ON
THE ART OF LECTURING
by RUDOLF STEINER
Pedantic lecturers upset the listeners'
stomachs. Learn lecturing by listening: watch how others do it,
good or bad. Reluctance to speak is the virtue, not eagerness
to hear one's own voice. A debater turns his opponent's image
and word against him. Jokers create too much acidity in the
listeners' stomachs. Words precede deeds.
LECTURE IV (Excerpts
[Note 1])
One has to
accustom oneself to speak differently on every soil, if one
intends to be active as a lecturer ... Thus, a talk is to
be formulated differently, depending on whether it is
delivered here in Switzerland, in Germany, or whether at this
or that time.
One would, of
course, have to speak again quite differently in England or
in America. What can be done from here, in Europe, in regard
to these two countries, can only be a sort of substitute. It
is good, for example, if Die Kernpunkte der sozialen
Frage [The Threefold Social Order] is
translated, it is good if it is widely distributed; but, as I
have said from the beginning, the really proper thing finally
would be if the Kernpunkte were written quite
differently for America and for England. For both Switzerland
and Central Europe, it can be taken quite literally, word for
word, the way it stands. But for England and America it would
really have to be composed quite differently, because in
those countries one addresses people who, first of all, have
the opposite attitude of what existed, for instance, in
Germany in April of 1919. In Germany the opinion prevailed
that something new would have to come, and to begin with it
would suffice if one knew what this were. There wasn't the
strength to comprehend it, but there was the feeling that
what this rational innovation might be, ought to be known.
Naturally, in all of England and America not the slightest
sense of this exists anywhere. The only concern there is how
to secure and save the old. The question is how properly to
secure the old. The old values are good! One must not shake
the traditional foundations. I am aware, of course, that when
anything like this is said, it can be replied: Yes, but there
are so many progressive movements in the Western hemisphere!
— Still, all these progressive movements, regardless of
whether their content is new, are reactionary and
conservative in so far as their management is concerned.
There, the feeling that things cannot continue the way they
have gone until now, must first be called forth.
* * *
Things must
everywhere be sought out in the concrete.
... I would
like to show how an elasticity of concepts for these things
[rights relationships] has to be acquired — how one has
to point out both sides of a question, — and how one
must be able to dispose oneself first, in order to have the
necessary fluency to speak in front of people.
There is
another reason why a lecturer of today must be aware of such
things. Most of the time, he is condemned to speak in the
evening, when he wants to present something concerning the
future. This means that he has to make use of the time when
people really prefer to be either in the concert hall or in
the theater. Thus, the lecturer must be absolutely clear that
he is speaking to an audience that, according to the mood of
the hour, would be better off in the concert hall, the
theater, or some other place, — but not in fact down
there, where it is supposed to listen, while above, a
lecturer talks about things vouchsafed for the future. One
must he aware of what one is really doing, down to the last
detail.
For, what does
one in fact do when addressing an audience such as one is
mostly condemned to speak in front of nowadays? Quite
literally, one upsets the listener's stomach! A serious
speech has the peculiarity of adversely affecting the pepsin,
of not allowing the stomach juices to take effect. A serious
lecture causes stomach acidity. And only if one is oneself in
such a mood that one can present a serious talk, at least
inwardly, with the necessary humor, can the stomach juices be
assisted again. A lecture has to be presented with a certain
inner lightness, — with a certain modulation, with a
certain enthusiasm; then one aids the stomach juices. Then
one neutralizes what one inflicts on the stomach in the time
when we normally have to lecture today. The threefold social
order is not being served, but rather stomach specialists,
when people speak in all gravity, with heavy expressive
manner, pedantically, on three-folding. It must be done with
a light touch and matter-of-factness or else one does not
further the threefold social order but the stomach
specialists. It is just that there are no statistics
available on the number of people who have to go to stomach
specialists after they have listened to pedantic lectures! If
there were statistics on these things, one would be
astonished at the percentage among patients of stomach
specialists who are eager lecture-goers nowadays.
