The Rudolf Steiner Archive

4. Mauthner’s “Critique of Language”: The Inadequacy of Contemporary Thought, as Illustrated by Rubner and Schweitzer

[ 1 ] In our time, outside the circles of the anthroposophical movement, there is little understanding of how one is actually supposed to arrive at a genuine view of the soul. I am stating something that may, on the one hand, sound completely incomprehensible to some, because it is often assumed that one knows what the soul is, what one is dealing with when speaking of the soul—and so on. On the other hand, such a statement can often be taken for granted in the sense that the centuries-old, indeed millennia-old conceptions of the human soul have run their course, and that one must wait to form a conception of the human soul until scientific research has advanced to the point where it is capable of shedding light on the nature of the soul.

[ 2 ] Today, I would like to counter these two objections, at least for now, with what the recently deceased linguist Fritz Mauthner—whom I have often mentioned—argued: that people today often believe they have a view on this or that, when in fact they essentially have nothing but words. And for this reason, Mauthner wrote a “Critique of Language.” He wanted to show that modern, civilized humanity, in particular, has an inherited language. We have expressions for all sorts of things. But if one looks more closely at what lies behind the words, there is actually nothing there. We have the word, we believe we are designating something with it, but in reality, we are designating nothing.

[ 3 ] Now, of course, it is nonsense to apply this critique of language to scientific knowledge, for example. For no one would hold the view that—regardless of whether one knows a great deal or very little, say, about a horse—one could be misled about the thing “horse” by the term “horse” in any language. After all, everyone knows perfectly well to distinguish between the fact that one cannot ride the word “horse” and that one can ride a real horse. And this makes it clear from the outset that, with regard to things that exist in nature, a critique of language is quite irrelevant, for one will always know the difference between the word and the thing in terms of external perception. I do not believe that anyone who wants to go for a ride will mount the word “gray horse” instead of the actual gray horse.

[ 4 ] But the situation is truly different when it comes to everything in our modern civilization that relates, on the one hand, to the soul, to the life of the soul, and to the realities of that life, and, on the other hand, to the ethical and moral demands of humanity. Here one must indeed say: For the most part, there is really only a belief that realities lie behind the words. That is why it is understandable that Mauthner pondered deeply: Should one even still use the word “soul” at all? After all, there is nothing real behind it in the sense that a person means when speaking of a horse using the word “horse.” People no longer have any clear concept of the life of the soul. Therefore, one should not only—as 19th-century psychology did—omit the soul from psychological discourse; one should eradicate the word “soul” entirely and, just as one speaks of something indefinite, speak of “psychic phenomena.” If one wants to say that there are three individuals—Karl, Fritz, and Hans—who are the sons of the same father and the same mother, and one wants to describe them superficially, then one says: “siblings.” Why, Mauthner asks, should one say “soul” when one knows only such vague things about psychological phenomena? The word “soul” denotes nothing; one should say “psychic phenomenon.” If this term were to catch on, we would be rid of the illusion that saying “soul” implies there is actually something behind it. For in the future, we would no longer say that a person has an immortal soul. Instead, we would say that during their earthly life, a person possesses a “Geseel” within them: “I am moved in the depths of my Geseel,” and so on.

[ 5 ] These matters are, in fact, of extraordinary gravity—far greater than is commonly supposed—especially for those who are earnestly seeking an understanding of the spirit. In any case, they demonstrate how closely people should pay attention today whenever it is argued that we must once again seek the proper means to attain the reality of the soul, the true nature of the soul.

[ 6 ] Today, it is said that the soul’s faculties are primarily thinking, feeling, and willing. But people should just try to honestly clarify for themselves what they mean by these terms—thinking, feeling, and willing. They would soon lose their belief that they are looking at something real when they use them. Today I would like to speak only about how anthroposophy can make it clear that, with ordinary consciousness, one is not at all capable of perceiving something fully real in this regard. And what I would like to hint at by way of introduction today in this regard, I will then elaborate on in the next lecture, for it is my task today, above all else, to point out another aspect.

