The Study of Man
GA 293
25 August 1919, Stuttgart
Lecture IV
The education and teaching of the future will have to set particular value on the development of the will and the feeling nature. It is constantly being emphasised, even by those who have no thought of a new educational impulse, that special attention must be paid, in education, to the feeling nature and to the will. But with the best will in the world they can accomplish little in this sphere. Feeling and will are left more and more to what is called chance, because there is no insight into the real nature of will.
By way of introduction I should like to say the following: it is not until the nature of the will is really known that it is possible to understand even a part of the other emotive powers, a part of the feelings. We can ask the question: what is a feeling in reality? A feeling is very closely related to will. I may even say that will is only the accomplished feeling, and feeling is will in reserve. Will which does not yet express itself, which remains behind in the soul, that is feeling: feeling is like blunted will. On this account the nature of feeling will not be understood until the nature of will has been thoroughly grasped.
Now you will know from what I have already developed that nothing that lives in the will fully takes shape in the life between birth and death. Whenever a man makes a resolution with his will there is always something over, something which is not exhausted even up to his death; a remainder of every resolution and act of will lives on and continues beyond death. During the whole of life, and especially in the age of childhood, notice must be taken of this part of the will which remains.
We know that when we observe man in his totality, we consider him as body, soul and spirit. The body, at least the main constituents of it, is born first. (You will find details about this in the book Theosophy. Thus the body is involved in the stream of inheritance and bears the inherited characteristics. The soul, in the main, is a principle which comes out of prenatal existence and unites itself with the body; it descends into the body. But the spiritual part of man to-day is only present in embryo—though in future this will be different. And now, when we want to lay the foundations for a good theory of education, we must pay heed to this embryonic form of the spirit in the man of this epoch in evolution. Let us first of all be quite clear as to what it is that exists in embryo for a far distant future of humanity.
First there is, in embryonic form, what we call the Spirit-Self. We cannot include the Spirit-Self among the constituents or members of human nature when we are speaking of the present-day man; but there is a clear consciousness of the Spirit-Self in men who are able to see into the spiritual. You know that the whole oriental consciousness, in so far as it is educated consciousness, calls this Spirit-Self Manas, and that Manas is always spoken of in the oriental spiritual teaching as indwelling in man. But amongst western peoples too, even if they are not exactly “learned,” there is a clear consciousness of this Spirit-Self. And I say deliberately: that this clear consciousness exists; for amongst the people, at least before they had completely absorbed the materialistic point of view, that part of man which remains over after death was called the Manes: people said that after death there remains over, the Manes—Manas is the same as the Manes. I say that the people have a clear consciousness of this, for the people in this case use the plural, the Manes. We who from a scientific standpoint connect the Spirit-Self more with man before death, use the singular form, “the Spirit-Self.” The people who speak of the Spirit-Self more realistically from a naive knowledge use the plural number because at the moment in which a man passes through the gate of death, he is received by a plurality of spiritual beings. I have already pointed this out in another connection: we each have a spirit who leads us personally, belonging to the Hierarchy of the Angels; over them we have the spirits belonging to the Hierarchy of the Archangels, who enter into a man immediately he passes through the gate of death, so that he then exists in a certain way in the plural, because many archangels have entered into his being. The people feel this very clearly because they know that after death man perceives himself (to a greater or lesser degree) as a plurality, in contrast to his appearance in this life which is a unity. Thus the Manes live on in the naive folk consciousness as the plural aspect of the Spirit-Self, of Manas.
A second higher principle of man is that which we call Life-Spirit. In the Life-Spirit we come to something which is less perceptible in present-day man. It is something of a very spiritual nature in man which will develop in the very distant future of humanity. And then there is the highest in man which at present is only in the very earliest embryonic stage, the real Spirit-Man.
But although these three higher principles of human nature are only present in embryo in the earthly life of the man of to-day, yet, albeit under the guardianship of higher spiritual Beings, they develop in a very significant way between death and a new birth. Thus when man dies and enters again into the spiritual world, these three principles develop very markedly, pointing, in a measure, to a future existence of humanity. Thus just as a man in his present life develops in soul and spirit between birth and death, so after death he goes through definite development, only then he is attached, as it were by an umbilical cord to the spiritual beings of the higher Hierarchies.
Let us now add to these scarcely perceptible higher members of man's nature others which we can already perceive. These express themselves in the three soul principles: the Consciousness soul, the Intellectual or Mind-soul, and the Sentient soul. These are the true soul constituents of man. If to-day we want to speak of the soul of man as it lives in the body, then we must speak of the three soul principles just mentioned. If we are speaking of his body, we speak, as you know, of the sentient body (which is the finest of all and is also called the astral body), the etheric body and the grosser physical body, which we see with our eye and which external science analyses. With these we have the whole man before us.
Now you know that the physical body as we have it belongs also to the animals. It is only when we compare this whole man, according to these nine principles, with the animal world that we can arrive at a useful picture of the relation of man to the animals. I mean a mental picture which enters truly into the life of feeling and which the Will itself can apprehend. We must know that just as the soul of man is clothed with a physical body the animal also is clothed with a physical body, which, however, in many ways is formed differently from that of man. The physical body of man is not really more perfect than that of the animal. Think of some of the higher animals, the beaver, for instance, how he builds his dams. A man could not do this unless he had learned it, unless indeed he had gone through a very complicated training for the purpose, including the study of architecture and kindred subjects. The beaver makes his dam by means of the organisation of his body. He is so related to his environment that he uses the very forces which build up his own physical body in the construction of his dam. His physical body itself is, in this respect his teacher. We can observe the wasps and bees, also the so-called lower animals, and we shall find something inherent in the form of their physical bodies which is not in the physical body of man to the same degree of intensity. This is all that we include in the concept instinct; and we can only make a real study of instinct if we consider it in connection with the form of the physical body. If we study all the different species of animals as distributed in the world we shall find that the forms of their physical bodies always give us the clue to the study of the different kinds of instinct.
When we want to study the will, we must first seek it in the sphere of instinct and we must be aware that we find instinct in the forms of the physical bodies of the various animals. If we were to look at the chief animal forms and were to draw them, we should then be able to draw the different spheres of instinct. The form of the physical body in the different animals is a picture of what the instinct is as will. You see that when we are able to apply this view of things it brings meaning into the world. We contemplate the animal bodies and see them as a picture drawn by Nature herself to express what existence holds.
Now in our physical body, forming and permeating it throughout, there lives the etheric body. To the external senses it is super-sensible, invisible. But when we look at the will nature we find the following: just as the etheric body permeates the physical body so it also takes hold of what in the physical body manifests as instinct. And then instinct becomes impulse. In the physical body will is instinct: as soon as the etheric body dominates instinct, will becomes impulse*. (*German Trieb: another translation would be Drive, as used in some modern psychology).
Now, when instinct—which one can understand more concretely in external form—is viewed as impulse, it is very interesting to observe how it becomes more inward, and also more of a unity. When speaking of instinct, either in animals or in its weaker form in man, we shall always regard it as something stamped upon the being from without: whereas impulse, more inward in its nature, also comes more from within, because the super-sensible etheric body transforms instinct into impulse.
Now man has also the sentient body. That is of a still more inward nature. In its turn it takes hold of impulse, and then not only is this made more inward, but instinct and impulse are both lifted into consciousness, and in this way desire arises. You find desire also in the animal, as you find impulse, because the animal has also these three principles, physical body, etheric body and sentient body. But when you speak of desire you will quite instinctively regard it as something of a very inward nature. You describe impulse as a thing which manifests in a uniform manner from birth to old age; while in speaking of desire you speak of something which is created afresh by the soul every time. A desire is not necessarily something belonging to the character; it need not be attached to the soul, but it comes and goes. Thus we see that desire has more of the soul character than mere impulse.
And now let us put the question which cannot apply to the animal: when man takes up into his ego—i.e. into his sentient soul, intellectual or mind-soul, and consciousness soul—the instinct, impulse and desire of the body what do they become? We do not distinguish so clearly here as we do within the body, because in the soul, particularly just now, everything is mixed up more or less. Psychologists of to-day are puzzled to know whether to keep the principles of the soul completely apart or let them intermingle. Some psychologists are haunted by the old, strict differentiation between will, feeling and thought; in others, e.g. in the more Herbartian psychologists, everything is directed more to the side of the mental picture, while in the followers of Wundt it goes more to the side of will. They have no true conception of how to deal with the membering of the soul. This is because in actual practical life the ego really permeates all the capacities of the soul, and in the present day human being the differentiation with regard to the three members of the soul does not appear clearly even in practice. Hence language has no words for differentiating the will nature in the soul—instinct, impulse, desire, when it is taken hold of by the ego. But instinct, impulse and desire in man when taken hold of by the ego we generally call motive, so that when we speak of the will impulse in the individual soul, in what belongs to the “I,” we are speaking of motive; and we realise that animals can have desires, but no motives. It is only man who can raise the level of desire by bringing it into the soul world, and hence comes the urge to conceive a motive inwardly. It is only in man that desires grow into a true motive of will. It is a description of the nature of will in man to-day to say: in man instinct, impulse and desire from the animal world still persist, but he raises them to motive. Anyone considering the will nature in man to-day will say: “If I know the man's motives, then I know the man.” But not quite! For when the human being develops motives, something is sounding quietly in the depths, and this gentle undertone must now be very, very carefully observed.
