The Rudolf Steiner Archive

10. Aphorisms on the Relationship Between Theosophy and Philosophy

A Special Analysis of the Lectures on “Occult Physiology”

[ 1 ] Following the public lectures “How to Refute Theosophy?” and “How Does One Defend Theosophy?”, as well as following the reflections I have shared in recent days during the lecture series on “Occult Physiology,” a number of questions may arise, and there is a need to discuss these issues, which have been touched upon here, with the esteemed audience. The primary aim of the two public lectures was to show how, on the basis of spiritual science or Theosophy, one must be fully aware of the possible objections that may arise, and how the occultist fully acknowledges the validity of these objections; on the other hand, the lectures were intended to convey to you a very specific, finely nuanced position on how theosophical truths are to be defended in the face of the weighty objections raised by opponents.

[ 2 ] It is precisely from an awareness of the difficulties outlined above, which arise for Theosophy, that every Theosophist should feel the need to exercise the greatest possible accuracy and the highest precision in presenting Theosophical truths. This is something of which the person who, out of an understanding of the relevant contexts, has to represent these things is well aware; yet—despite everything that has been emphasized in public lectures—he inevitably comes into conflict with those who stand on the ground of modern science. Therefore, strange as it may seem, Theosophy requires, on the one hand, the most precise and exact logical formulation to clothe the truths brought down from the higher worlds, and on the other hand, no less so, out of mere common sense. And whoever sets themselves the task of formulating precisely and logically, and to this end avoids everything that might be mere filler in a sentence or merely rhetorical embellishment, very often feels how easily they can be misunderstood, simply because in our time there is not everywhere an intense need to accept the truths presented just as exactly and precisely as they are expressed. In our time, humanity—even where it engages in scientific activity—is still not at all accustomed to this kind of absolute precision. If one takes what is presented with absolute precision, one must not only refrain from changing anything in the sentences, but one must also pay close attention to the boundaries that are incorporated into the formulations.

[ 3 ] We have a simple example of this that recently came up in the Q&A section. The question was: If dream consciousness is merely a kind of visual consciousness, how is it then that certain subconscious actions, such as sleepwalking, can be carried out from within this dream consciousness? - The questioner failed to note, as I mentioned back then, that the statement that the contents of dream consciousness are somewhat pictorial does not mean that they are merely pictorial, but that, since the horizon of dream consciousness has been characterized from only one side, it naturally follows from the very nature of this characteristic: Just as our daytime actions follow from our daytime consciousness, so too could certain actions of a less conscious nature follow from the pictorial consciousness of the dream.

[ 4 ] It should be said, without any accusation, that inattentive listening is one of the main reasons why theosophy and its proponents are met with so many misunderstandings today. Such misunderstandings are not merely held by the opponents of Theosophy, but to a large extent also by those who profess this theosophical worldview. And perhaps a large part of the blame for the misunderstandings that the outside world directs toward spiritual science lies in the fact that, precisely within theosophical circles, there is so much deviation in the direction described.

[ 5 ] If we now take a look at the sciences that are recognized in our time, the general impression might be that theosophy is most closely related to philosophy and its various branches. Such a claim would indeed be correct, and one might actually assume, based on the nature of the situation, that the closest avenue for understanding theosophical insights would lie within the realm of philosophy. But it is precisely here that other difficulties arise.

[ 6 ] Philosophy, as it is practiced today—one might say, everywhere—has become a kind of specialized discipline to a much greater extent than it was even a relatively short time ago. It has become a specialized discipline, and if we look at its practical work today—without getting bogged down in individual theories—it essentially operates in abstract realms. And there is little inclination to bring philosophy down to a concrete understanding of reality. Indeed, difficulties even arise in the current practice of philosophy when one attempts to encompass the world of reality with today’s philosophical endeavors. The theory of knowledge, which was developed with great acumen in a wide variety of directions during the second half of the 19th century and up to the present day, has, in the form we have today, arisen mainly because these difficulties—in descending from the abstract heights of thought and concept to approach the facts—were felt.

[ 7 ] One senses that, particularly in lectures such as those in this series on “Occult Physiology,” Theosophy is compelled to bring what it has to offer in terms of supersensible contents of consciousness into direct contact with our actual world. If I may speak in trivial terms, I would like to say: Theosophy does not have it as easy as contemporary philosophy, which remains in abstract realms and would be quite reluctant to incorporate into its considerations such concepts as, say, blood, the liver, or the spleen—that is, the contents of the actual world. This philosophy would be very reluctant to build a bridge from its abstract conceptualizations to the concrete events and things that actually confront us directly. Theosophy is more daring in this regard and can therefore very easily be viewed, in contrast to philosophy, as a spiritual activity that boldly and unjustifiably builds a bridge from the most spiritual down to the most concrete.