[ 7 ] If people today look honestly within themselves, they must admit: The thoughts they harbor within themselves are for the most part—indeed, for most people, all the thoughts they harbor—drawn from the external world. Thoughts are, more or less, merely reflections of what makes an impression on the human senses in the external physical-sensory reality. Just try once to conduct this experiment in self-observation clearly and ask yourself: How many thoughts are there in human consciousness that point to something else—apart from the fact that we have words like “thinking,” “feeling,” “willing,” “God,” “immortality,” and so on—that point to something in the spiritual life of ordinary civilization that is not reflected from the external world? People, after all, strive only to perceive everything in a way that can be reflected by the external world. And if one wants to make the spiritual clear to many people today, they actually demand visual aids for the spiritual as well—perhaps a film or something similar—because they say: “If this isn’t illustrated for us, if sensory images aren’t presented before our eyes, then we won’t understand anything about the spiritual!”

[ 8 ] In moments like these, when people demand that even spiritual matters be clothed in sensory images, they are more honest than when, for example, they speak about the soul as experts in psychology. If we take together much of what I have frequently discussed right here in this house, then we will be able to realize that, when we look back on our thinking in this way, we have only one side of that thinking. In this sense, one can even speak of a reality—but it is like speaking of a reality as if one were getting to know a person only from behind. Imagine this grotesque situation: You know a person only from behind! Then you do know him, but you do not know his essence. At most, you can sometimes grasp something of his essence. But then situations like this must arise, such as the case of the student who once came to Heidelberg as a very young man, enrolled with the famous Professor Kuno Fischer, and—overcome with joy—rushed to the barber before going to class to have his hair cut, and, because he was so excited about the prospect of hearing the famous man speak, even talked to the barber about it. Then the barber says: “Yes, Kuno Fischer is writing something on the blackboard today!” — So the student asks him: “How do you know that Kuno Fischer is writing something on the blackboard today?” — “Well, when he writes something on the blackboard, he has his hair parted in the back before the lecture; that’s when he turns around!” |

[ 9 ] Well, if there are such clear signs that a person’s character is expressed in the parting at the back of the head, then one can learn something about the inner nature of their personality, even if one only gets to know them from behind. But, first of all, this may not be particularly significant; second, for most people, it’s the case that one doesn’t learn very much from this.

[ 10 ] With regard to our thinking—this aspect of the soul that is most important for earthly life—one in fact perceives, if I may put it this way, only the “back side.” The “front side” escapes ordinary observation. For when one approaches the observation of human beings from an anthroposophical perspective and asks: Is thinking merely the formation of abstract concepts about external things perceived by the senses? — one comes to the conclusion that this is not all there is to thinking; rather, thinking is not only this sum of abstract thoughts but also a sum of forces. Thoughts cannot actually do anything, and one thinks best when one does nothing—when one sits quietly, when one cultivates stillness. Thoughts are powerless, just as mirror images are powerless. But if one now follows a person’s development, from infancy until they have grown larger, and if one later again observes the growth processes that are still present within that person—even though the person is no longer growing taller, growth processes are still there—if one looks at what constitutes the forces of growth within that person, then these are the same forces, now seen from the other side, which manifest themselves in reverse in abstract thoughts. Outwardly, a person sends out abstract thoughts; inwardly, these are the forces that shape their brain. In the early childhood years, the brain is shaped plastically. The forces that otherwise act elsewhere as forces of growth are the forces of thought. And just as, when you see a person from behind—in order to be able to imagine that they are a whole person—you must imagine the front side, so too must you, in the case of abstract thought, imagine the concrete, real forces of thought that enter into the human being and work within them.

[ 11 ] This is, in fact, the essence of a pedagogy grounded in sound anthroposophy: that the educator knows it is not enough for the child to receive this or that abstract concept from one person or another. For whether the child receives a living, vivid, and dynamic concept or a lifeless one makes a world of difference. The lifeless concept has an inhibiting effect on the processes of growth, while the dynamic concept has a stimulating effect on them. And so we come to the realization that thinking reveals one side—one that is powerless and merely mirrors the external world—and, when directed inward, we see a living side that permeates the entire human organism with vitality, representing the other side of human growth: the spiritual counterpart to that growth. And if one investigates further, one finds that the human being brings down from his pre-earthly existence that which represents the other side—in relation to the human being, it is the reverse side, but in relation to thinking, it is the front side—not the dead thinking that appears to us only from the front, on the other side, but this living thinking.

