The Rudolf Steiner Archive

[ 2 ] The building of the Goetheanum became necessary at a time when the anthroposophical movement had expanded to such an extent that it needed its own space. According to the whole nature of the anthroposophical movement, it could not be a question of having a building for its purposes constructed in this or that style. A movement which merely expresses itself in ideas and maxims can be wrapped up in any desired form, but not so a spiritual movement which is predisposed from the outset to let its currents flow into the whole of cultural life. The anthroposophical movement wants its impulses to flow into the artistic, religious and social spheres as well as into the scientific. When it speaks, its words, its ideas, are to come from the whole human being, and these ideas are to be only the outer language for experienced spiritual reality. But this experience of spiritual reality, of spiritual being, can also express itself in artistic forms, in outer social life, etc.

It had to be so, that in a place where that which stands behind the anthroposophical movement resounds in thoughts, resounds in words and ideas, is also revealed in the forms which surround the listeners, in the paintings which speak down from the walls.

[ 3 ] This is how it has always been when a civilisation, a culture wanted to manifest itself in the world. The content of such a culture does not form one-sidedly, but forms a cosmic or human totality. And the individual fields, science, art, etc., appear only as the individual members of such a totality, just as in an organism the individual members appear as born out of the totality of the organism.

Therefore, the anthroposophical movement had to create its own artistic style, just as it had to create a certain way of expressing itself in ideas. [ 4 ] The latter is still little considered today. It is, for example, necessary that anthroposophical spiritual-science should be expressed in a different way from what has hitherto been customarily contained in human civilisation.

Anthroposophy, for example, must in many respects depart from the principle, still habitually held today, of rigidly, one-sidedly, adopting a single point of view. Today, people are still often a materialist or a spiritualist, a realist or an idealist, and so on. For an unprejudiced, complete world-view this only means that when someone says “I am a materialist”, they are expressing just one side of reality, when someone says “I am a spiritualist”, they are expressing another side of reality. And anthroposophy requires all-sidedness. One is a materialist for material processes, a spiritualist for the spiritual, an idealist for the ideal, a realist for the real, and so on. Just as a tree, when seen from different standpoints, is always the same tree, but the representations of it are quite different, so the world can be represented differently from the most diverse points of view. [ 5 ] Therefore, in the field of anthroposophy, one must simply take this path when considering some spiritual or material aspect of reality. One then chooses a point of view from which to illuminate it, one feels and thereby shows a one-sidedness, but one then characterises the same thing from the opposite point of view. So that it is often necessary—let us say—to begin a lecture by speaking from the one side, and then to let the style of the lecture flow over into a characterisation using the converse forms of thought.

But this can also be necessary in an individual sentence! [ 6 ] And something else is necessary for the anthroposophical world-view. A world-view which adheres to the outer, naturalistic aspect, it can preferably work subjectively in, let us say, for example, one which is juxtaposed to it. Anthroposophy must make many things fluid, which are otherwise presented with rigid outlines, so that the sentence becomes elastic, inwardly mobile.

One then experiences that people call this style "terrible" because they have not got used to the fact that a particular spirituality also demands a particular form of expression. [ 7 ] However, it also happens, and this may perhaps be said, that from some quarters, spiritual-scientific content is taken up but clothed in the stylistic form which people are accustomed to today. Then, of course, it looks like a person wearing clothes that do not fit. Such presentations of anthroposophical content, which look like a person wearing ill-fitting clothes, are not even very rare today.

But all of this is only a sign that with anthroposophy something is to be created which is not only a new instance, a new standpoint, but which is a new, complete world-conception.

[ 8 ] And this is connected with the fact that the style, the artistic, architectural, painting and sculptural style, which had to be used in the Goetheanum, had to stand out from what had hitherto existed in the world in terms of style. In accordance with the fact that anthroposophy expresses the spiritual content of the present, which must represent progress in comparison with the spiritual content of earlier times, it was necessary to transform the old architectural styles, which were based on geometry, symmetry, a certain regularity, in short, on that which has a mathematical character, into an organic architectural style, a style which passes from the geometric-dynamic into the organic-living.

[ 9 ] I can well understand that those who feel firmly rooted in the older styles of architecture, and who see in these older styles something which they once had brought to a certain understanding, feel that what is now departing in such a radical way from everything they were accustomed to before is dilettantish. I can fully understand that. But we had to take the risk of transforming the more mathematical-dynamic style into an organic-living style.

This may still have happened as imperfectly as possible today, but a beginning had to be made. And it is as an expression of these efforts that the "Goetheanum" confronts you.

[ 10 ] Whoever approaches the "Goetheanum" from any direction will already find in its outer form that it is, without falling into abstract symbolism or arid allegory, a revelation of the particular spiritual life which wants to realise itself here. This spiritual life is more concerned with the human being as an expression of the world, a revelation of the world, than earlier stages of our human civilisation have been. This is expressed in the way the building is divided into two parts.

[ 11 ] In our present age, the human being is more dependent on sensory impressions than was the case in earlier times. In Greece, for example, human beings still had a life that perceived thoughts in the external world in the same way as we perceive only colours or sounds today, or sensory impressions in general. Just as we see red today, for example, the Greek still saw a thought expressing itself. The Greek did not have the feeling that the thought was something that they formed in their inner being, that they experienced in their inner being as separate from external reality. The separation of the human being, and with it the increase in the individuality of the human being, has progressed in the course of human evolution.

I explained this in the first chapter of my "Riddles of Philosophy". And so, it was quite natural—as I said, without symbolism, without allegorising—to perceive the building as something in two parts: as one part that contains within itself that which the human being experiences more when turned inwards, that which the human being experiences when contemplatively turned inwards, and the other part which the human being experiences when turned outward towards the world. This complete architectural idea of Dornach is not somehow thought out, symbolised, or spun from groundless thoughts, but is purely felt. It had to become so, this building, if it was thought and felt as that which should be in it. Entirely in accordance with the natural principle which I have already characterised on another occasion during these days. Just as the nutshell gets its form from the same forces which formed the nut inside, just as one can only feel that the nutshell corresponds to the nut that is inside it, so also this shell had to be the sheath for what pulsates here as art, as knowledge.

I have often used another comparison that looks more trivial, but I did not mean it trivially. I said, the building in Dornach must be like what they call a Gugelhupf mould in Vienna, pardon the expression. A Gugelhupf is a special kind of cake, a baked cake that has a special shape, baked from flour and eggs and many other beautiful things. And it has to be baked in a mould. This mould must be formed in a very specific way, because it is precisely this mould that gives the Gugelhupf its shape. So, there must always be a lovely Gugelhupf mould around the cake: that is, it must be there in the first place. The cake is baked in it, so the mould must be conceived and felt in such a way that the right thing can be baked.

Anthroposophy strives to bring into a living flow the ideas which are more adapted to the fixed forms of nature, and thus to bring into a living flow the mechanical-geometric style of architecture. Therefore, when you enter the building and look at its various areas, you will find everywhere that the attempt has been made to continue the geometric-symmetrical design in such a way that organic forms or forms reminiscent of organic forms are present everywhere.

First go to the main door, you will find that there is something like an organic form above the door. This organic form is not felt in a naturalistic way, by reproducing this or that organic thing, but is based on a living surrender to organic creation in general.

One cannot, as mere naturalists do, obtain a stylistic form by imitating leaf-like, flower-like, horn-like or eye-like forms, but by bringing oneself, with one's own soul-life, into such an inner movement as corresponds to the creation of the organic. Then, when one erects a building, which of course is not a plant or an animal, then, when the whole is conceived from the organic-living, natural forms do not arise, but forms that remind one of the natural, and which nowhere imitate the natural, but which remind one of the same.

And when you have entered the building, then go through the gallery, you will find certain forms which are intended to serve as heating elements. These forms are shaped in such a way that you have the feeling that they are growing out of the earth, that there is a living growth force in them, something that is not a plant, not an animal, but something that is growing, something organic. That takes shape. That even takes shape in such a dual form. It is something like beings speaking to each other, and their mutual relationship is also expressed.

All of this, by itself, creates according to the principle of Goethean metamorphosis, which was first created by Goethe in order to gain a cognitive overview of the organic. The organic is such that it repeats certain forms, but it does not repeat them in the same way. Goethe expresses this in such a way that in the living-organic the individual organs, let us say the leaves of a plant from the bottom up into the flower, the stamens, the pistils, and into the fruit organs, are according to the idea the same, but in their outer forms, appear in the most varied ways.

When one delves into the living, one does indeed have to form things in such a way that something which is only taken hold of spiritually, ideally, can, in its external shape, form itself in the most manifold ways. This, in turn, can be led up into the artistic, whereas Goethe first of all developed it cognitively to comprehend the organs, and must be led up into the artistic if the geometric, symmetrical, dynamic style of architecture is to be transferred into the organic style of architecture. The essential thing in such an organic style of architecture is that the whole is not only a unity through the repetition of the individual parts, but is also a unity as a whole. This means that each individual element that is there, must be as it can only be in that place.

Just think, my dear guests, your earlobe—a small organ on you, it can only be at that place where it appears on the organism. It cannot be anywhere else on the organism. But it also cannot be formed in any other way than it is there. This earlobe could not be where the big toe is now, nor could it be shaped here like the big toe. In an organism, each element is in its place and can only be shaped in the way it is shaped in that place.

You will find this adhered to in this building. Wherever you look, you will feel (certainly, individual things are still imperfect, but this is the idea of the building) that the place for each individual thing is only found out of the whole and it can only be in this place.

If you look at the balustrades of the staircase with their curves, you will see that the curves are formed in a quite definite way where the building opens outwards, where nothing can be held in place, so to speak, by the forces; on the other hand, the forms dam up towards the building, they contract, as is also quite the case with the organic.

Therefore, the venture had to be undertaken to replace the columns and pillars with something organic in design. So, you see the attempt: in the staircase you see the balustrades supported by organic forms that appear as supports, which in turn are not modelled on anything natural, but which are found out of the architectural idea itself. And each individual thickening, each individual thinning, then again, the circumference of such a pillar-like structure are absolutely conceived in their size in the sense of the whole, and again conceived in such a way as they must be in their place.

I can understand that something like the two organically formed pillars in the concrete porch still seem strange to those who are not used to such things. A critic once went into this building and found it strange that such a thing should be placed there. He could only think: something must have been copied!—There is nothing imitated at all, the whole thing is just formed out of the architectural idea through original feeling. Nothing at all is copied. But the critic, who prefers to stick to the old, does not like to get involved in this creative-productive process. And so, it occurred to him: this must be an elephant's foot. But it seems that with one eye he saw an elephant's foot out there, but with the other eye it didn't seem like an elephant's foot, because as an elephant's foot it's too small for the building. What is too small for something appears rickety in the organic, and that is why he said with a strange inner contradiction: one sees "rickety elephant feet" in the anteroom!

The lower part of the building is made of concrete. Even today, when building in concrete, it is necessary to first find the forms out of the concrete material. This is something that is of the utmost importance for artistic creation: that one must build out of the feeling of the material, out of the feeling for the material. You have to build differently out of wood than out of any stone material. And of course, you have to create differently out of concrete than you would out of marble.

When you form sculpturally and you form out of stone, you have to consider, for example, that which is raised in the form. When you work out of the stone, you have to work out the elevations, the convexities in particular. If you are shaping the eyes of a sculptural figure of a human being, and you have stone as your material, then direct your attention to the elevations, to the convexities, and work the whole eye out of the convexities. If you make a figure in wood, you cannot proceed in this way, then you must direct your attention everywhere to the depressions, to the concavities, and you must, as it were, carve out what is becoming deeper from the wood. This must be out of feeling. It must come from the feeling for the material.

For concrete, one must find very particular forms. Our friends the Großheintz, provided us with the site for this building, and the house that is built outside for Dr Großheintz and his family is made of concrete. For this house, this very special concrete style had first to be used, as it still can today, given the imperfections. Perhaps it is precisely in such a building that one can see the struggle for an architectural style, for an artistic style out of the material.

This aspiration was therefore the basis for the lower part of the building, which is made of concrete. The upper part is made of wood. When you go up the stairs, you enter the anteroom. And here you can already see how the ceiling and the side walls are formed differently from what you were used to. And I would like to mention that, in accordance with this new architectural style, the details have also been given a different meaning than in previous styles. This is expressed, for example, in the treatment of the wall.

What is a wall in buildings of the past? That which closes off to the outside. Here the wall does not close off to the outside, here the wall becomes, to a certain extent, transparent to feeling, it does not close off, but opens feeling to the vastness of the world. There is a profound difference between the formation of the wall as we have been accustomed to it up to now and the formation of the wall here. Everywhere else, the formation of walls closes you off from the world. But here you should have the feeling that you are not closed off. Just as you can see through glass, you feel artistically through the forms that are artistically created, and you feel in harmony with the whole cosmos.

We were therefore able to use artificial lighting for the entire building. One might have the feeling that compared to the open buildings of Greece, something like this, which reflects artificial lighting, is like a closed off cave. Well, that may be, but that is due to the conditions of modern life. We are not within the culture of ancient Greece.

But if on the one hand, as is always the case in anthroposophy, one accepts our present civilisation, if in this way one relates quite positively to our present civilisation, then one must in turn also draw on all the consequences of this civilisation. That is why the walls here do not close off, but open one in the spirit to the whole cosmos. Even the paintings on the ceilings should not be such that they merely shine inwards with what they express in their colours, so that one merely has a painted ceiling that tells one something inwards. That should not be. Such a ceiling is first thought of in this way: there is the ceiling, there is the human being. It is painted in such a way that what is painted confronts you. That is not the case here. Here the colour is placed on the wall for the purpose of looking through the painting and having a connection with the whole cosmos. This is carried through to the physical form. You can see it in the windows that close off the building down here.

These windows are designed in such a way that they are created from single-coloured glass panes according to a method that one could call glass engraving: a single-coloured glass pane, from which the form is carved out with a diamond bit. This sheet of glass, when it is finished and placed somewhere, is of course not a work of art, any more than a score is a work of art. Only when it is put in its right place and the light of the sun shines through, then the work of art is there. Only with outer nature, with the outer world, does it make sense.

And so, it is with all the details here: they only have meaning together with the whole world, with the totality of the world. There is no need to ramble on in thought, interpreting this or that in this or, that way. One should feel, completely naturally, naively, then one will find one's way best here in this building. Because that's how the whole thing is felt. Better still than to speak of the architectural idea of Dornach, I could speak of the architectural feeling of Dornach.

It has been said many times: "Up there on the Dornach hill, there is a building with all kinds of symbols.” There is not a single symbol here. Everything is poured out in artistic forms, everything is felt, nothing is thought. However, all kinds of symbols live in the imagination of some people. Yes, I could also imagine that some anthroposophists, who still have some theosophical airs about them, have even been annoyed by the fact that there is no symbolism here at all, that nothing symbolic can be spun from fantastic thoughts here, but that everything is to be understood in a purely artistic way.

It was precisely on this occasion that the real way in which the anthroposophical impulse streams into art had to be shown. First of all, a movement of this kind, which leads to the spiritual, is naturally predisposed, as is the case with sectarian movements, to seek a meaning, an inner meaning in everything.

You experience the most amazing things there. We have performed mystery plays in Munich, in which characters appear, created characters, which one should understand as they walk across the stage. I was asked whether this character in these plays meant the etheric body, another manas, another buddhi. Yes, there are even treatises that have emerged from the theosophical movement, where "Hamlet" is interpreted in such a way that the individual characters, Hamlet himself—mean this or that: one character is the etheric body, another the astral body, another manas, another buddhi. Please forgive me for not being able to explain this in detail with regard to Hamlet, for I have never been able to really read through such a treatise.

And so, it was naturally also something unfortunate that one came into the various anthroposophical working groups where there were still theosophical airs and graces, and one found all kinds of symbolic designs, black crosses with seven red splotches, which were supposed to represent roses, trafficked all around. One imagined there was something great about it! The whole thing was enough to drive one crazy! But these are—one might say—the dross that first brings forth a movement. That's what it's all about, that real artistic feeling came out of all this dross, that something was attempted in which there is nothing at all of a pale symbolism, of an empty allegory, but where at least the attempt is made to shape everything artistically.

It is precisely the artistic that then becomes natural. You can see that in these columns. Column capitals are usually constructed according to the principle of geometric repetition. Column capitals usually repeat themselves. An organic style of architecture does not allow this. How did these column capitals, the architraves above them and the plinths, come about? They came about through the real incorporation of the principle of organic growth.

Here at the entrance—the simplest capital: a form is attempted that descends from above, another form that comes up to meet it. But all this is not thought out, but every surface, every line of the form is felt. And if one advances from the first column to the second column, and looks at the capital: it is the same feeling translated into the artistic, to which one must devote oneself to the sense of Goethean metamorphosis, when one has the simply formed leaves at the bottom of a plant and must find the transition to the leaves somewhat higher up. It reshapes itself, metamorphoses itself.

But if you look at these capitals, you will see that they really represent artistically that which appears so distinctly in abstract thoughts in the modern worldview: evolution, development. The second capital develops from the first, and so on.

But one peculiarity confronts you. If you look at the successive capitals, it contradicts the abstract idea of evolution, as it is often expressed. You will also find in Herbert Spencer, for example, the idea of evolution expressed in such a way that the first simply differentiates, then integrates again. But that is not how it is. That contradicts the natural course of evolution. Whoever delves into natural evolution will find that evolution rises to certain complicated forms, then again becomes simple, and the perfect is not that which is the most complicated, but the simple into which the complicated has again been transformed.