[ 8 ] It must surely be interesting to ask ourselves: Why is it so difficult for philosophers to engage with theosophy? — Perhaps precisely because philosophy avoids building that bridge.

[ 9 ] For Theosophy itself, this fact is, in a certain sense, a tragedy; it is extremely tragic. For one very, very often encounters resistance when dealing with theosophical insights, especially when one attempts to work them through logically. It is precisely on the philosophical side that one encounters resistance in this regard. In fact, it has even happened very often that one encounters less resistance when one, so to speak, cheerfully recounts sensational observations from the higher worlds to people. People often forgive this relatively easily, because, first of all, these things are “interesting,” and secondly, people tell themselves: Well, since we cannot look up into these worlds, we are not called upon to pass any judgment on them at all.

[ 10 ] It is, however, the aim of Theosophy to bring everything that can be found in the higher worlds down to a level of rational understanding. These facts—if they can truly be considered as such—have been discovered through supersensible research in the supersensible worlds. However, the form of presentation should be such in our present time that everything is clothed in strictly logical forms, and that wherever it is already possible today, reference is made to how the most concrete external events can already provide us with confirmations everywhere for what we can assert on the basis of spiritual research. In this entire process of bringing down the insights of the spiritual world, clothing them in logical or other rational forms, and presenting them in a manner that meets the logical needs of our time, there now exists—one might say—a truly extraordinary and understandable source of the most numerous misunderstandings. Take, for instance, the complex matters discussed in these lectures on “Occult Physiology”—which, in their definitions, are everywhere subject to qualifications and precise specifications of their limits—take the immense complexity of the spiritual world, which is in itself tremendously dynamic and variable, and compare this spiritual world in all its variability, in the difficulty of encompassing something descending to us from spiritual worlds with coarse conceptual outlines—compare it with the ease of characterizing any external fact through an experiment or through sensory observation and describing it in a logical style!

[ 11 ] Today, however, there is a tendency throughout our philosophy, whenever concepts are explained and described, to take into account nothing other than those ideas derived from the world that lies before us as the sensory world. This becomes particularly apparent in philosophy when it is compelled, for example in the field of ethics, to find a different origin for basic concepts than those ideas derived from the external perception of the physical world. We find—and this would be easy to demonstrate, though of course only through detailed examinations of contemporary philosophical literature—that in everything dealt with in philosophy today, the definitions of concepts are so crude because, when it comes to conceptual contents of consciousness, account is taken essentially only of the world of perception that exists around us, and concepts are formed solely on the basis of that world.

[ 12 ] Is there actually any evidence to suggest that, in philosophy, when the most elementary concepts of consciousness arise, their content is derived from sources other than the sensually perceptible world? — In short: Contemporary philosophy lacks the ability to arrive at an understanding of theosophy because its theories cannot connect with the concepts we employ in our theosophical discussions. In philosophical literature, we have defined the horizon of consciousness by the fact that, in the formation of concepts, consideration is given everywhere only to the external world of perception and not to such contents that originate from sources other than sensory perception.

[ 13 ] Theosophy, however, must derive its concepts in an entirely different way; it must ascend to supersensible knowledge and draw its concepts down from the supersensible realm. But it must also delve deeply into the realm of reality and master the philosophical concepts derived from the observation of the sensory world. If we wish to visualize this schematically, on the one hand we have, in philosophy, concepts derived from external perception; on the other hand, we have concepts derived from the supersensible realm through spiritual perception. And when we consider the realm of concepts through which we communicate, we must say: If theosophy is to be regarded as legitimate, then our concepts must be drawn from both sides—on the one hand from sensory perception, on the other from spiritual perception—and in the realm of our concepts, these two sides must meet.

[ 14 ] Concepts derived from external perception (philosophy) + concepts derived from supersensory perception (theosophy) = conceptual field

[ 15 ] There must be a need, particularly in theosophical presentations, for the concepts drawn from the spiritual world to align with philosophical concepts; that is to say, our concepts must be able to connect in every instance with the concepts derived from the external world of sensory perception.

[ 16 ] Our current theories of knowledge are, more or less, almost exclusively based on the premise that concepts are derived from only one side. I do not mean to say that there are no theories of knowledge in which something supernatural is accepted as the source of concepts. But wherever something is to be proven positively, the examples are characterized by the fact that concepts are taken only from the left side (schema), that is, from the side where concepts are derived from the sensory-physical world of perception. This is also quite natural, because [in philosophy] spiritual facts are not recognized as such. One simply does not take into account the fact that spiritual facts, which are brought down from the spiritual worlds, can be conceptualized just as the facts of the physical world are conceptualized. This circumstance has led to the fact that when Theosophy seeks to communicate with philosophy, it finds almost no prepared ground on the side of philosophy, and that in philosophy the manner in which concepts are used in Theosophy cannot easily be understood.