[ 12 ] In fact, the transition from pre-earthly existence to earthly existence is such, in this regard, that in pre-earthly existence, the human being freely develops a system of forces that acts in every direction within the spiritual world. Then he descends into earthly existence. There, this active, governing thinking in the spiritual world transforms itself into the inner organizing forces of the body, and outwardly it projects, as it were, a reflective surface onto which the earth casts its images. That is the fact. Now, however, it is certainly the case that once a person has sufficiently completed the period between death and a new birth, this living thinking has no further task in the spiritual world. This living thinking has its great task during the time between death and a new birth. Once the task is completed, the phenomenon I have often described to you occurs: the soul turns toward earthly life. But there, this thinking has a new task: the task of forming the human body. And this is what is significant about human earthly thinking—about human thinking that originates in the spiritual realm—that it is directed toward shaping the human body. Thus, in our true, our real thinking, we have an heirloom from the spiritual world—but one that is meaningful only on Earth, for in the spiritual world it has lost its purpose. To this we owe the fact that our thinking on Earth can become so clear. If this thinking still had a purpose as it does in the spiritual world, it could not become so clear on Earth.

[ 13 ] But let us turn to the other faculty of the human soul: feeling. You will all notice—quite apart from what I myself have said about it here in this room—that feeling is not as clear as thinking. Feeling is something that occurs—albeit in a different form—much like dreaming. The state of the soul during feeling is essentially the same as during dreaming, except that feeling takes on a completely different form. Why is that so? Well, with feeling, just as with thinking, we have here in this earthly life only the “back side.” But the front side is not merely directed toward the human body; rather, as the human being descends to Earth from pre-earthly existence—from the existence between death and a new birth—he also retains what lies behind feeling as an inheritance. But this remains oriented toward the spiritual; it does not have merely an earthly purpose. Therefore, every night when a person falls asleep, they do not take their thinking with them into sleep, but they do take their feeling with them. And if you consider dreams in the right way, they are images because logical thoughts do not live on; but feelings continue to live on. With every sleep, a person immerses themselves in the entire spiritual world. A person does not take their thinking with them, but they do take their feelings with them—and their will even more so.

[ 14 ] Understandably, willpower is of no use during the day. I have often said: A person can resolve to do something; he has a thought. But how that thought descends into the body, how the volitional decision to move the hand continues to take effect—that remains as obscure as the state of sleep remains obscure. But in return, human beings retain the most of the eternal in their will. And again, one can see in the will—from human activity, for if a person is not active, there is no will, but only a desire—one can see precisely in the will that human beings exert an outward influence on Earth. Viewed from the other side, the will represents something entirely eternal. Thinking also represents something eternal, but one that has been transformed into earthly activity. The will, however, remains present in the eternal and is active in the destiny of the human being—in karma—that extends through repeated earthly lives.

[ 15 ] I just wanted to begin by explaining to you how one can advance toward a true doctrine of the soul, so that behind the words “thinking,” “feeling,” and “willing” there are once again realities, and so that one is once again pointing to what is real. Just as the word “horse” refers to the external, physical horse, so too, when one penetrates the life of the soul in this anthroposophical way, one can return to reality, to real things. That is the path, and on this path will also come to fruition—because, if one wishes to understand it, it stirs the noblest forces within the human being—what I emphasized here at the end of my last lecture: that anthroposophy is never understood when it is merely theory, but is only truly understood when, in the process of acquiring anthroposophical knowledge, the human being becomes a different person, when the human being is truly transformed; when, in ethical and human terms, they become a different person altogether.

