the brain to wear out more quickly, is it any wonder that, in the genius’s organism—because it wears out more rapidly—reproduction is subsequently impaired? That is a valid objection. Modern science, however, is particularly skeptical of what is referred to as clairvoyant ability. It must be conceded that extrasensory experiences do exist. Such perceptions do, after all, differ from natural perception. This also occurs pathologically in all that is commonly referred to, for example, as hallucinations. It is therefore not surprising when the scientist asks: Where is the possibility of recognizing the truth and establishing objective facts here? How do we know that these are not simply subjective experiences? The rigorous researcher strives to call only what is objectively verifiable “scientific.” But strictly scientific epistemological methods are not applicable to the results of training in the humanities. What supposedly reveals itself to the clairvoyant is, after all, merely a world of images. Even in pathological states, these are merely reminiscences of reality. It is evident, for example, that clairvoyants have only been able to “see” a railroad since such things have existed. In books about clairvoyant experiences, we always find only what actually existed at the time being described—merely combined in a slightly different way. Ultimately, it is a combination of the warmth and cold, light and shadow of real life. For example, it is said that the astral body is blue, red, yellow, and so on—in other words, just like the familiar physical colors. These are colors just as in the physical world that are supposedly seen there; in other words, nothing new. Such phenomena have a pathological basis; they are merely hallucinations and truly add nothing new to our understanding. The mere ability to combine external characteristics is entirely sufficient as an explanation.

[ 18 ] Theosophists must understand that such objections arise from the deepest, most serious deliberations of even the most serious-minded contemporaries. Those who have grown accustomed to scientific concepts are not easily persuaded by theosophical objections.

[ 19 ] But theosophy also involves religious, moral, and ethical attitudes and impulses. Can that really be the case?

[ 20 ] There is, of course, an initial objection: If theosophy views life in such a way that the present life is regarded as the result of past experiences, then interest in life fades away. Such a view therefore amounts to an education in fatalism. It is a paralysis of life when one can think: “I have plenty of time; many lives lie ahead of me.”—The objection is, in fact, trivial, but it is nevertheless practically correct, for people are, after all, naturally careless.

[ 21 ] And how does the prospect of a supernatural world manifest itself ethically? Necessarily in such a way that interest in practical life diminishes. One can see this, for example, in the artist, who is reluctant to devote himself to practical matters. Such a view of life makes one ascetic, hostile to life, and paralyzes rather than inspires. Indeed, one often sees among theosophists wonderful people who live in a sort of cloud-cuckoo land. Women, in particular, are easily found to have become indulgent and out of touch with reality. This cannot be refuted logically, but only by life itself.

[ 22 ] One could go on to say: You have turned ethics into a consequence of selfishness. According to your view, whoever does good expects a reward through karmic balance. Those who do evil—or intend to do so—refrain from it out of fear of the corresponding misfortune in the next life. So is the doctrine of karma actually a doctrine of education? A higher form of selfishness! What a person sows, he must reap—[this] is, in the final analysis, a selfish principle of life. Thus, Theosophy is also ethically and morally life-threatening.

[ 23 ] Furthermore, you transfer divine justice into human beings themselves by allowing them to shape their own destiny through various earthly lives. In doing so, you transfer into human beings that which otherwise exists in the divinity outside of us as a punishing or rewarding God. Human beings themselves are thereby deified. Where, then, is there room for free love of God when the divine is transferred into one’s own inner being? Into the inner being of human beings?—The opponent might say: It contradicts a truly religious worldview to transfer God’s self-sacrifice—the redemption of humanity through divine grace—into the inner being of human beings themselves.

[ 24 ] Such objections could be multiplied many times over. Devotion to an external God is a fundamental prerequisite of ethics and religion, and this finds no basis in Theosophy. – This is how it can be put; and we Theosophists must learn to understand this fully—only then can we keep ourselves free from fanaticism. Only the most important guidelines could be outlined here. They are meant to teach us tolerance, even toward our opponents. We should not seek to refute their arguments, but above all strive to understand them.

[ 25 ] Let us now use an example to illustrate how this is to be understood. In 1868, the philosopher Eduard von Hartmann wrote a book titled *The Philosophy of the Unconscious*. Although some aspects of it are unmethodical and flawed—and of no use to us—it is nonetheless based on certain intellectual foundations and touches on profound problems of existence. This book caused quite a stir upon its publication. After all, it was a time when the most extreme form of materialism reigned supreme. Strangely enough, this book particularly upset fanatical materialists such as Haeckel and other Darwinists. They found the book extraordinarily amateurish. Many counter-writings were published in response to it. One anonymous counter-writing, however, caused a particularly great stir. It presented, in a particularly incisive manner, every objection that could be raised against Eduard von Hartmann’s book—so methodically and comprehensively that, for example, Oscar Schmidt remarked: “It is a pity that the unknown author did not reveal his name.” — Haeckel himself remarked: “Let him reveal his name, and we will consider him one of our own.” — Soon a second edition of this work was necessary. It was then that this anonymous author revealed his identity—it was Eduard von Hartmann! This second edition was no longer as successful among Hartmann’s opponents—[the praise soon fell silent.]

[ 26 ] This is a good example of how one can understand one's opponent better and judge their intentions more accurately than they do themselves.

[ 27 ] Much more could be said, but we must be content with what has been said for today. It need not be the worst among us who see evil sprouting from theosophy. We must therefore strive, above all, to learn to understand our opponents.

[ 28 ] I have tried to show how theosophy can be refuted. The day after tomorrow will reveal whether this refutation is conclusive or whether arguments can still be put forward that will prove valid against this battle—which, as we have seen, can be waged with some justification.