The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Sixth Lecture

[ 1 ] In my last two lectures, I pointed out to you that the so-called social question is not as simple as it is usually portrayed, but that one must take the complexities of human nature very seriously; one must take into account —regardless of the social structure in place or the social ideals being realized—that both social and antisocial impulses are present in human beings and must find expression. As we have seen, these antisocial impulses play a very special role, particularly in our age of the consciousness soul. In a sense, they have an educational role in the development of humanity, helping human beings to stand on their own two feet. They will be overcome by the fact that our age of the conscious soul will be followed by another age—one that is already in the making—the age of the spiritual self, which will essentially unite humanity socially. However, this will not happen as those who live in illusion dream of today, but rather in such a way that one person truly knows the other as a human being, takes an interest in them as a human being—in short, looks them in the eye—so that every single person is enabled to regard the other person as such with genuine interest.

[ 2 ] Now, what appears today as a social demand is, in a sense, a kind of vanguard or advance guard, a kind of preparation, which—because it is merely the seed for what is to come—naturally manifests itself chaotically and plays itself out in many illusions and errors into which humanity today falls, since social impulses still arise largely from the unconscious and subconscious and remain unclarified by a spiritual understanding of the world and humanity. This illusory nature is particularly strongly expressed in the development of the so-called Russian Revolution, which is, after all, especially characteristic in that, as it appears today, it has fundamentally no real connection to what is being prepared in Russia as a national character for the coming sixth post-Atlantean epoch—that is, it has been carried into this from abstractions. It is precisely the more or less illusory ideals of the present Russian Revolution that are significant for the study of this rumbling of something later within this earlier phase. One might say that the particularly characteristic figure of this Russian Revolution, Trotsky—who is the archetype of an abstract thinker living entirely in abstraction—seems to have no real inkling that there is such a thing as reality in the social life of human beings. Something conceived as entirely detached from reality is to be grafted onto reality.

[ 3 ] This is not a criticism, but merely a description. For it is precisely characteristic of our time that the tendency toward abstraction, toward thinking divorced from reality, seeks to incorporate even those maxims of reality that are simply accepted without an understanding of the laws governing that reality—maxims that are held to be absolutely correct without any regard for the complexity of life, as we study it with the help of the spiritual principles underlying external physical reality. Everything that must come into being, however, must arise from this reality. Because something that is, in the most eminent sense, utterly detached from reality is being staged here—yet within which all manner of impulses and instincts of the proletarian way of thinking are rumbling—that is precisely why what lives in the minds of today’s Russian revolutionaries as ideas seeking to be realized is so significant from this very perspective. One can indeed see how, in a relatively short period of time, people with the most diverse outlooks on life have participated in shaping the revolutionary movement, particularly in Russia. As the situation in Russia came to a head, the actual social question of the present became pressing under the influence of the catastrophe of war. And from this pressing issue of property, the so-called February Revolution in Russia then developed in March 1917, which initially aimed, in essence, to overthrow the state powers standing behind property ownership. Soon, however, this purely political—or, outwardly, political—form of revolution was superseded; I would say, by the first stage of revolutionary thought—as embodied by those people who, in Trotsky’s terminology, might be described as the “people of understanding,” that is, those who, through all manner of considerations, through all manner of intelligent concepts, ideas, and notions—as well as intelligent feelings translated into concepts—sought to bring about a social structure. These revolutionaries included, above all, those who had already been involved to a greater or lesser extent in shaping the social structure—the intellectual, commercial, and industrial circles—all of whom, to a greater or lesser extent, assumed that they could bring about some form of social organization based on reason.

[ 4 ] But with a certain justification—albeit only a relative and one-sided one—Trotsky regards these people, who seek to bring about a social structure in this way through all manner of considerations, good intentions, and good will, as mere obstructers of the revolution—as people who are, after all, incapable of anything, who, after all, can do nothing. And from the observations I have made here before you, you will know that the proletarian worldview is, above all, directed toward rejecting such considerations, no matter how clever they may be, no matter how firmly they may be grounded in the views of those whom Trotsky calls “chatterboxes” or “windbags” because they can speak intelligently. These rational arguments are rejected by the proletarian worldview, and this rejection stems from a certain instinct that has gradually developed into a specific theory within Marxism. These things are simply not believed in; it is not believed that any reasonable considerations—no matter how well-intentioned they may be—can bring about any corresponding social structure in the future. The proletariat believes solely that these ideas are born in the minds of the proletarians themselves—in the minds of the propertyless masses—out of the economic conditions in which these proletarians find themselves, and that they can never be born within the bourgeoisie or any other class, because the bourgeoisie, by virtue of its own ideas, must necessarily think differently. Only within the working class can the ideas arise that alone are capable of leading to a future social order.

[ 5 ] When one considers this, the inevitable conclusion for a mind such as Trotsky’s, for example, must be that there is nothing else to do but strip the propertied bourgeoisie of its property and bring the propertyless class to power. This is also something that has been brewing in such minds for decades and which, now that the great crisis has struck Russia, they wish to bring into Russia. It was to be brought in through the so-called October Revolution, after the others—let us call them parties, for the sake of argument—had been eliminated by the proletariat’s seizure of power. From this perspective—which is, of course, a purely abstract one and is concrete only insofar as it aligns and directs the entire matter toward a specific class of people, which is, after all, a reality—the Russian Revolution has been led by its leading figures since October 1917.