[ 16 ] What is being strived for in this way is now countered by something else. And now I come to what I am obliged to tell you, because anthroposophy is already out in the world, and we must be alert to what is happening. One must not always keep one’s windows closed, but must also look out; and so it is a spiritual, intellectual duty to speak about these things. For wherever people today believe they have derived clear concepts solely from the natural sciences, anthroposophy is dismissed with claims such as: “That is fantasy, speculation, that is fanciful.” And those people say that they alone possess clear thinking. Aside from the fact that, of course, when one approaches anthroposophy, one gains an inner certainty of the truth by following its teachings, one must nevertheless sometimes also consider just how clear today’s thinking actually is! I would like to discuss this with you first using an example, for the reason that the anthroposophist should remain alert to what constitutes contemporary culture or civilization. I’ll take an example that speaks volumes. If, let’s say, one examines the logic of a person who writes for the newspapers, that doesn’t tell us much. But let me take a prominent contemporary natural scientist and state explicitly that I do not wish to say anything malicious or disparaging, because I fully acknowledge that we are dealing here with a prominent natural scientist and with a serious matter that he is discussing. And here I would like to draw your attention to the clarity that prevails in this regard in the present day.

[ 17 ] In October 1910, the renowned naturalist Max Rubner delivered the inaugural address at the University of Berlin, titled “Our Goals for the Future.” He speaks about the intellectual goals of the future, and it is certainly not just anyone speaking here, but rather someone who is deeply involved in research and who must be regarded as a serious and capable researcher from the perspective of today’s civilization. At the end of his speech, he also addresses the students and attempts—well, in a way that is beautiful in its own right—to make it clear that they should study. But he does so using the “clear” concepts—I mean “clear” in quotation marks—that are possible for such a researcher today, based on contemporary thinking. I would like to draw attention to a few specific points. First, addressing the students, he says: “We must all learn; we bring nothing else into the world but our instrument for intellectual work, a blank slate—the brain—which is differently endowed and capable of varying degrees of development; we receive everything from the outside world...”

[ 18 ] So there is a view often encountered today that goes like this: Look, if you want to talk about the life of the soul, look to your brain—it is a blank slate that must receive everything through impressions from the outside world. So when we come into the world, our brain is like a blank slate; we must expose ourselves to the impressions of the world, and then they enter into us, and the slate is filled. So, he says to his students, just go ahead and expose yourselves to the impressions of the world with freshness, courage, and vigor, and then the blank slate you brought with you will be filled.

[ 19 ] In the next sentence, he tells them how to go about it. He says: “No single mind can possibly grasp everything that its ancestors have collectively experienced and learned; what billions of minds have pondered and refined over the course of human history; what our intellectual heroes have helped create...”

[ 20 ] So the students should only pay attention to what the intellectual heroes have helped create. But now, all of a sudden, the intellectual heroes are creating—so now the blank minds must oppose the filled minds of the intellectual heroes! You see, as soon as you put two sentences together, one on page 23 and the other on page 24, they will no longer agree! For even if the heroes of the mind were blank slates, one could not speak of their impressions on the blank slates in such a way that these minds had created anything, since that is precisely what is denied: Everything must be received from the external world. But now, what human minds create is also counted as part of the external world. One really must address such matters.

[ 21 ] But it goes on to say: “What we have learned provides the basic material for productive thinking.” Now, put these two sentences together: “We receive everything from the external world,” and the second: “What we have learned provides the basic material for productive thinking.” These are not the words of an ordinary newspaper writer today; these are the words of a researcher—rightly called a distinguished one—speaking from within modern civilization. You see, it is essentially beside the point here to point out the manner in which such a personality characterizes how the brain functions. “... there is always something refreshing about working in a new, hitherto untilled field of the brain.” That is why he tells students that they should sometimes look into other subjects they have not yet explored: “... some fields of the brain only become fruitful when repeatedly cultivated, but ultimately bear the same good fruit as others that are more easily accessible.”

[ 22 ] Well, after all, the soil that is plowed does not produce the plow itself. If one tries to follow these thoughts, one can no longer form any thoughts at all. But Rubner finds that this way of thinking is, in fact, quite natural.

[ 23 ] To help you understand the significance of what he is saying here, I would like to preface this with a few remarks. When someone is engaged in sports, we see them performing various movements. If one is particularly interested, one can even capture a snapshot of these movements. But if one approaches these things with an open mind, one must acknowledge: If one observes the inner organic processes taking place while someone is engaged in sports—that which occurs internally between the nerves and muscles as a kind of process of destruction and regeneration—this is truly, first of all, much more important for the human being, but also infinitely more interesting than what can be captured in a snapshot. I have nothing against sports as external physical exercise. But what the athlete is on the inside is truly much more interesting than what he is on the outside. It is in what he brings about within the organism that things really start to get interesting.