I beg you to distinguish what I call this undertone very carefully from anything of a mental image, or conceptual nature. I do not now mean what is more of the nature of mental picture or idea in the will impulse. You can, e.g., have the following idea: something I wished to do, or did, was good; or you can have some other idea; but that is not what I mean. I mean something that can be faintly heard beneath the impulse of will, but which is still of the nature of will. There is something which always works in the will when we have motives; that is, the wish. I do not now mean the strongly developed wishes out of which the desires are formed, but an undercurrent of wishes that accompany all our motives. They are always present. We perceive this wishing particularly clearly when we carry out something which arises out of a motive in our will, and then we think it over and say to ourselves; what you did then you could do much better. But what is there we do in life, without a feeling that we could have done it better? It would be sad if we were completely contented with anything, for there is nothing which we could not do better still. And this is where we see the difference between a man who is somewhat more civilised and one who is not so advanced, for the latter always has the tendency to be satisfied with himself. The more advanced man never wants to be so thoroughly satisfied with himself because he has always in him the soft undertone of a wish to do better, even to do differently. There is much sinning in this domain. Men regard it as a tremendously noble thing to repent of a deed; but that is not the best that can be done with a deed; for often repentance is based upon sheer egoism: one would like to have done something better in order to be a better man. That is egoistic. Our efforts will only cease to be egoistic when we do not wish to have done a thing better than we have done it, but consider it far more important to do the same thing better next time. The intention which a man has is the more important thing, not the repentance—the endeavour to do the same thing on another occasion. And in this intention wish sounds as an undertone; so that we may well ask the question: What is this undertone of wish which accompanies our intention? For anyone who can really observe the soul this wish is the first element of all that remains over after death. It is something of this remainder which we feel when we say: we ought to have done it better: we wish we had done it better. In the wish, in the form in which I have described it to you, we have something which belongs to the Spirit-Self.
Now the wish can become more concrete, it can take on a clearer form, Then it becomes similar to an intention. Then there is formed a kind of mental picture of how a thing would be done better if it had to be done again. I do not, however, lay the greatest stress on the mental picture, but on the feeling and the will elements which accompany each motive, the intention to do a thing better in a similar case. Here the so-called sub-conscious in man plays a prominent part. If in your ordinary consciousness to-day you perform an action out of your own will, you do not necessarily make an idea in your mind of how you will do it. But the other man living in you, the “second” man, he always forms—not indeed as a mental picture, but in the region of the will—a clear picture of how he would act if he were again in the same position. Be sure you do not undervalue such knowledge as this. Above all do not fail to appreciate this second man who lives in you.
That so-called scientific line of thought which calls itself analytical psychology, “psycho-analysis,” talks a lot of nonsense about this “second man.” This psycho-analysis usually starts from the following classic example in setting forth its principles. I have already told you this story, but it is good to call it to mind again. It is as follows: A man gives an evening party at his house, and it is known that, immediately after the party is over, the lady of the house is going away to a Spa. There are at the party various people, among them a lady. The party is given. The lady of the house is taken to the train that she may travel to the Spa. The rest of the party leaves and with them the lady already mentioned. She, with the other members of the party, is overtaken at a crossroads by a carriage which, coming round a corner from another street, is not seen until it is quite close. What do the people coming from the party do? Of course they avoid the carriage by going right and left, with the exception of the lady. She runs as fast as she can in front of the horses down the middle of the street. The coachman does not stop and the rest of the party are terrified. But the lady runs so fast that the others cannot follow her, and she runs until she comes to a bridge. And even then it does not occur to her to get out of the way. She falls into the water, but she is saved and brought back to her late host's house. And there she is able to spend the night.
You find this as an example in many works on psychoanalysis. But something in it is always falsely interpreted. For the question is: what was at the back of this whole incident? The will of the lady. What did she really want to do? She wanted to return to her host's house as soon as his wife had gone away, for she was in love with him. This, however, was not a conscious wish, but something which had its seat in the sub-conscious. And this sub-consciousness of the second man, within us, is often much more shrewd than a man is in his upper consciousness. So clever was the sub-conscious in this case that the lady arranged the whole proceeding up to the moment in which she fell into the water in order to be able to return to her host's house. In fact she saw prophetically that she would be saved. Psycho-analysis tries to get at these hidden soul forces, but it only speaks in general of a “second man.” But we are able to know that there does exist in every man what is at work in the subconscious soul forces, and that it often shows itself to be extraordinarily clever, much cleverer than the ordinary activity of the soul.
In every man there dwells, underground, as it were, the “other” man. In this other man there lives also the “better” man, who always makes up his mind, when he has done a thing, to do it better next time, so that always, as an undertone to every deed, there is the intention, the unconscious, subconscious intention to do it better when a similar occasion arises.
Not until the soul is freed from the body does this intention become a resolution. This intention remains like a seed in the soul, and the resolution follows later. The resolution has its seat in the Spirit-Man, the intention in the Life-Spirit and the pure wish in the Spirit-Self. When you then consider man as a being of Will you can find all these component parts in him: instinct, impulse, desire and motive, and then, playing in as a gentle accompaniment: wish, intention and resolution which are already living in Spirit-Self, Life-Spirit, and Spirit-Man
This has a great significance in the development of the human being. For what is thus present under the surface, waiting for the time after death, is expressed in man in image form between birth and death. We describe it there in the same words. We experience wish, intention and resolution through our mental picturing. But we shall only experience wish, intention, resolution as they accord with true manhood when these things are developed and nurtured in the right manner. What wish, intention and resolution really are in deeper human nature, does not appear in the external man between birth and death. Images of them appear in the life of mental pictures. If you only develop ordinary consciousness you know nothing at all of what “wish” is. You have only an idea, a mental picture of a “wish.” Hence Herbart maintains that the very idea of a wish contains activity and effort. It is the same with intention; you have only a mental picture of it. You want to do something or other which involves a real activity in the depths of the soul, but you do not know what goes on in the depths. And now as to resolution, who knows anything about that? Ordinary psychology speaks only of a “general willing.” Yet the teacher and educator has to enter into all these three soul forces in order to guide and regulate them. To be a teacher and educator one must work with what is taking place in the depths of human nature.
It is of the utmost importance that the teacher or educator should realise continually: it is not enough to base our teaching on ordinary life, it must come forth from an understanding of the inner man.
Popular socialism is prone to this mistake of arranging education on the basis of everyday life. This is how the current Marxist socialism would like to establish the education of the future. In Russia this has already happened. In the Lunatscharsky school reform there is something terrible. It is the death of all culture. Many dreadful things have come out of Bolshevism, but the most dreadful of all is the Bolshevist method of education, which would entirely eradicate all that former ages have contributed to human culture. This will not be achieved in the first generation but will certainly be attained in following generations, with the result that all culture will soon vanish from the face of the earth. Some people must see this. You have heard in this very room people singing a song of praise to Bolshevism, who have not the faintest idea that through it the Devil has entered socialism.
We must take great care that there are men who know that progress in the social sphere demands and depends upon more intimate understanding of the human being in the sphere of education. Hence it must be known that the educator and the teacher of the future must understand the innermost being of man, must live with this inner being and that the ordinary intercourse which takes place between adults cannot be applied to education. What do the ordinary Marxists want? They want to run the Schools socialistically; they want to do away with all authority and let the children educate themselves. Something dreadful would come out of this!
We once visited a boarding-school and wanted to see one of the most important lessons, a religion lesson. When we entered the classroom one little ruffian was lying on the window-sill, kicking with his feet out of the window; another was lying on his stomach with his head outside, and all the pupils were behaving in similar fashion. The religion teacher entered and read a story by Gottfried Keller, which the children accompanied with all sorts of racket. Then, when the lesson came to an end, they went out to play. I had the impression that the boarding-school was nothing more than a stable for animals (the sleeping quarters were only a few paces away). Of course we must not make too much of such things. Much good may live underneath them. But they give a good impression of what the future has in store for the life of culture.
What do we commonly find advocated? That children should have the same sort of relationship with each other as is usual among adults. But this is the most spurious thing that can be done in education. People must realise that a child has to develop quite different powers of soul and of body than those which adults use in their intercourse with each other. Thus education must be able to reach the depths of the soul; otherwise no progress will be made. Hence we must ask ourselves: what part of education, what part of teaching affects the will nature of man? Once and for all this problem must be faced.
If you think of what was said yesterday you will remember that everything intellectual is will grown old, will in its old age. Thus all ordinary exhortation, anything in the form of a concept has no effect upon a child at the usual school age. Let us once more summarise what has been said, so that we may be clear on this point: feeling is will in the becoming, will that has not yet become; but the whole human being lives in the will, so that in a child too the subconscious resolutions must be reckoned with. But let us at all costs guard against believing that we can influence a child's will by all the things we have thought out so well—in our own opinion. We must ask ourselves how we can have a good influence on the feeling nature of the child. This we can only achieve by introducing actions which have to be constantly repeated. You direct the impulse of the will aright, not by telling a child once what the right thing is, but by getting him to do something to-day and tomorrow and again the day after. It is not the right thing to begin by exhorting the child and giving him rules of conduct: you must lead him to do something which you think will awaken his feeling for what is right, and get him to do it repeatedly. An action of this sort must be made into a habit. The more it becomes an unconscious habit, the better it is for the development of the feeling; the more conscious a child is of doing the action repeatedly, out of devotion, because it ought to be done, because it must be done, the more you are raising the deed to a real impulse of will. A more unconscious repetition cultivates feeling: fully conscious repetition cultivates the true will impulse, for it enhances the power of resolution, of determination. The power of determination, which is dormant in the sub-conscious, is spurred and aroused when you lead the child to repeat things consciously. In cultivating the will, therefore, we must not expect to do what is of importance in cultivating the intellect. Where the intellect is concerned we always consider that when an idea is given to a child, the better he “grasps” it, the better it is: the single presentation of the thing is of the greatest importance: after that it has to be retained, remembered. But a thing taught once and afterwards retained has no effect on feeling or will: rather the feeling and will are affected by what is done over and over again, and by what is seen to be the right thing to do because circumstances demand it.
The earlier, more naive patriarchal forms of education achieved this in a naive patriarchal way: it simply became a habit of life. In all the things which were used in this way there is something of educational value. Why, for instance, should we use the Lord's Prayer every day? If a man nowadays were expected to read the same story daily, he simply would not do it; he would find it far too dull. The man of to-day is trained to do things once. But men of an earlier time not only said the same Lord's Prayer every day, they also had a book of stories which they read at least every week. And for this reason their wills were stronger than those produced by the present methods of education: for the cultivation of the will depends upon repetition and conscious repetition. This must be taken into consideration. And so it is not enough to say in the abstract that the will must be educated. For then people will believe that if they have good ideas themselves for the development of the will and apply them to the child by some clever methods, they will contribute something to the cultivation of the will. But in reality this is of no use whatever. Those who are exhorted to be good become only weak nervous men. Those become inwardly strong to whom it is said in childhood: “You do this to-day and you do that, and both of you do the same tomorrow and the day after.” And they do it merely on authority because they see that one in the school must command. Thus to assign to the child some kind of work for each day that he can do every day, sometimes even the whole year through, has a great effect upon the development of the will. In the first place it creates a contact amongst the pupils; then it also strengthens the authority of the teacher, and doing the same thing repeatedly works powerfully on the children's will.