If I am to represent this in a simple way, I would have to represent it as follows: The middle form is the more complicated, the last form is the most perfect. You can see this, for example, in the evolution of the eye. The eyes of the lower animals are relatively simple, undifferentiated. In the middle series of animals, you find very complicated eyes, with the blade process and the fan inside the eye. These organs are again dissolved inside the human eye: the human eye is more perfect than that of the lower, the middle animal stage, but again more simplified. That which is in the middle stage is also spiritually within in the simplified form, but the perfect stage is again simplified for external observation. This simplification, however, is such that, as is the case with the capitals of the columns, with the architraves above, one feels in the simple that it has become, that it has been infused with that which was complicated.

I did not arrive at this design—if I may make this remark—when I worked out the model of this building, by trying to reproduce this abstract thought, which I have just expressed, externally in a symbolic way, but I arrived at it by surrendering myself to the creative forces of nature and trying to form something out of the same creative forces from which nature itself shapes. And that is how these forms came into being.

The most important thing that one encounters in the process is this: one creates quite naïve forms out of feeling. When they are finished, they show you all kinds of things that you did not intend to put into them at the beginning, just as natural forms show you all kinds of things that you discover in them. If, for example, you take the simple forms of base and capital there, and you accordingly make them somewhat elastic, then you can put the convexity of the first form into the concave part here. What is convex there is concave here, what is concave there is convex here. So that I later concluded—I did not intend it—that in terms of convexity and concavity the first column corresponds to the seventh column, the second column to the sixth column, the third column to the fifth column, and the middle one stands for itself.

That is precisely what is characteristic of artistic creation: that what one initially has in the mind is not everything that one then puts into the object. One is actually outside of oneself when creating artistically. One has only a little of what the creative forces are in one's consciousness. You create with the little that is alive, which then goes into the material. But what emerges surprises you, because you don't actually create alone, because you create together with the productive forces of the cosmos.

And purely out of feeling, the individual parts then acquire the character by which they fit into the whole, just as the members of an organism fit into the totality of the organism.

Look at this lectern here. You must feel, when you look at it, that it is a continuation of what proceeds from the mouth as the spoken word: there the words come down to you, but these forms say the same thing.

And again, if you take the columns as they are leaning here and think further about their form, if you combine them here: then the combination again becomes what stands here as a lectern. On the one hand, it leans towards the auditorium, on the other hand, it is a conclusion of what is present in the auditorium. The individual forms are conceived on this basis. However, the geometric-mathematical style of older forms is thereby transformed into a spatial-musical quality. But that, in turn, means something for human evolution, that the geometrical gradually passes over into the musical, so that the musical also confronts us in space.

However, if one wants to grasp this idea in its full livingness, one must not attach too much importance to the fact that the musical can be expressed in mathematical formulae. As a one-sided abstract scholar, one can be delighted when, let us say, a sequence of tones can be expressed by their mathematically calculated pitches and tonal ratios; one can feel that one has only now translated it into real knowledge. One can also feel it differently. One can also feel that when one has transferred the musical experience into the mathematical, one has buried the music, and that one finally has the corpse of the musical in the mathematical formulae.

These things must really be taken seriously here. The cognitive must be lifted up into artistic experience. Only by attempting this could these forms come about.

This Goetheanum is already felt to accord in many ways with Goethean impulses, but not according to the Goethean impulses that died with Goethe in 1832 within the physical world, but according to the impulses of that Goethe who is still lives today. Not as he is, however, according to the sense of ordinary Goethe scholars, but he is truly the reality of Goethe. For today's Goethe scholars, the very name "Goetheanum" is an abomination. One can understand that. The most one can do is to reply in private that everything that exists today as the "Goethe-Bund" and the "Goethe-Gesellschaft" is in turn—well, in private, you don't have to bring it out in the open—quite fatal to you. But something should be felt here of what Goethe meant when he travelled to Italy, out of a deep longing to find more intimate artistic impulses, to find the real essence of art. After looking at the works of art he saw in Italy, still feeling the after-effects of the Greek artistic principle, he wrote to his friends in Weimar: After what I see here in the works of art, I believe I have discovered the secret of Greek artistic creation. The Greeks followed the same laws in their artistic creation that nature itself follows.—And the pure abstract philosophy, which to his delight he encountered in Weimar through Herder, from the works of Spinoza, e.g. from the work "God" by Spinoza, this spiritual, essential quality in the world, this is what Goethe felt when he was confronted with the ideal works of art, and he wrote to his friends: There is necessity, there is God. And among his sayings we find the characteristic one: To whom nature reveals her open secrets, feels a deep longing for her most worthy interpreter, art.

That which appears in forms can be the same for a completely contemplated artistic impulse as that which expresses itself in thoughts. Only then the thoughts must be full of life and the forms must breathe spirit.

If ever a difficult book was worth every minute of effort it requires, this is it—all of it, not just the parts already published as The Case For Anthroposophy.

Rudolf Steiner's own words, spoken in Dornach on February 4,1923 shortly after the burning of the first Goetheanum, set the tone:

In the first essay of my book Riddles of the Soul, I reiterate that a person bound to contemporary civilization believes that we confront all kinds of insurmountable limits to our ability to know. Such a person feels relief at this. His relief, however, only indicates a desire not to wake up. He wants to remain asleep. But anyone who in a modem sense wants to enter the spiritual world must begin to grapple with inner soul tasks at precisely the spot where the other person sets limits to knowledge. And as he begins to grapple with the ideas arising at this borderland, there opens up for him gradually, in stages, a view of the spiritual world. One must in fact take what anthroposophy offers in the way it is meant.

Take this first essay of Riddles of the Soul. Its content may be imperfectly expressed, but one can certainly discover in it the intention with which it was written! Its purpose is to awaken the realization: If I stop where modern civilization stops, then the world is actually boarded up for me. From natural science I try to go further. There come the barriers. There the world is boarded up for me.

The content of this first essay of Riddles of the Soul is an effort to knock away those boards with spades. When we feel that we are working with spades to knock away the planks that have boarded up the world for centuries, when we consider the words to be spades, then we arrive at the soul-spiritual realm.

Most people have the unconscious feeling that an essay like the first one in Riddles of the Soul is written with a pen from which ink flows. But it is not written with a pen. It is written with soul spades, which want to rip away the planks that board up the world, i.e., which want to clear away the limitations of natural science, but want to do so with inner work of the soul. The reader must participate in this activation of the soul, however, when reading an essay such as this.

In addendum 6 on page 131 of this book, Rudolf Steiner describes for the first time his thirty-year-long work in relating the three soul forces of thinking, feeling, and willing to the three systems of the body: the nervous, rhythmical, and metabolic. In the same section we are shown why he believed the theoretical division into sensory and motor nerves to be so harmful.

The essay on Max Dessoir challenges us to experience the subtlety and exactitude required of a spiritually striving modem person. As Rudolf Steiner states on page 54, “the thorough permeating of concepts with consciousness is necessary if these concepts are to have a relation to the genuine spiritual world.”

W.L.

Born in Austria in 1861, Rudolf Steiner received recognition as a scholar when he was invited to edit the Kürschner edition of the natural scientific writings of Goethe. In 1891 Steiner received his Ph.D. at the University of Rostock. He then began his work as a lecturer. From the turn of the century until his death in 1925, he delivered well over 6000 lectures on the Science of Spirit, or Anthroposophy.

The lectures of Rudolf Steiner dealt with such fundamental matters as the being of man, the nature and purpose of freedom, the meaning of evolution, man's relation to nature, and the life after death and before birth. On these and similar subjects, Steiner had unexpectedly new, inspiring and thought-provoking things to say. Through a study of the transcripts of lectures like those contained in this book, one can come to a clear, reasonable, comprehensive understanding of the human being and his place in the universe.

In all his years of writing and lecturing, Steiner made no appeal to emotionalism or sectarianism in his readers or hearers. His profound respect for the freedom of every man shines through everything he produced. The slightest compulsion or persuasion he considered an affront to the dignity and ability of the human being. Therefore he confined himself to objective statements in his writing and speaking, leaving his readers and hearers entirely free to reject or accept his words. He addressed the healthy, sound judgment and good will in each person, confident of the response in those who come to meet his ideas with the willingness to understand them.

Among the many activities springing from the work of Rudolf Steiner are the Bio-Dynamic Farming and Gardening Association which aims at improved nutrition resulting from methods of agriculture outlined by Rudolf Steiner; the art of Eurythmy, created and described by him as “visible speech and visible song;” the medical and pharmaceutical work carried out by the Clinical and Therapeutical Institute at Arlesheim, Switzerland, with related institutions in other countries; the Homes for the education and care of mentally retarded children; and new directions for work in such fields as Mathematics, Physics, Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Music, Drama, Speech Formation, Social Studies, Astronomy, Economics and Psychology.

The success of Rudolf Steiner Education (sometimes referred to as Waldorf Education) has proven the correctness of Steiner's concept of the way to prepare the child for his or her eventual role as a resourceful, creative, responsible member of modern adult society.

The transcripts of Rudolf Steiner's many lectures on a wide variety of subjects are a storehouse of spiritual knowledge as it can become fruitful in many fields of modern life. However, Steiner himself stressed that his lectures were not intended for print, and are not a substitute for what he expressed in his written works on the Science of Spirit or Anthroposophy. Therefore, if the reader finds the following lectures of interest, or if they arouse questions and points upon which he wishes further clarification, he is certain to find the latter in the fundamental books included in the series of Major Writings of Rudolf Steiner listed at the end of the present volume.

—The Publishers

Born in Austria in 1861, Rudolf Steiner received recognition as a scholar when he was invited to edit the Kürschner edition of the natural scientific writings of Goethe. In 1891 Steiner received his Ph.D. at the University of Rostock. He then began his work as a lecturer. From the turn of the century until his death in 1925, he delivered well over 6000 lectures on the Science of Spirit, or Anthroposophy.

The lectures of Rudolf Steiner dealt with such fundamental matters as the being of man, the nature and purpose of freedom, the meaning of evolution, man's relation to nature, and the life after death and before birth. On these and similar subjects, Steiner had unexpectedly new, inspiring and thought-provoking things to say. Through a study of the transcripts of lectures like those contained in this book, one can come to a clear, reasonable, comprehensive understanding of the human being and his place in the universe.

In all his years of writing and lecturing, Steiner made no appeal to emotionalism or sectarianism in his readers or hearers. His profound respect for the freedom of every man shines through everything he produced. The slightest compulsion or persuasion he considered an affront to the dignity and ability of the human being. Therefore he confined himself to objective statements in his writing and speaking, leaving his readers and hearers entirely free to reject or accept his words. He addressed the healthy, sound judgment and good will in each person, confident of the response in those who come to meet his ideas with the willingness to understand them.

Among the many activities springing from the work of Rudolf Steiner are the Bio-Dynamic Farming and Gardening Association which aims at improved nutrition resulting from methods of agriculture outlined by Rudolf Steiner; the art of Eurythmy, created and described by him as “visible speech and visible song;” the medical and pharmaceutical work carried out by the Clinical and Therapeutical Institute of Arlesheim, Switzerland, with related institutions in other countries; the Homes for the education and care of mentally retarded children; and new directions for work in such fields as Mathematics, Physics, Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Music, Drama, Speech Formation, Social Studies, Astronomy, Economics and Psychology.

The success of Rudolf Steiner Education (sometimes referred to as Waldorf Education) has proven the correctness of Steiner's concept of the way to prepare the child for his or her eventual role as a resourceful, creative, responsible member of modern adult society.

The transcripts of Rudolf Steiner's many lectures on a wide variety of subjects are a storehouse of spiritual knowledge as it can become fruitful in many fields of modern life. However, Steiner himself stressed that his lectures were not intended for print, and are not a substitute for what he expressed in his written works on the Science of Spirit or Anthroposophy. Therefore, if the reader finds the following lectures of interest, or if they arouse questions and points upon which he wishes further clarification, he is certain to find the latter in the fundamental books included in the series of Major Writings of Rudolf Steiner listed at the end of the present volume.

The Publishers

Rudolf Steiner: Dearly beloved! What I have to say in these introductory words will, of course, differ somewhat from the usual format of these evenings for the simple reason that I have, so to speak, turned up out of the blue and it is therefore not possible to immediately continue where we left off last time. So perhaps today the focus will have to be on the discussion itself, in which I ask you to participate in large numbers.

When we began here in Stuttgart ten months ago to popularize the ideas underlying the threefold social order, this undertaking was conceived entirely in the context of the events of the time. We, as members of the Central European state, spiritual and economic communities, were facing all those questions that had to be raised from the point of view of how we, as people of Central Europe, who were, let us say it dryly, “the defeated” at that time, should behave. And here the view had to be taken that - in view of the terrible experiences, not so much the events of the war as the outcome of the war, which, of course in a different way, are no less terrible than the events of the war themselves - understanding would have to be awakened in a sufficiently large number of people for those ideas of a social reorganization that could have led to a reconstruction of European affairs precisely from the circle of the defeated.

When you are dealing with the propagation of some idea or other, you very often hear the word that these are far-reaching ideas. It is said that one can perhaps hope that such far-reaching ideas will be realized in the distant future – and depending on one's greater or lesser optimism, longer or shorter periods of time are then given – one can only work towards humanity approaching such ideals and so on. But at the beginning of our work, the situation did not really challenge the ideas that were moving in this direction. What was meant at that time was that the next necessity was to create understanding in as many minds as possible for the impulse of the threefold social order: for an independent spiritual life, for an independent state or legal life and for an independent economic life. It was hoped that the bitter events could have brought this understanding to people. But it has been shown that at the time when it was necessary, this understanding could not actually be brought forth in a sufficiently large number of people — for reasons that should not be touched upon further today. And today the question is rightly being raised from many sides: Can this idea of threefold order actually be cultivated in the same way as before? Have we not already progressed too far in the dismantling of our economic life?

However, anyone who understands the workings of today's economy cannot simply — I deliberately say “not simply” — answer this question in the negative. For, let us put forward the hypothesis that at the time when we began our work last April, if a sufficiently large number of people had been willing to help — and could certainly have brought about a change in circumstances — we would have actually had the necessary success: then, of course, our economic life would be on a completely different footing today. It may seem presumptuous of me to say so, but it is true. And the various articles that have appeared in our threefolding newspaper can serve as proof of what I have just said.

If we, who are working on the continuation of the threefold social order ideas in a narrower circle, nevertheless firmly believe that the work must continue, we are also thoroughly convinced on the other hand that the path that has just been taken – to convince a sufficiently large number of souls of the necessity of threefolding – that this path cannot lead quickly enough to success today. Therefore, we must think today of immediately practical undertakings, the form of which is to be presented to our immediate contemporaries in the near future. We must think of achieving our goal through certain institutions that can replace what would have been achieved through the collaboration of a sufficiently large number of convinced people. We must at least attempt to create model institutions, through economic institutions, by means of which it will be seen that our ideas can be practically realized in such economic institutions. These can then be emulated in the sense that people will believe the facts, which they previously refused to believe despite our convincing words. On the other hand, these model institutions will actually be able to have such economic consequences that some of the economic servitude that has already occurred can be redressed. Indeed, a large number of people in this Central Europe have come to the point where they do not care where their profits come from. They allow the victors to give them directives and even the material documents, if only it makes it possible for them to make corresponding profits. The way in which some people in some circles today are thinking of helping themselves economically in Central Europe is downright shameful. The idea is to create practical institutions from the threefold idea itself, which can provide the proof - even under the already quite difficult conditions - that this threefold idea is not utopian but practical.

You see, when we started our work, we were often asked: Yes, can you give us practical points of view for individual institutions? How should this or that be done? — The person who raised such a question usually completely disregarded the fact that it could not be a matter of maintaining one or the other institution, which had just proved its uselessness, by giving good advice, but that it was a matter of bringing about a complete social reconstruction through transformation on a large scale, through which the individual institutions would then have been supported. For this, it would not have taken advice on this or that, but rather a broad realization of the ideas, that is, by a sufficiently large number of people – because ultimately all institutions are made by people.

So today we are faced with a kind of change of direction that has truly not been brought about by our believing that we have been mistaken in our ideas. Ideas of this kind must always take into account the phenomena of the time. And if humanity does not respond to these phenomena, then the ideas must change, must at least take a different course. This is how we have pointed out that our not-so-old threefolding movement actually already has a story that is very much rooted in today's conditions and speaks volumes – a story that might perhaps be instructive for some people after all, if they would only pay attention to it.

I would like to illustrate what I have just said with an example: anyone who takes on the book “The Key Points of the Social Question”, as it was written a year ago, based on the economic explanations, will find certain considerations on the organization of economic life, which should acquire a certain necessary independence, which must not be dependent in the future on state institutions, state administrations, which must be thoroughly based on its own foundations, and which must be built up from its own foundations on the principle of associations. Of course, I can only give a few points of view today, but perhaps the discussion will provide more.

What then should be the actual purpose of such associations in economic life? The purpose of these associations should be that first of all, professional circles that are somehow related, that must work together objectively, and that manage their economic affairs completely freely and independently, without being subject to any state administration, should come together. And then these associations of professional circles should in turn associate with the corresponding consumers, so that what occurs as exchange between the related professional circles, but then also between the producer and consumer circles, is in turn united in associations. What arises from the free movement of economic associations should take the place of today's economic administration.

