The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Eighth Lecture

[ 1 ] The Stuttgart assembly concluded the night before last, and you will probably think that I should now report to you on some of what took place there in Stuttgart. The fact is that a certain outcome has already emerged—an outcome that, given the actual circumstances, could not be otherwise. To fully understand what has come of it, it will be necessary to provide a brief overview of how events unfolded. As you know from the hints I have given over the past few weeks, the Stuttgart gathering was preceded by weeks of preparations. These preparations, which were actually quite exhausting for everyone involved, were aimed at securing a future for the Anthroposophical Society in the near term by bringing its principles to life.

[ 2 ] In considering all these matters, it must be borne in mind that what took place in Stuttgart was entirely unaffected—at least in its origins—by the tragic events surrounding the fire at the Goetheanum. For the fact that something needed to be done to consolidate the Society had already been discussed by me in early December with a member of the Executive Council, with the instruction that the entire Central Executive Council, together with other individuals, should address the matter. Thus, what took place in Stuttgart is a direct continuation of what I had discussed with Mr. Uehli on December 10 as the result of my observations regarding the current situation in the Anthroposophical Society.

[ 3 ] The fire at the Goetheanum was a painful event that occurred amid these developments. But even if the Goetheanum were still standing here today, just as it was, all these things would have had to unfold in exactly the same way. For what was the actual situation? The situation was this: the Anthroposophical Society, as it had gradually developed over the past two decades, had taken on a certain form and structure—a form and structure that had been modified in particular since 1919 by the various initiatives that had been incorporated into it.

[ 4 ] It might easily seem as though, when one speaks of such things—the various initiatives that have been incorporated into the Anthroposophical Society—one is passing a disparaging judgment on these initiatives. But that is by no means the case. I need only mention the Waldorf School, which is one of these initiatives, and it will be clear to you that this is something entirely different from making any kind of superficial judgment. There is certainly no objection to the value and significance of these initiatives—not even with regard to the most important ones—nor is there any objection to the leadership or management of these initiatives.

[ 5 ] What was discussed there—and what was supposed to be discussed—was solely the Anthroposophical Society, its structure, and its entire configuration as such. Now, it is, of course, difficult to describe realistically the structure of the Anthroposophical Society, which is highly ramified, but I think each of you knows, from a certain perspective, what the Anthroposophical Society has become to this day, and you can also picture some of it for yourselves based on what I have mentioned here over the course of the last few weeks; and can then fill in the gaps in this description.

[ 6 ] Now, one of the particularly important events that has taken place in the life of this Anthroposophical Society is that the leading figures—or at least a significant number of them—have been entrusted with very specific, indeed anthroposophical, tasks for the Anthroposophical Society arising from what has developed out of it. These anthroposophical tasks have been awaiting a solution since 1919. They had simply not been resolved, and therefore, on December 10 of last year—when things had now, I might say, become perfectly clear—it was necessary to address the Central Executive Council in Stuttgart in the manner I have just described.

[ 7 ] One of the most recent movements to emerge from the anthroposophical movement is, in fact, the movement for religious renewal, which has contributed significantly to the recent crisis within the Anthroposophical Society. This is one aspect of the events that have taken place in the life of the Anthroposophical Society.

[ 8 ] The other side of the story is that young people have come forward—young people with a deep enthusiasm for anthroposophy, for everything that anthroposophy encompasses, particularly young academics—with very specific expectations, with very specific mental images about what can be found in the Anthroposophical Society, and with certain feelings that might be characterized as follows: Driven by strong inner impulses of the heart, these young people approached the Anthroposophical Society and were particularly sensitive to everything they encountered from within the ranks of the anthroposophists, taking it all in not through intellectual reasoning, but through a keen emotional judgment. What, then, lay at the root of this?

