The Rudolf Steiner Archive

6. Questions following Eugen Kolisko’s lecture on “Anthroposophy and Chemistry”

Preliminary Note: Eugen Kolisko’s lecture was not transcribed. However, Rudolf Steiner commented on it the following day in his lecture for physicians (March 31, 1920, in GA 312) as follows: “It was very interesting how Dr. Kolisko pointed out yesterday in his evening lecture that the chemistry of the future must actually be something quite different, and how the word ‘physiology’ came up again and again, which testifies to the fact that a bridge should be built between the chemical and the physiological. This kept making me think of all sorts of things that, of course, cannot yet be fully articulated in public lectures today, because the prerequisites for understanding are actually completely lacking. After all, we also find carbon in nature outside of humanity—in what I would call here seemingly non-human nature. For what, in fact, is truly non-human in the great natural world? Nothing, really, because everything that is non-human in the non-human realm immediately before us has, in the course of human development, been set apart from humanity, removed from humanity. Human beings had to enter stages of development that they could only enter because certain processes were taking place in the external world opposite them, thereby giving them the opportunity to take certain other processes into their inner being, so that there is actually always a contrast and also a kinship between certain external processes and certain internal processes.”

Following Eugen Kolisko’s lecture, the first question asked was about the effects of allopathic and homeopathic remedies. The exact wording of the question was not recorded by the stenographer.

[ 1 ] Rudolf Steiner: It is, after all, more or less accepted today—because people think in atomistic terms—that the process taking place within a substance is, in a sense, the same process that occurs within the human organism; I could also say within the animal organism. However, it is a very naturalistic assumption to entertain the idea that matter borrowed from a dead organism exhibits, so to speak, exactly the same properties as the same matter—let us say, for example, blood—when it is still within a living human or animal organism. Once we come to realize what a host of entirely unscientific assumptions and postulates exist in the established sciences, only then will we truly appreciate what is necessary to place today’s scientific worldview on a sound foundation. And so this sound foundation is also lacking for those processes that are triggered by the introduction of certain remedies into the human organism. For example, the question of how any substance we introduce into the human organism in this or that form—whether allopathic or homeopathic—actually dissolves within the human organism, and how it subsequently behaves within the human organism itself, has not been investigated. For example, no consideration is given at all to the question of what the human organism actually does with this substance. And this then leads to—I can only hint at this, as it would naturally take many hours if I were to explain it in full detail— it becomes evident from a spiritual-scientific perspective that the substances we administer to the human organism allopathically are, in a certain sense—if I may use the term—“homeopathized” by it; that is, they undergo within the organism itself the very process that homeopathic pharmacists observe in their substances through experimentation. The fact is that the mode of action of even those medicinal substances administered allopathically is by no means based on the properties attributed to them chemically today, but rather on properties they acquire only through the human organism’s processing of them with the aid of its own powers.

[ 2 ] The question of allopathy and homeopathy, when truly considered in relation to the human being, is therefore not at all whether large quantities or minute, fragmented amounts affect the human organism when they produce healing effects, for the substances do so even when administered in allopathic quantities. The question is not that at all; rather, the question is whether it is permissible to expose the human organism to the side effects caused by what is administered in the form of an allopathic substance and what is not homeopathized by the human organism itself—that is, not utilized for healing. The question is whether this method is truly permissible, so as not to burden the human organism with what is left over. Whether, of course, one administers a very large quantity when the organism needs only a small one, and whether the dispersion of the substances acts in the same way as remedies that are otherwise effective even in small quantities—this has, after all, been explained by Dr. Kolisko. So if substances are dispersed within the human organism itself and only a small quantity is necessary for this, why should one administer large quantities? It seems to me, therefore, that the question does not rest at all on what is usually cited [with regard to homeopathic and allopathic remedies], but rather that something essential [unspoken] is at stake; these questions should actually arise in other fields as well, or, shall we say, in other forms. For example, one should be clear about whether the overall perspective and way of thinking regarding the clinical picture is sounder in the field of homeopathy or in allopathy—that is to say, whether, for example, physicians who adhere to homeopathy or those who adhere to allopathy pay greater attention to the full complexity of the human organism. And here it must certainly be said that among physicians who stand on homeopathic ground, there is far more goodwill—as experience simply shows—to move away from the materialistic, atomistic conception and to adapt to certain views which, I would say, are more in harmony with the nature of the human organism.