[ 6 ] Now, certain difficulties arise for such revolutionary thinking. These difficulties arise with particular intensity in Russia, which, as you can see from our considerations in the humanities, has very specific preconditions. These difficulties are rooted in the structure of classes throughout the entire world; they merely became particularly pronounced due to the circumstances in Russia. The first major difficulty is, of course, that the entire social and political leadership of humanity is now to be taken over by a class that was previously excluded from everything, a class that previously had no connection whatsoever to what constituted so-called culture. The proletarian, who is actually taking the helm, has above all been excluded from all the impulses that formed the basis of the former centers of power. He had, so to speak, nothing to offer but his own labor power—his physical manual labor. This is true across all countries. Consequently, in every country where the revolution rears its head, the following will hold true: initially, the proletariat will take the lead as a mere political group; yet in a certain sense, everything will remain the same—that is, those who have hitherto managed the administration will remain in the posts they have been trained for, for they are the ones with technical expertise. So nothing changes other than that laypeople—one might say a lay council—will step into the entire traditional administrative apparatus. But the point is that this lay council embodies a very specific type—namely, the proletarian type—and consists of proletarians. Since it is to consist of proletarians, it must also be certain to uphold the maxim: Only from the proletarian mind can that which will provide leadership in the future emerge; no one else may participate. — Therefore, this future leadership cannot be left to a National Assembly or a Constituent Assembly, for such a Constituent Assembly would be nothing more than, in a sense, a continuation of what existed before. But what is to come must be a radical upheaval. There is no need to hold elections in the first place. Those who are to lead are simply there by virtue of belonging to the proletariat: not some National Assembly, not some Constituent Assembly, but the dictatorship of the proletariat. — But this initially presented the difficulty that the proletariat, as I said, must be described as untrained; that from its untrained standpoint, it could actually exercise control only over those who, coming from the old order, were running the administration—and who were thus, in fact, still attached to the interests of the old order. Thus, particularly in Russia, those who had now risen to the top as the proletariat—who previously had nothing to do with anything that involved the state apparatus—found themselves confronted with what remained of that former state apparatus. They had to view the matter—as was indeed mostly the case in reality—in such a way that all the people who had come over from the former state apparatus were acting on the basis of ideas derived from that system. They thus carried the interests of the old bourgeois state into the state that was to be subject solely to the dictatorship of the proletariat. They acted just as an enemy would not conduct its affairs openly—in a war or a counterrevolution—but rather by introducing into enemy territory everything from its own country intended to have a destructive effect on the other. Thus, the proletarians coming to power in Russia perceived the activities of the old state apparatus as sabotage. And their first effort was to overcome this sabotage, which consisted in the fact that what was being introduced into the new system they sought to establish could, in reality, serve only as the pillars of the old order. It is exactly the same process as, for example, when—without openly initiating any hostility—a citizen of one country introduces toxic substances into a foreign country and poisons its fields and soil so that nothing grows there. At first, therefore, the proletarians perceived what came from this old bureaucracy as sabotage. Their most intense measures were initially directed at overcoming this sabotage. They did not hold back at all; they simply tried to root out everything that was detrimental to them, root and branch. And in fact, a man like Trotsky, for example, is convinced that this sabotage has already been overcome to a certain extent today. Those who did anything that did not conform to proletarian thinking were driven out, and so on.

[ 7 ] But simply combating so-called sabotage does not resolve the difficulty—as Trotsky himself quite clearly recognizes. He acknowledges that the entire old administrative apparatus must be retained—but it must be made subservient to the leadership of the proletariat. Trotsky, for example, sees this as the first major difficulty. It is something he believes he can overcome with his abstract methods, but which he will not be able to overcome in this way. This is where the illusion begins, precisely because Trotsky is a mind detached from reality. This illusion is rooted in the abstraction that one can simply turn the entire body of, let’s say, technical officials, intellectuals, and businesspeople into servants of a collegium of proletarians that dictates policy. It is a disbelief in the nature of psychological and spiritual life that speaks through this illusion. If one clings to the old ideas, if one does not regard as correct what I have often emphasized here—that social transformation must arise from new ideas—if one simply rehires the old technicians, the old bureaucrats, the old generals, if one simply adopts the old ways without, above all, embracing the new through education, then after some time things will rise up exactly as they were before. That is to say, one will not overcome it, but will simply continue it. One can overcome sabotage for a time through coercive measures, but it will rear its head again and again; for precisely because it is true that human beings are dependent on the situation in which they find themselves—and they have been dependent for three to four centuries, which is true of recent history— then, unless one makes them independent of their circumstances through effective thoughts—which, however, can only arise from spiritual life—they will always fall back, like a cat landing on its feet, into their old ways of thinking and thus into their old ways of acting.

[ 8 ] This is one of the points where this way of thinking turns out to be illusory, completely detached from reality. I could cite many such points; but my aim is simply to illustrate the specific nature of this way of thinking. I want to show you, through individual examples, how this way of thinking proves to be detached from reality. One cannot simply imagine that this or that should happen; rather, one must take into account the lawful impulses that exist in reality. If one does not live in harmony with them, one inevitably succumbs to illusions. And one of the most significant illusions in Trotsky’s thinking, for example, is this: Trotsky knows that, due to the particularly severe oppression experienced by the broad masses—including the peasant proletariat, if one may call it that—precisely in Russia, conditions there were bound to become extremely acute. He knows that the form the revolution takes under these particular conditions cannot lead to victory. He is out of touch with reality, but not so out of touch that he would fail to reasonably recognize that, even in a territory as vast as this—which is nevertheless a small area in relation to the entire world—one cannot unilaterally bring about a new social structure under present-day conditions. That is why Trotsky counted on the proletariat to carry out a revolution throughout the entire civilized world and did not succumb to the illusion that the Russian Revolution could triumph on its own. He knew that it depended on the victory of the proletarian revolution throughout the entire world.