[ 17 ] One might say: When faced with the external world of sensory perception, it is easy to give concepts sharp contours. Since things themselves have sharp contours and clear boundaries, it is easy to give concepts sharp contours as well. When, on the other hand, one faces the inner, ever-changing, and variable spiritual world, one often must first gather much information and make restrictions or expansions within the concepts in order to be able to characterize to some extent what is actually meant. Epistemology, as it is practiced today, is least suited to engaging with such concepts as those used in Theosophy. For in defining these concepts, by taking the grounds for their definitions—consciously or unconsciously—from only one side, something is inadvertently mixed into every concept one forms, leading to epistemological concepts that are entirely unnecessary for elucidating or explaining anything in Theosophy. The concept, as provided by the so-called non-theosophical world, is simply unsuitable as an instrument for characterizing what is brought down from the spiritual world through Theosophy.

[ 18 ] Now there is one such term in particular that is a terrible troublemaker in the field of epistemology. I am well aware that it is not perceived as such, but it is a troublemaker. Setting aside all the finer nuances that emerged so astutely over the course of the 19th century, this is the point where the epistemological problem is formulated in such a way that one asks: How does the self, with its contents of consciousness—or, if one wishes to avoid speaking of the self for my sake—how do the contents of our consciousness come to be related by us to a reality? — These lines of thought have more or less—with the exception of certain epistemological schools in the 19th century—led to an epistemology that repeatedly finds it a great difficulty to conceive of how the trans-subjective or transcendent, that is, what lies outside our consciousness, can enter into our consciousness. I will admit that this only roughly characterizes the problem of knowledge. But the difficulties are essentially characterized by the question: How can that which is the content of subjective consciousness even come close to being, to reality? How can it be related to reality? For we must be clear that, even if we assume a transsubjective reality lying outside our consciousness, that which is within our consciousness cannot immediately approach this reality. So we have—as it is said—the content of consciousness within us, and we can ask ourselves: How do we have the possibility of penetrating, from this content of consciousness, into being, into reality, which is independent of our consciousness?—

[ 19 ] A prominent contemporary epistemologist has characterized this problem with a succinct phrase: The human self, insofar as it encompasses the horizon of consciousness, cannot leap over itself, for it would have to leap out of itself if it were to leap into reality. But then it would be in reality and not in consciousness. — It therefore seems clear to this epistemologist that absolutely nothing can be determined about the relationship between the content of consciousness and actual reality.

[ 20 ] Many years ago, in my epistemological writings, my aim was first to identify this problem of knowledge—which is, after all, fundamental to theosophy—and then to resolve the difficulties arising from a formulation such as the one just described. In doing so, however, something very strange could happen. For example, at the time when the events I am about to describe took place, there were philosophers who assumed from the outset—much like Schopenhauer—that “the world is my idea.” That is to say, what is present in consciousness is, at first, merely the content of a concept, and the question now is how to build a bridge from the concept to what lies outside the conceptualized, to trans-subjective reality. Now, for anyone who is not captivated by assertions supposedly made in this field but approaches the matter with an open mind, a question immediately presents itself; and in the face of a great deal of epistemological literature, particularly that written in the 1870s and the first half of the 1880s, one must raise this question: If anything is “my representation,” and if this represented object is to be more than merely something lying within the content of consciousness—if it is to have validity in and of itself—then this implies something that, strictly speaking, cannot precede the starting point of epistemology, but rather something that can only be established after these far more important fundamental epistemological questions have been discussed. For we must first ask ourselves: Why are we even allowed to call something that appears within us as the content of consciousness “my idea”? Do we have the right to say: What appears on the horizon of my consciousness is my idea—? Epistemology certainly has no right to proceed from the judgment that the given is my idea; rather, if it is to go back to its very beginnings, it has the duty first to justify that what appears there is the subjective content of consciousness.

[ 21 ] There are, of course, several hundred objections to what has just been said, but I do not believe it is possible to sustain even a single one of these objections for long if one approaches the matter with an open mind. But I have experienced a well-known and prominent philosopher giving me a very peculiar answer when I drew his attention to this dilemma and tried to explain to him that one must first examine whether it is epistemologically justified to characterize the idea as something non-real. He replied: “But that goes without saying; it is already inherent in the definition of the word ‘representation’ that we place before us something that is not real.”—He could not comprehend at all—so deeply ingrained in him were these notions, which had developed over the course of centuries—that this initial definition posits something that is still entirely unfounded.