Of course, this network of economic institutions also includes everything that otherwise works in the legal and political spheres, and in the sphere of spiritual life. Spiritual life as such stands independently on its own feet, but those who are active in spiritual life must eat, drink and clothe themselves; they must therefore in turn form economic corporations of their own, which as such must be incorporated into the economic body, associating themselves in the economic body with those corporations that can serve their interests. The same must be done with the corporation of those people who are involved in state life. Thus, everything that is human in the social organism will be included in economic life, just as everything human that belongs to the social organism is included in the other two links, in state life and spiritual life. It is only that people are included in the three links of the social organism from different points of view. What matters is that the social organism is not structured according to estates, but according to points of view, and that every person is represented in every part of the social organism with their interests.

What can be achieved through such an economic life based on the principle of association? - What can be achieved is the elimination of the damage that has gradually arisen from the production methods of the last few centuries, especially the 19th century, from economic life and thus from human life in general. These damages are first experienced by man today in his own body, I would like to say. They have arisen because in the course of the more recent centuries, other conditions have arisen from the earlier conditions in relation to production in economic life.

If you look back to the period from the 17th to the 18th century, you will find that the way in which production took place is still to some extent connected with the people and their organization itself. You can see that in those days, when prices were set, they were dependent not on those factors on which they depend solely today, but, for example, on the abilities of the people, namely, for example, on the extent to which a person is able to work for so many hours a day on this or that production with a certain devotion and joy. The price was therefore determined by the extent to which the person had grown together with his production. Today, however, this is only the case in certain branches of intellectual life. If someone writes a book, you cannot dictate how many hours of the day he should work and set a wage for so many hours of the day. If, for example, an eight-hour working day were introduced for book writing, something beautiful would come of it, because it could very easily be that you should work for eight hours and get a wage for it, but that you should not get any ideas for four hours through three weekdays. Just as there is an intimate bond between human abilities, between the human spiritual organization and the products produced, so it was also the case for many more material branches - yes, the further we go back in human development, for all material branches. It is only in more recent times that the bond between the product and the producer has been broken. Looked at as a whole, it is basically utter nonsense to want to maintain this separation of the product from the producer. In individual branches of production, this can be blatantly obvious. Take, for example, the manufacture of books, considered purely economically. Books have to be written; this cannot be subjected to the laws of remuneration as represented, for example, by today's Social Democracy for the world of production. But books have to be printed, and the person who types them can indeed rely on the principles of today's social democracy, on the union principle. Because for typesetting, nothing more needs to be invented; there is no need for an intimate bond between producer and production. But if you go back to the sources, you will find everywhere that precisely the work for which you do not need such a bond would not even exist if it were not for the work on which all this external work depends. If the master builder were not there, all the wage laborers who build the houses could not work. If the book writer were not there, the typesetter could not set type for books. These are trains of thought that are not employed today, but they must be taken as a basis in the most eminent sense in economic considerations.

I could not go into detail about all the life experiences that have been incorporated into the “Key Points”, because they are, of course, intended for thinking readers. And I can assure you that it is still quite useful today to do a little thinking when reading a book and not always say: This is so difficult to understand, you have to think, it should have been written much more popularly. — But through the articles in our threefolding newspaper, which illuminate the same events from the most diverse points of view, this bond between producer and production has been loosened more and more. And only because in recent times, under the influence of the materialistic way of thinking, attention has been focused on the mode of production and not on the condition and ability of the producer, has the view even arisen among abstract, socialist agitators and thinkers that production as such is the one thing that dominates the whole of history, the whole of human life. This view arose because, in fact, through modern technology and certain other social conditions, a domination of the product over the producing people has occurred. So that one can say: While in the past, until about three centuries ago, much else was still dominant for people, in social life the economic person has since become the one who appears decisive today – the economic person and the economic process. People like Renner, for example, who even managed to become Austrian Chancellor, have indeed stated that there should be no more talk of “homo sapiens”, who haunted people's minds in the last centuries, but that n could only be talked about “homo oeconomicus” - that is the only reality. But since the 19th century, because things in reality undergo transformations according to their own laws, not even homo economicus, the economic man, the economic process, has remained decisive, but we can say: roughly from around 1810 - to set a starting point - the banker has become the dominant man. And more than one might think, in the economic life of the civilized world during the 19th century, the banker, the moneychanger, the one who actually merely administers the money, has become dominant. All the events that have occurred since that time are more or less subject to the influence of this historical change: in the economic context, the economic man and the economic process have gradually become the banker, the moneychanger, the lender above all, and the public social process has become the financial administration, the money administration.

Now, however, money has very definite characteristics. Money is a representative of various things, but money as such is the same. I can acquire a sum of money by selling a piece of music – a spiritual product. Or I can acquire a sum of money by selling boots. The sum of money can always be the same, but what I sell can be very different. As a result, money takes on a certain abstract character in relation to the real process of life. And so, under the influence of the world banking system, the obliteration of the concrete interactions in human social intercourse, the obliteration of the concrete interactions [between product and producer, and there arose] the intercourse of mere representatives, of money.

This, however, has very definite consequences. It has the consequence that the three most essential components of our economic process – land, means of production and means of consumption – which, by their very nature, are involved in the economic process in very different ways, are not only conceptually, but actually, placed under the same power and treated in the same way. For someone who is only concerned with acquiring or managing a certain amount of money may be indifferent as to whether this sum of money represents land or means of production, that is, machines or the like that serve for other productions but have been made by people, or whether it represents consumer goods, immediate articles of use. What matters is only that he receives a certain sum of money for something, or that, if he has it, it bears interest, no matter from what. The idea had to increasingly come to the fore that the interests one has in the individual products and branches of production are extinguished and replaced by the abstract interest in capital, which extinguishes all these differentiations, that is, in money capital. But that leads to very specific things.

Let's take land, for example. Land is not just something arbitrary, but is situated in a particular place and has a relationship to the people of that place, and the people of that place also have interests in this land that can be described as moral interests, as interests of a spiritual kind. For example, it may be an important point for the general interests of culture and humanity that a certain product be planted on this land. I will draw a somewhat radical picture of the circumstances. They are not so radical in ordinary life, but the essential thing can be shown with it. Anyone who has grown together with the land through their entire life circumstances will have an insight into how, let us say, the production of this or that from the land is connected with the entire life circumstances. They have gained their experiences in being together with the land. Questions can be important for this, questions that can only be judged if one has grown together with the local conditions of an area.

You can only gain such knowledge through experience. You can now fully appreciate that it is beneficial for the general human condition when a piece of land is utilized in a certain way, but only yields a certain result from this utilization. These considerations immediately disappear when the principle of monetary capitalism takes the place of the people associated with the land. In this case, it is a matter of land simply passing from one hand to the other as a commodity. But the person who simply acquires land by spending money is only interested in seeing that the money yields interest in the appropriate way. An abstract principle is imposed on everything that used to be a concrete human interest. And the person in question, who only has the interest of money, wonders whether, under the circumstances that the other person, who has grown together with the land, recognizes as necessary, the matter will yield enough for him; if not, then the land must be used for something else. In this way, the necessary human relationships are destroyed only from the point of view of monetary capitalism.

And so the aspects of monetary capitalism have been applied to all human relationships. In economics, they have distracted people from what can only arise when people are connected to production, connected to land, and connected to the products of consumption that circulate among people in some area. This was certainly present in earlier centuries. This has already disappeared under the influence of the economic man, but mostly under the influence of the banker in the 19th century. While until about 1810 the national economy was dependent on the traders and the industrialists, in the 19th century the traders and the industrialists, even if they did not admit it, essentially became dependent on the national and international money economy, on the bankers.

You can only be driven completely into economic egoism by this kind of money economy. But this kind of money economy should not be confused, as often happens today, with mere capitalism. Mere capitalism – you will find this explained in more detail in my Key Points – is meant to make it possible for only those who are capable of using large amounts of capital, whether in the form of the means of production or of money, the representative of the means of production, to grow together with production. And they should only remain connected to it as long as they can use their abilities in the service of production. This bare capitalism is absolutely necessary for the modern national economy, and to rail against it is nonsense. To abolish it would mean undermining the entire modern national economy. It is essential that we look at reality, that we see the difference, for example, that the administration of a large complex of land, in which the combination of forest and land may be necessary can be necessary, will mean one thing in the hands of a capable person and another if someone separates the forest and the land, then parcelled out the land into small holdings and the like. This can be good for certain areas, but in others it would ruin the national economy. Everywhere it depends on the specific circumstances. And we must finally find our way back to the specific circumstances.

But this [lack of concreteness] is not only evident in the national economy, in the individual economy, but is becoming more and more evident in the international economic system. It is quite clear to anyone who studies the matter that people, even if they are capitalists, when they are left to their own devices and supply certain branches of production according to their abilities, do not interfere with each other, but on the contrary work in each other's hands. The real problem only begins when people in some way outgrow their ties to the branches of production. I will give just one example of where this has become particularly apparent under the influence of the monetary economy of the 19th and 20th centuries: in the formation of trusts and cartels. Let us assume that a number of branches of production join together to form a trust, a cartel. What is the consequence?

A trust or cartel must have some purpose, and it is obvious that people make more profit through the trust than they would without it. But they can only do that if they create monopoly prices, that is, if they sell above the usual competitive prices that would be formed. So you have to create the possibility of raising prices, that is, agreeing on prices that are above the usual competitive prices. Yes, such prices can be created, they have been created in many cases. But it did not come to [healthy] production. You see, you can't produce in a healthy way under the influence of this kind of profit. If you don't want to create a mismatch with the costs of the facilities, which would be far too expensive if you only produced what you produce above the competitive price, then you have to produce so much more that the costs for the machines and the entire facility are covered, and you have to produce so much more that you would produce if you only got the competitive price. But you can only sell as much as you sell at monopoly prices. Because if you were to produce at competitive prices, you would have to sell a lot more and therefore also produce a lot more than you sell at monopoly prices. That is an economic experience: you sell less when you sell at monopoly prices, but you cannot produce less because otherwise production will not pay for itself. What is the consequence? You have to go to the neighboring country and get your sales there; you sell below the cost of production. But now you are entering into international competition. This international competition has played an enormous role. If you only take into account the fixing of the price caused by the monetary economy, you create competition that would otherwise not be there by selling differently: in the immediate sales area [above the cost of production] and in the neighboring country below the cost of production. You can do that; if you only calculate accordingly, you will even make more, but you will harm the corresponding producer groups in the neighboring country. If you look for the causes of the moods that led to the causes of war in the West, you will find the causes in these things. Then we will find what a huge step lies in the [social] damage on the way from capitalism to trust formation, to cartel formation, to monopolization by cartels. The capitalist as such, who produces at competitive prices, never has an interest in protective tariffs. The protective tariff is also something that has played a role in the causes of war. There you have the damage done by the monetary economy in international life. All this is so clear to anyone who studies modern economic life that there is actually nothing that can be said against it. The question must therefore necessarily arise: how do we get beyond these damages? There is no other way to get beyond the damages than to reconnect the human being with the product, to once again directly establish the bond between the human being and production.

This is the aim of the economic idea of social threefolding: what used to exist between the individual human being and production as a bond under very different circumstances can only be brought about today by the fact that those who produce in the same way connect with each other and those who are united by profession in turn join together in circles, in associations, with the other branches of production and the corresponding consumers. In this way the associations, the united people, will know how to set production in motion, and not just the money that flows over production as something homogeneous. But this could in turn bring about in a very essential way that which only a prosperous economy makes possible for humanity.

You see, it was necessary for someone to take a good look at reality today, because all the socio-economic stuff that has been talked about in recent times is basically said without looking at reality. Of course, individual people have made apt remarks about one thing or another. But most of what has been said, and especially all that under the influence of which modern world capitalism on the one hand and wage-slavery on the other have developed, this cancer of modern life, has come about because people have no longer really looked into the lawful context of economic life, and because they no longer saw – while living as a human being in economic life – how the. because money has obliterated everything. But when the associations are there, it will be clear and obvious how one thing or another must be produced. Then the person who has something to produce will receive customers through the people who are in the appropriate associations, and it will be discussed and determined whether so much of this or that can be produced. Without the enforced economy of Moellendorff's loquacity, something can arise; because one person is taught by the other in free exchange, everything can be organized so that consumption is truly the decisive factor for all.

This was the point of the idea of threefold social order: to speak to humanity from the full reality. Because people are so unaccustomed to approaching reality in the present, that is why it is so difficult to understand the matter; people are unaccustomed to approaching reality. What do people understand of economic life as a whole? The architect understands something of building, the master carpenter of carpentry, the shoemaker of shoemaking, the barber of cutting beards, everyone understands something of the corresponding economic activity with which he is connected. But all that these “practitioners of life” somehow know about economic life is only connected with their own and not with that of others. That is why it is so abstract. It was necessary to speak to humanity from the real context of the whole of social life. Because people have become unaccustomed to using the experiences of life as a guide, they regard as utopian precisely that which is born out of reality. But that is why this idea of social threefolding is recognized as the counter-image to all utopia, as something that is born out of real life and can therefore be applied to real life. And that is the only thing that matters: that people should understand these things. Then everyone, whatever their background, will understand the idea of the threefold social order, especially if they understand the connection between their production and the world's overall economic process. This idea of the threefold social order does not shy away from close scrutiny by those who understand something of economic life through their whole relationship to life. But today not many people understand anything about economic life or social life at all; they let themselves drift and are best off when they do not need to participate in any kind of decision-making about the social order, but when the government takes care of it for them. That is why people come up with such complicated ideas that they regard what is real in life as utopian. Of course, the situation today is somewhat obscured by the fact that the Western powers have fought for and won the opportunity not to come up to date. What is demanded today in the idea of threefolding is demanded by the times. This is the point that human development has reached today. The victory of the Western powers means nothing more than a reprieve to remain under the old social conditions. The Western Powers can afford this luxury; they have fought for it. But the Central Powers cannot afford this luxury; they are dependent on satisfying the demands of the time. If they satisfy them, it will have an effect on the whole world. If they do not satisfy them, they will perish.

This must be stated quite clearly today, because today it is an either/or situation. That is why it is so frivolous when clever people keep saying, for example, “Now there will be a disagreement between the French and the English.” The English do not want to conclude a militaristic alliance with the French out of their old traditions; they also do not want to grant any loans; they also do not completely agree with the intentions of the French regarding the Rhine border, and so on. This is the continuation of what had such a devastating effect during the war and before the war. There was always speculation: Now the enemies are once again at odds; perhaps we can make a separate peace with someone. With this diplomacy, they have finally managed to have almost the whole world against them. If people of this caliber continue to corrupt people's ideas and continue to speculate that the French and the English are once again at odds, then that is a pipe dream; it is not a grasp of reality. It is a continuation of the old diplomatic way of thinking, which Czernin described so well in his book, in which he demands that the extraordinary importance of diplomats must be recognized. But the extraordinary importance of diplomats consisted in their being able to move in the appropriate salons, observing the mood there and then writing long letters about this mood and so on. During the war, this was continued very nicely, as far as one could, only there one judged the mood more on secret paths. The catastrophe of the war was partly caused by this assessment of the mood before the war. And now people are starting to speculate in the same way again. But when people wake up, they will see that in reality they have only managed to sit between two chairs themselves. There is talk of a deep gulf opening up between the French and the English; the clever people are talking about it today. When people wake up, they will see that this gulf is indeed there, but people agree that they themselves are sitting in the middle of the deep gulf. The impulse for the threefold social organism is based on the realization that this way of thinking, which is so disastrous for humanity, must give way to a way of thinking that is in line with reality. And when this is understood, people will turn to this threefold social organism with an inner necessity.

After Rudolf Steiner's introductory words, the discussion was opened; various personalities spoke:

Georg Herberg believes that in view of the price increases in recent years - as an example, he cites the price of a ton of iron, which used to cost 13 marks but now costs 1700 marks - it is necessary to take a closer look at the price problem. In doing so, the opposite pole of consumers, that is, the producers, must be considered.

Before the actual discussion begins, Siegfried Dorfner would like to draw the attention of those present to three fundamental facts that could be seen as typical of the whole situation in the work of threefolding: firstly, party leaders had been invited for this evening; however, they are not present. Secondly, when they do come, they usually remain silent in the discussions; there are no speakers. Thirdly, the attitude of followers of anthroposophy is very often: “I like anthroposophy, but not the threefold social order.” And so the lack of success of the whole threefold social order efforts is not surprising. Carl Unger would like to come back to the above and points out the importance of trusts in today's economic life. The example of iron was mentioned; there one must assume that one was dealing with a steel trust in this area. The German sugar factories also have a similar monopoly position; there are an infinite number of beet fields in Germany, but the price is inflated compared to this large supply.

Walter Johannes Stein believes that the situation in the German sugar industry points to a very central problem, to the relationship between land and the means of production in general. The question arises, for example, of whether a cow is a means of production or whether it belongs to the land. But the matter becomes even more complicated when the cow is finally slaughtered; whether it then does not take on the character of a commodity. So he asks Rudolf Steiner to explain in more detail the relationship between land, means of production and goods.

Rudolf Steiner: My dear friends! Regarding the distinction between land and the means of production, the essential thing is that land is limited, it is not elastic, and in a certain sense it cannot be increased, while the means of production, which themselves arise through human labor, can be increased, and by increasing the means of production, production can in turn be increased.

Now, when making such distinctions, it is often necessary to start from different points of view. By distinguishing land from the means of production, one designates what is there first and has not been made by human hands as “land”. From the point of view of the political economist, a cow, which man by his labor does not himself manufacture, simply belongs to “land and soil” as long as it is not slaughtered; when it is slaughtered, it is of course a commodity. But then it appears in a very specific way on the commodity market, and we are dealing with two facts: firstly, the fact that it is withdrawn from the productive power of the land, and secondly, the fact that it appears as a commodity; in a sense, the cow is a marginal product. Such marginal products are everywhere. But the point is to, so to speak, hold on to what you have in mind by using the terms that can be taken from the respective characteristic representative.