Why then has the artistic element such a special effect, as I have said already, on the development of the will? Because, in the first place, practice depends upon repetition; but secondly because what a child acquires artistically gives him fresh joy each time. The artistic is enjoyed every time, not only on the first occasion. Art has something in its nature which does not only stir a man once but gives him fresh joy repeatedly. Hence it is that what we have to do in education is intimately bound up with the artistic element.
We will go further into this tomorrow. I wanted to show to-day that the education of the will must be brought about in a different way from the education of the intellect.
Vierter Vortrag
Wenn Sie sich an das erinnern, was ich gestern in unserem halböffentlichen Vortrag gesagt habe, so werden Sie daraus ersehen können, in welcher Beziehung ein ganz besonderer Wert gelegt werden muß in der Zukunftserziehung und im Zukunftsunterricht auf die Willens- und Gemütsbildung. Ich habe gestern gesagt: Es wird zwar immer betont, auch von denjenigen, die an keine Erneuerung des Unterrichts- und Erziehungswesens denken, daß Wille und Gemüt in der Erziehung besonders berücksichtigt werden müssen, aber es kann eigentlich von dieser Seite, trotz allen guten Willens, nicht viel zu dieser Willens- und Gemütserziehung getan werden. Sie bleiben immer mehr und mehr dem sogenannten Zufall überlassen, weil keine Einsicht vorhanden ist in die wirkliche Natur des Willens.
Einleitend möchte ich nun das Folgende bemerken: Erst wenn man den Willen wirklich erkennt, kann man auch wenigstens einen Teil der anderen Gemütsbewegungen erkennen, einen Teil der Gefühle. Wir können uns die Frage stellen: Was ist denn eigentlich ein Gefühl? Ein Gefühl ist mit dem Willen sehr verwandt. Wille ist, ich möchte sagen, nur das ausgeführte Gefühl, und das Gefühl ist der zurückgehaltene Wille. Der Wille, der sich noch nicht wirklich äußert, der in der Seele zurückbleibt, das ist das Gefühl; ein abgestumpfter Wille ist das Gefühl. Daher wird man das Wesen des Gefühls auch erst dann verstehen, wenn man das Wesen des Willens durchdringt.
Nun können Sie schon aus meinen bisherigen Auseinandersetzungen sehen, daß alles, was im Willen lebt, sich nicht vollständig ausgestaltet in dem Leben zwischen Geburt und Tod. Es bleibt im Menschen, wenn er einen Willensentschluß ausführt, immer etwas übrig, was sich nicht erschöpft in dem Leben bis zum Tode hin; es bleibt ein Rest, der im Menschen fortlebt und der gerade von jedem Willensentschluß und jeder Willenstat durch den Tod sich fortsetzt. Dieser Rest muß durch das ganze Leben und insbesondere auch im kindlichen Alter berücksichtigt werden.
Wir wissen, wenn wir den vollständigen Menschen betrachten, so betrachten wir ihn nach Leib, Seele und Geist. Der Leib wird zunächst, wenigstens seinen gröberen Bestandteilen nach, geboren. Das Genauere darüber finden Sie in meinem Buche «Theosophie». Der Leib wird also in die Vererbungsströmung einbezogen, trägt die vererbten Merkmale und so weiter. Das Seelische ist schon in der Hauptsache das, was aus dem vorgeburtlichen Dasein sich verbindet mit dem Leiblichen, hinuntersteigt in das Leibliche. Aber das Geistige ist im gegenwärtigen Menschen — in dem Menschen einer ferneren Zukunft wird es ja anders sein - eigentlich nur seiner Anlage nach vorhanden. Und hier, wo wir die Grundlagen zu einer guten Pädagogik legen wollen, müssen wir auf das Rücksicht nehmen, was im Menschen der heutigen Entwickelungsepoche nur der Anlage nach als Geistiges vorhanden ist. Machen wir uns zunächst einmal ganz klar, was als solche Anlagen des Menschen für eine ferne Menschheitszukunft vorhanden sind.
Da ist zunächst das vorhanden, eben nur der Anlage nach, was wir nennen das Geistselbst. Das Geistselbst werden wir nicht unter die Bestandteile, unter die Glieder der menschlichen Natur ohne weiteres aufnehmen können, wenn wir von dem gegenwärtigen Menschen sprechen; aber ein deutliches Bewußtsein vom Geistselbst ist insbesondere bei solchen Menschen vorhanden, die auf das Geistige zu sehen vermögen. Sie wissen, daß das gesamte morgenländische Bewußtsein, insofern es gebildetes Bewußtsein ist, dieses Geistselbst «Manas» nennt und daß von Manas als etwas im Menschen Lebendem in der morgenländischen Geisteskultur durchaus gesprochen wird. Aber auch in der abendländischen Menschheit, wenn sie nicht gerade «gelehrt» geworden ist, ist ein deutliches Bewußtsein von diesem Geistselbst vorhanden. Und zwar sage ich nicht ohne Bedacht: ein deutliches Bewußtsein ist vorhanden; denn man nennt im Volke — hat wenigstens genannt, bevor das Volk ganz ergriffen worden ist von der materialistischen Gesinnung — das, was vom Menschen übrigbleibt nach dem Tode, die Manen. Man spricht davon, daß nach dem Tode übrigbleiben die Manen; Manas = die Manen. Ich sagte: ein deutliches Bewußtsein hat das Volk davon; denn das Volk gebraucht in diesem Falle den Plural, die Manen. Wir, die wir wissenschaftlich mehr das Geistselbst noch auf den Menschen vor dem Tode beziehen, sagen in der Einzahl: das Geistselbst. Das Volk, das mehr aus der Realität, aus der naiven Erkenntnis heraus über dieses Geistselbst spricht, gebraucht die Mehrzahl, indem es von den Manen redet, weil der Mensch in dem Augenblick, wo er durch die Pforte des Todes geht, aufgenommen wird von einer Mehrzahl von geistigen Wesenheiten. Ich habe das schon in einem anderen Zusammenhang angedeutet: Wir haben unseren persönlichen führenden Geist aus der Hierarchie der Angeloi; darüberstehend aber haben wir die Geister aus der Hierarchie der Archangeloi, die sich sogleich einschalten, wenn der Mensch durch die Pforte des Todes geht, so daß er dann sofort sein Dasein in gewisser Beziehung in der Mehrzahl hat, weil viele Archangeloi in sein Dasein eingeschaltet sind. Das fühlt das Volk sehr deutlich, weil es weiß, daß der Mensch, im Gegensatz zu seinem Dasein hier, das als eine Einheit erscheint, sich dann mehr oder weniger als eine Vielheit wahrnimmt. Also die Manen sind etwas, was im naiven Volksbewußtsein von diesem der Mehrzahl nach vorhandenen Geistselbst, von Manas, lebt.
Ein zweiter, höherer Bestandteil des Menschen ist dann das, was wir den Lebensgeist nennen. Dieser Lebensgeist ist schon sehr wenig wahrnehmbar innerhalb des gegenwärtigen Menschen. Er ist etwas sehr geistiger Art im Menschen, was sich in ferner Menschenzukunft entwikkeln wird. Und dann das Höchste, was im Menschen ist, was gegenwärtig eben nur der ganz geringfügigen Anlage nach vorhanden ist, das ist der eigentliche Geistesmensch.
Wenn nun aber auch im gegenwärtigen, hier auf der Erde zwischen Geburt und Tod lebenden Menschen diese drei höheren Glieder der Menschennatur nur der Anlage nach vorhanden sind, so entwickeln sie sich, allerdings unter dem Schutze höherer geistiger Wesenheiten, zwischen Tod und neuer Geburt doch sehr bedeutsam. Wenn also der Mensch stirbt und sich in die geistige Welt wieder hineinlebt, entwickeln sich diese drei Glieder, gewissermaßen vordeutend ein zukünftiges Menschheitsdasein, sehr deutlich. Also geradeso wie der Mensch sich in seinem jetzigen Leben geistig-seelisch zwischen Geburt und Tod entwickelt, so hat er auch nach dem Tode eine deutliche Entwickelung, nur daß er dann, gleichsam wie an einer Nabelschnur, an den geistigen Wesenheiten der höheren Hierarchien dranhängt.
Fügen wir nun jetzt zu den heute kaum wahrnehmbaren höheren Gliedern der Menschennatur dasjenige hinzu, was wir jetzt schon wahrnehmen. Das ist zunächst das, was sich ausprägt in der Bewußstseinsseele, in der Verstandes- oder Gemütsseele und in der Empfindungsseele. Das sind die eigentlichen Seelenbestandteile des Menschen. Wollen wir heute beim Menschen von der Seele sprechen, wie sie im Leibe lebt, so müssen wir von den eben angeführten drei Seelengliedern sprechen. Wollen wir von seinem Leibe sprechen, so sprechen wir von dem Empfindungsleib, dem feinsten Leib, den man auch astralischen Leib nennt, von dem ätherischen Leib und dem groben physischen Leib, den wir mit unseren Augen sehen und den die äußere Wissenschaft zergliedert. Damit haben wir den ganzen Menschen vor uns.