[ 9 ] Well, it was precisely into these ideas that the entire abstract character of Trotsky’s conception found its expression. Trotsky believed in a worldwide proletarian revolution; he believed that, little by little, the war would take on such a character that a kind of proletarian revolution would sweep across the entire world, and that the war would transform itself into a proletarian revolution.

[ 10 ] Well, this military catastrophe will yet take on all sorts of forms. But reality has already amply demonstrated that this Trotskyist idea is, in fact, divorced from reality. It would only be realistic if this military catastrophe had ended in general exhaustion, if a so-called victory—one that came about in a peculiar way—had not been achieved by one side, a victory that simply dispels any hope that exhaustion would spread evenly across the civilized world. What is actually happening is the decisive hegemony of the Western powers, coupled with the complete dependence of the Central and Eastern powers. Complete domination of the Central and Eastern Powers by the Western Powers—that is what has initially emerged as the driving force, and it could not have been otherwise. This was clear to anyone who understood the reality of the situation. But Trotsky is simply out of touch with reality; otherwise, he would have to admit today: “Events have proven me wrong.” — He uttered a statement that is not without merit if one thinks purely in abstract terms—a statement that is very witty. He said: The bourgeois outlook on life today has no choice but between perpetual war and revolution. Things have turned out differently. A so-called victory of the Western powers has occurred—neither perpetual war nor revolution. And what is taking shape in the West contains no seeds of any proletarian revolution; rather, it involves the transformation of the entire West into a state-organized big bourgeoisie that stands in opposition to the proletariat of Central and Eastern Europe.

[ 11 ] One might say that this is the outcome of world history—one that will, of course, change again, but which exists for now. This is reality. So Trotsky would simply have to reconsider his position entirely today if he were to look at reality. He would have to ask himself: How, under these circumstances, can what I hoped to achieve with the Russian Revolution prevail, since one of the most important prerequisites—the world revolution of the proletariat—will not come to pass? — If he still counts on this world revolution today, that is precisely proof of his detachment from reality.

[ 12 ] In yet another respect, the unrealistic way of thinking of such a revolutionary is revealed in a curious way. Of course, even such revolutionaries have always pointed out that the greatest evil is so-called Prussian-German militarism, that it must be overcome, that it must be eradicated. Well, developments have indeed led to Prussian-German militarism being eliminated; but Entente militarism will exert a very considerable influence in the near future! But I do not wish to speak of that at all; rather, I want to address the point that Trotsky himself felt compelled to discuss: What, then, is one of the most important immediate tasks of the Russian Revolution if it is to survive? — His answer to that is: The creation of an army! That is precisely what Trotsky identifies as the next, most important task!

[ 13 ] These things should certainly be taken into account; they should certainly be understood. For only when one truly takes these things into account and sees through them does one come to say to oneself: I must now look a little deeper into the impulses of humanity if I am to form ideas about what is to become of the chaos that the catastrophe of war has gradually brought about. Today, however, humanity is still quite reluctant to engage with such impulses as I have developed here—from a wide variety of perspectives—as the true, the only possible social impulses. But humanity would be able to engage with them if it would simply resolve to take a closer look at the real forces at work in human development.

[ 14 ] There is one word that is incredibly characteristic and keeps cropping up in the minds of Russian revolutionaries. What do these proletarian dictators actually want, all things considered? They want to turn the world into one big factory—a factory permeated by a kind of bank accounting system that extends across the entire group that can be encompassed. — The old technicians, the old bureaucrats, even the old generals—we’ll certainly make use of them for our proletarian dictatorship! But we must keep the books in our own hands—the accounting for the entire economy, that is, the factory office! — This is hardly surprising, for the entire movement has emerged from modern industry. If one were only to consider that it emerged from the proletariat of modern industry, one would not be surprised that the mindset of this proletariat—which was shaped by what it witnessed in the factories—is to be applied to everything that can now be brought under control. It is, of course, the result and consequence of the fact that the bourgeoisie did not pay attention to the fact that this proletariat had developed on such a massive scale in recent times. And even if it was necessary for the bourgeoisie to turn a blind eye, so to speak, and quietly let everything come to pass, it is by no means necessary that the even more important conditions—the driving forces at work in the world—should now also be ignored; for without taking these driving forces into account, there is no way to come to terms with social tasks. One must understand how diverse humanity is across the entire globe—as I already mentioned yesterday or the day before. One must realize that the people living in the West are different from those in the East and in the center, and that one cannot bring about any kind of social transformation with abstract ideas without taking reality into account. The Russian Revolution will be doomed to failure because of its detachment from reality, just as it was because of its great illusion.

[ 15 ] People who, by virtue of their upbringing, are socially free beings—that is, free insofar as those who hold power can exercise whatever lies within that power—can, for a time, transform such illusions into reality. But reality rejects them because it has no use for them. Reality accepts only what is in keeping with the course of that reality. We must not forget that the most important thing is that we are living in the age of the development of the consciousness soul, and that this development of the consciousness soul is taking place across the entire Earth in a sharply differentiated form.