[ 3 ] As I said, I do not wish to go into the actual discussion here, since it could easily be misunderstood when one has to explain the matter so briefly. I merely wanted to point out how, due to our scientific perspectives, questions are usually framed in such a way that they cannot be answered as they are posed; the points of view are completely shifted, and the questions are entirely framed from the perspective of materialism.

[ 4 ] I was then asked to speak about the statements in Leadbeater’s book on “occult chemistry.” Well, ladies and gentlemen, I do not wish to dwell on the word “occult” here, for it is so often misunderstood; it shocks the public, so to speak, when the word “occult” is used. But one can also simply use the term “spiritual science” or something similar. You see, the occult is only occult as long as it is not known, and to those who know it, it is no longer occult. There are many people who have every reason to call mathematics an occult science, and some sciences are occult to some people. So this is actually a concept that is quite relative in this regard. You will not find anyone who is truly capable of thinking in terms of spiritual science who would justify or acknowledge a work such as this so-called “occult chemistry.” Leadbeater’s “occult chemistry,” in its conceptual framework, is entirely modeled after ordinary materialistic atomism. This “occult chemistry” is the best proof of what certain so-called spiritual viewpoints have already come to in our materialistic age. I need only recall that in certain theosophical circles the following idea once even surfaced: People pondered what might exist across successive earthly lives so that it would carry over from one earthly life to the next, and this led to the grotesque and absurd notion of the so-called “permanent atom.” A single atom was supposed to carry over from one life—say, from so-and-so many hundred years ago—into the next life, thereby maintaining the continuity between these two lives. In other words, these spiritualists had successfully managed to think along the lines of materialistic-atomistic concepts. And following the model of ordinary atomistic chemistry, Leadbeater has now compiled his “occult chemistry” in a completely arbitrary manner—which he, however, claimed was the product of clairvoyance—but which is a completely arbitrary construct and cannot be accepted by any truly serious researcher of the spiritual sciences in the world.

[ 5 ] This is precisely the best example of how certain atomistic ideas have taken hold of humanity today—to the extent that people were able to introduce these atomistic ideas into the realm of a certain sectarian theosophical movement. This has absolutely nothing to do with what we are striving for here. And it is precisely this introduction of the atomistic-materialistic way of thinking into spiritual scientific research that shows how deeply the present age is permeated by fundamental atomistic ideas. Consider that, particularly in certain circles of English natural scientists—where, after all, one strives for outward clarity—attempts have been made to construct models for the structures described to you today, so that one might also see outwardly: yes, the atoms are arranged in various complex ways so that one can thus beautifully demonstrate why there is a left-turning and a right-turning acid. One simply needs to arrange the atoms symmetrically and can then say: Because the atoms always organize their forces in this symmetrical way, there is a left and a right. — It is simply not clear, if one can think truly logically, why the necessity for the forms to appear symmetrically should be attributed precisely to a configuration of the smallest particles. Please do not take this as a protest. For if it were truly correct that it is only through the forces of the smallest particles that one acid appears to be right-polarizing and the other left-polarizing, then it would also have to be true that the left hand could fit onto the right, because the smallest particles are shaped in this direction.