Nun wissen Sie ja, daß der physische Leib, wie wir ihn an uns tragen, auch dem Tiere eigen ist. Wir bekommen nur, wenn wir diesen ganzen Menschen nach diesen neun Gliedern mit der Tierwelt vergleichen, eine empfindungsgemäße und für die Auffassung des Willens brauchbare Vorstellung von der Beziehung des Menschen zu den Tieren, wenn wir wissen: so wie der Mensch in seiner Seele umkleidet ist mit dem physischen Leib, so ist auch das Tier mit einem physischen Leib umkleidet, aber der physische Leib des Tieres ist in vieler Beziehung anders gestaltet als der des Menschen. Der physische Leib des Menschen ist nicht eigentlich vollkommener als der des Tieres. Denken Sie an solche aus der Reihe der höheren Tiere wie an den Biber, wenn er seinen Biberbau formt. Das kann der Mensch nicht, wenn er es nicht lernt, wenn er nicht sogar eine sehr komplizierte Schulung dazu durchmacht, wenn er nicht Architektur lernt und dergleichen. Der Biber macht seinen Bau aus der Organisation seines Leibes heraus. Es ist einfach sein äußerer, physischer Leib so geformt, daß er sich in die äußere physische Welt so einfügt, daß er das, was in den Formen seines physischen Leibes lebt, zur Herstellung seines Biberbaues verwenden kann. Sein physischer Leib selbst ist in dieser Beziehung sein Lehrmeister. Wir können die Wespen, die Bienen, können auch die sogenannten niederen Tiere beobachten und werden in der Form ihrer physischen Leiber finden, daß darin etwas verankert ist, was im physischen Leibe des Menschen in dieser Ausdehnung, in dieser Stärke nicht vorhanden ist. Das ist alles das, was wir umfassen mit dem Begriff des Instinktes; so daß wir den Instinkt in Wirklichkeit nur studieren können, wenn wir ihn im Zusammenhange mit der Form des physischen Leibes betrachten. Studieren wir die ganze Tierreihe, wie sie sich außen ausbreitet, so werden wir in den Formen der physischen Leiber der Tiere überall drinnen die Anleitung haben, die verschiedenen Arten der Instinkte zu studieren. Wir müssen, wenn wir den Willen studieren wollen, ihn zuerst aufsuchen im Gebiete des Instinktes und müssen uns bewußt werden, daß wir den Instinkt auffinden in den Formen der physischen Leiber der verschiedenen Tiere. Wenn wir die Hauptformen der einzelnen Tiere ins Auge fassen und aufzeichnen würden, so würden wir die verschiedenen Gebiete des Instinktes zeichnen können. Was der Instinkt als Wille ist, das ist im Bilde die Form des physischen Leibes der verschiedenen Tiere. Sie sehen, dadurch kommt Sinn in die Welt hinein, wenn wir diesen Gesichtspunkt anlegen können. Wir überschauen die Formen der physischen Tierleiber und sehen darin eine Zeichnung, welche die Natur selbst von den Instinkten schafft, durch die sie verwirklichen will, was im Dasein lebt.
Nun lebt in unserem physischen Leibe, diesen ganz durchgestaltend, durchdringend, der Ätherleib. Er ist für die äußeren Sinne übersinnlich, unsichtbar. Aber wenn wir auf die Willensnatur schauen, dann ist es so, daß ebenso, wie der Ätherleib den physischen Leib durchdringt, so ergreift er auch das, was sich im physischen Leibe als Instinkt äußert. Dann wird der Instinkt zum Trieb. Im physischen Leib ist der Wille Instinkt; sobald der Ätherleib sich des Instinktes bemächtigt, wird der Wille Trieb. Es ist dann sehr interessant, zu verfolgen, wie in der Beobachtung der Instinkt, den man in der äußeren Form mehr konkret erfassen kann, sich verinnerlicht und sich auch mehr vereinheitlicht, indem man ihn als Trieb betrachtet. Von Instinkt wird man immer so sprechen, daß er, wenn er sich im Tiere oder in seiner Abschwächung im Menschen vorfindet, dem Wesen von außen aufgedrängt ist; beim Trieb ist schon daran zu denken, daß das, was sich in einer mehr verinnerlichten Form äußert, auch mehr von innen kommt, weil der übersinnliche Ätherleib sich des Instinktes bemächtigt und dadurch der Instinkt zum Trieb wird.
Nun hat der Mensch auch noch den Empfindungsleib. Der ist noch innerlicher. Er ergreift nun wieder den Trieb, und dann wird nicht nur eine Verinnerlichung erzeugt, sondern es wird Instinkt und Trieb auch schon ins Bewußtsein heraufgehoben, und so wird daraus dann die Begierde. Die Begierde finden Sie auch noch beim Tiere, wie Sie den Trieb bei ihm finden, weil das Tier ja alle diese drei Glieder, physischen Leib, Ätherleib, Empfindungsleib, auch hat. Aber wenn Sie von der Begierde sprechen, so werden Sie schon, ganz instinktiv, sich herbeilassen müssen, die Begierde als etwas sehr Innerliches anzusehen. Beim Trieb sprechen Sie so, daß er doch, ich möchte sagen von der Geburt bis zum späten Alter sich einheitlich äußert; bei der Begierde sprechen Sie von etwas, was erkraftet wird von dem Seelischen, was mehr einmalig erkraftet wird. Eine Begierde braucht nicht charakterologisch zu sein, sie braucht nicht dem Seelischen anzuhaften, sondern sie entsteht und vergeht. Dadurch zeigt sich die Begierde als mehr dem Seelischen eigentümlich als der bloße Trieb.
Jetzt fragen wir uns: Wenn nun der Mensch - was also beim Tiere nicht mehr auftreten kann - in sein Ich, das heißt in Empfindungsseele, Verstandes- oder Gemütsseele und Bewußtseinsseele dasjenige hereinnimmt, was als Instinkt, Trieb und Begierde in seinem Leiblichen lebt, was wird dann daraus gemacht? Da unterscheiden wir nicht so streng wie innerhalb des Leiblichen, weil Sie in der Seele tatsächlich, namentlich beim gegenwärtigen Menschen, alles mehr oder weniger durcheinandergemischt haben. Das ist ja auch das Kreuz der gegenwärtigen Psychologie, daß die Psychologen nicht wissen, sollen sie die Glieder der Seele streng auseinanderhalten, oder sollen sie sie durcheinanderfließen lassen? Da spuken noch bei einzelnen Psychologen die alten strengen Unterscheidungen zwischen Wille, Gefühl und Denken; bei anderen, zum Beispiel bei den mehr Herbartisch gearteten Psychologen, wird alles mehr nach der Vorstellungsseite hinübergeleitet, bei den Wundtianern mehr nach der Willensseite. Also man hat keine rechte Vorstellung davon, was man eigentlich mit der Gliederung der Seele machen soll. Das kommt davon her, weil im praktischen Leben in der Tat das Ich alle Seelenfähigkeiten durchsetzt und weil beim gegenwärtigen Menschen in bezug auf die drei Glieder der Seele die Unterscheidung auch in der Praxis nicht deutlich hervortritt. Daher hat die Sprache auch keine Worte, um das, was in der Seele willensartiger Natur ist - Instinkt, Trieb, Begierde -, wenn es vom Ich erfaßt wird, zu unterscheiden. Aber im allgemeinen bezeichnen wir das beim Menschen, was als Instinkt, Trieb, Begierde vom Ich erfaßt wird, als Motiv, so daß wir, wenn wir von dem Willensantriebe in dem eigentlichen Seelischen, in dem «Ichlichen» sprechen, vom Motiv sprechen und dann wissen: Tiere können wohl Begierden haben, aber keine Motive. Beim Menschen erst wird die Begierde erhoben, indem er sie in die Seelenwelt hereinnimmt, und dadurch wird der starke Antrieb bewirkt, innerlich ein Motiv zu fassen. Bei ihm erst wird die Begierde zum eigentlichen Willensmotiv. Dadurch, daß wir sagen, im Menschen lebt noch von der Tierwelt her Instinkt, Trieb und Begierde, aber er erhebt diese zum Motiv, dadurch haben wir, wenn wir vom Willen sprechen, dasjenige, was beim gegenwärtigen Menschen vorliegt. Das ist deutlich vorhanden. Und wer überhaupt den Menschen beobachten wird hinsichtlich seiner Willensnatur, der wird sich sagen: Weiß ich beim Menschen, was seine Motive sind, so erkenne ich ihn. Aber nicht ganz! Denn es klingt leise unten etwas an, wenn der Mensch Motive entwickelt, und dieses leise Anklingende muß nun sehr, sehr stark berücksichtigt werden.
Ich bitte Sie jetzt, genau zu unterscheiden, was ich mit diesem Anklingenden beim Willensimpuls meine, von dem, was mehr vorstellungsgemäß ist. Was mehr vorstellungsgemäß ist beim Willensimpuls, das meine ich jetzt nicht. Sie können zum Beispiel die Vorstellung haben: Das war gut, was ich da gewollt oder getan habe - oder Sie können auch eine andere Vorstellung haben. Das meine ich nicht, sondern ich meine jetzt das, was eben willensmäßig noch leise anklingt. Da ist zunächst eines, das auch, wenn wir Motive haben, immer noch im Willen wirkt, der Wunsch. Ich meine jetzt nicht die stark ausgeprägten Wünsche, aus denen dann die Begierden sich bilden, sondern jenen leisen Anklang von Wünschen, die alle unsere Motive begleiten. Sie sind immer vorhanden. Dieses Wünschen nehmen wir besonders dann stark wahr, wenn wir irgend etwas ausführen, das einem Motive in unserem Willen entspringt, und wenn wir zuletzt darüber nachdenken und uns sagen: Was du da ausgeführt hast, das könntest du noch viel besser ausführen. — Aber gibt es denn etwas, was wir im Leben tun, bei dem wir nicht das Bewußtsein haben könnten, daß wir es noch besser ausführen könnten? Es wäre traurig, wenn wir mit irgend etwas vollständig zufrieden sein könnten, denn es gibt nichts, was wir nicht auch noch besser machen könnten. Und dadurch gerade unterscheidet sich der in der Kultur etwas höherstehende Mensch von dem niedriger stehenden, daß der letztere immer mit sich zufrieden sein möchte. Der Höherstehende möchte nie mit sich so richtig zufrieden sein, weil ein leiser Wunsch nach Bessermachen, sogar nach Andersmachen, immer mitklingt als Motiv. Auf diesem Gebiete wird ja viel gesündigt. Die Menschen sehen etwas wer weiß wie Großes darin, wenn sie eine Handlung bereuen. Das ist aber nicht das Beste, was man mit einer Handlung anfangen kann, denn die Reue beruht vielfach auf einem bloßen Egoismus: man möchte etwas besser getan haben, um ein besserer Mensch zu sein. Das ist egoistisch. Unegoistisch wird unser Streben erst dann, wenn man nicht die schon vollbrachte Handlung besser haben möchte, sondern wenn man viel größeren Wert darauf legt, in einem nächsten Falle dieselbe Handlung besser zu machen. Der Vorsatz, den man so faßt, die Anstrengung, das nächste Mal eine Sache besser zu machen, ist das Höchste, nicht die Reue. Und in diesen Vorsatz klingt der Wunsch noch hinüber, so daß wir uns wohl die Frage stellen dürfen: Was ist es, was da mitklingt als Wunsch? - Für den, der die Seele wirklich beobachten kann, ist es das erste Element von alledem, was nach dem Tode übrigbleibt. Es ist etwas von dem Rest, was wir fühlen: Wir sollten es besser gemacht haben, wir wünschten es besser zu machen. — Das gehört schon dem Geistselbst an: der Wunsch in der Form, wie ich ihn auseinandergesetzt habe.