[ 22 ] If we want to make any kind of assertion at all within the scope of the world in which we find ourselves—and I ask you to understand the words “the world in which we find ourselves” as the world as we experience it in everyday life—if we want to make any kind of assertion at all within this world, for example, that what is given as the world is a “representation,” then we must be clear that it is not at all possible to make such a statement without what we call our thinking activity, without thoughts and concepts. I do not wish to comment here on the fact that such a statement is, in terms of formal logic, already a “judgment.” The moment we begin to leave anything as it appears before us, but instead make a statement about it, we intervene with our thinking in the world around us. And if we are to have any right to intervene in the world in such a way that we designate something as “subjective,” then we must be aware that what determines that something is called “subjective” must not itself be subjective.

[ 23 ] For suppose we have here the sphere of subjectivity (a circle is drawn on the board and the word “subjectivity” is written above it), and suppose that from this sphere we make the assertion, for example, that A is subjective, is “my conception,” or whatever; then this assertion itself is subjective.

[ 24 ] Subjectivity

[ 25 ] The conclusion to be drawn from this is not that we may accept this assertion, but rather that such a conclusion must not be drawn, for such an assertion would be self-contradictory. If subjectivity can be established solely from within itself, then that would be a self-contradictory assertion. If the statement “A is subjective” is to have any meaning, it must not originate from the sphere of subjectivity, but from a reality outside of subjectivity. That is to say, if the “I” is to be in a position at all to say that something has a subjective character—for example, that something is “my idea”—if the “I” is to have the right to designate something as subjective, then it must not itself be within the sphere of subjectivity, but must make this determination from outside the sphere of subjectivity. We must therefore not trace the assertion that something is subjective back to the “I,” which is itself subjective.*)

[ 26 ] This, however, offers a way out of the sphere of subjectivity by making us realize that we could not determine what is subjective and what is objective, and would have to refrain from even the very first steps of thinking about it at all if we did not stand in such a relationship to subjectivity and objectivity that both have an equal share in us. This leads us to acknowledge—which I cannot elaborate on further here—that our self must not be taken merely as subjective, but is more comprehensive than our subjectivity. We have a right to distinguish, from a certain given content—that is, from something objective—that which is subjective.

[ 27 ] We are first confronted with the various terms “objective,” “subjective,” and “transsubjective.” “Objective” is, of course, something different from “transsubjective” [gap in the notes].

[ 28 ] Now that we have established these premises, the question is whether we are able to remove the stumbling block that is one of the most significant obstacles in epistemology, namely, whether or not the entire scope of our self can be found within subjectivity. For if the self must also participate in objectivity, the question “Can anything enter the sphere of subjectivity?” takes on an entirely different form. As soon as one may describe the self as participating in the sphere of objectivity, the self must possess qualities within itself that are of the same kind as the objective; something from the sphere of objectivity must also be found within the self. In other words: We may now assume a relationship between the objective and the subjective that differs significantly from the view that nothing can pass from the trans-subjective to the subjective.

[ 29 ] When one says that nothing can pass over into the subjective, one has, first, defined the subjective epistemologically as self-contained, and second, one has used a concept that is valid only for a certain sphere of reality, but cannot apply to the entire scope of reality. This is the concept of the “thing-in-itself.” This concept plays a major role for many epistemologists; it is like a net in which philosophical thought itself becomes entangled. Yet one fails to notice that this concept applies only to a certain sphere of reality and that it ceases to apply where that sphere ends.

[ 30 ] In the material realm, for example, the concept applies. I would like to recall the example of the seal and sealing wax. If you take a seal bearing the name “Müller” and press it into hot sealing wax, then you can rightly say: Nothing of the material substance of the seal can pass over into the sealing wax. — Here you have a case where the inability to pass over applies. With the name “Müller,” however, it is different; it can flow over completely into the sealing wax. And if the wax itself could speak and wanted to emphasize that nothing of the material of the seal has flowed into it, it would still have to admit that what matters—namely, the name “Müller”—has passed over completely. So here we have crossed the sphere where the concept of the “thing-in-itself” had any justification.

[ 31 ] How did this concept—which appears in a somewhat more subtle form in Kant, in a rather crude and clumsy form in Schopenhauer, and then in a perceptive description by a wide variety of 19th-century epistemologists—come to acquire such significance?