Is that not so? In the economic process, we are dealing, firstly, with what is necessary for production but cannot itself be produced. This includes land itself and a number of other things; we simply summarize this under “land”. Secondly, everything that serves to produce something else but must first be produced itself, such as machines, is part of the economic process. In the context of the national economy, the process of working, the labor that must be used to produce the means of production, does not apply to land. This is the essential economic point: the labor equivalent is only a valid way of looking at the means of production until the means of production are actually ready for use in production. At the moment the means of production are available, they are actually integrated into the economic process in exactly the same way as land. As long as one is working on the means of production and has to make use of the national economy in order to be able to work on the means of production, a distinction must be made between how the means of production and land are placed in the national economy. At the moment when the means of production are finished, they are subject to the same economic category as land. As long as I still have to fabricate the locomotive, I have to assess the economic process in which the fabrication of the locomotive takes place differently than in the moment when it is finished. When it [as a finished means of production] is on the rails and is moved by people for further production, it is just as much a part of the economic process as land. The difficulty in the distinction is that the finished means of production actually falls under the same category as land. What labor has to be expended to create a means of production is the essential thing, and that is added to the means of production and is lacking in land. Of course, this is connected with the following. If land were elastic, it could be increased. It would either have to grow by itself or people would have to produce it. But I do not want to discuss this question further. The fact that land is available to a certain extent is what distinguishes it from the means of production. It can only be used to a greater or lesser extent, which makes it similar to the means of production.

Now, of course, we must also consider the third element, the actual commodity. It is characterized by the fact that it is consumed. In the economic process, this makes it something essentially different from the means of production, which itself is not directly consumed, but only worn out. Thus, a commodity is also something different from land, which also serves little for consumption, but at most needs to be improved, and so on.

Thus, these three things are to be distinguished as essentially different in the economic process: 1. land, which [exists] without human labor having been expended on it; 2. the means of production, which begins when human labor has been used; both – land and means of production – are not there for immediate consumption; 3. the commodity, which is there for immediate consumption.

But you see, the thing is that the whole thing is also a question of time. Because the moment you think about the fact that means of production, for example of a mechanical nature, are used up within a certain time, the moment you do that, the means of production appear to you as a commodity – only as a commodity that takes a longer time to be used up. When you make distinctions in life, these distinctions tend to be highly inconvenient; they are never such that you can make a strict division. You have to remain flexible on these issues. Because in fact, the means of production also have a commodity character to a certain extent. Land does not have this commodity character, which the means of production can have, in the same way, which is why you have to make a stricter distinction there. It is nonsense to apply the concept of the commodity to land from a purely monetary-capitalist point of view. So you see, if you apply something in reality, you cannot stop at abstract concepts. That is something that people who read the “Key Aspects of the Social Question” raise as an objection: they want nicely boxed terms. Then what they read is nice for them; then you know after reading half a page what you have read. In reality, however, a means of production can only be grasped if one knows: it is not consumed at first, but if one uses it over a longer period of time, it is the same as a commodity. So you have to keep in mind that the means of production has both the property of being consumed and of not being consumed, and the concept must correspond to that.

We need to have flexible concepts. People today do not want that; they want nested concepts. They do not want to think their way out into reality at all. Otherwise, things like this could not arise: people saying, for example, “I like anthroposophy quite well, but I don't want to know anything about threefold social order.” Those who speak in this way are rather like someone who says, “Yes, I am interested in the spiritual, but this spiritual must not encroach on the political; this spiritual must be independent of the political.” Yes, my dear friends, that is precisely what the threefold social order seeks to achieve. But because the spiritual is nowhere independent today, it is an illusion to believe that you can only be interested in the spiritual. In order for your abstract ideal to become concrete, so that you have something to take an interest in that is not influenced by politics, threefolding must first conquer such a field, so that there is a field in which one does not need to take an interest in politics. Threefolding is fighting for precisely that in which sleepy souls want to feel at home, but only have it as an illusion. These sleepy souls, oh, how we would like to wake them up! They feel so tremendously at ease when they are inwardly mystics, when they grasp the whole world inwardly, when they discover God in their own soul and thereby become such perfect human beings! But this inwardness has value only when it steps out into life. I would like to know if it has any value when, in this day and age, when everything is in a rush and the world is on fire, people cannot find their way to have their say in public affairs. That is a nice interest in anthroposophy, which only wants to be interested in anthroposophy and does not even find the opportunity to have a say in what anthroposophy wants to inspire. Those anthroposophists who are only interested in anthroposophy and not in what can become of anthroposophy in relation to life are like a person who is charitable only with his mouth, but otherwise quickly closes his pockets when he should really be charitable. Therefore, what is found in people who only want to take an interest in anthroposophy in their own way is anthroposophical chatter. But the reality of anthroposophy is what is transferred into life.

Afterwards, a discussion about the future work on threefolding with the leaders of the local groups takes place. There are three main questions for discussion. First: Is it permissible to compromise? Second: Should one participate in the elections? Third: In what form should propaganda for the threefolding idea be carried out?

Paul Kretschmar, from Cologne, argues that one should try to influence the existing works council and parliament. The newspapers would play a not insignificant role in this regard. One would therefore have to form a kind of journalistic office to write articles for trade journals. It was also important to train competent speakers; these would have to be able to rely on a kind of primer on the threefold order, similar to the way Damaschke had published a brooch. It was also necessary to found a publishing house to effectively support newspaper propaganda. Basically, even participation in the elections should be considered.

Mr. Klug, also from Cologne, warns against participation in the elections that is completely independent. At most, it is debatable whether it would be possible to proceed together with other independent parties. Furthermore, it would be important to discuss whether consumer associations could be formed.

Hermann Heisler believes that a kind of “Catechism of Threefolding” is really needed; this should provide a guide to how threefolding can be introduced into practical life, especially into economic life. In the present situation, three questions arise in particular. Firstly, how could threefolding, if it were actually realized in Central Europe, counteract the expected European famine? Secondly, what goal must be given to the working class now? Thirdly, how far can one go in the practical events of the political parties and profess the objectives of threefolding?

Siegfried Dorfner is convinced that the best way to propagate the threefold order is to leave the party.

Walter Conradt believes that, as far as the treatment of the press is concerned, it must be assumed that a decentralization of opinions has occurred on the other side. As for the treatment of the proletarian party, however, the events of the last year – especially in connection with the “poster mission” – have shown that the proletariat has been “moved” for a year, so it can no longer be counted on for the time being.

Richard Seebohm says that it has certainly happened that a newspaper has addressed individual questions, but one should not forget that even if state supervision has now been lifted, the newspapers are still under the control of industry. And it should not be overlooked that there are also threefoldingers who do not want to have anything to do with anthroposophy. For these reasons, it is important to stand behind the existing threefolding newspaper.

Paul Kretschmar mentions the Cologne “Generalanzeiger”, in which articles on threefolding could certainly be accommodated.

Ernst Uehli mentioned a foreign friend who had confirmed to him that the press could not be won over for big ideas; in general, it could be said that the idea of threefolding was much criticized in the newspapers. The pursuit of true “humanity” and the press could not be reconciled, as the German philosopher Karl Christian Planck had already established.

Emil Molt points out that the Federation for Threefolding intends to conduct a course for agitators — a course for speakers — under the direction of Rudolf Steiner.

After the discussion, Rudolf Steiner is asked to comment on the various questions raised, despite the late hour.

Rudolf Steiner: Dearly beloved attendees! First of all, I would just like to say that I will be obliged to speak in brief hints, and I ask you to take this into account. So the individual questions asked can no longer be discussed in detail. Perhaps we can do that next time.

First of all, we want to pick out the relatively most important question, the question:

How would the threefold social order work in the context of the coming European famine?

I would like to say, although it may seem strange to some, that there is a completely different question behind this one that makes answering difficult. But in general, the following must apply to this question. Isn't it true that, say, ten years ago, the world did not have what is called a famine, at least not what can and probably will come as famine in the near future, since souls sleep. But we must consider the following, however simple and primitive they may appear: there are no fewer raw materials in the ground than there were ten years ago; there are no fewer fields than there were ten years ago; and there are essentially no fewer human workers than there were ten years ago – millions have perished in the war, but not only as producers, but also as consumers. So in general, the economic possibilities and conditions are exactly the same as they were ten years ago.

It was perhaps eight weeks ago when a letter written by the well-known politician, the Russian Prince Kropotkin, was published in the newspapers, in which he made two curious statements. One is that he is now working on an ethics - interesting that he is now beginning to write an ethics. The other message is that there is now only one thing that is being delivered from the West to Russia: food, bread. Of course, it is easiest when there is no bread to take it from the side where it is available. Well, other people also have such views sometimes. A fortnight ago I received a letter from a lawyer and notary in central Germany. The letter sounded very much like a lawyer and notary, for it was coarse and stupid. But it also said that you can't lure a dog out from behind the stove with some kind of idealism, that it's a matter of fighting for the naked loaf.

Now, you see, everything I have just explained does not take into account the simplest and most primitive. Because if you take that into account, you will know that it is only a matter of getting people to organize in such a way that it can and will be done from the antecedents that exist now as they did ten years ago. This will certainly not be achieved if people are fobbed off with either what the old “Czernine” regard as state and popular wisdom, or the old “Bethmänner”, written with or without h, nor what the old Social Democrats, this particular kind of “negative Bethmänner”, suggest; but what matters is that people are given goals again, that they see what we are working towards. And that can be given through the movement of threefolding. What matters is not to say what many people say today, even if it is relatively correct: We will not have a famine or we can overcome it if people work again. Yes, if! But when people face the hopelessness of work that arises from the old programs and old machinations, then they do not want to work. But if you bring something to humanity that ignites, so that people see something ahead of them that can lead them to a dignified existence, [then they will want to work], and then bread will also be able to be produced. This is an important prerequisite for making bread: trust in humanity. If we do not gain this trust, then famine will come with certainty. But in order for trust to arise, threefolding is necessary. I can only hint at this in this context. But if you pursue this thought, you will see that famine can essentially only be prevented by propagating threefolding. However, one necessity exists: that this idea of threefolding must take root in as many minds as possible, so that these minds do not fall for anything that is just a continuation of the old system. This continuation of the old system is becoming very, very widespread – only in a seemingly new form. Because, you see, on certain sides today it is as if the leading personalities had set themselves the task of bringing about famine. Today, all kinds of prices are rising in an incredible way. But prices only make sense if they are relative to each other. The prices of the most important foodstuffs are being artificially kept down today. I am not saying that they should go up, but they must not be disproportionate to the prices of other things. This disproportion prevents anyone from wanting to devote themselves to the production of raw products, of food, in the near future. The production of a famine has thus become a government measure. This must be seen through.

Secondly, it must be emphasized that this is indeed an international issue and the question can be raised:

Can anything be achieved in Central Europe alone by introducing the threefold order – or whatever it is called?

I must refer you to what I have written in the threefolding newspaper, and I have done so repeatedly and from a wide variety of perspectives: if only people would really pluck up the courage to propagate the threefolding, even under the most unfavorable conditions, even during a famine – that would have an effect if people in the western or eastern regions could see something positive being done by us.

So today we still stand on the same position as the world did when the peace offer was sent out to the world in 1916, where phrase after phrase was used, but nothing concrete was said before the world. Just try it out and see how it would work in international life if you came up with something that has hand and foot, that has substance and content like the idea of the threefold social organism. At present, we see how, for example, British statesmen in particular are becoming more and more afraid from week to week of what is happening in Germany. It is actually something highly unfamiliar to them. And because they cannot make head or tail of it, they are seized with fear that something worse than Bolshevism could arise here than in Russia. But if they knew Bauer, Ebert and Noske better, it would even be a good remedy for their fear. Because the truth is that nothing is happening here, that in reality month after month passes without anything happening. Just imagine what it would mean for international life if something substantial were to come out of Central Europe. Only when one is clear about these things can one approach such a question as how threefolding will work in the event of a famine; in relation to everything else, that is not the question. It is true that only the threefold order is capable of bringing about an organization in which work will be done again and trust can be restored. Then famine can be prevented.

In order to be effective internationally, however, the idea of threefolding must take root in people's minds. Then I would not be worried that it will not work in international relations. As long as negotiations are conducted only out of chauvinism, no progress will be made. If something of significance were invented here in Central Europe, it would gain international recognition. If sound ideas take hold here, international barriers will fall away by themselves; for people will act according to their interests and take what is good where they can find it.

And I wanted to give you a few more suggestions on the newspaper question: I do not want to deny that some of what has been said is very important. And it will be commendable if one or the other of our friends gets an article published in some newspaper or another. But the essential thing remains that just as little can be achieved by crawling to the parties, little can be achieved by crawling to the other newspapers. It can be done, but it is actually the same thing, only in a different color. I do not criticize it; I am quite in agreement when it happens. But I would see the positive side in our friends promoting our newspaper, our threefolding newspaper, as much as possible. You may say: That is all very well, but the newspapers in which we want to place articles are only available to people who already subscribe to them. They have to subscribe to them in addition. Not all of them will do it, but a number of them will. Then we will be able to transform the threefolding newspaper into a daily newspaper. Only then will we be able to publish the articles we want to publish; then it will be effective. So the point is to work so hard for the threefolding newspaper, which is still a weekly paper, that it can be converted into a daily paper through its own earnings. Then we won't have to “crawl” to the others; that's what matters. Why shouldn't it be possible to put something that is of such eminent importance on its own two feet!

Then various other points were made. Regarding participation in the elections, I would just like to say the following: Of course, in abstracto one can certainly say that participating in the election and entering parliament and working there supports the present state. - You can't say that just like that. I don't even want to speak so strongly for or against; whether or not to participate in the election depends on the various specific circumstances. But if you take a strict view of threefolding, it is not entirely right in principle not to participate in parliament. The right thing to do in principle, consistently thought out in terms of threefolding, would be to participate in the elections, have as many people elected as can be elected, enter parliament and obstruct all questions relating to intellectual and economic life. That would be consistently thought out in terms of threefolding. The point is to separate off the middle part, the life of the state. This can only be achieved if the other parts on the left and right are discarded. The only way to do this is to actually get elected, enter and practice obstruction in all that is negotiated and decided in the fields of intellectual and economic life. That would be a consistent way of thinking in terms of the threefold social organism. This idea is something that must be thought through consistently and can also be thought through consistently in relation to concrete circumstances, because it is derived from reality. — That would be to say in relation to the most important questions.

Regarding the new goal that should now be given to the workers, I have to say that, based on my experiences with the works councils, it seems to me to be more of an academic question. The question will have to be approached differently; [we have to ask] whether such a goal should be set at all. The question of the works council has been raised. Every possible effort has been made to get the works councils going. The workers have promised all sorts of things and kept none of them. At first they turned up at the meetings, then they stopped coming. The same thing would happen again with the next new goals if they were carried into the current workers' organizations.

Dear attendees!

It is my task today to speak about the place that is to be a center of activity for everything that can radiate from the work in which you have participated here in such a deeply satisfying way over the last eight days. I may say in a deeply satisfying way, for the reason that you will believe me when I say that I am connected with this work in the deepest sense and therefore may express the deepest satisfaction about the course of this congress.

Now, my dear attendees, the Goetheanum is, so to speak, a physical manifestation of that which, in the most diverse ways and in the most diverse fields, would like to emerge as the result of anthroposophical spiritual science in the world. When it first emerged in the world, anthroposophy naturally did not immediately have its own place of activity, and it could not even be thought of, not even remotely, to build a place of activity for it. After about a decade of activity, a number of people who believed in the anthroposophical worldview came up with the idea of creating such a center for anthroposophy. The idea had initially come from the impressions gained from the performance of the mystery plays, which we started in Munich in 1910. It struck a number of our friends how unsuitable the architecture of an ordinary theater, such as we had to use to stage the mysteries at the time, is for what is actually artistically intended by anthroposophy.

And so the plan arose to found a kind of college for anthroposophy. The first attempt was to build in Munich. Land had already been acquired in Munich. But now the question was that precisely because anthroposophical spiritual science wants to be what has been spoken of here again in these days, the same could not be said for such a building as is otherwise the case. You have a society or an association, as you will, that has set itself some goal and believes it needs its own building. You get in touch with some master builder, an architect, and receive his suggestions. The building is constructed in the antique, Renaissance, Gothic style or similar, and then the events of the respective association or society are held in such a building.

Those who are thoroughly connected with their own soul life, as it should be, with an anthroposophical worldview, can never agree to such an outward agreement for a framework, for a wrapping of that which is to be created through anthroposophy. Because it has been emphasized over and over again: Anthroposophy is, on the one hand, a science of the spirit, of the supersensible, arising from the deepest sources of human knowledge. But it is not a theory, it is not a sum of abstractions, it is not something about the world and about life; it becomes, as it develops, life itself, it takes hold of the deepest inner impulses of the whole, of the full human being, and pursues everything from the inner being of this full human being, whatever it can be for him. In this way, it not only stimulates the impulses for scientific research, but also for artistic creation.

Not as if out of the true anthroposophical spirit – I have already mentioned this in my evening lectures – not as if out of this spirit an allegorizing or symbolizing art wanted to arise; that would not be art at all. Not ideas are to be transformed into symbolic or allegorical forms. No, anthroposophical spiritual knowledge penetrates into the depths of the human soul and takes its origin from sources that can flow into the world in other currents than in the field of the presentation of ideas. And so the one stream of the presentation of ideas arises as the one, and the other stream, the stream of artistic creation, in addition to many others, from the same source. But it is not about the translation of spiritual science into art or into sham art, but rather about an elementary, very original, I would say, expression of the artistic. In Dornach today, one can see how nothing symbolic or allegorical is striven for, but how what is intended to be art is conceived as art and created out of the artistic.