Nun kann sich der Wunsch mehr konkretisieren, kann deutlichere Gestalt annehmen. Dann wird er dem Vorsatz ähnlich. Dann bildet man sich eine Art Vorstellung davon, wie man die Handlung, wenn man sie noch einmal machen müßte, besser machen würde. Aber auf die Vorstellung lege ich nicht den großen Wert, sondern auf das Gefühls- und Willensmäßige, das jedes Motiv begleitet, das Motiv: das nächste Mal in ähnlichem Falle etwas besser zu machen. Da kommt bei uns das sogenannte Unterbewußte des Menschen zu starker Auswirkung. In Ihrem gewöhnlichen Bewußtsein werden Sie nicht, wenn Sie heute aus Ihrem Willen heraus eine Handlung vollführen, immer eine Vorstellung davon entwerfen, wie Sie das nächste Mal eine ähnliche Handlung besser ausführen können. Der Mensch aber, der noch in Ihnen lebt, der zweite Mensch, der entwickelt - allerdings jetzt nicht vorstellungsgemäß, sondern willensgemäß - immer ein deutliches Bild von dem, wie er die Handlung, wenn er noch einmal in derselben Lage wäre, ausführen würde. Unterschätzen Sie ja nicht eine solche Erkenntnis! Unterschätzen Sie überhaupt nicht diesen zweiten Menschen, der in Ihnen lebt.
Von diesem zweiten Menschen faselt heute viel jene sogenannte wissenschaftliche Richtung, welche sich die analytische Psychologie nennt, die Psychoanalyse. Diese Psychoanalyse geht ja gewöhnlich von einem Schulbeispiel aus, wenn sie sich darstellt. Ich habe dieses Schulbeispiel auch schon erzählt, aber es ist ganz gut, es sich wieder einmal vor die Augen zu rücken. Es ist das folgende: Es wird von einem Manne in seinem Hause eine Abendgesellschaft gegeben, und es ist im Programm vorgesehen, daß gleich nach Schluß der Gesellschaft die Dame des Hauses noch abreisen soll, um ins Bad zu fahren. Bei dieser Gesellschaft sind verschiedene Leute, darunter auch eine Dame. Die Gesellschaft wird gegeben. Die Dame des Hauses wird zum Zuge gebracht, um ins Bad zu reisen. Die übrige Gesellschaft geht fort und mit den anderen auch die eine Dame. Sie wird ebenso wie die anderen Glieder der Gesellschaft an einer Straßenkreuzung von einer Droschke überrascht, die gerade von einer anderen Straße her um die Ecke biegt, so daß man sie erst sieht, als man ganz nahe davor ist. Was tun die Mitglieder der Gesellschaft? Sie weichen selbstverständlich der Droschke rechts und links aus, nur jene eine Dame nicht. Sie läuft, soviel sie laufen kann, mitten auf der Straße immer vor den Pferden her. Der Droschkenkutscher hört auch nicht mit fahren auf, und die anderen Teilnehmer der Gesellschaft sind ganz erschrocken. Aber die Dame läuft so rasch, daß die anderen ihr nicht folgen können, läuft, bis sie an eine Brücke kommt. Da fällt es ihr auch nicht ein, jetzt auszuweichen. Nun fällt sie ins Wasser, aber sie wird gerettet, und sie wird dann zurückgebracht in das Haus des Gastgebers. Dort kann sie nun die Nacht zubringen. — Diese Begebenheit finden Sie als Beispiel in vielen Darstellungen der Psychoanalyse. Es wird nur überall etwas darin falsch interpretiert. Denn man muß sich fragen: Was liegt dem ganzen Vorgang zugrunde? Zugrunde liegt das Wollen der Dame. Was wollte sie nämlich? Sie wollte, nachdem die Dame des Hauses abgereist sein würde, in das Haus des Gastgebers zurückkehren, denn sie war in den Mann verliebt. Aber das war kein bewußtes Wollen, sondern etwas, was ganz im Unterbewußtsein saß. Und dieses Unterbewußtsein des zweiten Menschen, der im Menschen sitzt, ist oftmals viel raffinierter als der Mensch in seinem Oberstübchen. So raffiniert war in diesem Falle das Unterbewußtsein, daß die Dame die ganze Prozedur angestellt hat bis zu dem Augenblick, wo sie ins Wasser fiel, um in das Haus des Gastgebers zurückzukommen. Sie sah sogar prophetisch voraus, daß sie gerettet werden würde. - Diesen verborgenen Seelenkräften sucht nun die Psychoanalyse nahezukommen, aber sie spricht nur im allgemeinen von einem zweiten Menschen. Wir aber können wissen, daß das, was in den unterbewußten Seelenkräften wirksam ist und sich oftmals außerordentlich raffiniert äußert, viel raffinierter als bei normaler Seelenbeschaffenheit, in jedem Menschen vorhanden ist.
In jedem Menschen sitzt unten, gleichsam unterirdisch, der andere Mensch. In diesem anderen Menschen lebt auch der bessere Mensch, der sich immer vornimmt, bei einer Handlung, die er begangen hat, in einem ähnlichen Falle die Sache das nächste Mal besser zu machen, so daß immer leise mitklingt der Vorsatz, der unbewußte, unterbewußte Vorsatz, eine Handlung in einem ähnlichen Falle besser auszuführen.
Und erst wenn die Seele einmal vom Leibe befreit sein wird, wird aus diesem Vorsatz der Entschluß. Der Vorsatz bleibt ganz keimhaft in der Seele liegen; dann folgt der Entschluß später nach. Und der Entschluß sitzt ebenso im Geistesmenschen, wie der Vorsatz im Lebensgeist und wie der reine Wunsch im Geaistselbst sitzt. Fassen Sie also den Menschen als wollendes Wesen ins Auge, so können Sie alle diese Bestandteile finden: Instinkt, Trieb, Begierde und Motiv, und dann leise anklingend das, was schon im Geistselbst, im Lebensgeist und im Geistesmenschen lebt als Wunsch, Vorsatz und Entschluß.
Das hat nun für die Entwickelung des Menschen eine große Bedeutung. Denn was da leise lebt als sich aufbewahrend für die Zeit nach dem Tode, das lebt sich im Bilde aus beim Menschen zwischen Geburt und Tod. Da bezeichnet man es dann mit denselben Worten. Vorstellungsmäßig erleben wir auch da Wunsch, Vorsatz und Entschluß. Aber nur dann werden wir in menschlich entsprechender Weise diesen Wunsch, Vorsatz und Entschluß erleben, wenn diese Dinge in richtiger Art herangebildet werden. Was Wunsch, Vorsatz und Entschluß eigentlich in der tieferen Menschennatur sind, das tritt nicht hervor beim äußeren Menschen zwischen Geburt und Tod. Die Bilder treten im Vorstellungsleben hervor. Sie wissen ja gar nicht, wenn Sie nur das gewöhnliche Bewußtsein entwickeln, was Wunsch ist. Sie haben stets nur die Vorstellung des Wunsches. Daher glaubt Herbart, es sei überhaupt in der Vorstellung des Wunsches schon ein Strebendes vorhanden. Beim Vorsatz ist es ebenso; von ihm haben Sie auch nur die Vorstellung. Sie wollen so und so etwas tun, was sich real unten in der Seele abspielt, aber Sie wissen ja nicht, was da zugrunde liegt. Und nun erst der Entschluß! Wer weiß denn etwas davon? Nur von einem allgemeinen Wollen spricht die allgemeine Psychologie. - Und dennoch muß in alle diese drei Seelenkräfte regelnd und ordnend der Unterrichter und Erzieher eingreifen. Man muß gerade mit dem arbeiten, was in den Tiefen unten in der Menschennatur sich abspielt, wenn man erziehend und unterrichtend arbeiten will.
Geistesmensch: Entschluß
Lebensgeist: Vorsatz
Geistselbst: WunschBewußtseinsseele Motiv
Verstandesseele Motiv
Empfindungsseele MotivEmpfindungsleib: Begierde
Ätherleib: Trieb
Physischer Leib: Instinkt
Es ist immer außerordentlich wichtig, daß man sich als Erzieher und Unterrichter bewußt werde: Es genügt nicht, den Unterricht einzurichten nach dem gewöhnlichen Menschenverkehr, sondern man muß diesen Unterricht aus der Erfassung des inneren Menschen heraus gestalten.
Diesen Fehler, den Unterricht nach dem gewöhnlichen Verkehr der Menschen einzurichten, möchte gerade der landläufige Sozialismus machen. Denken Sie sich nur einmal, es würde nach dem Ideal der gewöhnlichen marxistischen Sozialisten die Schule der Zukunft gestaltet werden. In Rußland ist es schon geschehen; daher ist dort die Lunatscharskische Schulreform etwas ganz Fürchterliches. Sie ist der Tod aller Kultur! Und wenn schon aus dem übrigen Bolschewismus sehr viel Schlimmes hervorgeht - das Schlimmste aus ihm wird die bolschewistische Unterrichtsmethode sein! Denn sie wird, wenn sie siegte, gründlich alles das ausrotten, was aus den früheren Zeiten an Kultur überkommen ist. Sie wird es nicht gleich in der ersten Generation erreichen, aber sie wird es bei den kommenden Generationen um so sicherer können, und dann wird sehr bald jegliche Kultur vom Erdboden verschwinden. Das müßten einige einsehen. Denn denken Sie sich, daß wir ja jetzt unter den dilettantischen Forderungen eines gemäßigten Sozialismus leben. Dahinein klingen die Klänge, die in der verkehrtesten Art den Sozialismus ausgestalten wollen. Gutes mit Schlimmem tönt da zusammen. Sie haben es ja in diesem Raume selbst gehört, haben Menschen gehört, die ein Loblied auf den Bolschewismus gesungen haben und die gar keine Ahnung davon haben, daß dadurch das Teuflische selbst in den Sozialismus hineingetrieben wird.