[ 24 ] Now, with regard to the movement of the human limbs, the opposite is true of what applies to thinking. In thinking, what is performed—that is, what happens, the fact itself—is the essential, while what lies within the organism is the non-essential. In sports, what takes place externally in the facts is the less interesting aspect; what the organism does internally is the more interesting aspect. In thinking, what manifests itself as thinking—what thinking truly is—is what is interesting; what the organism does in the process is something more or less simple. Therefore, once one sees through these things, one can no longer speak of thinking in the same way as one speaks of muscle movement.

[ 25 ] But when all of this becomes superficial and external, what do you say? Then you explain things this way: “Thinking strengthens the brain; through practice, the brain improves its performance just as any other organ does—just as our muscle strength improves through work and exercise. Studying is exercise for the brain.”

[ 26 ] You see, when viewed from such a perspective, our civilization is caught in its most essential element: the way we think about things. We are not awakened by something else to what is actually happening in the present.

[ 27 ] Now I would like to introduce you to a figure who, through a mindset that—within certain limits—could truly be called genius, excels at forming negative thoughts about our present-day civilization and knows how to characterize it well: namely, how it is ultimately an impossible way of shaping and structuring thought that has led our civilization to decay and the abyss. And I must say: Albert Schweitzer, who wrote the book *The Decline and Rebuilding of Culture*, is well-equipped to judge such matters. Anyone familiar, for example, with Albert Schweitzer’s book *The History of Research into the Life of Jesus*, published in 1906—and with the way Schweitzer knows how to engage even with apocalyptic literature, placing him well ahead of other theologians—must admit that Schweitzer is capable of sound judgment regarding the true value of contemporary intellectual life. Now he has written this book, the first part of which has just been published. The first chapter is titled: “The Guilt of Philosophy in the Decline of Culture.” And the sentences intended to characterize our present intellectual life, our civilized existence, are now truly razor-sharp. The very first sentence reads: “We are living under the sign of the decline of culture. War did not create this situation. It is merely a manifestation of it. What existed intellectually has translated into facts, which in turn are having a detrimental effect on the intellectual sphere in every respect.” A man who has insights into the worthlessness of contemporary culture! And further: “We strayed from culture because there was no reflection on culture among us... Thus we crossed the threshold of the century with unshakeable illusions about ourselves.” And now he asks himself: Why, then, is this phenomenon of cultural decline present? Why are we living in the decline of culture? — And he tells himself: If we look back just a short time, to the very period when intellectualism was in its first flowering, people still had a “total worldview”; they still spoke of ethical and moral goals in such a way that these sprang from the same sources as the laws of nature. They looked at the laws of nature and then, guided by those same insights, ascended to the sources of morality; thus, they possessed a “total worldview” that encompassed both the moral and the natural in equal measure.

[ 28 ] You will recall how often I have pointed out that the decline of our culture stems from our one-sided view of nature, which traces the origins of our existence on Earth back to the Kant-Laplace theory or something similar, in which everything formed out of a primordial nebula. Human beings, too, emerged from this primordial nebula; then what are called moral ideals—illusions—came into being; and when the heat death eventually sets in—which, according to purely physical laws, must occur—there will be a vast field of corpses, but what will be buried along with them is that which emerged as cultural or moral ideals. Thus, our morality is no longer embedded in our worldview. It is no longer part of it; it has become something that can only be grasped in abstract thought. Schweitzer, too, knows that, fundamentally speaking, this came to pass around the middle of the 19th century. He speaks quite clearly on this subject: “It is now evident to all that the self-destruction of culture is underway... The Age of Enlightenment” — by which he means the period when intellectualism first flourished — “and rationalism had established ethical and rational ideals concerning the development of the individual toward true humanity, concerning his place in society, concerning society’s material and spiritual tasks, concerning the conduct of peoples toward one another, and their merging into a humanity united by the highest spiritual goals... But around the middle of the nineteenth century, this confrontation between ethical ideals of reason and reality began to wane. Over the course of the following decades, it came to a standstill more and more. The abdication of culture took place without a fight and in silence. Its ideas lagged behind the times, as if they were too exhausted to keep pace with them.”