I would like to express myself with an image: if the relationship between the anthroposophical worldview and art is really as I have just described it, then this anthroposophical worldview must not allow itself to be built a place from the outside, in some style that for the Greek, for the Renaissance, for the Gothic worldview. Instead, the anthroposophical worldview must be housed in a building that has arisen out of the most original impulses of anthroposophy. Then the matter must be such that, for example, speaking takes place from the podium, singing or reciting or acting in eurythmy takes place on the stage, and so on; that which emerges in this way to the people must, so to speak, be the one language, and the other language must be the building forms, must be the architecture that envelops that which wants to reveal itself within the space. Anthroposophy must not accept a style from outside; Anthroposophy itself, being intimately related to the artistic, must appear as a creator of style.

This is what was there, I would like to say, with the same inner spiritual necessity as - now I would like to express myself through an image - as the nutshell cannot be different in its formation, in its design, than it is. The nut fruit and also the nutshell arise from the same lawfulness, from the same forms and life forces. He who sees the one can judge the other. This must also be the case with the structure for the anthroposophical world view. Therefore, what was to become the style for such a structure could arise out of all that was alive in the ideas of anthroposophy.

It is understandable that this met with resistance at first from all those who cling to the old, who cannot imagine that the development of humanity can only come about through the constant emergence of new and new metamorphoses of human labor, human creativity and human insight, and so – and I emphasize this – it was not the police or the government that rejected us at first, but the art world rejected our styles for Munich. It is not our fault that the building was not built in Munich, where it was originally intended to be. Of course, in the end people grew tired of submitting, I might say, to the yoke of what would have been dictated to them from the old ways of thinking. Those who knew what kind of architectural style must arise from the anthroposophical worldview were not allowed to have their wings broken.

And so it happened that through the donation of a friend, our project on the hill near Basel, in Dornach, in the northwestern corner of Switzerland, could be realized, and that the foundation stone could be laid in the fall of 1913. Of course, we fell into the most difficult period of Western cultural development. But we have at least already come so far that a whole series of university courses have been held in the building since last fall, which is still far from completion.

Now I would like to characterize in just a few words how that which lives in anthroposophy has poured out into an architectural style. That, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely the essence of anthroposophical research, of anthroposophical knowledge: that the concepts, that the whole forms of knowledge live, unfold in free activity, and this led, I would like to say, in a very elementary, naive way, to transferring the old architectural styles, which are based on the geometric, symmetrical, mechanical-static, into the organic. And so the previous architectural styles are, I would like to say, external images of that which can live in the static, in the carrying, in the load-bearing and in the symmetrical, in the geometric.

Of course, the Dornach building and my words here are not a criticism – it would be foolish towards these architectural styles – but it is a matter of drawing on progress. In this case, it could only consist of the geometric, the symmetrical, the static being transferred into something that, in all its forms of expression, in all its formation, also represents the organic, just as the inorganic is otherwise represented in architectural styles. I am well aware, esteemed attendees, of all the objections that can be raised against such a thing; but it had to be done at some point, based on the fundamental impulses of an anthroposophical attitude. There had to be a building idea that is lived and woven through the contemplation of the organic.

And consider what that actually means in terms of the human body itself. Take the smallest organ, perhaps it will be most illustrative. Please take your earlobe, a very small organ, it has a certain shape and size. If you feel the whole meaning of the human organic structure, feel it artistically, then you will say to yourself: firstly, this earlobe could not be in any other place in the human organism than where it is, and secondly,

in the place where it is, it could not be other than it is. The same had to be achieved with all the individual forms in the construction of the Goetheanum. One had to connect inwardly with the metamorphosing formative forces that otherwise live in the organic, and one had to experience what must of course be observed as the basis for every building idea: the geometric, the symmetrical, the static. One had to experience this through what can be experienced in this way in harmony with organic creation. Every single shape, every door, every window, every column, every detail [of this building] had to be individually felt. And the whole, in turn, had to be the one that, as a unified organic building idea, could absorb these individual organic building elements.

One difficulty arose from the fact that the matter was initially conceived for Munich in such a way that, in fact, only interior design would have been considered in the main. The building was to be surrounded by houses that anthroposophical members wanted to acquire, so that the exterior architecture would have been of little consequence. When the building had to be moved to Dornach, the space available was a completely open field on a hill, on a Jura hill, in a Jura configuration. There were unobstructed views in all directions and a clear view of the building. The mountain formations were there, and the whole thing had to be adapted to them. Since the interior design could not be changed much due to the haste with which I promoted the matter at the time, it was necessary to design the exterior in accordance with the finished interior. That is the thing that still leaves me somewhat dissatisfied today, because the person who will fully appreciate the whole can already see a certain discrepancy between the exterior and the interior design. However, every effort has been made to overcome the difficulties as far as possible. And in such a matter, basically only something incomplete can be created in the first attempt. But that is also the only reason for the Dornach building, to start a new architectural style, which cannot arise from any other foundations than those that can be made at all for modern civilized life from the knowledge of the spirit of the world.

The way the Goetheanum presents itself to the observer when approaching from afar is connected with the overall task: one is dealing with something that arises in the depths of the human soul, be it art or science, and that the person who has fathomed it has a duty to communicate to others. We are dealing with something that comes from the bottom of the heart, with something that is taken from the whole soul by someone who truly understands. This can be felt. And it may be demanded of the one who can feel it that this is now translated into contemplation. As I said, nothing should be thought up, no idea should be cast into form. But what I have just hinted at can be felt, can be experienced inwardly, this relationship of an intimate unity to a receptive other unity and the union of the two. By feeling this, it arose for me quite naturally only in contemplation, not as an allegory or as symbolism, a double-domed building, designed in such a way that two domed spaces met in a segment of a circle. And it seems to me that in this form of construction one can feel everything that a soul can feel in relation to anthroposophy and the world, as it must actually be felt as the ideal relationship, as the blissful relationship. And I believe that, just by looking at the outer form, one can feel this when approaching the hill at Dornach, just as one feels the inner necessity of the form of the nutshell compared to the form of the nut fruit; one can feel that there is something in the two juxtaposed domes of a large and a smaller dome structure that should be explored in the most intimate way, and yet at the same time wants to openly communicate with the world. That is what is expressed first in the external forms that I will take the liberty of showing you.

Yes, please, now the first picture (Fig. 5).

You see, dear attendees, here is the road that leads to the west side of the building. The building is a concrete structure down to the upper terrace. From here on, it is a wooden structure. You first enter the concrete structure. In the concrete structure - we will see later - is stored. Then you go up the stairs and come to a foyer and from there to the actual auditorium. You can see here in this motif how an attempt has been made to transfer the otherwise existing forms of construction, which, as I said, are based on the purely geometric, symmetrical, static or dynamic, into organic forms, but not in a naturalistic sense, not in such a way that natural forms would have been imitated. No one can ask what something depicts, just as one cannot ask what a plant leaf or a human ear depicts. It is something that has its inner form of life and vitality and life force within itself; something that justifies itself through its own form and its own unfolding of life.

When you create such a form, you do not feel that you are imitating something, but rather you feel, as a human soul, inwardly connected to that which lives metamorphosing in the plant from leaf to flower to fruit, shaping and reshaping everything, if I may use this Goethean expression. And that is what we have here, not something copied, but something formed in such a way that is otherwise only formed in the organic world. Those who then see the building itself may perhaps be able to see how we have tried to sense artistically from the material all around. It was rather difficult – I will have to come back to this later – to find forms for the concrete, a new material.

The next picture (Fig. 6): You can see the entrance to the west portal again. Here you go in, here left and right up, then you enter a vestibule, then the actual auditorium. The second, smaller dome is now completely covered by the larger dome of the auditorium. All the individual such secondary forms are in complete harmony, and in fact in organic harmony with the larger forms.

The next picture (Fig. 7): Here you can see the building from the southwest side; here the entrance, here the west portal; here the south side, here a transverse building, which we will see in more detail; here the entrance from the south side. You can see how this main form reappears here in some window forms, but actually in such a way that the main form is formed quite differently than the window forms. It is really the case that, when designing in this architectural style, one has to form organic shapes in such a way that, let us say, at the bottom of the plant there is an entire unnotched leaf, further up the leaf is notched, becomes of a very different shape, then in the sepal again something else. One must have the possibility, so to speak, to slip with one's feeling through all the possible forms that arise within, which are quite different according to external sensuality, but are inwardly spiritual and yet quite the same.

Here the large dome, there the small one. One of the issues, for example, was to find the right roofing for this building. The building had to appear as a unified whole, and, I would say, fate brought it about: While I was still occupied with the idea of building, I had to undertake a lecture tour in Norway, from Kristiania to Bergen, and from a train I saw the wonderful slate quarries of Voss. And just as this Voss slate presented itself to me in brilliant sunlight at the time, I said to myself at that moment: this belongs to the covering of this building. And indeed, a certain necessity for it will be felt by anyone who comes to Dornach and sees the wonderful grey-blue of this slate, shining and radiant in the sunlight.

The next picture (Fig. 8): Here you see the building from the south side. I emphasize, here would be the entrance, here is the side wing, as there is one on each side of the building. Here are the storerooms for the equipment, dressing rooms for performances, here the dome of the stage area. This is where the two domes meet. And it is precisely at the point where they meet that these side wings are located.

The next picture (Fig. 2): Here we have the construction from the northeast, and you can see the stage area, the dressing room, the storage room, [the large dome partially covered by the small dome]. Here is the so-called boiler house, which is completely made of concrete, and it is perhaps the one that is most [challenged by individuals], and that is because, firstly, an attempt was made to find a form out of the concrete material with a real sense of the material, but then to find a form in the way that is only possible for utility buildings. The lighting and firing systems had to be accommodated in it. It was important to see what the whole thing looked like and how it would appear. That was the nut to crack, so to speak, and the concrete shell had to be built around it according to the same principles. And I tried to think it through to the point where the whole shape of this building is only complete when the smoke comes out here, when it is in full operation. The shapes of the smoke clouds actually belong to the whole shape.

The next picture (Fig. 3) offers a completely different view. There is a small domed structure nearby that had to be built for a reason that I will explain later. This composition of a building with two domes is intended to be another metamorphosis. Here the domes are intertwined, intersecting, while there they are separate, on the adjoining building. But this then means that all the details of the structure had to be designed differently.

The next picture (Fig. 20): Here you can see the floor plan. Here is the entrance; below that would be the room for storing clothes. Here are the stairs. You go up these stairs and come into the vestibule, which we will see in a moment. Now you enter the auditorium. Here is the space below the organ, which is slightly elevated, with the other musical instruments. Here are the rows of benches for about a thousand spectators, here on each side are seven columns. These seven columns are, as we shall see, only symmetrical in relation to the only axis of symmetry that the whole building has, and which runs from west to east. The whole building is symmetrical in relation to this west-east direction, so that the capital of the second and third column is not a geometric repetition of the first column, but the capitals are progressive, metamorphosing forms from the first to the seventh column, and only this column is symmetrical with this one, the second with the second here and so on, so only symmetrical in relation to the one axis of symmetry. The rest in the course of this axis of symmetry is perceived in organically progressive transformation.

The next picture (Fig. 21): Here is an average in accordance with the axis of symmetry. Here are the storerooms, the stage rooms, the smaller domed room, the large domed room, here is the floor of the auditorium rising, here the entrance, here then the anteroom, here you come in, put your things down here, here is the staircase. You come into the anteroom here and go into the auditorium under the organ here.

The next picture (Figure 22): Here I have taken the liberty of showing you the model, cut in the same section as the one I have just shown you. This is the first model of the structure, which I made in Dornach during the winter of 1913–1914, partly out of wood and partly out of wax. The structure was then built according to this model. The model contains the essential building idea.

The next picture (Fig. 10): Here we have the west portal, the main entrance, seen in more detail.

The next picture (Fig. 12) shows a detail. If you approach from the south side, you will see a similar detail here. You saw it earlier at the building itself. But here you see a concrete house, the house of the friend who provided us with the land back then. An attempt has been made to design this house as a concrete mold for the residential building in the style that it must have next to the building.

The next picture (Fig. 13): This is a side wing. You can see here the window forms in more detail, that is, the forms that the main form, which is on the west portal, takes on in metamorphosis. The next picture (Fig. 11): Here is such a metamorphosis of the main form above the west portal at one of the side entrances.

The next image (Fig. 14): Here, isolated so that it can be seen better, is a motif of one of the side entrances, and the concrete walkway, a gallery, a terrace.

The next picture (Fig. 23): Imagine, dear attendees, that you have now gone down through the gate in the concrete building that I have often pointed out to you. You enter; here are the stairs leading up to the auditorium, here is the stairwell. You see, I have dared to replace the usual pillars or columns with something that is organically designed, and in such a way that, artistically speaking, it can only be in the overall organism of the building as it is, tapering outwards with reference to its curves towards the gate, where it has little to bear, bracing itself here, as a muscle braces itself where it has to bear, because here the whole weight of the building rests. But it was not attempted to make it out of thoughts, so that one can say that something is meant to express something. It does not express anything other than, for example, the human thigh expresses in its architectural structure. It expresses itself, that is, what it is for the organism as a whole. And one must have the feeling that it cannot be otherwise.

Of course, when people with habitual ways of thinking approach something like this, their desire to ridicule is stirred up. And since they can usually only think in a naturalistic way, they don't really know what to imagine by it. It seems organic to them, but they can only imagine the organic in naturalistic terms, as an imitation. Then along came an obviously very clever critic who noticed, as it seems, that it represents a certain strength. It has to bear weight, it has to represent a certain strength. But since he can only think in naturalistic terms, an elephant's foot occurred to him. But then again, it seems to him that something of an artistic-critical conscience has arisen, and he felt that it does not look like an elephant's foot. But now he already has this idea of the elephant's foot, it was already on his mind. He thought, but it must be an elephant foot. But now it was not as thick and clumsy as an elephant foot, and he thought it was rachitic, and now, in order to do justice to both these impressions, he said it was a “rachitic elephant foot”.

The next picture (Fig. 24): You see, at this point I felt how it must be for someone who enters our auditorium via these stairs. They must, so to speak, receive the feeling that Inside, my spiritual powers will be balanced by spiritual insight. Now, the whole feeling was realized for me in such a way that I had to make three such perpendicular forms, which stand perpendicular in the three directions of space. Believe it or not, it is still true: only when I had already done it in this way, when I had the model, did it occur to me that it reminds me of the three semicircular canals that are perpendicular in the ear and that, when injured, cause people to faint. One must unite one's own experiences of the soul with the sense of the creative forces of nature, then one discovers things that are by no means – I must keep saying it – symbolic or allegorical, but that come entirely from artistic feeling and yet have an inner necessity in themselves.

It is true that I actually prefer it when what I say about the building tonight is not expressed at all, but only felt when looking at the building, because the building should speak for itself. I don't really like talking about the building the way I am doing tonight. But not everyone can see the building over and over again; in art, one speaks of artistic works, and so perhaps one may try to talk about the building through a surrogate.

The next picture (Fig. 23): you can see here the staircase that was only hinted at there, here the form just discussed, here the “rachitic elephant foot”. You can see here, for example, this curve. I hope that whoever enters the building will feel the necessity of these forms at this point from the sense and view of the entire building.

The next picture (Fig. 26): Here you see a concrete mold – formed out of the wood above, it is somewhat different – for a radiator cover. This is also a form that arises from the feeling of saying to yourself, what do I have to put in front of a radiator, which grows out of nature like an organic thing, but which does not bring it to life, only the conclusion is for a radiator.

The next picture (Fig. 27): Now we have gone up the stairs and are here in the anteroom, which is only the anteroom, which is already quite in the area of timber construction. Here you see a column, and quite distinct from the sense of space in this place, you see this one column capital with its various curves, which reach out in the most diverse ways in the most varied directions in space, formed out of the sense of space itself. When you come to Dornach, I would ask you to see that in this room which is perhaps most clearly visible because it is the simplest. You will see that the whole thing is carved out of wood and it must be said again and again wherever there is an opportunity, that friends have devotedly worked for many years to bring about this building, because all of it is carved by hand after very crude carpentry work, all of it is carved by hand by our friends themselves, including this wall, which is individually designed in a variety of curves in different directions.

What I would particularly ask you to see is precisely the treatment of the wall. The whole building idea of Dornach resulted from the fact that the wall had to be conceived differently than one has been accustomed to, always thinking of walls. Walls are something final and limiting for the old architectural styles. Here they are not, here the thought should not arise: when you are inside the Dornach building, you are in a closed room. This thought should not arise. You come in and you should feel all the walls as if they were designed in an artistic way that actually makes the walls artistically transparent, so that you feel inside as if the wall does not close you off, but through its own form, which artistically makes the wall transparent, connects you with all the secrets of the macrocosm, allows you to look out, to look out inwardly, spiritually and soulfully into the vastness of the world.

The next picture (Fig. 28): We have entered through the space below the organ, are standing in the auditorium, looking back and see here, somewhat elevated, the organ space.

The next picture (Fig. 30): But this is not yet the finished organ motif, rather it is the model, which you can see here is still unfinished. The framing of the organ should also be developed in such a way that one has the feeling that the organ has not been placed in some corner or on some side, but that one has the feeling that the organ grows out of the whole organic structure as a necessary element. This motif would then have to be added later, in keeping with the height of the organ pipes. That was the first wax-wood model.