Hier muß besonders achtgegeben werden. Es müssen Menschen da sein, welche wissen, daß der Fortschritt nach der sozialen Seite ein um so intimeres Erfassen des Menschen von seiten der Erziehung fordert. Daher muß man wissen, daß gerade von dem Zukunftserzieher und -unterrichter das Innerste der Menschennatur angefaßt werden muß, daß man mit diesem Innersten der Menschennatur leben muß und daß der gewöhnliche Verkehr, wie er sich zwischen den Erwachsenen abspielt, nicht im Unterricht angewendet werden darf. Was wollen denn die gewöhnlichen Marxisten? Sie wollen die Schule sozialistisch gestalten, wollen das Rektorat abschaffen und nichts an seine Stelle setzen und wollen möglichst die Kinder durch sich selbst erziehen lassen. Es kommt etwas Furchtbares heraus!
Wir waren einmal in einem Landerziehungsheim und wollten uns beim dortigen Unterrichte die erhebendste Stunde ansehen: die Religionsstunde. Wir kamen in das Unterrichtszimmer. Da lag auf dem Fensterbrett ein Bengel, der räkelte sich mit seinen Beinen zum Fenster hinaus; ein zweiter hockte auf dem Fußboden, ein dritter lag irgendwo auf dem Bauch und hob den Kopf nach aufwärts. So ungefähr waren alle Schüler in dem Raume verteilt. Dann kam der sogenannte Religionslehrer und las ohne besondere Einleitung eine Novelle von Gottfried Keller vor. Dabei begleiteten die Schüler seine Vorlesung wieder mit den verschiedensten Räkeleien. Dann, als er damit zu Ende war, war die Religionsstunde aus, und alles ging ins Freie. Mir stieg bei diesem Erlebnis das Bild auf, daß neben diesem Landerziehungsheim ein großer Hammelstall war - und einige Schritte davon entfernt lebte dann diese Schülerschaft. - Gewiß, auch diese Dinge sollen nicht scharf getadelt werden. Es liegt viel guter Wille zugrunde, aber es ist eine vollständige Verkennung dessen, was für die Kultur der Zukunft zu geschehen hat.
Was will man denn heute nach dem sogenannten sozialistischen Programm? — Man will die Kinder so miteinander in Verkehr treten lassen, wie es bei den Erwachsenen der Fall ist. Das aber ist das Falscheste, was man in der Erziehung tun kann. Man muß sich bewußt sein dessen, daß das Kind noch etwas ganz anderes an Seelenkräften und auch an Körperkräften zu entwickeln hat, als die Erwachsenen im Wechselverkehr miteinander zu entwickeln haben. Also auf das, was tief unten in der Seele sitzt, muß die Erziehung und der Unterricht eingehen können; sonst kommt man nicht weiter. Daher wird man sich fragen müssen: Was vom Unterricht und von der Erziehung wirkt auf die Willensnatur des Menschen? — Diese Frage muß einmal ernstlich in Angriff genommen werden.
Wenn Sie an das gestern Gesagte denken, werden Sie sich erinnern: Alles Intellektuelle ist schon greisenhafter Wille, ist schon der Wille im Alter. Also alle gewöhnliche Unterweisung im verstandesmäßigen Sinne, alle gewöhnliche Ermahnung, alles, was für die Erziehung in Begriffe gefaßt wird, wirkt in dem Alter, das für die Erziehung in Betracht kommt, noch gar nicht auf das Kind. Nun fassen wir die Sache noch einmal zusammen, so daß wir wissen: Gefühl ist werdender, noch nicht gewordener Wille; aber im Willen lebt der ganze Mensch, so daß man auch bei dem Kinde rechnen muß mit den unterbewußten Entschlüssen. Hüten wir uns nur vor dem Glauben, daß wir mit allem, was wir meinen gut ausgedacht zu haben, auf den Willen des Kindes einen Einfluß haben. Wir müssen uns daher fragen: Wie können wir einen guten Einfluß auf die Gefühlsnatur des Kindes nehmen? Das können wir nur durch das, was wir einrichten als das wiederholentliche Tun. Nicht dadurch, daß Sie dem Kinde einmal sagen, was richtig ist, können Sie den Willensimpuls zur richtigen Auswirkung bringen, sondern indem Sie heute und morgen und übermorgen etwas von dem Kinde tun lassen. Das Richtige liegt gar nicht zunächst darin, daß Sie darauf ausgehen, dem Kinde Ermahnungen, Sittenregeln zu geben, sondern Sie lenken es hin auf irgend etwas, von dem Sie glauben, daß es das Gefühl für das Richtige im Kinde erwecken wird und lassen dies das Kind wiederholentlich tun. Sie müssen eine solche Handlung zur Gewohnheit erheben. Je mehr es bei der unbewußten Gewohnheit bleibt, um so besser ist es für die Entwickelung des Gefühls; je mehr das Kind sich bewußt wird, die Tat aus Hingabe in der Wiederholung zu tun, weil sie getan werden soll, weil sie getan werden muß, desto mehr erheben Sie dies zum wirklichen Willensimpuls. Also mehr unbewußtes Wiederholen kultiviert das Gefühl; vollbewußtes Wiederholen kultiviert den eigentlichen Willensimpuls, denn dadurch wird die Entschlußkraft erhöht. Und die Entschlußkraft, die sonst nur im Unterbewußten bleibt, wird angespornt dadurch, daß Sie das Kind bewußt Dinge wiederholen lassen. Wir dürfen also nicht mit Bezug auf die Willenskultur auf das sehen, was beim intellektuellen Leben von besonderer Wichtigkeit ist. Im intellektuellen Leben rechnen wir immer darauf: man bringt einem Kinde etwas bei, und es ist um so besser, je besser es die Sache begriffen hat. Auf das einmalige Beibringen legt man den großen Wert; dann soll die Sache nur behalten, gemerkt werden. Aber was so einmal beigebracht und dann behalten werden kann, das wirkt nicht auf Gefühl und Wille, sondern auf Gefühl und Wille wirkt das, was immer wieder getan wird und was als das durch die Verhältnisse Gebotene für richtig getan angesehen wird.
Die früheren, mehr naiv patriarchalischen Erziehungsformen haben das auch naiv patriarchalisch angewendet. Es wurde einfach Lebensgewohnheit. In allen diesen Dingen, die so angewendet wurden, liegt durchaus etwas auch gut Pädagogisches. Warum läßt man zum Beispiel jeden Tag dasselbe Vaterunser beten? Wenn der heutige Mensch jeden Tag dieselbe Geschichte lesen sollte, so würde er es gar nicht tun, das würde ihm viel zu langweilig fallen. Der heutige Mensch ist eben auf die Einmaligkeit dressiert. Die Menschen früherer Art haben alle noch das kennengelernt, daß sie nicht nur dasselbe Vaterunser täglich gebetet haben, sondern sie haben auch noch ein Buch mit Geschichten gehabt, die sie jede Woche mindestens einmal gelesen haben. Dadurch waren sie auch dem Willen nach stärkere Menschen als diejenigen, welche aus der heutigen Erziehung hervorgehen; denn auf Wiederholung und bewußter Wiederholung beruht die Willenskultur. Das muß berücksichtigt werden. Daher genügt es nicht, in abstracto zu sagen: man muß auch den Willen erziehen. Denn man wird dann glauben, wenn man selber gute Ideen für die Willensausbildung hat und diese durch irgendwelche raffinierte Methoden dem Kinde beibringt, zur Ausbildung des Willens etwas beizutragen. Das nützt aber gar nichts in Wirklichkeit. Es werden doch nur schwache, nervöse Menschen diejenigen, welche man zur Moral ermahnen will. Innerlich stark werden die Menschen werden, wenn man zum Beispiel zu den Kindern sagt: Du tust heute dies, und du tust heute das, und ihr beide werdet morgen und übermorgen dasselbe tun. - Da tun sie es auf Autorität hin, weil sie einsehen, daß einer in der Schule befehlen muß. Also: einem jeden eine Art Handlung für jeden Tag zuweisen, die sie dann jeden Tag, unter Umständen das ganze Schuljahr hindurch, vollbringen - das ist etwas, was auf die Willensbildung sehr stark wirkt. Das schafft erstens einen Kontakt unter den Schülern; dann stärkt es die Autorität des Unterrichtenden und bringt die Menschen in eine wiederholentliche Tätigkeit hinein, die stark auf den Willen wirkt. Warum wirkt denn ganz besonders das künstlerische Element auf die Willensbildung? Weil das ja im Üben erstens auf Wiederholung beruht, zweitens aber auch, weil dasjenige, was sich der Mensch künstlerisch aneignet, ihm immer wieder Freude macht. Das Künstlerische genießt man immer wieder, nicht nur das erste Mal. Es hat schon in sich die Anlage, den Menschen nicht nur einmal anzuregen, sondern ihn unmittelbar immer wieder zu erfreuen. Und daher haben wir das, was wir im Unterricht wollen, in der Tat zusammenhängend mit dem künstlerischen Element. Darauf wollen wir dann morgen weiter eingehen.
Ich wollte heute zeigen, wie auf die Willensbildung anders gewirkt werden muß als auf die Ausbildung des Intellektuellen.
Fourth Lecture
If you remember what I said yesterday in our semi-public lecture, you will see how much importance must be attached to the development of the will and the mind in future education and teaching. Yesterday I said: Although it is always emphasized, even by those who do not think about renewing the teaching and education system, that the will and mind must be given special consideration in education, in reality, despite all good intentions, not much can be done on this side to educate the will and mind. They are increasingly left to so-called chance, because there is no insight into the real nature of the will.
By way of introduction, I would like to make the following observation: only when one truly recognizes the will can one also recognize at least some of the other emotions, some of the feelings. We can ask ourselves the question: what actually is a feeling? A feeling is very closely related to the will. Will, I would say, is only the executed feeling, and feeling is the restrained will. The will that has not yet truly expressed itself, that remains in the soul, is the feeling; a dulled will is the feeling. Therefore, one will only understand the nature of feeling once one has penetrated the nature of the will.