[ 9 ] Yes, my dear friends, the youth of today are experiencing inner spiritual realities that, in a certain sense, are entering human evolution for the first time. It is not enough to speak abstractly and superficially about the contrast between the older and younger generations. This contrast has, in a certain sense, always existed, and it was particularly evident among those who, as strong individuals in their youth, sought to prepare themselves for life in various educational institutions. One need only recall some typical, characteristic examples. Read in Goethe’s *Poetry and Truth* how, in Leipzig, instead of attending lectures—because he found them terribly boring—he would go to the pretzel baker across the street and chat there with his friends, while Professor Ludwig and others were imparting their scholarly teachings over in the lecture halls. But despite this contrast, which was always present, even these—I might say—somewhat radical members of the younger generation always ended up falling back on what the older generation had left behind as a legacy. Even the brilliant minds were drawn into it. Goethe certainly remained the immeasurable genius until his death; yet, when it came to immersing himself in everyday life, he became not only the genius Goethe, but also the portly Privy Councilor with the double chin. That, too, is a truth.

[ 10 ] Well, one simply has to view these things with an open mind. Up until the last third of the 19th century, it was simply the case that although the contrast—which people still speak of superficially today—between the old and the young already existed, it was balanced out in the spirit of philistinism; the youth increasingly adopted a philistine attitude toward what remained as the legacy of the old, and they became absorbed into this legacy. But that is no longer possible today.

[ 11 ] If one were to speak in terms drawn from Eastern wisdom, one would have to say: This is no longer possible after the end of the Kali Yuga, because the principle of authority no longer permeates social life in the same way as it did in the past. - It is becoming increasingly evident that humanity has entered the age of the development of the consciousness soul. And this is alive—albeit not clearly defined, yet instinctively and extraordinarily strong—in those people born in the 1890s or perhaps even at the beginning of the 20th century, or later, and who possess an inner life that truly ought to be regarded with love by their elders if it is to be understood. And this cannot happen so easily, for our culture and civilization have taken on such forms—especially in our educational institutions—that the balance between old and young, which used to always be present, is simply no longer there. Young people today feel this; it is their inner destiny. This is something that, I would say, defines the course of their entire lives, and it shapes a certain kind of longing for life. This means that young people today are seekers, but seekers in a completely different way than older people were.

[ 12 ] This is true in all areas of life, particularly in all areas of intellectual life. The culture of the older generation has, in fact, long since reacted to the younger generation in a remarkable way. I have not failed to cite characteristic examples of this here as well. I remind you of the lecture I gave on Gregor Mendel. In the 20th century, the opinion emerged quite sporadically—and with a certain vehemence—among natural scientists that Gregor Mendel of Moravia, the solitary schoolteacher, high school teacher, and later abbot, was a genius who made a magnificent contribution to the formulation of the laws of inheritance. Yes, but if we now consider Gregor Mendel’s relationship with the educational institutions where he worked, we must not forget that when he reached the required age and was supposed to take his teaching certification exam, he failed spectacularly. He was then given a period of time after which he could take the exam again. He failed again. Now, back in the 1850s, people were even more tolerant than they would be later on: even though he had failed the teaching certification exam twice, he was hired as a high school teacher. And he went on to achieve what is considered one of the greatest accomplishments in the field of natural science in modern times.

[ 13 ] Or take something quite obvious: Röntgen—no one today would doubt that Röntgen is one of the greatest minds of our time. He was expelled from high school one day; he simply couldn’t handle it. It took a great deal of effort just to get him the lecturership in the first place, because, well, it wasn’t going well at the educational institutions—since, as I said, he had already been expelled from high school and was later provisionally placed at a university, where things eventually worked out. But even there, he was again unable to secure the lecturership in the subject in which he was supposed to teach. And yet he went on to become the architect of one of the most epoch-making achievements in the field of practical and theoretical natural science. Indeed, one could multiply these examples ad infinitum. Everywhere, one sees this flash of lightning—the irreconcilable contrast between the legacy of earlier times and that which simply lives on in youth in an indefinable way.