The next picture (Fig. 29): Here is the organ motif, here you enter. This is directly above the organ. These are the two columns to the right and left of the axis of symmetry. There you can see the sequence of columns. This sequence of columns with the architrave-like structure above it, I was already able to show in the first model earlier. But here I may draw attention to the fact that you see here the simplest capital motif; now the following capital motif is somewhat more complicated, the third again more complicated and so on. It is the case that the same formative forces, the same formative maxims that can be seen in nature, ascending the plant stem, metamorphosing the leaves, are at work here. The leaves are outwardly different in shape, but inwardly, in the sense of Goethe's theory of metamorphosis, they are ideally or spiritually the same.

If you now feel this form, descending, this ascending, but not in thought, but in artistic contemplation, and then connect with the creative forces of nature in such a way that you can really can deduce one from the other in the same way that the next plant leaf, which is shaped differently, emerges from the previous one, then you get these following forms; but, as I said, they are meant artistically. And it follows from this that it is actually of no particular value to focus attention on only one capital; what is important is that each capital emerges from the one that precedes it. For it is precisely this living transformation of one into the other that brings life to the building. And the same applies to the architraves.

I might say that you make some astonishing artistic discoveries. When I had designed the capitals according to the same principles as the advancing bases and architraves, I was able to follow a line of development. The idea of development has become a central tenet of modern knowledge. But one has – just look at this in the works of Herbert Spencer or others who have developed the idea of development in an abstract form, not in an inwardly living form – one has always believed that development progresses in such a way that first there is the primitive, simple form, then comes the complicated and so on and more and more complicated, and the last form is the most complicated. You can think that up if you think abstractly, but you can't express it artistically. If you express it artistically, the most complicated form is in the middle, then it becomes simpler again. One is simply pushed by artistic feeling to ascend to a middle most complicated form, and then to pass into the simpler one.

Then, however, one comes to realize that nature itself does it that way. The human eye is indeed the most perfect in the series of living beings, but not the most complicated. In its simplification, it no longer has the organs, for example, the fan and the xiphoid process, which are found in certain animals that have less perfect but more complicated intermediate forms of eyes. That is what I would particularly like to emphasize here.

Nebulous mystics, people who want to ramble on about everything, naturally ask: Why are there seven pillars on each side? There is no other answer to that than: Why are there seven colors in the rainbow, seven tones and the octave as a repetition of the prime in the tone scale? It is an inner necessity. And precisely when one feels this inner necessity quite objectively, then one does not lapse into nebulous mysticism. That something was done in nebulous mysticism in the Dornach building is simply a calumny.

The next picture (Fig. 33): Here I present to you – here the organ motif – the two first forms, the simplest with the architrave motifs above them. I will now show the following in such a way that I always show a column, then this column together with the next, then the next in turn together with the next, and so on, so that you can see how the lively sense of progression from one column capital to the next and from one architrave motif to the next takes place.

The next picture (Fig. 34): Here, then, the first column, isolated, leaning down, rising up, but the whole thing sensed in its polyhedral spherical form.

The next picture (Fig. 35): The first and second columns, progressing from a simpler motif to a more complicated one, as well as with the motifs above them.

The next picture (Fig. 36): The next is the second column by itself. The next picture (Fig. 37): The second and third columns continue. The next picture (Fig. 38): The third column by itself.

The next picture (Fig. 39): the third and fourth columns. It is becoming even more complicated, and from these motifs one gets one such that any observer will believe that it was actually conceived as a single entity. However much it may seem familiar to you, if you have heard anything about mysticism – I hope not in a mystically nebulous way – it is simply obtained here by a metamorphic transformation of this motif. You can see it here, I would say, already in the forms.

The next picture (Fig. 40): This is the column still by itself, which was the fourth here.

The next picture (Fig. 41): Here you have the column that we just had. From this, then, by simply letting this motif continue to grow through metamorphosis, not by actually only developing this motif, this motif emerges. I believe that someone who had formed this concept intellectually, not emotionally, would have placed the same motif here [on the architrave above the fourth column] over the motif [on the fifth capital]. This did not occur to me because here [on the capital] I am dealing with columns in which the motifs that enclose a polyhedral shape can be felt. These motifs arise differently than those [of the architraves], where the surfaces are mounted; there they are distributed differently in space, and can only be understood from a sense of space.

The next image (Fig. 42): This [fifth] column on its own. It looks like a caduceus, but is simply the metamorphosis of the previous chapter.

The next picture (Fig. 43): This column and the one that emerges from its metamorphosis. When you have arrived at this most complicated one, the motif simply wants to become simpler again. It discards certain complications, it becomes more perfect, but simpler.

The next image (Fig. 44): This is the [sixth] column capital by itself.

The next picture (Fig. 45): So it has jumped over from one side to the other, it is this motif and then it becomes this through transformation.

The next picture (Fig. 46): This is the last motif.

The next picture (Fig. 47): Here you have the last column of the auditorium, here is the slit between the auditorium and the stage, here is the first stage column. Here you can see into the stage area. Here is the dome of the stage area seen from the inside. It is still equipped with scaffolding. It is under construction.

The next image (Fig. 48): I will now take the liberty of showing the metamorphosis of the pedestal figures in quick succession, so that it does not take us too long. You will see how one pedestal motif – for the columns of the auditorium – develops into the other.

The next picture (Fig. 49): So it gets more complicated. The next picture (Fig. 50): The third pedestal.

The next picture (Fig. 51): Next picture. The metamorphosis advances in this way. It is always the case with this metamorphosis, when it is felt through, that it tends to slope downwards again and new forms arise, expanding. The necessity for further development can only be felt artistically, not speculated upon.

The next picture (Fig. 52): The fifth base motif. The next picture (Fig. 53): The sixth motif. The next picture (Fig. 54). The seventh motif.

The next picture (Fig. 55): Here you can see into the stage area from the auditorium. This is the painting of the small dome, below it the stage area. The auditorium would then be here. You can see here into the small stage area from the auditorium facing east. This is the end of the auditorium. It is a motif; here the auditorium, then comes the curtain, which then belongs to the small stage area. It is the conclusion to the east. Below it will be the nine-and-a-half-meter-high wooden group, which I will talk about later, covered here by a wooden roof, which, in its various forms, synthesizes everything that is distributed over the other forms of the capitals and architraves.

I would also like to show some columns from the small domed room, i.e. the stage area. These columns are made according to the same principle, but because of the small size of the room, because of the whole complex, the capital forms are different again, but they are asymmetrical in relation to the west-east axis.

The next picture (Fig. 58): Another column from the small domed room. The next picture (Fig. 59): Yet another. The next picture (Fig. 60): Yet another.

The next image (Fig. 57): Once again, the view from the auditorium into the small domed room. Here are the columns of the stage area. Performances will take place here. I have redesigned the bases of these columns in the small domed room as twelve seats. This was possible because this room can also be used as a meeting room. And because a meeting of twelve people was not intended to be mystical, but arose from the overall architecture.

The next picture (Fig. 67): Here you can see what I just called the roofing. The columns of the small domed room would be here. Carved out of the wooden wall in various forms, these forms synthetically summarize the others. Below that is the nine-and-a-half-meter-high wooden group (Fig. 93).

Now I come to the painting of the small dome. In this small dome, what must be aimed for in painting is gradually, perhaps, already achieved, despite all imperfections, not in the sense of artistic perfection, but in the sense of artistic intention. In one of my mystery dramas, I have a character suggest how painting should actually develop, so that gradually one no longer seeks the pictorial motif from the drawing, from the forms, but that one seeks it from the color and color harmony. That is how I had the character express it, that “form becomes the work of color”.

Now, since everything depends on the color in this painting of the small dome, it cannot be shown in these black-and-white afterimages, what is meant. But I think you can gain something from the fact that you might feel that something is wrong with these reproductions, that what you see is actually nonsense. And this feeling that it is actually nonsense is just an expression of the fact that one actually feels the necessity, it must be created from the color everywhere. And the human form, no matter how individualized it is, is thoroughly felt from the color.

The next picture (Fig. 72): Here this child, which – here would be the first column, the other column of the auditorium here, here the curtain, here this orange-reddish-yellowish child painted – which stretches out its hands and its gaze towards this fist figure [Fig. 70]. Of course one can see a fist-like figure; but for the person painting, what matters is the blue bruise and how it relates to the other spots, that is, to the orange-yellow spots and so on. The colors represent a whole world, a cosmos in itself, with something creative in it; one can extract the form from what the colors speak to one another in the universe. It is the conversation of color, the color word, the creative color word. If one really feels all this artistically, then, just as the world is rightly described as emerging from the word, human, superhuman, and subhuman figures arise from color as it intensifies into the color word.

The next picture (Fig. 70): This is where the child would be, here the only word in the entire structure, here a kind of fist figure emerging out of the blue. As I said, the feeling arises from the color, and we are transported to the sixteenth century, to the culture of the sixteenth century. It is the dawning of that culture which we ourselves still carry within us in our spiritual life, the culture that rushes towards abstract knowledge. Those who do not experience it as it is largely experienced today by people, but who experience it with the whole, with the whole human being, feel the Faustian struggle within our modern knowledge. This Faustian struggle has led to the fact that only in recent times has man come to the full feeling of the I, and now of the unformed, inartistically written I, which is experienced darkly within. What can be borne is only that which one has in knowledge, when one feels it out of the fullness of the human being in the proximity of the child; for that which we will see in a moment, what is painted here, is linked from the brownish blackness below the fist, it is linked to the danger of modern knowledge for those who feel from the fullness, it is linked to death, because our knowledge only delivers the dead to us. And whoever not only thinks through theoretically, but inwardly experiences that our concepts themselves are corpses as concepts, always feels death standing beside him out of the Faustian striving, and so he longs for birth, which shows itself on the other side in the child.

The next picture (Fig. 71): Below Faust – here it would be Faust – [Death] is taken out of the black-brownish area.

The next picture (Fig. 73): Here the fist figure is merged out of the blue as a larger area, here the child, stretching out its hands, arms, and gaze, with Death below. Above it, a kind of inspirer, as these figures, which have been tried to be created out of colors, always represent - one can feel that, it is always initiated quite instinctively from the color harmony - the initiates, who receive the secrets of the world from inspirers. Here, then, is Faust, and above him is his inspirer.

The next picture (Fig. 74): This is the inspirer of Faust; below it, Faust would be taken out of the blue, yellowish, reddish colors.

The next image (Fig. 75): A Greek figure as you go further into the dome. Here there would be Faust with his inspirer, here a Greek figure with the inspirer above.

The next picture (Fig. 76): The inspirer; yellow and yellowish-white, sunny like an Apollo countenance, here below somewhat like an Athena countenance; but all this is drawn from the color word.

The next picture (Fig. 77): These are inspirers, spiritual beings that do not incarnate in the flesh, but who have an inspiring effect on those who live on earth in the flesh as human beings.

The next image (Fig. 78): An Egyptian person, inspired by the two preceding ones. An Egyptian initiate, brought out of the brownish-bluish-blackish coloration.

The next picture (Fig. 79): We are moving more and more towards the east, towards the center of the dome, so to speak. Here below is a type of human being that lived as an intellectual being in the whole zone from Persia north of the Black Sea in ancient times, and then developed in Central Europe in the Germanic being; here, in the arms of the child, is the aging human being who carries within himself the memory of the boy.

The ambivalence, the dualism that manifests itself in the Germanic nature when it becomes knowledge, reveals itself, precisely in this Germanic nature, always reveals itself by confronting powers: the Luciferic, which you see here, taken out of the yellowish-reddish, the Ahrimanic taken out of the brownish-yellowish. The Luciferic and the Ahrimanic, we shall see again later in the central figure, they are the two essential ingredients of the human being. Man can only be understood as a kind of state of equilibrium, which must be continually striven for, but which is continually in danger of falling out of itself, of falling towards what would present itself on one side, and on the other side, if the extremes were to develop one-sidedly. This is what man would be like if he had only a heart and no intellect. Then the rest of the human form would adapt to what the heart makes of the human being. This is how man would look if he only had reason and no heart: the Ahrimanic, ossified in himself.

This secret of human existence can be expressed in three ways: physically, psychologically and spiritually. In the luciferic form, which man does not become, but which he contains latently within him, towards which he always strives as towards one side of his nature, what is expressed is that which develops into pleurisy, which constantly places man in danger of fever. On the other hand, man carries within himself the forces of aging; he is always in danger; in morbid cases he succumbs to the physiological pathology of sclerosis, calcification. Between these two states man lives.

Here dualism is depicted, as it does not yet extend to the complete interpenetration of forms, in a kind of physiology that extends down to the animal kingdom, a kind of centaur. But then, something like this has been done before. I have just tried to reproduce the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson in these figures, so that what is contemporary, what was particularly annoying in this period, is also immortalized to some extent.

The next picture (Fig. 81): Here we see the ahrimanic figure just discussed; that is, what the human being tends towards: physiologically in sclerosis, in calcification; psychologically, it is all that in man tends towards pedantry, towards moral intellectualism, and so on; spiritually, all that is actually most alive when man awakens and returns to his physical being.

The next picture (Fig. 82): the Luciferic figure all to itself. I have just discussed it physiologically. The psychic — that which drives people to enthusiasm, to wanting to go beyond themselves with their heads, so to speak, to falling into mysticism, into false theosophy — is something that can be found particularly in mystics and mystical societies. People are often in this mood of enthusiasm, of soulfulness, so that they are always half a meter above their physical head with their soul head, and with a certain inner arrogance - I have already spoken of this - they would then like to look down on their fellow human beings. Spiritually, this is the human being in the moment of falling asleep, of dreaming. These forces, to which the human being tends one-sidedly, are strongest in the moment of falling asleep, while the others, the Ahrimanic ones, are strongest in the moment of waking up.

The next picture (Fig. 82): The Germanic initiator, above him Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. He is holding the child by the arm, shining next to his dark figure.

The next picture (Fig. 83): Here we are already quite close to the eastern side of the small dome. Here is the Russian man, who actually always has his own shadow beside him. The one who sees spiritually actually always sees a real Russian twice, because the Russian always has the second man, the other, the double, with him spiritually. This is something that will only develop in the future; now it is rushing towards destruction, devastation and ruin. But out of this terrible devastation, out of this murder of human civilization, the good core of Russian-ness will one day develop. As here the Germanic has been shown, here is the Russian. Here the inspirer, out of the blue.

The next picture (Fig. 84): Here, if you note this point, you will find above the Russian – there is only one, as I said – the inspiring stars, above which there is a kind of cloud that forms the centaur, which, via the stars from the cosmos, stimulates that which is still present in the Russian today in an embryonic state of soul and spirit.

The next picture (Fig. 85): I will show you that from the other side in a moment. So over here [far right of the image] would be what I have just shown. Here is the actual central motif [directly to the right of the image], and here is the same inspiring angel from the north side; but it is created out of the orange and then, accordingly, this centaur figure. Below, there is again the one Russian who appears in two.

The next picture (Fig. 86): We are now in the middle. Here you see the Russian and here the inspiring blue angel and here the orange one, here in the middle the representative of humanity. Those who feel can feel the Christ in him. He stands there as the representative of human equilibrium; from his right side he sends out the rays of love, which, like serpents, entwine the ahrimanic form – that is, the sclerotic, pedantic, materialistic-intellectual human being; here above is the luciferic figure, which is physiologically, psychologically and spiritually what I have indicated.

This will be in the far east. This is painted on the inside of the dome, and below it, though differently designed, as it must be for the sculpture, is the nine-and-a-half-meter-high wooden group, which also has the Representative of Humanity in the center, who brings balance between the Ahrimanic and the Luciferic.

It so happened that the famous and influential Frohnmeyer wrote a pamphlet, a defamatory pamphlet about anthroposophy, and in this pamphlet he makes the monstrous claim that “when one comes to Dornach, one can see, as Steiner claims, that this is what the Christ looked like in objective reality.” I don't say to anyone else that I see him that way and don't impose him dogmatically on anyone, but I could only shape him as I saw him, he is the one who walked in Palestine according to my vision. Above that is the Luciferic-Ahrimanic.

Frohnmeyer now says that he depicts a Christ there as objective, who has Luciferian traits above and animalistic traits below. He [supposedly] saw it that way. Lucifer is above, the Christ is shaped entirely humanly, below is Ahriman, here is still a piece of wood, it is not yet finished in the wood. But someone writes it down who doesn't feel the slightest obligation to research the truth, just as in the other case, as Mr. Kolisko told it today, someone writes down the objective untruth and then apologizes by saying that he didn't have time to research the truth.

Pastor Frohnmeyer was confronted with the matter. He then said that he had not seen it himself, but had copied it from another pastor, and since it had already appeared a long time ago, he simply believed he could copy it. We did, in fact, send a correction from Dornach, but it was not included. This is how things are spread today; it is the level of conscientiousness with which people work today. But one must keep saying: what should a theology look like that is shaped only in this way? The person in question was also a lecturer at the University of Basel.

The next picture (Fig. 87): the figure of Lucifer in itself – here the figure of Christ would be underneath – this has been brought out of the red.

The next picture (Fig. 88): the Ahrimanic figure by itself. You see here the head, which is as it should be in a being that has only intellect and no powers of the heart.

The next picture (Fig. 90): the painted representative of humanity, the Christ.