[ 29 ] And now Albert Schweitzer seeks to make clear that if people no longer have effective thoughts, culture must collapse. Since effective thoughts seem to be found in philosophy, he attributes the cause of culture’s decline to philosophy. He knows—and expresses this in this book as well—that even if Hegel and Kant are read by only a few, their ideas nevertheless dominate the minds of thousands, for they flow through all manner of unnoticed channels into the broadest masses of humanity, and one is by no means exaggerating who says today: “If even the simplest mountain farmers have begun to read the most popular books, then Kant is already within them.” People always believe that philosophy influences only those who read the philosophers. That is merely external Maya.

[ 30 ] That is why Schweitzer says: “The decisive factor was the failure of philosophy.” But now he treats this philosophy with a certain degree of compassion and tells himself: Philosophy should have thought, but since thinking had gone astray—since people had forgotten how to think—it is no wonder that philosophy, too, could no longer think. — So he treats philosophy with a bit of leniency. “It did not occur to philosophy that the vitality of the cultural ideas entrusted to it was beginning to be called into question. At the end of one of the most outstanding works on the history of philosophy published at the end of the nineteenth century”—the very same one I have discussed here before— “it is defined as the process in which ‘step by step, with ever clearer and more certain awareness, the reflection on cultural values has taken place, the universal validity of which is the very subject of philosophy itself.’ In doing so, the author overlooked the essential point: namely, that in the past, philosophy not only reflected on cultural values but also allowed them to influence public opinion as active ideas, whereas from the second half of the nineteenth century onward, they increasingly became a guarded, unproductive asset.”

[ 31 ] But now he softens. After all, what can the philosopher be blamed for if he, too, no longer thinks, since everyone else does not think: “The fact that thought failed to establish a worldview of an optimistic-ethical character and to ground the ideals that constitute culture within such a worldview was not the fault of philosophy, but a fact that arose in the development of thought. But philosophy became culpable for our world by failing to acknowledge this fact and remaining under the illusion that it was truly fostering the progress of culture.”

[ 32 ] So, Schweitzer no longer holds it against the philosophers that they were no longer able to think, since it has become a common habit among people to stop thinking. But he does hold it against the philosophers that they did not even notice this. At the very least, they should have noticed it.

[ 33 ] “By its ultimate purpose, philosophy is the guide and guardian of universal reason. Its duty would have been to admit to our world that the ethical ideals of reason no longer found a foothold in a total worldview as they once did, but were, for the time being, left to their own devices and had to assert themselves in the world through their own inner strength alone... Philosophy reflected so little on culture that it did not even notice how it itself—and the era along with it—was becoming increasingly devoid of culture. In the hour of danger, the guardian who was supposed to keep us awake was asleep. And so it came to pass that we did not fight for our culture.”

[ 34 ] Well, I think I've already told you quite a bit about this sleep from a wide variety of perspectives.

[ 35 ] In the next chapter, Schweitzer discusses the elements within us that inhibit culture. Here he arrives at some very interesting insights. Namely, he finds that, first of all, human beings have become unfree as a result of what they have absorbed as “culture” in recent times. Well, one can sympathize with him on this point, for people have gradually come to simply follow certain leaders, swear by the authority of science, and so on. But Schweitzer now claims that human beings lack focus in their thinking. I don’t think we need to debate this much either; Schweitzer is probably right that the capacity for focus has indeed declined significantly in our civilization. But then he calls human beings incomplete. Well, people will say, if he already finds us unfree and so unfocused, we certainly can’t concede to him that we aren’t even supposed to be whole human beings! — But this is what he means: Whatever one learns today is a specialty—whether one is a scholar or some other kind of person—so that only certain aspects of one’s abilities are developed, not the whole person. That is why we go about as incomplete, and certainly not as whole, human beings. And then, fourthly, he finds that humanity has declined to the highest degree. He cites fine examples of this. But he is generally of the view that people who are unfree, unfocused, and not whole cannot develop humanity in ethical life either. He also identifies an element that hinders culture in over-organization, in the eradication of human individuality. How much, then, still depends on the individual today? What matters is only what is predetermined by various organizations. Schweitzer rightly accuses our age of having a particular tendency toward over-organization.