[ 14 ] Now, to put it somewhat radically, one could say that these young people are certainly quite indifferent to how many more royal tombs in Egypt are opened; it doesn’t matter much to them at all. But what matters to these young people is finding something that serves to inspire humanity from much more primordial sources than the opening of ancient royal tombs. Young people feel that we are currently at a point in human development where we must draw from much more fundamental, primordial sources for the sake of humanity.

[ 15 ] Now, one can certainly say that, over the course of the first two decades of the 20th century, young people sought out many things driven by this longing. It was then that these young people discovered anthroposophy, and it was then that they felt they were tapping into something elemental—something that touches the deepest sources of humanity. And then these young people approached the Anthroposophical Society. And one of the representatives of this youth said on Monday or Tuesday in Stuttgart: “And now they were shocked, because when they approached it, they were truly startled by how the Anthroposophical Society stands in relation to anthroposophy.” — Yes, isn’t that so? It is one of the most important facts; it cannot be dismissed by decree. You only have to consider what these young people—especially the academic youth—have had to go through.

[ 16 ] So, let’s say in one of the most intellectually free fields of teaching and learning—for example, literary history—these young people wanted to pursue this course of study and then earn their doctorate. What was it like in the last third of the 19th century? How did most of them come to write a dissertation, a doctoral thesis? The professor—one must, of course, summarize things and describe them in broad strokes—had set himself the task of writing a book on the Romantic schools. He then selected his students accordingly: he gave one a topic on Novalis, another on Friedrich Schlegel, yet another on August Wilhelm Schlegel, and a third on Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann—if all went well. If things didn’t go well, the student in question would be assigned a dissertation on punctuation or on the use of parentheses in the sentence structure of Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann. The professor then had to work his way through all of this, and from it emerged the content of his book on the Romantic school. Everything, I would say, had been drawn into a mechanical process. The young person had become a cog in a mechanism—an intellectual mechanism. Against this, however, there arose a rebellion from that which—if I may use the expression once more—lived as something entirely elemental in the youthful soul following the end of the Kali Yuga. Of course, countless other examples could be cited.

[ 17 ] Well, these two things stood side by side: the Anthroposophical Society, as it had become over the course of two decades—as I said, I don’t need to describe it; everyone can picture it from their own perspective—and, on the other hand, the academic youth. But when all is said and done, in contrast to the Anthroposophical Society, these young academics were merely the sharpest, most radical representatives of what was already present elsewhere. This became particularly starkly evident at the Stuttgart gathering.

[ 18 ] On the one hand, there were the leading figures of the old Anthroposophical Society everywhere—I would say—committed to what had taken shape there in established forms. One was a Waldorf teacher; another was the office manager at *Kommender Tag*. Yes, these people had—and this must be taken entirely seriously—an enormous amount on their plates. I would say that all the independent-minded individuals within the Anthroposophical Society had contributed to these founding efforts. Well, whether rightly or wrongly, this also led to a certain—let’s say—bureaucratism and dogmatism within the Anthroposophical Society. Among these organizations was the “League for the Threefold Social Order.” From the very moment it was founded in 1919, it had a leader, and after some time, having worked with this League, I was compelled to say: This can’t go on; I’m no longer going to be a part of it. - And, as I put it in Stuttgart during those days, I had to push my way through and simply say one day: “This won’t work; I’m not going along with this anymore.”

[ 19 ] Then another leader arrived, an outstanding individual. I hadn’t been to Stuttgart for several weeks at that time, but when I returned, I had to find out what had happened. They wanted to make further plans. A meeting was held, and I was informed about what had taken place. I was told: “Yes, we’ve now gotten this far with setting up a card index. We have smaller slips of paper on which we write the shorter newspaper clippings; the content goes roughly in the lower right corner, and these are then placed in filing cabinets. Then there are larger slips of paper, made of slightly thicker paper; these contain the longer journal articles. Then there are slips of a different format for the letters we’ve received.”—And so it went on. For many hours, the creation of this card index was described in detail, along with how people had been working for many weeks with tremendous self-sacrifice and dedication to set it up, what was contained within it, and how everything was arranged in the most absolute order. Now I had in my mind’s eye the image of this card catalog, with slips of paper in all sorts of formats, everything wonderfully cataloged—everything that had happened within the Anthroposophical Society, as well as everything that had come from its opponents. Everything was wonderfully recorded! The piles of these slips of paper, stacked one on top of the other, must have been enormous. And the people who had been sitting there faded away like ghosts; they were no longer there at all—only a card index remained. Everything had been recorded.