[ 16 ] Let us now consider, in light of the most important European distinctions—those expressed, so to speak, through language—the various impulses that underlie the civilized world. I have often explained to you how the actual seed for the development of the conscious soul lies within the English-speaking population. It is important to bear this in mind. For everything that, if I may put it this way, the world becomes under the influence of the English-speaking population is connected to this. The English-speaking population—I am never speaking of the individual human being, but of the national character—is endowed with all the impulses that lead precisely to the emergence of the soul of consciousness. The fact is that this inclination toward the conscious soul arises instinctively there in a way that is entirely different from that of the rest of humanity. Nowhere else in the world does this—I would say—spiritualized instinct to develop the conscious soul exist as it does in the English national character. There, it is instinct. And nowhere else is this a matter of instinct, not even in the Romanic culture that has become integrated into the English-speaking population. Romanic culture is actually a descendant of what truly lived during the fourth post-Atlantean epoch. At that time, this Romanic culture possessed the instincts for what had been particularly developed during the fourth post-Atlantean epoch. Now its instincts are no longer elemental in the same way, but have been rationalized and intellectualized; they manifest as rhetoric, through the intellect and the soul, as a decorative form. They have been detached from the instinctive. That which appears as—I would say—national temperament in Roman culture is entirely different from what appears as national temperament in English culture. In English culture, this tendency toward the conscious soul, this striving of the individual to stand on one’s own two feet, is instinct.

[ 17 ] The task of the fifth post-Atlantic epoch, then, is rooted precisely in this national character as an instinct, as an impulse arising instinctively from the very depths of the soul. You see, the entire position of this national character in the world is connected to this. It is connected to the fact that, within the social structure of the English-speaking population, this impulse is the defining, decisive factor—one that can suppress the other tendencies. The other tendencies, as you can see from my remarks, are—according to the framework I have provided for the social question—the economic impulse and the impulse of intellectual production. But just consider, from a psychological perspective, the national character of the English-speaking population: the other two—the economic impulse and the impulse toward intellectual production—are entirely overshadowed by that which arises from the instinctive impulse that tends toward the development of the conscious soul.

[ 18 ] As a result, the branches that must shape the social life of the future take on a very special character, particularly within the English-speaking world. These three areas must prove to be particularly effective in the future and must set the tone: First, politics, which ensures security. Second, the organization of labor—purely material labor—that is, the economic order, the economic system. That is the second. The third is the system of intellectual production, to which—as I told you at the time—I also count jurisprudence and the judicial system. These three components of the social structure are, of course, overshadowed by what serves as the main driving force behind any differentiation of a people. Because the development toward the soul of consciousness—standing on one’s own two feet—instinctively operates within the English-speaking people, politics, as history so abundantly teaches, occupies the most prominent place among them. This politics is entirely dominated by the instinctive drive to set people on their own two feet, to fully develop the soul of consciousness. Because this impulse is instinctive—and instincts are always rooted in self-interest (this is merely a characterization, not a criticism)—it leads to a situation within the English-speaking people where self-interest and political goals coincide entirely; that all politics, in a completely naive way—and without any blame being placed on any politician among the English-speaking population—can be placed in the service of self-interest and, precisely through this, fulfills the mission of the English-speaking people. Only in this way can you begin to grasp the true nature of English politics, which, after all, sets the tone for the entire population of the Earth. For everywhere, English politics is regarded as an ideal—the parliamentary system with its ebb and flow of majorities and minorities, and so on. If you study the conditions in the various parliaments as they have developed, you will see everywhere that British politics set the tone precisely for political life. But as it spread to peoples with different characteristics, it could no longer remain the same, because it is rooted—and rightly so—in self-interest, in the egoism that is necessarily inherent in all instinctive behavior.

[ 19 ] This is also the difficulty in understanding that arises when people try to comprehend English or American politics. They fail to take into account the nuance that must necessarily be taken into account: that this policy must be self-serving, that it must be based entirely on self-serving impulses. By its very nature, it must be based on self-serving impulses. It will therefore regard these self-serving impulses as self-evident, as just, as moral. There is absolutely nothing to object to here. This cannot be subject to criticism, but must simply be recognized as a world-historical, indeed even cosmic, necessity. Nor can it be refuted, for the simple reason that anyone who seeks to refute it on the basis of English national character is always, I might say, on the wrong track. For moral reasons—which are entirely irrelevant here—he seeks to deny that the politics of English folklore is self-serving. But moral reasons are entirely irrelevant here. It is precisely through this instinctive character, through this self-interest, that it achieves what it does and produces its results.

[ 20 ] Therefore, in our fifth post-Atlantic period, the element of violence is, so to speak, assigned to this English-speaking population. Recall the three elements in Goethe’s “Fairy Tale”: violence, appearance or illusion, and wisdom, knowledge. Of these three elements, violence is assigned to the English-speaking people. Whatever they bring about politically in the world, they will be able to achieve it because acting through violence is, in a sense, one of their innate characteristics. And acting through violence will be accepted as a matter of course in the fifth post-Atlantean epoch. English politics will be accepted throughout the world—of course, one will be able to sharply criticize all the harms that are, in reality, always present on the physical plane; indeed, the citizens of the British Empire themselves can do so—but it will be accepted. It is simply part of the course of history that it is accepted, and indeed without people giving it a second thought, without seeking any reasons whatsoever. The reasons would be of no use anyway, because it is simply an immediate matter of course that the power coming from this side is accepted.