[ 32 ] When one examines the whole matter more closely, it becomes clear that what people formulate in concepts ultimately depends on the entire nature of their thinking. Only in an age in which all concepts must be characterized in such a way that they are always formed from external perception could a concept such as that of the “thing-in-itself” have come into being.

[ 33 ] Concepts derived solely from external perception, however, are not suitable for characterizing the spiritual. If such a disguised—one might say thoroughly masked—materialism had not been introduced into epistemology—for that is the crucial fact: a form of materialism that is truly not easy to recognize has been introduced into the theory of knowledge—then one would be clear that a theory of knowledge intended to apply to the spiritual realms must also have concepts that are not formed in this crude style, such as the concept of the “thing-in-itself.” For the spiritual realm, where one cannot speak of an “outside” and an “inside” in the same sense at all, it must be clear that we need more refined concepts.

[ 34 ] I could only touch on this briefly, for otherwise I would have to write an entire book, which would be very thick and would also have to span several volumes, since the history of philosophy and the theory of knowledge would have to be followed by metaphysical topics. But you can see from this that it is quite understandable that this kind of thinking, because it springs from deeply masked prejudices, is useless for everything that extends into the spiritual world. I have now spoken to you for an hour solely about this most abstract of concepts. I have endeavored to make the matter understandable and am fully aware that the objections, which stand clearly before my own soul, may of course also arise in many other souls. If this were a different gathering, it might require a special justification for, one might say, deceiving one’s listeners in this way—that is, speaking in the most abstract—as some might believe, the most convoluted—terms instead of the usual factual material that is expected. Well, in the course of our theosophical work we have seen time and again that theosophy also has the advantage that within the theosophical movement the duty to knowledge is cultivated, and that thereby, little by little, a pernicious notion is overcome that exists everywhere else—a very pernicious notion that says: “That is, after all, something that goes beyond my horizon, something I do not want to concern myself with, something that does not interest me!”

[ 35 ] For some who grapple with fundamental philosophical questions and who, from experience, are familiar with the sometimes sparsely attended seminars on epistemology, it may come as a surprise that here in our movement so many people—who, according to the judgment of this or that epistemologist, “the most thorough amateurs” in the field of epistemology, come to a gathering to listen to such a topic. In some places we have even had an even larger number of listeners specifically for philosophical lectures that have been interspersed among the theosophical ones. But if one examines the situation more closely, one may say that this is precisely one of the best testimonies for the Theosophists. Theosophists know that they should listen impartially to any objections that may be raised. They remain calm, for they know full well that while objections to research into the supersensible worlds are indeed possible and justified, they also know that some things initially labeled as illogical may ultimately turn out to be very logical. The Theosophist also learns to regard it as his duty to absorb insights into his soul, even if it is difficult for him to engage with epistemology and logic. For in this way he will increasingly be able not only to listen to general theosophical presentations, but also to work seriously with logic and conceptual frameworks within Theosophy. The world will have to become acquainted with the idea that philosophy, in its broadest sense, can be reborn within the Theosophical Movement. A zeal for philosophical rigor, for thorough logical conceptualization, will gradually, if I may use the term, take root within the Theosophical Movement. By which I do not mean to say that the results in this regard are already very satisfactory upon close inspection. We will certainly still have to view this with modesty, but we are on the path toward this goal.

[ 36 ] The more we cultivate a willingness to engage in intellectual inquiry, scientific rigor, and philosophical thoroughness, the more we will be able, through theosophical work, not only to pursue our transient personal goals but also to achieve goals for humanity. Many things are today only at the stage of the very first will. But it is becoming apparent that in the will directed toward knowledge there is already something akin to ethical self-education, which is achieved through the interest we show in Theosophy. And there will soon be no lack of this. If no other obstacles arise than those that already exist today, the outside world will not be able to deny theosophy the recognition that the theosophist does not seek the easy satisfaction of his spiritual longings, but that in theosophy a serious striving for philosophical thoroughness and conscientiousness is manifested, not mere dilettantism. This striving will be particularly suited to sharpening the philosophical conscience of humanity. If we do not accept theosophical teachings as dogmas, but understand what Theosophy can be as a real power within our soul, then this can serve as fuel for the human soul to increasingly grasp the powers hidden within it and to lead them to an awareness of their destiny. Therefore, within our Theosophical movement, let us foster this zeal for thorough logic and epistemology, and thus, by standing more firmly on the ground of our physical world, learn to look up ever more clearly—without fanaticism or nebulous mysticism—to the spiritual worlds, whose content we wish to bring down and integrate into our physical worldview.

[ 37 ] Whether we wish to do so depends solely on whether we can attribute a genuine mission to theosophy in humanity’s earthly existence.