[ 20 ] I said: “Yes, my dear friends, do you also have minds to go with this card catalog? I’m not interested in the card catalog itself, but only in what’s inside your minds.”—I’m not criticizing this at all; I’m just telling the story, because those who had put it together were groaning under their enormous workload. But on the other hand, just think about it: when enthusiastic young people, full of the most far-reaching ideals for the future, came in and were told about a card catalog!—I’m not saying the card catalog is unnecessary, nor am I saying it was bad; I’m saying it was excellent and also extraordinarily necessary—but that’s not the way to go about it. It needed hearts that reached out to other hearts.

[ 21 ] This, in turn, gave rise to all sorts of impossibilities. These impossibilities, along with many other factors, ultimately led to the realization that the Anthroposophical Society needed to be reorganized. It needed to create an environment in which human individuals could truly be active within it—in their own unique way and with the opportunity to fully express themselves—and also find an atmosphere in which they could breathe and continue to develop. These were, therefore, quite fundamental problems facing the Anthroposophical Society. A revision of all its conditions of life was necessary. And the fact that it possesses such conditions of life in a most eminent sense is simply evident from the very fact that young people were coming forward with their inner vitality bursting forth. But the contradictions were growing ever greater.

[ 22 ] Of course, there were also some among the older members who had never bothered with the card catalogs—the card catalog here is merely representative of an entire system—so while they may have been very old, they did not want to concern themselves with what had once become a necessity. There were certainly members who had perhaps joined as early as 1902 or 1903, but who—even though they may have differed from the younger members in many other ways—had not come any closer to what I would call the history of the Anthroposophical Society.

[ 23 ] What first came to mind during the preliminary negotiations was truly an extraordinarily difficult matter. It could have weighed on one with immeasurable worry. Well, for now, we don’t need to talk about the negotiations. The meeting of delegates that had been called for—this call was the result of the negotiations—took place last Sunday in Stuttgart. The initial aim was for that provisional leadership committee—which had been formed from the old Executive Council for various reasons, namely the “Committee of Nine”—to discuss the past, present, and future of the Anthroposophical Society on its own initiative, and for the entire Society within Germany and Austria to have its say through its delegates. And so the proceedings unfolded. Since I only wish to give you a brief outline of what ultimately led to the outcome, I will not dwell on the fact that there was truly a “barrage” of procedural motions. No sooner had one point of order been dealt with and the discussion resumed in a businesslike manner than two or three more points of order were immediately thrown onto the president’s desk. It was a veritable deluge; we simply could not finish discussing these points of order. But I do not wish to dwell on that. I want to point out that truly excellent things were said—truly compelling, deeply anthroposophical words were spoken. Albert Steffen spoke wonderful, heartfelt, profound words. Werbeck brilliantly described the categories of opponents and their relationship to the anthroposophical movement and to civilization as a whole. Dr. Büchenbacher vividly described how someone who joined the Society in 1917, 1918, 1919, 1920, or 1923 felt, given the way they were received. That not everything was good, and how some things were in between—well, you know, it’s perhaps better to remain silent out of courtesy. But excellent, magnificent things unfolded alongside, I should say, other matters. And despite all that, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday passed, and by Tuesday evening we had reached the point where we could say: If this continues tomorrow—and tomorrow was the last day—then the delegates will go their separate ways just as they had come together. For nothing had actually come to light—though, of course, much that was anthroposophical, since excellent things had been spoken—that lived within the people in the hall, within the numerous people who were present. They were all human beings, after all, but—not that the speeches hadn’t dealt with reality; they had all dealt with reality—but there was no reality in the proceedings; there was no reality, only abstraction. So it was a textbook example of an abstract existence. And it was utter chaos on Tuesday evening. People were talking completely past one another.