[ 21 ] This is not the case with the scattered Romanic population. In a sense, they live in the shadow—the temporal shadow—of what they were during the fourth post-Atlantean epoch. Their instincts have been transformed into intellectual faculties. There, the instincts are no longer so elemental. Consequently, English politics is taken for granted, whereas French politics is accepted only by those whom it is able to please. The French character is loved throughout the world insofar as it pleases. English culture, however, does not depend on this at all; rather, it is attuned to the naturalness with which, arising from its instincts, contemporary politics falls to it as something effective. Thus, it is also possible that, precisely within the English-speaking population, through the prevailing drive toward selfishness and power—which fits into politics and through which world domination necessarily falls to them— economic life is kept in check and subordinated, and that intellectual life, insofar as it belongs to the fifth post-Atlantean epoch, is also placed in the service of this politics, so that everything is unified in a certain way in the service of politics.

[ 22 ] For this reason alone, Marxism is wrong for the English-speaking world. For Marxism presupposes that politics is an appendage of the economic order. It is not, simply because of the instincts toward the soul of consciousness that are forming within the English-speaking population. It is not through any kind of argumentation, through discussion, or through anything else that happens in the world that a Marxist order is prevented, but rather because the British Empire is built on a different foundation of reality than that upon which Marxism—and the Marxist-minded proletariat—is built. This is the great contrast between the Marxist-minded proletariat and that which, arising from instinctive life, enables the British Empire to exert its influence over the world. It is not the banking institution or the accounting system that Trotsky wishes to introduce in Russia that will succeed, but rather the great banking institution, the great financial institution, toward which the English-speaking people are organized by virtue of their particular dispositions. This becomes clear precisely when one examines how each distinct national character, in its particular differentiation, relates to the three elements that I have presented to you as grounded in reality.

[ 23 ] There is something else to consider, something extraordinarily important. The distinction I spoke to you about goes so far that the person who does not strive to break away from their national identity, but rather strives toward it—and politics, after all, strives toward national identity—that person has entirely different experiences with the Guardian of the Threshold than the one who strives to break away from their national identity. Here I come to the very point which, if you study it thoroughly, will give you a basis for distinguishing between salutary occultism—which naturally occurs throughout the entire world without distinction of national character—and that form of occultism which, as in the case of the societies I have spoken to you about, places itself in the political service of the national character and works from there. You may ask: How can I tell the difference? — You can distinguish between them by considering these major distinguishing features that I will outline for you today.

[ 24 ] In order to attain true occultism—one that serves all of humanity—every person must outgrow their national identity; in a certain sense—and here we may use the Indian expression—they must become a “homeless” person. They must not identify with any particular national culture in relation to the innermost essence of their soul; they must not harbor impulses that serve only a single national culture if they wish to progress in true occultism. But that form of occultism which seeks to serve a specific national culture in a limited way encounters something quite special at the Guardian of the Threshold. For all those who seek occult development within the societies of the English-speaking population, something is revealed by the Keeper of the Threshold: at the very moment they seek to cross the threshold, they discover what lies within the deeper human nature—which comes to light precisely when one enters the supersensible world—in the form of forces that are of the same nature as the destructive forces of the universe. This is the vision encountered at the Guardian of the Threshold. When these people are initiated into such an occult society up to the threshold, they learn to recognize the evil forces of illness and death, of all that is paralyzing and destructive. For when the same forces that cause death out in nature—that is, the destructive forces—which also act within us, when these forces bring about insight within us, it is this insight that arises in those societies. It is an occult insight. It is the specifically occult insight that arises in these societies. One certainly enters the supersensible world; one need only pass the Guardian of the Threshold. But one must pass the Guardian of the Threshold in such a way that one experiences coming to know death in its true form, as it lives within ourselves and out in nature.

[ 25 ] This stems from the fact that Ahrimanic forces dwell in external nature as it exists around us today. Within this external nature, you cannot perceive any forces other than Ahrimanic ones, as long as you remain within it. You may encounter the manifestation of such forces, which enter the external natural world in a ghostly manner. Hence the West’s inclination toward spiritualism—toward seeing such figures that actually belong to the sensory-physical world, which are not visible in ordinary life but can be made visible under special circumstances. They are all powers of death, destructive powers, Ahrimanic powers. Throughout the entire vast realm of spiritualist gatherings, there are no spirits other than Ahrimanic ones—even where the spiritualist gatherings are genuine—for these are the spirits one takes with oneself from the sensory world when crossing the threshold. They come along; they pursue one there. One crosses the threshold, and one’s companions are the Ahrimanic demons—whom one had not seen before, but whom one sees on the other side—the servants of death, disease, destruction, and so on. This stirs one to supersensible knowledge; it leads one into the supersensible world.

[ 26 ] All those who are educated and instructed in this way in occultism have significant experiences. For this is a significant experience that I have spoken to you about, but one that is based on devoting oneself not to a universal occultism, but to the occultism of a particular people. This distinction exists. And if you are told anywhere in the world: “When you cross the threshold, you will first and foremost encounter the evil forces of illness and death”—then you can recognize from this that the occultist in question comes from that corner I have often referred to, simply from the experience he shares with you regarding what he encountered with the Keeper of the Threshold.