[ 36 ] But now he also wants to move on to answering the question of how we are to return to a culture. What must be done to return to a culture? He then asks: What must the culture to which we are returning be like? — And he says: It must be ethical and optimistic. — Well, imagine you want to build a house; you go to a builder who says: “You’ll have to describe to me what the house needs to be like so I can draw up the plans for you.” — So you tell him: “The house has to be sturdy, weatherproof, beautiful, and such that one can live comfortably inside it.” — Well, you can’t draw up plans based on that, but you think you’ve said something when you say: “The house must be sturdy, weatherproof, beautiful, and such that one can live comfortably inside it.” But you can’t do anything with these statements. Nor can you do anything with the statement: “A worldview must be ethical and optimistic.” It’s the same thing, exactly the same thing.

[ 37 ] Once, when I was a little boy, I was in a village where a trial was taking place. A prominent figure among the local dignitaries had had his chickens stolen. The judge was determined to determine the appropriate sentence, so he wanted a description of these chickens. So he asked the defendant, “What were the chickens like?” “Well, they were just nice chickens.” — “Yes, but that doesn’t help us. You have to describe them in a way that gives us an idea of what they might have been worth.” “Well, they were quite beautiful chickens.” — “Yes, but—don’t you see—we need to know whether the chickens were skinny or plump…” — “Well, they really were quite beautiful chickens.” — And so it went on; there was absolutely nothing to be gotten out of the man except that they were quite beautiful chickens. |

[ 38 ] Here we have a truly outstanding mind who, in an extraordinarily subtle and incisive way, sharply characterizes the decline of culture—a mind who even knows a great deal that people today are unwilling to admit to themselves. For example, he knows the following—and it is good that someone other than just the usual anthroposophist is saying this: “It is not his task to summarize the findings and draw their implications for the worldview. In the past, every scientist was also a thinker who played a significant role in the general intellectual life of his generation. Our age has reached the point where it can distinguish between science and thinking. That is why we still have freedom of science, but almost no thinking science left.” It’s really good that someone else is finally saying this. But you see, despite all this insight, he still doesn’t get any further than the beautiful chickens. Extremely characteristic! Something like this, which reemerges as a truly fruitful worldview, must be ethical and optimistic: solid, weatherproof, beautiful, and such that one can live comfortably within it!

[ 39 ] Yes, he goes very far in this negative characterization. He notes, in fact, that there are people who have already sensed that this kind of thinking—this mental exercise—does not lead to the sources of existence. That is why they have said: Well, let’s just set aside all this thinking and arrive at the Truth through a path of feeling or faith, through a mystical path. — He recognizes this, and since he is a sharp thinker himself—up to certain limits—he poses a curious question. The question is: “Philosophical, historical, and scientific questions, which he was unable to handle, came crashing down on earlier rationalism like avalanches and buried it along the way. The new, thinking worldview must emerge from this chaos. Let everything that actually is take its course, passing through all kinds of reflection and cognition”—yes, if only he would now go a little way through reflection and cognition: the house should be beautiful and weatherproof—“it strives toward the ultimate meaning of being and life, whether any of it can be unraveled,

[ 40 ] The highest form of knowledge, in which a person comprehends their own existence within universal existence, is said to be of a mystical nature. By this, it is meant that it no longer arises through ordinary reasoning, but is somehow experienced.

[ 41 ] “But why assume,” he now says, “that the path of thought ends at mysticism? True, rational thought has always come to a halt when it approached mysticism...”

[ 42 ] Now one asks: What does anthroposophy aim for? To proceed from clear, mathematically precise thinking; not to stop at mysticism, but to penetrate, through thought, into the realms that are to be opened up to the eternal. People still say—even when the house is right there in front of their noses but they can’t find their way inside—that it should be sturdy, weatherproof, and comfortable to live in. This can truly be said without immodesty, in all impartiality. But these are not the worst—these are the best, these are the sharpest thinkers! One must not turn a blind eye to such things. One need not always go around saying that one is making this or that person understand what anthroposophy is when people speak this way.