[ 24 ] Now I had no choice but to decide, following the lecture I was to give on Tuesday, to make a kind of proposal myself based on what was present in the hall—and in a certain sense, the entire German and Austrian Anthroposophical Society was there— but now I had to draw something out of what was sitting there as reality—something that would bring all these forces together. I was scheduled to speak on community life that very Tuesday, as this had emerged as a necessity from much of what had been said. I then made a suggestion; I said: “You can see that we’re talking past one another here, that what we’re saying isn’t leading to reality truly coming to the surface. If we set aside everything else, we have two types of sensibilities, perspectives, and opinions here. One is the old Anthroposophical Society with the committee that has emerged; the other consists of people who, when it comes down to it, have absolutely no interest in what is being advocated within the relationship between this committee and the Anthroposophical Society—to put it more precisely: all people who had not the slightest interest in what the committee had to say, for example, but who were, nonetheless, outstanding anthroposophists. One can hardly imagine anything more beautiful than what emerged from the youth during these very Stuttgart proceedings: something wonderfully, energetically beautiful. The soul of the youth expressed itself magnificently, with a stormy urge to enter into anthroposophical life, yet showing no interest whatsoever in what was now manifesting itself within the Anthroposophical Society as a society, in what was asserting itself there.

[ 25 ] One must believe in such a phenomenon. One must learn to see such a phenomenon. One must not be blind. One must not blind oneself to what is real. And so I could say nothing other than: Since these two types of people are united here, any talk of understanding—in the abstract sense—is untrue. The old Anthroposophical Society cannot be anything other than what it is; the others, too, cannot be anything other than what they are. Therefore, the Anthroposophical Society as a whole will best continue to exist if everyone goes their own way: on the one hand, the old aristocracy—no, that is, the members of the older Anthroposophical Society with history weighing on their shoulders and backs; on the other hand, the surging tide of old and young people. Now there is an old draft of a constitution for the Anthroposophical Society. What is written in it can be recommended to both parties! Each can carry out literally what is written there, but each will end up with something entirely different. That’s just how life is. In theory it’s different, but that’s how it is in life.

[ 26 ] And so I suggested: The old Anthroposophical Society should remain with its Committee of Nine. I characterized this by saying: It includes the prominent figures from Stuttgart, who manage their individual undertakings excellently, do an enormous amount of work—and in fact, even during the negotiations on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, they clearly showed that they were people weary from their previous efforts. I said: When I come to Stuttgart and something needs to be done—that’s how it’s been, I said, in recent years—I just have to press a button. These leading figures in Stuttgart have a keen understanding; they grasp everything immediately; there’s no need to say much. If one had to talk endlessly about everything, one simply wouldn’t have the time; but they understand everything right away. Absolutely everything is clear to them; you just need to give them a hint. But most of the time they don’t act on it. Then there are the others—that is, the other group: full of anthroposophical devotion, completely committed to anthroposophy. I can also speak to the leading figures of this group: At first they don’t understand anything I say, but they do everything right away.

[ 27 ] Yes, there is a big difference—a tremendous difference: some understand things with alarming ease and do nothing; others understand nothing at first, but promise to understand everything; they possess inner strength, feeling, and sensitivity—yet they do everything immediately. Everything that is not understood is done. Yes, one must distinguish between two distinct branches of society if this society is to remain a unity; one party must never lead the other astray. There is the faction—how shall I call it? Well, one must have terms; you know, it’s nothing more than a matter of terminology—the faction of commitment, of tradition, of the clearly defined—it doesn’t always have to be a physical card catalog—entries in the filing system, seated on the curule chairs. One holds a position there—president, vice president, and so on—and one administers the society. One sits there and proceeds in a systematic manner. Over there, a gentleman is looking at me who, in the last few days before I left, was able to inform me of what such a systematic approach sometimes leads to. For example, a credit note for 21 marks, I believe, was sent out; the letter had to be sent by registered mail for 150 marks! That’s all perfectly in order; if you send a letter abroad today, it costs 150 marks. So if you want to write to someone: “We have credited you with these 21 marks in the correct category of our cash book”—you spend 150 marks to ensure the entry is made correctly. That’s just how it is today when things are organized according to A, B, C. So there is the Party of Commitment, the old Anthroposophical Society. You can be a good member of it. Then there is the free association of people who don’t care about any of that, who want only a loose association based entirely on what is human. These two currents are supposed to exist now.