The next picture (Fig. 91): Here is my original model of the plastic Christ, seen in profile, who is thus a wooden figure. And in the middle again this Representative of Humanity; above it, repeated twice, the Luciferic figure; below it, twice, the Ahrimanic figure. And then, on the side, an elemental being growing out of the rock, which I will show you in illustrations so that you can see how asymmetry has been attempted in the Dornach sculpture. The next picture (Fig. 92) is my original model for the Christ of the wooden figure. The asymmetry is taken so far that, because the left arm is directed upwards and the right downwards, and the whole figure, not just the face, should have physiognomy, the whole figure should be soul, that the held-up arm on the left corresponds to the forehead, and the held-down arm corresponds to the forehead. This asymmetry, which is only subtly hinted at in humans, has been attempted here. Such things had to be dared because the sensual should not be imitated, but on the contrary, the spiritual, concrete [forming] behind the sensual should be observed, which underlies the sensual formation.

The next picture (Fig. 98): This is a piece [of the execution model]. Here would be Christ. Here is Lucifer, who aspires to the right hand of Christ. Here is this being, growing out of the rock as an elementary being in complete asymmetry. You see, here it is attempted to overcome the usual way of composing. Usually, one composes figures that one puts together. Here, the whole group, which consists of a series of figures, is conceived as a unit, and the individual figures are taken out of the whole down to their fingers, noses, eyes and eyebrows, so that, of course, when the left is at the top, an asymmetry results, but one that is taken from the life of the whole.

The next picture (Fig. 101): once again the striving Lucifer. Here would be the second Luciferian figure, here the Christ figure.

The next picture (Fig. 99): This is my original Ahriman-Mephistopheles model. Mephistopheles is, of course, only a later metamorphosis of Ahriman, who signifies physiologically, psychologically and spiritually what I have said. This model underlies all the Ahriman figures. It was originally designed by me for the wood group in 1915.

The next picture (Fig. 106): Now I come back to showing you this heating house, here in profile, so to speak, since I have already told you how it came about. It is often perceived as annoying; but people do not consider what would be there if one had not tried to shape something out of the concrete material, out of this brittle material, which might be more perfect later on. There would be a red chimney here! I wonder if it would be more beautiful in reality.

The next picture (Fig. 107): the boiler house, seen from the front. As I said, it is only when the smoke comes out that you feel a certain necessity for these outgrowths.

The next picture (Fig. 103): This is the house that was built nearby, the glass house that is now used as a construction office. Some eurythmy practice rooms are inside. It had to be built originally because the glass windows for the building were cut inside it. These glass windows came about in such a way that what is otherwise only artistically executed – that the wall is artistically transparent – is formed in these glass windows right down to the physical level. The motif that had been specified was engraved with a diamond pencil from monochrome glass panes by friends who worked on it for years with tremendous dedication and devotion. This had to be done first in this house. The glass panes are large and a separate studio building had to be erected for this purpose. But it is designed entirely in the style of the whole. Two domes, standing apart from each other, determine the very different shape of the building up to the gate; the whole asymmetry, so down to the stairs, everything is individualized. Those who come here will see that the lock and the door handle are individually designed.

The next picture (Fig. 104): the gate lifted out. The staircase individualized so that it can only be as it is at this location. Here (Fig. 105) the lock, which also returns in various metamorphoses on the building, then the gate.

The next picture (Fig. 112): Here you see a sample of windows, engraved out of a [same-colored] glass pane. One could allegorize and symbolize many things from these colors; but what the person who feels the matter artistically likes best is to simply stand in front of it and let this whole interplay of the light color tone with the dark color tone take effect on them because the interplay – the glass panes are, after all, arranged in succession in different colors – this entire play of colors undulates in the building, but in such a way that it does not make anyone nervous, but on the contrary = as has been attempted – has a healing effect.

The next picture (Fig. 110): other motifs. Such Ahrimanic figures, scratched out.

Now, dear attendees, that was what I took the liberty of bringing to you as a single image from this Goetheanum in Dornach. It is precisely the place where we should find the center of what has been cultivated here for a week, through this week, which was actually dedicated to Goethe's name, Goethe's essence and Goethe's work. And everything that the Goetheanum stands for should be dedicated to this. Perhaps it will have emerged from what I dared to say in the course of these discussions, that what wants to come before the world in anthroposophy can work both artistically and cognitively.

Unfortunately, we are not yet finished; a great deal of effort and, in particular, a great deal of sacrifice from our friends is still needed; unfortunately, it cannot come from the central states at the moment because of the currency difficulties. The sacrifice of other friends is needed if the building is to be completed. It cannot be completed otherwise than by this spirit of sacrifice being renewed. But it must be said that for a long time this spirit of sacrifice has been revealed in the most beautiful, significant and understanding way for Dornach. And from the feeling of the cultural significance of our cause, we cannot thank enough – I would say, from the genius of this anthroposophical sense, we cannot thank enough – those who have been able to possess this spirit of sacrifice. May it continue to exist so that Dornach does not remain a torso, but can be completed.

In the past week, a worthy and beautiful contribution has been made by our friends in Stuttgart and those who have joined them, and this is also intended to serve Dornach; and since I do not belong to the organizing committee, but am only an invited guest, it will not out of place if I also include myself – one knows how much effort a congress committee has, how it has to consider all the details and the big picture and prepare them over a long period of time – to express my heartfelt thanks to this committee, even now that we are at the end of this event.

And then, we must indeed consider, my dear attendees, what calls are going out into the world today. Everywhere we hear, in the broadest circles, the ethical needs - if only in words - of what, in deepest reality, spiritual science wants to bring to the world. Do we not hear everywhere the yearning and speak of world brotherhood, which is to come about through all kinds of world covenants in the most diverse areas of life, but unfortunately out of the old? World brotherhood is sought; it is believed that this or that external event could lead to it.

But, my dear attendees, this world brotherhood cannot be found unless one has the deepest conviction that it actually exists, but is hidden for our time in the deepest subconscious depths of the human soul. But that is where it must be sought. That which is in the depths of the human soul must be sought and realized in the outer life, in social life. Then there will be world brotherhood, then this world brotherhood will be able to create the outer institutions that belong to it. But this world brotherhood cannot be brought about through external institutions. This world brotherhood, however, can only be found if man searches his deepest inner being in the spirit, at the point where his own being is bound together with the world spirit.

Knowledge and art, so they should arise from anthroposophical attitude and anthroposophical insight, as we tried to show in this week. Then, when knowledge and art emerge from human spirituality, which experiences world spirituality within itself, then this experience will also be a deeply religious one, one that will arise in man, entirely in the spirit of Goetheanism, that Goetheanism that sought in Goethe himself the harmony of the three most ideal fruits of life: science, art and religion.

If these fruits of life are there, then social life can also flourish for the benefit of humanity. If we speak less of the religious, it is perhaps precisely out of true religious experience, out of that religious experience that arises when science is sought in a spiritual way, art in a spiritual way.

And in this sense, esteemed attendees, the conclusion may well sound as the beginning sounded! Our dear friend Uehli began with Goethe, and may this event end with Goethe, with his words, through which he expressed his attitude towards science, art and religion; for he said what can also be our motto, which only must be developed further, in accordance with the insight that we do not have before us the Goethe who died in 1832, but the one who has developed with the world, whom we want to serve with his further education and development. But as a shining motto, everything that comes out of this work in the spirit of Goetheanism will be able to draw on what lies in his words, with which this event should come to an end:

He who possesses science and art also has religion
He who does not possess both, may have religion

1909 was the year when Rudolf Steiner published Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment and completed An Outline of Occult Science, the sequel to his important book Theosophy, which had appeared in 1904. These three works, along with the earlier The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity (1894), contain the nucleus of Steiner's anthroposophical thought.

The eleven lectures translated in this book were also given in 1909 and have been taken from the first half of a volume of lectures published in German under the title Das Prinzip der spirituellen Ökonomie im Zusammenhang mit Wiederverkörperungsfragen. Ein Aspekt der geistigen Führung der Menschheit (Rudolf Steiner Verlag: Dornach, Switzerland, 1979). The titles of this German volume and its component lectures are not by Rudolf Steiner but were assigned later on the basis of expressions used by him. Inasmuch as individual lectures in the German language have been published individually, their titles go back to the Complete Edition (CE) of Steiner's works begun by Marie Steiner. Steiner himself first spoke about the “principle of spiritual economy” in Berlin in 1908 when he was already working on his book An Outline of Occult Science.

The theme “spiritual economy” is directly related to Steiner's investigations about “the spiritual guidance of human beings and humanity” and later lectures dealing with karma. The eleven lectures translated in this book and the ten lectures translated and published under the title Esoteric Rosicrucianism (Anthroposophic Press: Spring Valley, N.Y., 1978) occupy a special place in Rudolf Steiner's work because the aspect stressed in the two volumes is not presented in this fashion elsewhere in the Complete Edition.

The Anthroposophical Society was founded as a separate organization in 1912, but Steiner did not actively guide it until 1923, two years before his death. At the time when the following lectures were given, Rudolf Steiner was still General Secretary of the German Section of the Theosophical Society and was using the terms “theosophy” and “theosophical,” but always in the sense of the anthroposophical spiritual science presented by him from the beginning. He suggested later that these designations be replaced by “anthroposophy,” “spiritual science,” “ anthroposophical,” or “spiritual scientific.”

As the excerpt from his autobiography printed at the end of this book indicates, Rudolf Steiner directed his lectures largely to individuals who were somewhat familiar with the rudiments of anthroposphical teachings and who joined him in the struggle and labor. Then, as he listened “to the pulsations in the soul-life of the members,” the form of a lecture began to emerge. This process—admirable in itself—is problematic for the translator of Steiner's lectures because the style, syntax, and choice of words were intended to involve the souls of a listening, and not a reading, audience in a process of discovery.

Another problem facing the translator is the fact that most of the lectures collected were originally transcribed from Steiner's shorthand notes by different individuals and that the quality or completeness of these transcriptions differs considerably. Most can be considered nearly literal transcriptions of the spoken word, but in this book there seems to be gaps in the fourth, fifth, and ninth lectures. The reader should take into consideration that these three lectures were extracted from lecture cycles whose transcription was of insufficient quality to warrant their publication as a whole. The three seemingly incomplete lectures mentioned above were included in the present collection because they contain important details relevant to the subject matter and are not mentioned in other lectures. Finally, although the sixth lecture, given at the dedication ceremony of the Francis of Assisi Branch, seems repetitive and somewhat tedious, it too offers insights that add to the understanding of the theme.

Given these special circumstances I have tried to grasp the connotative quality of words, phrases, and sentences as Steiner used them in his probing, searching manner and render them in an English form that is simultaneously comprehensible and suggestive to a modern American speaker. Ultimately, however, such an attempt must not be considered more than an approximation of the author's original sense and a confirmation of Wilhelm von Humbolt's dictum that “all understanding is also a misunderstanding.”

The translation of some words in this book may require an explanation. Throughout the eleven lectures I have endeavored to translate the German word Mensch, which has a masculine grammatical gender, not with “man” and in the plural with “men,” but with “human being,” choosing “human beings” when the repeated use of the reflexive pronouns “himself” and “herself” would seem awkward. I employed this practice in deference to modern female readers and because I wanted to dispel even the slightest hint of a mistaken notion arising from the use of “man” or “men” that human evolution and the reincarnation of the human soul applies primarily to males. One of the few exceptions to this practice is the rendering of Geistesmensch or Geistmensch as “spirit man,” because “spirit human being” would sound awkward.

I capitalized Spiritual Science, an approximation of the German word Geisteswissenschaft, because I wanted to give the term greater prominence in a text that abounds with words related to spirit and because I consider it a proper noun that designates systematic anthroposophical thought and spiritual activity. At no place in the lectures does Rudolf Steiner use the word Geisteswissenschaft in its more widely known academic meaning of “humanities” or “liberal arts.”

Furthermore, I rendered Ätherleib as “etheric body,” rather than the “ether body” preferred by some translators because the word “ether” may conjure up distracting connotations in the minds of some and also because adjectival consistency of the term with the related concepts “physical” and “astral” (body) seemed to be desirable. On the other hand, I was reluctant to, but finally did, choose “ego” for German Ich, which in English can mean “I” or “self.” Steiner once described the ego as “that which says ‘I’ to itself,” but once, in the first lecture of the present book, he uses both Ich and “ego” to designate the same entity in different physical bodies. I felt that even though the current use of “ego" in psychology and popular speech can conjure up imprecise and misleading feelings, it is nevertheless a term to which many modern American readers ascribe a soul quality. Whenever Steiner uses the word Ich, which I have rendered in these lectures with “ego,” it should be understood to mean the fourth body or principle with which the human being has been endowed—the other three being the physical, the etheric, and the astral bodies.

The few footnotes that were deemed necessary to provide some background information to the reader not familiar with certain historical personalities or contexts have been placed at the end of the book. Although I am sympathetic to the argument that the constant flipping of pages in search of a footnote can be distracting, I felt that the overriding concern should be that the reader gets a sense of the uninterrupted flow of thoughts with which Rudolf Steiner managed to involve his audience in the substance and dynamics of his presentations.

The lectures presented in this book touch on the very core of Rudolf Steiner's teachings and visions, according to which four basic facts govern human evolution from prehistoric times to the present. First, humanity has evolved as a result of the dialectics between forces and counterforces in the spiritual world. Second, earthly lives are repeated in a variety of spiritual ways, and valuable components are preserved for later use. Third, evolutionary forces have changed human consciousness, and new soul qualities are developed at certain intervals. Finally, the Mystery of Golgotha is the centerpiece of human evolution, but the influence of Christ-Impulse was manifest long before the birth of Jesus and can be observed in individualities such as Buddha, Zarathustra, and Moses.

Anthroposophy is not a religion—it goes beyond that—but its totality is subsumed under Rudolf Steiner's Christology. The reader will encounter recurring questions in these lectures—sometimes in a fresh combination, sometimes in a slightly different context, always thought provoking. For example, What is Spiritual Science and what can it do for us? What is human thought from a spiritual scientific point of view? How can it be that the Event at Golgotha is the centerpiece of all human evolution? Who was the Christ from an anthroposphical perspective, and how did the Christ-Impulse evolve? Why do the teachings of Zarathustra and Buddha constitute a transition in human consciousness and what, from an anthroposophical perspective, is the fundamental difference between the Buddhist and the Christian interpretation of life? How has the etheric body of Shem been preserved in all the Hebrew people? In what way does spiritual economy provide for certain etheric and astral bodies to remain active for the benefit of humanity, and what is the function of an avatar? Finally, why are we in the modern era, destined to undergo the complete unfolding of the ego?

It was Steiner's firm belief that his listeners or readers should never follow the teachings of anthroposophy blindly, but that they would have to struggle to find answers and new questions about the origin and the destiny of humanity. The seriousness of such a struggle gradually gives comfort to the human soul, and it is hoped that reading these lectures will have the same effect.

Peter Mollenhauer
Southern Methodist University

with leading German members and Rudolf Steiner

Minutes by Karl Schubert

Teacher Rudolf Meyer, Berlin, asks whether it would be right to hold the planned international conference in Berlin. He asks Dr. Steiner for guidelines.

Dr. Steiner: Is it necessary that we allow a change to occur through the catastrophe, other than that we are even more zealous than we were? I think this misfortune is something that happened independently of us, so we don't need to think about how we should do things differently than we have done so far. The only question that arises is: how will the building be rebuilt? I cannot imagine that the working method outside should be different.

Rudolf Meyer asks whether the congress should be postponed.

Dr. Steiner: The question is whether there is a possibility of achieving something on an international scale. It is questionable whether the international aspect can have any great significance in Berlin. I believe that a congress in Berlin will not be international. Do you have reasons for this other than financial ones? Not many people will come to Berlin from the western and southern countries; it is also not certain whether many people will come from Austria. Therefore, I ask: Do you have a particular interest in the Berlin congress having a truly international character?

Rudolf Meyer answers that Goethe represented a supranational soul and spiritual life.

Dr. Steiner: You won't achieve this by fostering a better understanding of Goethe in Berlin. You'd be better off going somewhere else. Not Berlin. If you talk about it in Berlin, it's likely to have the opposite of the desired effect. Goethe is not a reason to hold an international congress in Berlin. Would the English be receptive if they were invited to Berlin? If you say in Berlin that Goethe is a great man, people will not tolerate it. But if you could say it in Paris! Formally, you can make the congress international, but it would be good not to count on it working. Whether it is a congress or something else is not the point. Such a gathering, if it grasps its task correctly, could be extraordinarily important for Germany, because the Germans have every reason to educate themselves a little. In the 'name' one can allow the internationality to appear; it will hardly be possible to translate this into reality.

Dr. Unger says a few things that are not noted.

Rudolf Meyer: The building in Dornach is going ahead. The German friends will economize in order to make the [mystery] plays possible!

Dr. Steiner: I do not think it is desirable for our German friends to save, because it does not help. No matter how much they save, it means little in Dornach, while it may mean something in Berlin. If the Germans save 30,000,000 marks, that is 17,000 francs.

Dr. Unger: Perhaps we could hold a conference elsewhere.

Dr. Steiner: We lack the strength in the western countries. In Germany we have the personalities, but the conditions are terrible. We hardly have the strength for the western countries that would enable us to hold a conference. The building up of Dornach is much more concrete. The Anthroposophical Society in the western countries needs to be built up before one can think of doing anything. Whether it is financially possible or not, I do not know. A guarantee fund through a collection is a questionable matter. If it does not remain a guarantee fund, it is just a questionable matter. Is it the case that not enough people will come to Berlin in Germany?

Dr. Kolisko: It is hardly possible financially.