[ 43 ] But let’s go further: “Thought carried through to its conclusion thus leads, somewhere and somehow, to a living mysticism that is necessary for all human beings...” Proper building leads to the good house, just as I want it! Now, moving on: he finds people unfocused, and now he wants to make clear what people should do to rise above this terrible state into which culture has fallen: “In and of itself, reflecting on the meaning of life is significant. If such reflection were to arise among us again, the ideals of vanity and passion—which now proliferate like evil weeds in the convictions of the masses—would wither away beyond redemption. How much would already be gained for today’s circumstances if we all were to look up thoughtfully for just three minutes every evening toward the infinite worlds of the starry sky...” The note does not say: “Further details can be found in *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?*,” oh no—rather, it says that we must somehow reach a point where there are people who take three minutes to gather their thoughts—“... contemplatively gazing up at the infinite worlds of the starry sky and, when attending a funeral, would devote ourselves to the mystery of death and life, instead of walking behind the coffin engaged in thoughtless conversation...”

[ 44 ] Then it concludes with this, after first drawing attention to the following: But one shouldn’t actually tell people about something that constitutes a worldview; we do need such a worldview—I just want to know what we need it for if we’re not supposed to tell people about it! “The great revision of the convictions and ideals in which and for which we live cannot take place by trying to convince the people of our time to adopt different, better ideas than the ones they already have...”

[ 45 ] It must not be the case that we impose better thoughts on people than they already have; rather, we must leave them to their own devices! Reflect, think about other things when you’re walking behind a coffin—reflect! —Yes, then people will just keep doing what they’ve been doing: they won’t know what to reflect on during those three minutes, and so on.

[ 46 ] “Previous thinking sought to understand the meaning of life through the meaning of the world. It may be that we must resign ourselves to leaving the meaning of the world aside and giving our lives meaning through the will to live, as it exists within us...” — it may be! — “Even if the paths along which we must strive toward our goal still lie in darkness, the direction in which we must go is clear. Together we must reflect on the meaning of life, struggle together to arrive at a worldview that affirms both the world and life—one in which our drive to act, which we experience as necessary and valuable, finds justification, orientation, clarification, deepening, moral refinement, and fortification—and thereby become capable of establishing and realizing definitive cultural ideals inspired by the spirit of true humanity.” — They’ll just have to be beautiful chickens!

[ 47 ] No one will be able to say that I am attempting to offer a caustic, deliberately negative critique. For I chose Professor Rubner’s first example precisely because I wanted to select a figure whose scholarly achievements it would be foolish not to acknowledge. I chose the second example so that I could say that I regard the author of this book as one of the sharpest thinkers—a figure who is most justified in speaking in this manner. I do not wish to offer disparaging criticism; such a thing is far from my intentions. One must strive to point out, in a characterizing way, what is. But when Albert Schweitzer then says, “Philosophy should have been the watchwoman, but it was precisely philosophy that fell asleep”—then we can’t help but say: He is continuing the slumber.

[ 48 ] Let’s wait and see what the second part will be like, but the first part suggests that the second part won’t be much different. It continues the sleep; it merely dreams from within that sleep. These are wishes, not realities. That must be our goal: to move beyond mere illusions and empty phrases to reach realities. You see how hollow the words of our language have become. That is how we must proceed—as we began this evening, by speaking about the soul—then we can restore meaning to our words. Otherwise, as Schweitzer says: Philosophy is not to blame for the decline of culture, but it is to blame for failing to even notice it. — Well, Albert Schweitzer, of course, is not to blame either for the fact that our words are so drained of meaning that there are no longer any concepts in them, no realities in them. But he is to blame for not having noticed this at all. He doesn’t notice at all that he’s talking in circles with words that are completely drained of meaning.

[ 49 ] I felt compelled, in light of this cultural achievement by Albert Schweitzer that had just been published—and I do not mean this sarcastically, but in all seriousness—to draw attention to the decline of culture in such a scathing manner. I felt compelled to point out what perspective one must actually adopt in order to form a genuine judgment about that which, on the one hand, does not exist, and on the other hand, must come to pass. Now that we have gone through this episode, let us continue our discussion next time on specific topics in anthroposophy.