[ 27 ] The situation is different for the German-speaking population. The German-speaking population also has something—I would say—inherent in it. The English-speaking population has imbued its sphere of global power with Roman culture; the German-speaking population has something that does not come from the past, but is rather like a flash of lightning from the future: Slavic culture. Slavic culture, which begins in Russia, is the future; it is, after all, only present there in its embryonic form; but the Slavs who have advanced there are outposts, flashes of lightning for what is in the making. In a certain sense, they reveal the flash of lightning from the future of the Central European-German world, just as Roman culture reveals the shadow of the past of the Western, English-speaking world. .

[ 28 ] But this German element itself does not possess an instinctive predisposition for the development of the conscious soul; rather, it possesses only the predisposition through which it can educate itself to become a conscious soul. While the British therefore possess an instinctive predisposition for the development of the conscious soul, the Central European German must be educated in this direction if he is to awaken the conscious soul within himself in any way. He can acquire this only through education. Since the age of the conscious soul is at the same time the age of intellectuality, the German, if he wishes in any way to awaken the conscious soul within himself, must become an intellectual person. This is why the German has sought his connection to the conscious soul primarily through intellectuality, not through instinctive life. Consequently, the tasks of the Germans have, so to speak, been accomplished only by those who have, in a certain way, taken their self-education into their own hands. Those who are merely instinct-driven remain untouched by this stirring of the conscious soul and, in a certain sense, lag behind.

[ 29 ] That is also the reason why the British people are instinctively inclined toward politics from the outset, whereas the German people are an apolitical people, with no inclination toward politics whatsoever. If it wishes to engage in politics, it faces a great danger, which will become particularly clear to you when you consider that German culture has taken it upon itself to introduce into the world, in the intellectual realm, the element that is the second element. Britishness: power; the German element: the manifest—call it “appearance” if you will—the articulation of thoughts, that which, in a certain sense, is not grounded in the earth. In British culture, everything is grounded in the earth. In German culture, it is a matter of something that is not grounded in the earth, but rather is developed dialectically. Consider the intellectuality of the Germans; you can compare it to that of the Greeks, except that the Greeks shaped appearance in relation to the nature of imagery, whereas the Germans have shaped appearance particularly in relation to the nature of intellectualization. After all, there is nothing more beautiful than that which has been developed through Goetheanism, through Novalis, through Schelling, through all these spirits who are, in fact, artists of thought. This makes the Germans an apolitical people. If they are to be political, they are no match for a person who thinks politically by instinct.

[ 30 ] Of the three things listed in Goethe’s “Fairy Tale”—violence, appearance, and knowledge—the Germans in the intellectual age have been assigned the task of shaping the appearance of intellectuality. If he now wishes to intervene in politics, he faces the danger of bringing into reality that which is beautiful within the realm of thought; this is the phenomenon exemplified by Treitschke, for instance. When confronted with reality, what is beautiful precisely in its appearance—“appearance” and “beauty” even share a similar etymological origin—becomes, because it does not lie within one’s own nature, something that is not truly connected to the human being, something that can actually remain a mere assertion, which must then give the world the impression of insincerity. For the great danger—which must of course be overcome, but is not always overcome—lies in the fact that the German not only lies when he is being polite, but that he is also capable of lying when he seeks to apply his very best talents to a field for which he has no innate aptitude, but for which his aptitude can only be cultivated, and for which he must make an effort.

[ 31 ] I said a few years ago: The Englishman is something; the German can only become something. That is why German culture is so difficult; that is why, in German and Austro-German culture, only individual personalities who have taken matters into their own hands ever stand out, while the masses want to be ruled and do not want to engage at all with the ideas that are ingrained in the instincts of the English-speaking population. That is also why the Central European population succumbed to such lusts for power as those of the Habsburgs and Hohenzollerns—precisely because of its apolitical nature, since entirely different necessities arise when the German seeks to fulfill his mission. He must be educated for this task. He must, so to speak, be moved by what Goethe brought to life in *Faust*—the development of the human being between birth and death.

[ 32 ] This is evident once again in the case of the Guardian of the Threshold. If someone remains rooted in German folklore and encounters the Guardian of the Threshold, they will not perceive—as do those British societies I have spoken of—the evil servants of illness and death. This is precisely how you can make the distinction if you truly take these things to heart. Above all, however, they notice how Ahrimanic and Luciferic forces—the former storming in from the physical world, the latter rushing in from the spiritual world—are locked in battle with one another, and how this battle must be viewed, because it is in fact a struggle that endures without end, because one can never come to say: “There will be victory.” One makes oneself known to the Guardian of the Threshold through what constitutes the actual, real foundation of doubt—that which lives in the world as a constantly intensifying, unresolved struggle, which causes one to waver, yet at the same time trains one to view the world from the most diverse perspectives. And this will be the special mission—despite everything and all of this—of German culture: that from this perspective it will engage with world culture, also as German culture. Through its distinctive national character, certain things—which I wish to touch upon today, for example, in the realm of knowledge—can be developed only through the German national character.

[ 33 ] Darwinism, in its materialistic form, arose from British folklore. This is an entirely correct principle—you can read about it in my *Riddles of Philosophy*—that organic beings have developed gradually from the imperfect to the perfect, all the way up to human beings. The perfect is derived from the imperfect—this principle is absolutely correct when one considers the physical world and approaches the powers of death and destruction at the Guardian of the Threshold. But one can also say it another way: that the imperfect is derived from the perfect. Read the chapter on Preuß in the second volume of my *Riddles of Philosophy*. One can equally demonstrate that the Perfect existed first and that the Imperfect arose through decadence; that human beings existed first, and that the other kingdoms of nature descend from them through decadence. For this is just as true! The situation in which the discerning human being finds himself at the moment when he must say to himself: “One is correct, the other is correct”—to recognize this situation in all its fruitfulness was, in fact, granted by folklore only to the German people. Nowhere else in the world is this understood at all. People around the world do not understand that people can argue about this for a long time—that one can claim, like Darwin, that perfect beings descend from imperfect ones; or that another can claim, like Schelling, that imperfect beings descend from perfect ones. They are both right, albeit from different points of view. If one considers the spiritual process, the imperfect derives from the perfect; if one considers the physical process, the perfect derives from the imperfect.