[ 28 ] At first, I merely sketched it out, that is, hinted at it. A speech was given that very evening, claiming that it would be the most terrible thing if this were to happen, because society would be split into two parts, and so on. But that was simply the reality of the situation! If one wanted to do anything—not based on what people thought—because what a person thinks is, as a rule, not as significant as what he actually is—but based on what was actually there, then one simply had to do it that way. That was the expression of the reality that existed. As I said, a speech was immediately given about what a terrible consequence it would be if that became necessary, and so on.

[ 29 ] Chaos had also broken out externally, in the physical space; there were groups everywhere, you couldn’t get through anywhere, you were stopped everywhere, and everywhere people felt the need to explain what this or that meant. That Tuesday, when we wanted to leave the meeting hall after eleven o’clock, the inner chaos had now become an outer chaos as well. I then came home; I was really a bit tired. Then, at midnight, they came to get me. I wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep yet—not quite—but they came to get me: there was a meeting down on Landhausstraße. On my way from the second floor to the first floor, I was detained by an impromptu gathering, and then I arrived at this meeting at about a quarter to one in the morning. But it immediately became clear: the matter had been understood after all—it had been understood quite correctly. We were able to discuss the details very well indeed; it had become clear that something could come of it if we went about it this way.

[ 30 ] Doubts had been expressed—it is, of course, natural that such doubts would arise—and it was said, for example: “Yes, but there are, after all, individuals who sympathize with the youth—who want everything that the youth want, for example—but on the other hand, they are historically embedded in the old society. They even hold positions within that old, established society, so they want to continue working there.”

[ 31 ] I said: That’s very easy to resolve. All you have to do is ensure that, if they join both branches, they pay the membership fee only once. It’s just a matter of finding a technical solution. It certainly can’t be the case that, just because someone is a member of one, they are excluded from the other. There simply needs to be the possibility for the realities to come to light. — I said that even within the institutions, there is certainly the possibility of accommodating both orientations. For example, I can create a mental image of the following scenario: There is a Waldorf teacher who leans toward the loose association; he belongs there. Another [Waldorf teacher] leans toward the group of the Committed; he therefore joins that group. In the Waldorf school, they naturally work together harmoniously.

[ 32 ] Yesterday, doubts still arose about how things stand in this or that branch. I said: Why shouldn’t the committed and the uncommitted sit side by side in the same branch? But there must be the possibility of living out the inner reality that is present everywhere. If something is conceived from reality, then it can be carried out everywhere, and that is what creates unity in the first place. It didn’t even take until a quarter past two in the morning—by then it had become essentially clear to the young people—though there were also white-haired youths there who had already lived through quite a few decades—by then it had become clear to these young people during the night from Tuesday to Wednesday: it’s going to work.

[ 33 ] Wednesday was then devoted to discussing these intentions. And so, on Wednesday evening—I’ll summarize this now and then add a few more details to my report—a concrete form of this idea began to take shape. So now there is the old Anthroposophical Society with the Committee of Nine, which I mentioned to you recently, and there is the other, more informal, freer Anthroposophical Society, which strives primarily to bring anthroposophy to the world and to deepen inner human life. Tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, I will summarize for you the most essential points of the two lectures I gave in Stuttgart; these are closely connected to life within the Anthroposophical Society; for the first lecture dealt with the conditions for building community, and the second lecture dealt with the reasons why there is so much conflict in societies founded on the principle of brotherhood.