Now you can already see from my previous discussions that everything that lives in the will is not fully developed in the life between birth and death. When a person carries out a decision of the will, there always remains something that is not exhausted in the life up to death; there remains a residue that lives on in the person and that continues through death from every decision of the will and every act of the will. This residue must be taken into account throughout life and especially in childhood.
We know that when we consider the complete human being, we consider him in terms of body, soul, and spirit. The body is born first, at least in its grosser components. You can find more details about this in my book “Theosophy.” The body is thus included in the stream of heredity, carries the inherited characteristics, and so on. The soul is mainly that which connects with the physical from pre-birth existence, descending into the physical. But the spirit is actually only present in the present human being in terms of its predisposition — in the human being of the distant future it will be different. And here, where we want to lay the foundations for good pedagogy, we must take into account what is present in human beings of today's developmental epoch only as a predisposition to the spiritual. Let us first of all make it quite clear to ourselves what predispositions are present in human beings for a distant future of humanity.
First of all, there is what we call the spirit self, which is present only as a predisposition. We cannot readily include the spirit self among the components, among the members of human nature, when we speak of the present human being; but a clear consciousness of the spirit self is present especially in those people who are able to see the spiritual. You know that the entire Eastern consciousness, insofar as it is an educated consciousness, calls this spirit self “Manas” and that Manas is certainly spoken of in Eastern spiritual culture as something living in human beings. But even in Western humanity, if it has not become “learned,” there is a clear awareness of this spirit self. And I do not say without consideration: there is a clear awareness; for the people call — or at least called, before they were completely taken over by materialistic thinking — what remains of the human being after death the Manes. They speak of the Manes remaining after death; Manas = the Manes. I said: the people have a clear awareness of this, for in this case the people use the plural, the Manes. We, who scientifically relate the spirit self more to the human being before death, say in the singular: the spirit self. The people, who speak more from reality, from naive knowledge about this spirit self, use the plural when they speak of the Manes, because at the moment when a person passes through the gate of death, they are received by a plurality of spiritual beings. I have already hinted at this in another context: we have our personal guiding spirit from the hierarchy of the Angeloi; but above this we have the spirits from the hierarchy of the Archangeloi, who immediately intervene when the human being passes through the gate of death, so that he then immediately has his existence in a certain sense in the plural, because many Archangeloi are involved in his existence. People feel this very clearly because they know that, in contrast to their existence here, which appears as a unity, human beings then perceive themselves more or less as a multiplicity. So the Manas are something that lives in the naive popular consciousness of this plurality of spirit selves, of Manas.
A second, higher component of the human being is what we call the life spirit. This life spirit is already very little perceptible within the present human being. It is something very spiritual in the human being, which will develop in the distant future of humanity. And then the highest thing in the human being, which is currently only present in a very slight predisposition, is the actual spirit-human.
But even if these three higher members of human nature are only present in potential in the present human being living here on earth between birth and death, they nevertheless develop very significantly between death and new birth, albeit under the protection of higher spiritual beings. So when a person dies and re-enters the spiritual world, these three elements develop very clearly, foreshadowing, as it were, a future human existence. Just as human beings develop spiritually and soul-wise between birth and death in their present life, so too do they undergo significant development after death, except that they are then attached, as it were, by an umbilical cord to the spiritual beings of the higher hierarchies.
Let us now add to the higher members of human nature, which are hardly perceptible today, what we can already perceive. This is, first of all, what is expressed in the consciousness soul, in the intellectual or emotional soul, and in the sentient soul. These are the actual soul components of the human being. If we want to speak today about the soul as it lives in the human being, we must speak of the three soul members just mentioned. If we want to speak of the human body, we speak of the sentient body, the finest body, also called the astral body, of the etheric body, and of the gross physical body, which we see with our eyes and which external science dissects. This gives us a mental image of the whole human being.
Now you know that the physical body, as we carry it, is also characteristic of animals. Only when we compare the whole human being, with its nine members, with the animal world, do we gain a feeling-based and useful conception of the relationship between humans and animals, if we know that just as the human being is clothed in the physical body in his soul, so too is the animal clothed in a physical body, but the physical body of the animal is in many ways different from that of the human being. The physical body of the human being is not actually more perfect than that of the animal. Think of animals from the higher order, such as the beaver, when it builds its lodge. Humans cannot do this unless they learn how, unless they undergo very complicated training, unless they study architecture and the like. The beaver builds its lodge from the organization of its body. Its outer, physical body is simply shaped in such a way that it fits into the outer physical world, enabling it to use what lives in the forms of its physical body to build its lodge. Its physical body itself is its teacher in this respect. We can observe wasps, bees, and even so-called lower animals, and we will find in the form of their physical bodies that something is anchored in them that is not present in the physical body of humans to this extent or in this strength. This is everything we encompass with the concept of instinct; so that we can only really study instinct when we consider it in connection with the form of the physical body. If we study the entire animal kingdom as it spreads outwards, we will find in the forms of the physical bodies of animals everywhere the guidance we need to study the different types of instincts. If we want to study the will, we must first seek it in the realm of instinct and become aware that we find instinct in the forms of the physical bodies of different animals. If we were to consider and record the main forms of individual animals, we would be able to draw the different realms of instinct. What instinct is as will is, in the image, the form of the physical body of the various animals. You see, meaning comes into the world when we can apply this point of view. We survey the forms of the physical bodies of animals and see in them a drawing that nature itself creates from the instincts through which it wants to realize what lives in existence.
Now, the etheric body lives in our physical body, shaping and permeating it completely. It is supersensible, invisible to the outer senses. But when we look at the nature of the will, we see that just as the etheric body permeates the physical body, it also takes hold of what is expressed in the physical body as instinct. Then instinct becomes impulse. In the physical body, the will is instinct; as soon as the etheric body takes hold of instinct, the will becomes impulse. It is then very interesting to observe how instinct, which can be grasped more concretely in its outer form, becomes internalized and also more unified when viewed as impulse. We always speak of instinct in such a way that, when it is found in animals or in its weakened form in humans, it is imposed on the being from outside; with the drive, we must already consider that what expresses itself in a more internalized form also comes more from within, because the supersensible etheric body takes hold of the instinct and thereby the instinct becomes a drive.
Now, humans also have the sentient body. This is even more internal. It now takes hold of the instinct again, and then not only is an internalization produced, but instinct and drive are also raised into consciousness, and thus desire arises. You also find desire in animals, just as you find drive in them, because animals also have all three of these members: the physical body, the etheric body, and the sentient body. But when you speak of desire, you will instinctively have to regard desire as something very inner. When you speak of instinct, you speak of something that expresses itself uniformly, I would say, from birth to old age; when you speak of desire, you speak of something that is powered by the soul, something that is powered more uniquely. A desire does not need to be characterological, it does not need to be attached to the soul, but rather it arises and passes away. This shows that desire is more peculiar to the soul than mere instinct.
Now we ask ourselves: if human beings—which is something that can no longer occur in animals—take into their ego, that is, into their sentient soul, intellectual or emotional soul, and conscious soul, that which lives in their physical body as instinct, drive, and desire, what becomes of it? Here we do not distinguish as strictly as within the physical body, because in the soul, especially in the present human being, everything is more or less mixed together. This is also the crux of present-day psychology, that psychologists do not know whether they should strictly separate the members of the soul or let them flow together. Some psychologists still haunt the old strict distinctions between will, feeling, and thinking; others, for example, the more Herbartian psychologists, transfer everything more to the side of mental image, while the Wundtians transfer it more to the side of will. So one has no real idea what to do with the structure of the soul. This is because in practical life the ego actually permeates all the faculties of the soul, and because in modern man the distinction between the three parts of the soul is not clearly apparent in practice. Therefore, language has no words to distinguish between what is of a volitional nature in the soul—instinct, drive, desire—when it is grasped by the ego. But in general, we refer to what is grasped by the ego as instinct, impulse, or desire in humans as a motive, so that when we speak of the impulses of the will in the actual soul, in the “ego,” we speak of motives and then know that animals may well have desires, but not motives. It is only in human beings that desire is elevated by being brought into the soul world, and this brings about the strong impulse to grasp a motive inwardly. It is only in human beings that desire becomes the actual motive of the will. By saying that instinct, drive, and desire still live in humans from the animal world, but that they elevate these to motives, we have, when we speak of the will, what is present in contemporary humans. This is clearly present. And anyone who observes humans in terms of their volitional nature will say to themselves: if I know what their motives are, then I recognize them. But not quite! For something resonates softly in the background when human beings develop motives, and this soft resonance must now be taken into account very, very strongly.
I now ask you to distinguish precisely between what I mean by this resonance in the impulse of the will and what is more conceptual. I am not referring to what is more conceptual in the impulse of the will. For example, you may have the mental image: What I wanted or did there was good – or you may have a different mental image. That is not what I mean, but rather what still faintly resonates in the will. First of all, there is something that, even when we have motives, still works in the will: desire. I don't mean the strong desires that give rise to cravings, but rather that faint echo of desires that accompanies all our motives. They are always present. We perceive these desires particularly strongly when we do something that springs from a motive in our will, and when we finally think about it and say to ourselves: What you have done there, you could do much better. — But is there anything we do in life where we cannot be aware that we could do it even better? It would be sad if we could be completely satisfied with anything, because there is nothing we could not do even better. And this is precisely what distinguishes the culturally superior person from the inferior one, in that the latter always wants to be satisfied with himself. The superior person never wants to be completely satisfied with himself, because a quiet desire to do better, even to do things differently, always resonates as a motive. There is much sinning in this area. People see something great in regretting an action. But that is not the best thing one can do with an action, because remorse is often based on mere egoism: one would like to have done something better in order to be a better person. That is egoistic. Our striving only becomes unselfish when we do not want to have done better in the action already accomplished, but when we attach much greater importance to doing the same action better in the next case. The resolution we make, the effort to do something better next time, is the highest thing, not regret. And in this resolution, the desire still resonates, so that we may well ask ourselves the question: What is it that resonates as a desire? For those who can truly observe the soul, it is the first element of all that remains after death. It is something of the residue that we feel: we should have done better, we wish we could do better. — This already belongs to the spirit itself: the desire in the form in which I have described it.