[ 34 ] Consequently, the whole world is conditioned to cling to one-sided truths. The Germans are, I would say, tragically condemned to numb themselves against their own nature if they wish to dwell on a one-sided truth. If they develop their own inclinations, they will immediately realize—if they delve even a little deeper—that whenever one makes any assertion about the interconnections of the world, the opposite of that assertion is also true. And only by considering both together is it possible to see reality. One learns to recognize this clearly at the Guardian of the Threshold when one witnesses the battle between the spirits that accompany one out of the physical world all the way to the Guardian of the Threshold, and those that rush toward them from the other, the supersensible world—spirits that are, however, completely unnoticed by the societies I have spoken of.

[ 35 ] The situation is different still for the population that actually speaks a Slavic language. As I have already said, the Western Slavs are, in a certain sense, interspersed among the German-speaking population of Central Europe. Just as Roman culture is the shadow of the past, so too are the intermingled Western Slavs—with whom the German-speaking population has been linked to the east—the flash of lightning foreshadowing what is to emerge from Slavic culture in the future. In this way, they reveal, in a certain opposite manner, what the Romance-speaking population reveals within the English-speaking world. The West Slavs, too, are organized for intellectual life in the age of the consciousness soul, but they mystify it; they transform it into mysticism. The Germans are apolitical. The West Slavs are also apolitical, but they tend to bring the spiritual world down into the physical world; they are already doing this in their present-day lives. In this way, they possess the opposite characteristic of, for example, the French or the Italians. The Italians and the French are, in their politics, dependent on how they please others; England’s politics are accepted as a matter of course, whether they are liked or not. France’s politics depended on how the French pleased people; the effectiveness of what they did depended on that. They were, after all, very popular at certain times. With the West Slavs, it is different. Their politics depend on how unsympathetic their spiritual nature appears to the German-speaking population. They are dependent on how they fail to please. And you can study the fate of the Czechs, Poles, Slovenes, Serbs, and Western Slavs: it is determined by the extent to which they are unsympathetic and fail to please the Central European population. Relations with the French, Italians, or Spaniards are determined by how much they are liked; relations with the Poles, Slovenes, Czechs, and Serbs are determined by how much they are disliked. If you study history, you will find this statement wonderfully confirmed, because one is connected to the past and the other to the future.

[ 36 ] The situation is quite different for the Slavic population of the East, which holds within itself the seed of the future. The fact is that burgeoning spirituality is the fundamental character, the most elementary essence, of this Slavic population. Therefore, for example, the Russian people—to an even greater degree than the broad masses of the German population, who merely allow their individualities to burst forth from within themselves—are dependent on the individuality that, from outside the national character, receives the revelation of what the national character is meant to reveal. Therefore, for a long time to come—until the dawn of the sixth post-Atlantean epoch—Russian folk culture will remain a culture of revelation. The Russian relies on the seer more than any other person, yet he is also receptive to what the seer brings him.

[ 37 ] The English-speaking people are simply led by their politics to what they are naturally predisposed to do. The German-speaking population is led by its politics to something that does not actually suit them, which can very easily lead them into murky waters, into dishonesty, especially when they give in to their instincts, whereas they can never drift into murky waters if those who truly represent the German national character—those who strive for intellectuality—exercise the necessary self-discipline. For the others have not yet attained the true essence of the German national character; they live below that level. This is even more the case with Russian national character. The Russian national character is not only apolitical like the German one, but antipolitical. Consequently, British politics will be self-serving, while German politics will veer toward a dreamy idealism that need not have much to do with reality—with everything that is untruthful (and I do not mean this in a moral sense), with everything theoretical, for everything theoretical is untruthful. Russian politics must be thoroughly untrue, for it is a foreign element; it is not suited to the Russian character. If the Russian is to become political out of his very nature, he would rather fall ill, for within the Russian national character, becoming “political” means falling ill; it means absorbing destructive forces within oneself. The Russian is anti-political, not merely apolitical. He can be overwhelmed by politicians such as those who stood at the starting point of this warlike catastrophe. But they do not act as Russians; rather, they act as something entirely different. The Russian, however, becomes ill when he is expected to be a politician, for he has nothing to do with politics when he remains within his national character. He is concerned with something else: with what the “third power” signifies according to Goethe’s “fairy tale,” with the insight and wisdom that are to dawn within humanity’s sixth post-Atlantean epoch.

[ 38 ] This is how the threefold division is distributed: force, appearance, knowledge—West, Center, East. This must be taken into account. Because, fundamentally, this Russian nature becomes sickened by politics, it can initially be expected to tolerate a policy such as Bolshevism in its most extreme, most radical form; for one might just as well instill something else in it. It is not merely apolitical; it is anti-political.