[ 34 ] A committee was initially formed for this more liberal association—after all, the name naturally implies freedom—consisting of Mr. Lehrs, Dr. Röschl, Mr. Maikowski, Dr. Büchenbacher, Mr. Rath, Mr. von Grone, Rector Bartsch from Breslau, and Mr. Schröder. As you can see, not all of them are very young; there are some very dignified people with patriarchal beards among them. So it’s not just youthful radicalism that’s represented here, but it will certainly be able to come into its own.

[ 35 ] Yes, and that’s how it would be! It is simply a matter of handling it in the right way. This looser association has also set itself the task of forming closer communities—in a sense, working exoterically on a large scale for the cause of anthroposophy, and working esoterically on a small scale for communities that are held together less by a schematic organization than by a kind of inner karma. So, as I said, those were the two groups. I will speak more about them tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. This has indeed become necessary! What is alive cannot be preserved in the old form, in the old mold. The institutions must absolutely adapt to what is alive.

[ 36 ] You know, when I left here for Stuttgart, I said: Actually, the whole problem with the Anthroposophical Society is a matter of fit. Anthroposophy has simply grown, and the suit—the Anthroposophical Society, for it has gradually become a suit—has become too small: the jacket doesn’t even reach the elbows, and the trousers don’t reach the knees. Well, I won’t go into that any further; the whole thing just looked grotesque, and that was noticed by those who have joined us wholeheartedly in recent times.

[ 37 ] The question now is whether this attempt—not to tear the old garment apart, for that would cause it to rip, but to create a new garment with slightly greater practicality—will actually succeed. Innerly, it certainly has the capacity to succeed. The question will be whether people will find the strength to work in this way now. Just as in life everything is possible differently than in theory, so it is here as well: what really matters is that something viable is created. Take Mr. von Grong, for example; he is a member of both the committee of the bound people and the free committee of the free people—he is part of both committees. And this is how it will work best: by letting everyone be themselves—whether a patriarch or a youthfully enthusiastic person—and if someone wants to be both at the same time, why shouldn’t they also be a creature with two heads? It is therefore absolutely necessary that these forces truly be allowed to unfold freely. Of course, some things simply won’t work. For example, I was told that in one of the branches, the chairperson was once surprised when someone asked to speak, and while one person was delivering a fiery speech, another kept interrupting. Then the chairperson said: “But, my friends, that simply won’t do!”—“Why shouldn’t it?” was the reply. “We want to live according to the philosophy of freedom; we can’t let our freedom be restricted so that only one person speaks at a time! Why shouldn’t several people speak at the same time?”—Well, isn’t it true that some things just don’t work, but some things aren’t always exactly what’s called for either.

[ 38 ] For my part, I am now fully convinced that this will last for a while. Not forever; one cannot establish anything for eternity. In due course, we will once again be faced with the necessity of giving the anthroposophical organism a new form. But this is a fate we share as human beings: we cannot always wear the same clothes. And every organization is, after all, a garment for that which lives. Why should one want to work toward something eternal precisely within a socially organic structure? That which wishes to live must change, and in truth, only that which changes is full of life. Therefore, precisely for that which is to be full of life in the most eminent sense—the anthroposophical movement—we must have an organization that is itself alive. Of course, we can’t deal with reorganization every day, but it will certainly be necessary every few years! Otherwise, the chairs on which the leading figures sit will, precisely because of this, become “Kurulian.” When, on the one hand, the peculiar habit of resting in those “Kurulian” chairs takes hold, it makes the others—who aren’t sitting in them—feel restless. And so we must find a way to make even those sitting on the “curulian” chairs feel that itch! So we simply have to start shaking up the chairs a little. But if the right arrangements are made, everything can go off in the best possible way.

[ 39 ] My dear friends, I wanted to share a story with you. It wasn’t fun for me at all, but some things are just such that you can only describe the reality of them with words that sound a little humorous.