Dr. Steiner: If that is the case, then it is difficult to hold a comprehensive conference. Emil Leinhas: Perhaps a conference as a School of Spiritual Science event?

The following spoke: Mrs. Eljakim and Dr. Stein (not noted).

Dr. Steiner: What we might face here is an attempt to actually establish what anthroposophy is in the world. This would consist of the three courses, warmth, optics and astronomy, being further elaborated and this work being made available. Things have developed to such an extent that these courses have been locked away, so that now people are approaching me from all sides and want me to give them permission to read these courses. It would do the necessary work on them. That was intended from the beginning. Things that are defective show themselves in symptoms. For example, a paper by Theberath was announced at a public conference. Theberath did not appear. These things are not acceptable, otherwise the verdict is: What do they want to do with science!

Dr. Stein: You shouldn't have a congress; you have to work first!

Dr. Steiner: But we are working! We have counted how many scientists we have. Surely something very nice can be worked out from that. I have only counted those who are in some position with us. Those who have the opportunity to work experimentally with us have been counted.

Dr. Kolisko: The congress is impossible for financial reasons.

Dr. von Heydebrand: It is difficult to speak publicly in Prussia about 'international' matters.

Rudolf Meyer: It is not in the spirit of our friends in Berlin to hold a congress without Dr. Steiner.

Albert Steffen: There is concern about the lack of security and the possibility of riots. I have been asked to take this into consideration.

Dr. Steiner: This is only a temporary situation. But for me the first question is this: if I give lectures in Germany now, there is such a commotion that the lectures would stop being attended altogether for ever. Naturally, various things have been considered; I myself can do nothing but take aim at the noise. But that is something that will not suffice; above all, because all possible currents are mixed up. One must believe that under the present circumstances, the opposition to anthroposophy will increase immeasurably if things continue like this. There could be no clearer sign of the growth of the opposition than the burning of this building. The opposition grows with each passing week.

The inner consolidation and positivization of the Society would be necessary. It is not enough to criticize the mischief that is happening outside. If one continues to do so, the opposition will only grow. All those ventures that aim to show our opponents their own face only make the opposition more fierce. The opposition has grown because we have made many enemies in response to mere criticism. As long as we do not succeed in consolidating society, these conditions will not change.

Dr. Hahn speaks (not noted).

Dr. Steiner: I have given specific examples of this. They show that it is necessary to intensify the reception of positive anthroposophical work within our society. Things are happening in our society that, if they happened elsewhere, would actually establish something far-reaching: with us, they are allowed to pass by. But if things are treated the way this positive work has been treated, then there is no understanding within our society for what I call the inner consolidation of our society. What has been achieved in society must be recognized by society. Otherwise, it is no wonder that conditions develop as they have developed. We are going around the bush. We have to call a spade a spade!

In principle, a congress in Stockholm, Copenhagen or Kr istiania (Oslo) would be a good thing for anthroposophy, from a purely theoretical point of view. But the question is whether this is financially desirable at the moment, given the current circumstances, when we need to take care of the structure.

However, Dr. von Heydebrand has raised an important question. This question has led me to say that we cannot approach the matter from the rear. It was different when the Anthroposophical Society had a different position. Now we have to take the defense against our opponents seriously; we have to understand that. This understanding is not there. And then one might hear talk about whether something new is needed. One can always talk about what is needed. But one does not think of taking this as an important question, that Theberath announces a lecture and then does not appear. I also mentioned the treatment of Mrs. Kolisko's work. It is not possible to let things go, not to take care of things! This is how we put the movement on a dead track. By dealing with the atomic question, for example, we are putting the matter on a dead track.

The opposition does not slumber. The only way to deal with it is through the positive achievements of society. The fact that scientists have emerged in recent years means that society must begin with what wants to continue outwardly. But if we go about it in such a way that we do not accommodate our own work, we will never consolidate society. It is necessary to create conditions in society itself that make it possible for achievements to support each other. The situation with the Koliskoschen brochure is ruining society.

[ 1 ] Whoever would form a just estimate of Anthroposophy and the relation it bears to the evolution of the Spiritual soul, must look ever and again at the particular constitution of mind among civilized humanity, which began with the rise of the natural sciences and reached its culmination in the nineteenth century.

[ 2 ] Let him but place the peculiar character of this age before his soul's eye, and compare it with that of earlier ages. At all times during mankind's conscious evolution, Knowledge was regarded as being that which brings Man together with the world of Spirit. Whatever a man was in relation to the Spirit, that he ascribed to Knowledge. In Art, as in Religion, Knowledge lived.

[ 3 ] A change came with the first dawning gleams of the Age of Consciousness. Knowledge now began no more to concern itself with a great part of human soul-life. It was bent upon investigating the kind of relation which Man develops towards external existence when he directs his senses and his reasoning mind on to the world of ‘Nature.’ But it refused any longer to concern itself with the relations which Man develops towards the Spirit-world when he makes the same use of his inner faculties of perception as he does of his outer senses.

[ 4 ] Thus it came about of necessity that the spiritual life of Man became linked, not with the Knowing of the present age, but with the Knowledge of past ages—with Tradition.

[ 5 ] A split came into Man's soul-life; it fell into two. Before him was Nature-knowledge on the one side, striving ever further and further afield, unfolding its powers in the actual and living present. On the other side was the inner life, with its feeling-experience of a relation to the Spirit-world that once, in olden times, had been fed from a corresponding fount of knowledge. From this feeling-experience there gradually faded away all understanding as to how, in olden times, the corresponding knowledge had come about. Men possessed the tradition, but no longer the way by which the truths handed down by tradition had been known. They could only believe in the tradition.

[ 6 ] Anyone who considered the spiritual situation with a perfectly calm and luminous mind, about the middle of the nineteenth century, could not but have said to himself: “Humanity has reached a point when the only knowledge which it still thinks itself capable of developing has nothing to do with the spirit. Whatever it is possible to know about the spirit, mankind in former times was able to discover to-day the capacity for such discovery has gone from the human soul.”

[ 7 ] In all its force and bearings, however, people did not place the situation thus clearly before the mind's eye. They confined themselves to saying, “Knowledge simply does not reach to the spiritual world; the spiritual world can only be an object of Faith.”

[ 8 ] It may shed some light on the matter, if we look back into the times when Grecian wisdom was forced to yield place to the Christianized Roman world. When the last schools of Greek Philosophy were closed by the Roman emperor, the last treasures too of ancient spiritual learnings wandered away from the soil on which henceforth the European spirit developed its life and thought. They found connection with the Academy of Gondi Shapur, in Asia. This was one of the places where, owing to the deeds of Alexander, the tradition of the ancient learning had remained preserved in the East. In the form which Aristotle had been able to give it, this ancient learning was still living there.

[ 9 ] It was caught however in the tide of that eastern stream which one may name Arabism. Arabism is, in one aspect of its character, a premature development of the Spiritual Soul. Through a soul-life working prematurely in the direction of the Spiritual Soul, Arabism afforded the opportunity for a spiritual wave to pour itself from Asia through this channel over Africa, Southern Europe, Western Europe,—and so to fill certain members of European humanity with an intellectualism which ought only to have come later. Southern and Western Europe received, in the seventh and eighth centuries, spiritual impulses which should really not have come until the age of the Spiritual Soul.

[ 10 ] This spiritual wave could awaken the intellectual life in Man, but not that deeper level of experience by which the soul enters into the spiritual world.

[ 11 ] And so, when Man was exercising his faculties of knowledge in the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries, he could only go down to a depth of soul not deep enough for him to light upon the spiritual world.

[ 12 ] The Arabism by which European spiritual life was invaded kept human souls in their life of Knowledge back from the spiritual world. Prematurely, it brought into action that intellect which can only take hold of external Nature.

[ 13 ] And this Arabism proved very powerful. Upon whomsoever it laid its grasp, an inward and for the most part all-unconscious arrogance began to take hold of this person's soul. He felt the power of intellectualism, but did not feel the inability of the mere intellect to penetrate into reality. So he abandoned himself to that external reality which comes of its own accord to men and works upon their senses. He never thought of taking any step towards the spiritual reality.

[ 14 ] This was the situation with which the spiritual life of the Middle Ages was faced. It had inherited the mighty traditions of the spirit-world; but all its soul-life was so steeped in intellectualism through—one might say—the covert influence of Arabism, that knowledge found no access to the sources whence the inherited traditions, after all, drew their substance.

[ 15 ] Thenceforth, from the early Middle Ages on, there was a constant struggle between what was instinctively felt in men's minds as a link with the Spirit, and the form which Thought had assumed under Arabism.

[ 16 ] Men felt within them the world of ideas. To their inner life it was an immediate reality. But they could not find in their souls the power to experience, within the Ideas, the living Spirit.

Thus arose the Realist philosophy, which felt a reality in the Ideas, but could not find this reality. This Realist philosophy heard in the Idea-world the speech of the Cosmic Word, but was not able to understand its language.

[ 17 ] The Nominalist philosophy, on the other hand, contended that since the speech was not understandable it was not there at all. For Nominalism, the world of Ideas was only a collection of formulae in the human soul, without root in any spiritual reality.

[ 18 ] What was here surging in these two opposing currents, lived on into the nineteenth century. Nominalism became the scientific school of thought, for the knowledge of the natural world. From external data of the sense-world it built up a grand conceptual structure, but it reduced to nothing all insight into the inner being of the world of Ideas. ‘Realism’ lived a dead existence. It knew of the reality of the world of Ideas, but could not attain to it in living and perceptive knowledge.

[ 19 ] Men will however attain to it when Anthroposophy finds the way to a living experience of the Spirit in the Ideas. Side by side with the Nominalism of the natural sciences must stand a Realism truly advanced and developed, bringing a way of knowledge which shows that the knowledge of spiritual things has not died out in mankind, but can rise anew from new-opened sources in the human soul, and flow once more through human evolution.

Leading Thoughts

[ 20 ] Anyone who turns the eyes of his soul upon the course of human evolution in the age of Natural Science, is met at first sight by a gloomy prospect. Splendid is the growth of Man's knowledge in respect to all things of the external world. But there comes over him, in return, a peculiar form of consciousness, as though a knowledge of the spiritual world had ceased to be possible at all.

[ 21 ] It seems as though such Knowledge could only have been possessed by men in olden times, and as though with regard to the spiritual world people must simply remain content to accept the old traditions and make them an object of Belief.

[ 22 ] From the resulting uncertainty during the Middle Ages concerning Man's relation to the spiritual world, there arose on the one hand a disbelief in the real spirit-content of Ideas—represented by Nominalism, of which the modern scientific view of Nature is a continuation—and on the other hand, as a knowledge of the reality of Ideas, Realism, which, however can only find its fulfillment in Anthroposophy.

[ 1 ] To gain a true appreciation of Anthroposophy in relation to the development of the Spiritual Soul, we must turn our gaze again and again to the particular mental condition of civilised mankind which began with the blossoming forth of the Natural Sciences and reached its climax in the nineteenth century.

[ 2 ] One should place the character of this age vividly before the soul's eye, comparing it with that of preceding ages. In all ages of the conscious evolution of mankind, Knowledge was regarded as that which brings man to the world of Spirit. To Knowledge, man ascribed whatever relationship to Spirit he possessed. Art and Religion were none other than the living life of Knowledge.

[ 3 ] All this became different when the age of the Spiritual Soul began to dawn. With a very great part of the life of the human soul, Knowledge now concerned itself no more. Henceforth, it sought to investigate that relation to existence which man unfolds when he directs his senses and his intellectual judgement to the world of ‘Nature.’ It no longer wanted to concern itself with that which man unfolds as a relation to the world of Spirit, when he uses—not his outer senses—but his inner power of perception.

[ 4 ] Thus there arose the necessity to connect the spiritual life of man, not with any living present Knowledge, but with Knowledge gained in the past—with Tradition.

[ 5 ] The life of the human soul was rent in twain. On the one hand there stood before man the new science of Nature, striving ever onward and unfolding in the living present. On the other side there was the experience of a relation to the spiritual world, for which the corresponding Knowledge had arisen in the ages past. All understanding of how the Knowledge, corresponding to this side of human experience, had been gained in ages past, was gradually lost. Men possessed the Tradition, but they had lost the way by which the truths of Tradition had been known—discovered. All they could do now was to believe in the Tradition.

[ 6 ] A man who had consciously reflected on the spiritual situation, say about the middle of the nineteenth century, would have been bound to admit: mankind has come to a point where it no longer feels itself capable of evolving any Knowledge, beyond that science which does not concern itself with the Spirit. Whatever can be known about the Spirit, a humanity of earlier ages was able to investigate and discover, but the human soul has lost the faculty for such discovery.

[ 7 ] But men did not place before themselves the full bearing of what was taking place. They were content to say: Knowledge simply does not reach out into the spiritual world. The spiritual world can only be an object of Faith.

[ 8 ] To gain some light upon these facts of modern history, let us look back into the time when the old Grecian wisdom had to retreat before the power of Rome, when Rome had accepted Christianity. When the last Greek Schools of the Philosophers were closed by the Roman Emperor, the last custodians of the ancient Knowledge too departed from the regions in which European spiritual life was henceforth to evolve. They found a haven in the Academy of Gondishapur in Asia, to which they now became attached. This was one of the centres of learning in the East where through the deeds of Alexander the tradition of the ancient Knowledge had been preserved.

[ 9 ] The ancient Knowledge was living on there in the form which Aristotle had been able to give to it. But in the Academy of Gondishapur it was also taken hold of by that Oriental spiritual stream which we may describe as Arabism. Arabism in one aspect of its nature, is a premature unfolding of the Spiritual Soul. Through the soul-life working prematurely in the direction of the Spiritual Soul, the possibility was given in Arabism for a spiritual wave to go forth, extending over Africa to southern and western Europe, and filling certain of the men of Europe with an intellectualism that should not properly have come until a later stage. In the seventh and eighth centuries, southern and western Europe received spiritual impulses which ought to have come only in the age of the Spiritual Soul.

[ 10 ] This spiritual wave was able to awaken the intellectual life in man, but not the deeper founts of experience whereby the soul penetrates into the world of Spirit.

[ 11 ] And now, when in the fifteenth to nineteenth centuries man exercised his faculty of Knowledge, he could but reach down to those levels of the soul where he did not yet impinge upon the spiritual world.

[ 12 ] Arabism, entering into the spiritual life of Europe, held back the souls of men, in Knowledge, from the Spirit-world. Prematurely it brought that intellect into activity which was only able to apprehend the outer world of Nature.

[ 13 ] This Arabism proved very powerful indeed. Whosoever was taken hold of by it, was seized by an inward—though for the most part quite unconscious—pride. He felt the power of intellectualism, but not the impotence of intellect by itself to penetrate into Reality. Thus he gave himself up to the externally given Reality of the senses, which places itself before the human being of its own accord. And it did not even occur to him to approach the spiritual Reality.

[ 14 ] The spiritual life of the Middle Ages found itself face to face with this position. It possessed the sublime Traditions about the spiritual world. But the soul-life was intellectually so impregnated by the hidden influence of Arabism, that medieval Knowledge found no access to the sources from which the contents of the great Tradition had after all proceeded.

[ 15 ] Thus from the early Middle Ages onwards, that which men felt instinctively within them as a connection with the Spirit, was battling with Thought in the form that this had assumed under Arabism.

[ 16 ] Man felt the world of Ideas within him; he experienced it as something real. But he could not find the power in his soul to experience, in the Ideas, the Spirit. Thus arose Realism, feeling the reality in the Ideas and yet unable to discover it. In the world of the Ideas, Realism heard the speaking of the Cosmic Word, but it could not understand the speech. [ 17 ] And Nominalism in opposition to it, seeing that the speech could not be understood, denied that there was any speech at all. For Nominalism, the world of Ideas was but a multitude of formulae within the human soul-rooted in no Reality of Spirit.

[ 18 ] What lived and surged in these two currents, worked on into the nineteenth century. Nominalism became the mode of thought of Natural Science, which built up an imposing conceptual system of the outer world of sense, but destroyed the last relics of insight into the nature of the world of Ideas. Realism lived a dead existence. It knew still of the reality of the world of Ideas, but had no living Knowledge with which to reach it.

[ 19 ] But man will reach it when Anthroposophy finds the way from the Ideas to the living experience of Spirit in the Ideas. In Realism truly carried forward, there will arise—side by side with the Nominalism of Natural Science—a path of Knowledge which will prove that the science of the Spiritual, far from being, extinguished in mankind, can enter into human evolution once again, springing forth from newly-opened sources in the soul of man.

(March, 1925)

Further Leading Thoughts issued from the Goetheanum for the Anthroposophical Society (with regard to the foregoing study: The apparent Extinction of Spirit-Knowledge in Modern Time)

[ 20 ] 177. Looking with the eye of the soul upon the evolution of mankind in the Age of Science, a sorrowful perspective opens up before us to begin with. Splendid grew the knowledge of mankind with respect to all that constitutes the outer world. On the other hand there arose a feeling as though a knowledge of the spiritual world were no longer possible at all.

[ 21 ] 178. It seems as though such knowledge had only been possessed by men of ancient times, and man must now rest content—in all that concerns the spiritual world—simply to receive the old traditions, making these an object of Faith.

[ 22 ] 179. From the resulting uncertainty, arising in the Middle Ages as to man's relation to the spiritual world, Nominalism and Realism proceeded. Nominalism is unbelief in the real Spirit-content of man's Ideas; we have its continuation in the modern scientific view of Nature. Realism is well aware of the reality of the Ideas, yet it can only find its fulfilment in Anthroposophy.