[ 39 ] These things are also evident in the Keeper of the Threshold. What the Russian, when he remains within his Russian identity as an occultist, perceives most clearly in the case of the Keeper of the Threshold are the spirits rushing in from the other side, from the supersensible realm. He does not see the spirits who accompany him; he does not see the struggle of the spirits; above all, he sees the spirits rushing in from the other side. He sees those spirits who are, so to speak, full of light. He does not see death; he does not see ruin; he sees that which, through its sublimity, causes a person to be, as it were, overwhelmed—that which, above all, fills him with the great danger of becoming humble and ever more humble, of throwing himself to his knees before the sublime. The dazzling effect of what comes over—that is the danger for the Russian, who stands as an occultist within his own folk tradition, when he encounters the Guardian of the Threshold.

[ 40 ] Yes, one must take such things into account if one wants to see the true reality. That is how things are in the world; that is how things work. Abstractions are not enough. Humanity has never been able to get by with abstractions. In earlier periods, humanity relied on instincts. But only one instinct remains among the English-speaking population in its spiritualized form: the instinct to develop the conscious soul. The rest must be consciously acquired. And that is what characterizes the world—that these things must be consciously acquired. Without knowledge of the forces at work within humanity—which we have discussed again today—it is impossible even to think of saying anything meaningful about social matters. One speaks like a blind person describing color when discussing social reform without knowing the object to which this reform is supposed to apply.

[ 41 ] This is what compels one, time and again, to remind people that the time has indeed come when human beings must take learning seriously throughout their lives, and must not treat it as a game. With the qualities we develop in the future based on our inherited predispositions, we are sufficient for life at most until the age of 27—and in the future, this will be at an ever-earlier age. You know this from earlier reflections. We need something that sustains us throughout our entire lives as human beings in the process of becoming—not as beings who are already complete, finished, or fully formed. Humanity will come to understand many things—especially regarding the social question—from these insights. It will correct many of the illusory ideas it holds today, and much does indeed need to be corrected. One can already say: The task facing humanity—you might call it a difficult one—but it can be accomplished. Just think for a moment that you are sitting here, knowing these things now. But do not regard yourselves as particularly select individuals because of this; rather, consider that there will be many others out there in the world who can understand the same things. It is not impossible for these ideas to truly take root in humanity. So the obstacle is merely an artificially erected one. This artificially erected obstacle is, admittedly, a terrible one; but it must be overcome, because there is no salvation in any other way. Let everyone, in their own place, do whatever is possible to overcome the difficulties in this area.

[ 42 ] There is much, very much for humanity to do, if only we allow ourselves to be imbued with the gravity of the task: first, to gain insight into reality, not to drift through life in a dull, drowsy state, and above all, not to let humanity drift through life in a dull, drowsy state. — When you meet people today, you realize how little they are actually inclined to engage with such matters. We have, after all, lived through the last four or four and a half years, my dear friends! Time and again, one could see even well-meaning and quite intelligent people coming forward with all sorts of plans for the future—and what a variety of such plans there are out there in the world! People come up with all sorts of ideas, but from the outset these things are not for the good; rather, they are either trivialities or a source of harm to people—trivialities if no one takes them seriously, and a source of harm if they are taken seriously. There is only one thing one needs to set out to do: first and foremost, to become acquainted with reality. Then one will not think: “I can found an association, I can do this or that”—but rather one will feel obliged to become acquainted with reality and to think one’s thoughts in harmony with that reality. Yes, if only a good many within our movement would try, in the right way, to let the impulses indicated here permeate their inner lives; if they would refrain from abstract, fanciful ideals of making people happy and instead study what the specific tasks and impulses of our time are, and adjust their behavior accordingly. Then something would indeed be achieved.

[ 43 ] Well, today I wanted to demonstrate to you, once again from a particular perspective, how one must also study the social question. After all, one cannot simply go around saying: “Because I am a human being, I understand mathematics and can therefore build a bridge”—but rather, one knows: One must first learn mathematics, mechanics, dynamics, and so on. In the same way, one must come to know the laws governing human nature if one wishes to form even the simplest of social judgments. And human beings are certainly not, as Trotsky imagines, homogeneous beings across the entire globe, but are at most differentiated into groups when they identify with a national culture, or else are simply a collection of individuals. On the one hand, we must learn what characterizes groups—for example, based on language, as we considered today; on the other hand, we must acquire—as was explained yesterday—an immediate understanding from one human individual to another. This is connected to everything that can develop within us as social judgment, but also as social feeling. Otherwise, what is meant to live within us as social judgment and social feeling will not come to us.

[ 44 ] So I wanted to acquaint you, from a certain perspective, with what can guide social judgment and social sentiment. I wanted to draw your attention to the profound seriousness of what is called the social question, and also to the fact that while good will may indeed be present in one person or another—as, for example, in some Russian revolutionaries—they nevertheless exhibit a detachment from reality, a lack of faith in the spirit, and the belief that all people across the entire earth are, without distinction, one and the same.

[ 45 ] What, then, is the human being who lives in Trotsky’s abstraction? We have seen that getting to know human beings is the foundation, the fundamental element of the social task! What is the human being Trotsky has in mind? It is the Old Testament human being, who in the present can only haunt us as the shadow of the Old Testament human being. It is the animal with the capacity for abstraction. It is the animal in which the power of abstract thought develops only by transcending “animality.” The human animal is undifferentiated across the entire earth, for differentiations arise from the soul. But the soul must be developed toward the spiritual; then differentiation appears. And the soul must be studied; then that differentiation becomes evident, which also works through the soul—for example, through the reflex that language has brought about, and so on. We will continue discussing these matters next Friday.