[ 6 ] These ideas have emerged in what is known as “occult chemistry,” and they have now been carried over into the concepts found in so-called occult books. There you will also find quite terrifying concepts and models of molecules or atoms. All of this has also been imitated in the realm of spiritual science; even the materialistic theory has been imitated in the spiritual perspective. I once experienced this at a congress held by so-called Theosophists—it was in Paris. Various things were discussed there about this and that, and afterward I asked someone what impression the congress had made on him. The person replied, “Oh, there were such good fluids throughout the hall.” So this person saw nothing in all the concrete ideas and so on that were expressed there other than a materialistic translation of what people said to one another into material fluid effects between the individual personalities. With these matters, one must examine the way of thinking. One is not automatically a follower of a spiritual worldview simply by speaking of spiritual beings, but only when one can speak of spiritual qualities. What you find frequently in theosophical literature today, for example, is a description of the physical body, followed by the etheric body—which is a bit more subtle, perhaps mist-like, but thoroughly material—then the astral body, which is even more subtle, but still merely more subtle matter, and so on. This continues all the way up into the highest spiritual realms—Manas, Kama-Manas, and so on—and it is actually all nothing but rarefied matter, except that in the end it becomes truly very “homeopathic.” These are the things that show that what really matters is not whether someone speaks of the spirit today, but whether they are able to point to something that truly leads into the realm of the spirit.

Question: How should further education in chemistry be approached from an anthroposophical perspective?

[ 7 ] If the phenomenology referred to by Dr. Kolisko is to be undertaken, it must be said that this question is still so broad that it can only be answered in the most general terms. Above all, it is necessary to recognize that one would first have to arrive at an appropriate phenomenology. A phenomenology is not a random compilation of mere phenomena, or a compilation of phenomena as they happen to emerge from scientifically conducted experiments; rather, a true phenomenology is a systematization of phenomena, as Goethe, for example, attempted in his Theory of Colors. It is a reduction of the more complex to the simpler, down to those foundations where one encounters the basic elements, the basic phenomena.

[ 8 ] Now, of course, I am well aware that very intelligent people will say: Yes, but if one arrives at such a framework regarding the relationship between qualitative phenomena and primordial phenomena, then such a structure is by no means comparable from the outset to the way, for example, complex geometric relationships are mathematically reduced to axioms; for the geometric relationships are, so to speak, constructed from a purely internal structure. The further development of mathematics, [based on] these axioms, is in turn experienced as a [mathematical process] perceived as an inner necessity, whereas in the construction of phenomena and primordial phenomena we are dependent on relying on the observation of external facts.

[ 9 ] But that is not the case, even if it is simply claimed—and it is, in fact, asserted more or less clearly and explicitly in the broadest sense. The fact that this is claimed is merely the result of a flawed theory of knowledge, and specifically, it is the result of a confused jumble of the concept of experience with other concepts. And this confused jumble of the concept of experience with other concepts gives rise, for example, to the following.

[ 10 ] No account is taken of the fact that the way in which experience presents itself is entirely shaped in relation to the human subject. I cannot even form the concept of experience without conceiving of the relationship between the object and the human subject. And now the question is simply this: Is there a fundamental distinction between the way in which, for example, I have a Goethean “primordial phenomenon” before me and the way in which I elaborate this primordial phenomenon into a derived phenomenon—where I am seemingly dependent on external experience to confirm what I express in my judgment? With regard to experience, is there a difference in this entire behavior of the subject toward the object compared to when, in mathematics, I state that the sum of the three angles of a triangle is 180°, or when I state the correctness of the Pythagorean theorem? Is there, in fact, a difference?

[ 11 ] The fact that there is no difference in this regard has even already become apparent in studies by quite brilliant mathematicians of the 19th century and right up to the present day, who—because they saw that, after all, mathematics is also based solely on an experience—in the sense in which one speaks of experience in the so-called empirical natural sciences—have constructed, though initially they had only constructed—a non-Euclidean geometry alongside Euclidean geometry. And one must say here: Theoretically, it is indeed entirely possible to conceive, geometrically speaking, that the three angles of a triangle add up to 380°. However, one must assume in doing so that space has a different degree of curvature. In our ordinary space, we have a regular [Euclidean] metric, which has zero curvature. Simply by imagining that space is more curved [that is, that the curvature of space is greater than 1], one arrives at a theorem such as: the sum of the three angles of a triangle is greater than 180°.

[ 12 ] There have been interesting attempts in this regard, for example by Oskar Simony, who investigated this. These efforts show that certain circles have already considered it necessary to acknowledge: Even what we express as judgments in mathematical or geometric theorems requires empirical verification just as much as what we express in phenomenology.