Now the desire can become more concrete, can take on a clearer form. Then it becomes similar to a resolution. Then one forms a kind of mental image of how one would do the action better if one had to do it again. But I do not attach great importance to the mental image, but rather to the feelings and will that accompany every motive, the motive: to do something better the next time in a similar case. This is where the so-called subconscious of human beings has a strong effect. In your ordinary consciousness, when you perform an action out of your own will today, you will not always form a mental image of how you can perform a similar action better next time. But the person who still lives within you, the second person, always develops—not according to your imagination, but according to your will—a clear picture of how you would perform the action if you were in the same situation again. Do not underestimate such insight! Do not underestimate this second person who lives within you.
Today, this second person is much talked about by the so-called scientific discipline known as analytical psychology, or psychoanalysis. This psychoanalysis usually starts from a textbook example when it presents itself. I have already recounted this textbook example, but it is quite good to bring it to mind once again. It is as follows: A man is hosting an evening party at his home, and the program stipulates that immediately after the party ends, the lady of the house is to leave for the spa. Various people are attending the party, including a lady. The party takes place. The lady of the house is ready to leave for the spa. The rest of the party leaves, and with them the one lady. Like the other members of the party, she is surprised at a crossroads by a cab that is just turning the corner from another street, so that you only see it when you are very close to it. What do the members of the group do? They naturally dodge the cab to the right and left, except for the one lady. She runs as fast as she can, in the middle of the street, always ahead of the horses. The cab driver does not stop driving, and the other members of the group are quite frightened. But the lady runs so fast that the others cannot follow her, running until she comes to a bridge. Then it does not occur to her to step aside. Now she falls into the water, but she is rescued and then brought back to the host's house. There she can now spend the night. — You will find this incident as an example in many descriptions of psychoanalysis. However, it is misinterpreted everywhere. For one must ask oneself: What is the basis of the whole process? The basis is the lady's desire. What did she want? She wanted to return to the host's house after the lady of the house had left, because she was in love with the man. But this was not a conscious desire, but something that was completely subconscious. And this subconscious of the second person who sits within the human being is often much more sophisticated than the person in their head. In this case, the subconscious was so sophisticated that the lady went through the whole procedure until the moment she fell into the water in order to return to the host's house. She even prophetically foresaw that she would be rescued. Psychoanalysis now seeks to approach these hidden soul forces, but it only speaks in general terms of a second person. We, however, can know that what is effective in the subconscious soul forces and often expresses itself in an extraordinarily sophisticated way, much more sophisticated than in a normal soul constitution, is present in every human being.
In every human being, the other person sits below, as it were underground. In this other person also lives the better person, who always resolves, when he has committed an action, to do better next time in a similar case, so that there is always a quiet echo of the intention, the unconscious, subconscious intention to perform an action better in a similar case.
And only when the soul is freed from the body does this intention become a decision. The intention remains in the soul in a germinal state; the decision follows later. And the decision resides in the spiritual being just as the intention resides in the life spirit and the pure desire resides in the spirit itself. So if you consider the human being as a willing being, you can find all these components: instinct, impulse, desire, and motive, and then, quietly resonating, that which already lives in the spirit itself, in the life spirit, and in the spirit-human being as desire, intention, and decision.
This is of great significance for the development of the human being. For what lives quietly there, preserved for the time after death, is lived out in the image of the human being between birth and death. There it is then described with the same words. In our imagination, we also experience desire, intention, and decision there. But we will only experience this desire, intention, and decision in a humanly appropriate way if these things are formed in the right way. What desire, intention, and decision actually are in the deeper human nature does not emerge in the outer human being between birth and death. The mental images emerge in the life of imagination. If you only develop ordinary consciousness, you do not know what desire is. You only ever have the mental image of desire. That is why Herbart believes that there is already something striving in the mental image of desire. It is the same with intention; you also only have the mental image of it. You want to do something in a certain way, which takes place deep down in the soul, but you do not know what lies behind it. And now the decision! Who knows anything about it? General psychology only speaks of a general will. - And yet the teacher and educator must intervene in all three of these soul forces in a regulating and ordering manner. If you want to educate and teach, you have to work precisely with what is going on deep down in human nature.
Spiritual man: Decision
Life spirit: Intention
Spirit self: desireConsciousness soul motive
Intellectual soul motive
Sentimental soul motiveSentimental body: craving
Etheric body: drive
Physical body: instinct
It is always extremely important for educators and teachers to realize that it is not enough to organize teaching according to ordinary human interaction; rather, teaching must be structured based on an understanding of the inner human being.
This mistake of organizing teaching according to ordinary human interaction is precisely what conventional socialism would like to do. Just imagine if the school of the future were to be designed according to the ideal of ordinary Marxist socialists. In Russia, this has already happened; that is why Lunacharsky's school reform is so terrible. It is the death of all culture! And even though much evil has come out of Bolshevism in general, the worst thing to come out of it will be the Bolshevik teaching method! For if it prevails, it will thoroughly eradicate everything that has been handed down from earlier times in terms of culture. It will not achieve this in the first generation, but it will be all the more certain to do so in future generations, and then very soon all culture will disappear from the face of the earth. Some people should realize this. For just imagine that we are now living under the amateurish demands of a moderate socialism. This is where the voices that want to shape socialism in the most perverse way are heard. Good and evil sound together there. You have heard it yourselves in this room, you have heard people singing the praises of Bolshevism who have no idea that this is driving the devil himself into socialism.
Particular care must be taken here. There must be people who know that progress on the social side requires an ever more intimate understanding of the human being on the part of education. Therefore, it is important to know that it is precisely the future educator and teacher who must touch the innermost core of human nature, that one must live with this innermost core of human nature, and that ordinary interaction, as it takes place between adults, must not be applied in the classroom. What do ordinary Marxists want? They want to make schools socialist, they want to abolish the headmaster's office and replace it with nothing, and they want to let children educate themselves as much as possible. The result is terrible!
We were once in a rural boarding school and wanted to observe the most uplifting lesson there: the religion lesson. We entered the classroom. There was a boy lying on the windowsill, stretching his legs out of the window; a second was crouching on the floor, a third was lying somewhere on his stomach, lifting his head upwards. That was roughly how all the students were distributed around the room. Then the so-called religion teacher came in and, without any particular introduction, read a novella by Gottfried Keller aloud. The students accompanied his lecture with all sorts of lounging around. Then, when he had finished, the religion class was over and everyone went outside. This experience gave me the impression that there was a large sheep pen next to this boarding school—and a few steps away from it lived these students. Certainly, these things should not be sharply criticized. There is a lot of good will behind them, but it is a complete misunderstanding of what needs to happen for the culture of the future.
What is the aim of the so-called socialist program today? — The aim is to let children interact with each other in the same way as adults do. But that is the worst thing you can do in education. We must be aware that children still have to develop very different mental and physical powers than adults have to develop in their interactions with each other. Education and teaching must therefore be able to address what lies deep within the soul; otherwise, no progress can be made. We must therefore ask ourselves: What aspects of teaching and education influence the will nature of human beings? This question must be seriously addressed.
If you think back to what was said yesterday, you will remember: everything intellectual is already an aged will, already the will in old age. So all ordinary instruction in the intellectual sense, all ordinary admonition, everything that is conceived as education, has no effect at all on the child at the age when education is considered. Now let us summarize the matter once more, so that we know: feeling is becoming, not yet become will; but the whole human being lives in the will, so that one must also reckon with the child's subconscious decisions. Let us only guard against the belief that we can influence the child's will with everything we think we have thought out well. We must therefore ask ourselves: How can we exert a positive influence on the emotional nature of the child? We can only do this through what we establish as repetitive action. It is not by telling the child once what is right that you can bring the impulse of the will to the right effect, but by letting the child do something today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. The right thing to do is not to start by giving the child admonitions and rules of conduct, but to guide them toward something that you believe will awaken their sense of what is right and let them do this repeatedly. You must make such an action a habit. The more it remains an unconscious habit, the better it is for the development of feeling; the more the child becomes aware of doing the act out of devotion in repetition, because it should be done, because it must be done, the more you elevate this to a real impulse of will. So more unconscious repetition cultivates the feeling; fully conscious repetition cultivates the actual impulse of will, because it increases the power of decision. And the power of decision, which otherwise remains only in the subconscious, is stimulated by having the child consciously repeat things. So, with regard to the cultivation of the will, we must not look at what is of particular importance in intellectual life. In intellectual life, we always count on teaching a child something, and the better they understand it, the better. Great importance is attached to teaching something once; then the child should just remember it. But what can be taught once and then retained does not affect the feelings and will; rather, what affects the feelings and will is what is done again and again and what is considered right to do as required by circumstances.
The earlier, more naively patriarchal forms of education also applied this in a naively patriarchal way. It simply became a habit of life. There is definitely something pedagogically beneficial in all these things that were applied in this way. Why, for example, do we pray the same Lord's Prayer every day? If people today were asked to read the same story every day, they would not do so at all; they would find it far too boring. People today are trained to seek uniqueness. People of earlier times all learned not only to pray the same Lord's Prayer every day, but they also had a book of stories that they read at least once a week. This made them stronger in will than those who emerge from today's education, for the culture of will is based on repetition and conscious repetition. This must be taken into account. Therefore, it is not enough to say in abstracto: one must also educate the will. For then one will believe that if one has good ideas for training the will and teaches them to the child through some sophisticated methods, one is contributing to the training of the will. But in reality, this is of no use at all. Those whom one wants to admonish to morality will only become weak, nervous people. People will become strong inwardly if, for example, one says to the children: You do this today, and you do that today, and both of you will do the same tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. Then they do it on authority, because they understand that someone has to give orders at school. So, assigning each person a kind of task for each day, which they then carry out every day, possibly throughout the entire school year, is something that has a very strong effect on the formation of the will. First, it creates contact among the students; then it strengthens the authority of the teacher and brings people into a repetitive activity that has a strong effect on the will. Why does the artistic element have such a strong effect on the formation of the will? Firstly, because practice is based on repetition, and secondly, because what people acquire artistically gives them pleasure again and again. Artistic things can be enjoyed again and again, not just the first time. They have the inherent capacity not only to stimulate people once, but to give them immediate pleasure again and again. And that is why what we want to achieve in our lessons is in fact connected with the artistic element. We will discuss this further tomorrow.
Today I wanted to show how the formation of the will must be approached differently from the training of the intellect.