I must call
attention to these things, because the time is drawing near
when it must be known how the human being actually lives.
— How seriousness affects his stomach, how humor
affects his stomach juices; how, let us say for example, wine
is like a kind of cynic who doesn't take the whole human
organism seriously, but plays with it. If the human organism
were approached with human concepts rather than with the
wishy-washy concepts of today's science, it would be observed
all over how every word and every world-relation calls forth
an organic, almost chemical effect in the human being.
Knowing such
things makes lecturing easier too. Whereas there is otherwise
a barrier between speaker and audience, this barrier ceases
to exist if it is to some extent perceived how the stomach
juices curdle, and eventually become sour in the stomach and
impair the stomach walls, in the case of a pedantic talk.
Occasionally there is the opportunity of seeing it: though
less in lecture-halls of universities, — there, the
students protect themselves by not listening!
From all this,
you can see how much depends on the mood in lecturing,
— how much more important — preparing the
atmosphere, having it in hand, is, than to get the lecture
ready word for word. He who has prepared himself often for
the correct mood need not concern himself with the verbal
details to a point where, at a given moment, the latter would
make him the upsetter of stomach juices.
Various things
— if I may so express it — go to make up a duly
equipped speaker. I should like to present them at this
particular point because an explanation of “rights
concepts” requires much that has to be characterized in
this direction.
[In another part of this lecture, Rudolf
Steiner had already discussed aspects of justice not having
to do with the art of lecturing. — Note by
translator.]
I would like to present this now, before
talking tomorrow about the interweaving of the
“economic elements” in speaking.
An
anthroposophist once brought the well-known philosopher,
Max Dessoir (1867–1947) — whom you also
perhaps know — along one evening, to the
Architektenhaus in Berlin, when I was to hold a
lecture there. This one-time friend of Max Dessoir said
afterwards, “Oh, that Dessoir didn't respond after all!
— I asked him how he had liked the lecture and he
replied: ‘Well, you know, I'm a lecturer myself, and
anyone who is himself a speaker can't listen properly; he has
no opinion on what another lecturer says!’ ”
— Now, I did not need to form a judgement about Dessoir
after this declaration; I had other opportunities for that,
indeed I wouldn't have done so based on this utterance, since
I could not know at all whether it was really true, or
whether, as usual, Dessoir had lied this time also. But
assuming it were true: what would it be a proof of?
— That at any rate the one who holds such a view can
never become an adequate speaker. A person can never become a
good speaker who likes to speak, who likes to hear himself
talk, and attaches special importance to his own speaking. A
good speaker really always has to endure a certain reluctance
when he is to speak. He must clearly feel this reluctance.
Above all, he should much prefer listening to another
speaker, even the worst, to speaking himself.
I know very
well what I say with this statement, and I well realize how
difficult it is for some of you to believe me in this. But it
is so. Of course, I concede that there are other pleasures in
the world than listening to poor speakers. But at all events,
speaking oneself ought not to belong to these other greater
pleasures. One must even feel a certain urge to hear others;
even enjoy listening to others. For it is really through
listening that one becomes a speaker, not through love of
speaking oneself. A certain fluency is acquired through
speaking, but this has to proceed instinctively. What makes
one a speaker is actually listening, developing an ear for
the distinctive traits of other speakers, even if they are
poor ones. Therefore, I shall answer everyone who asks me how
best to prepare himself to become a good speaker: he should
hear and especially read — I have explained the
difference between hearing and reading — he should hear
and read the lectures of others! (That can after all be done,
since the nuisance prevails of printing lectures.) In this
way one acquires a strong feeling of distaste for one's own
speaking. And this distaste for one's own speaking is
actually what enables one in fact to speak adequately. This
is extraordinarily important. And for those people who don't
yet manage to view their own speaking with antipathy, it is
good at least to retain their stage-fright. — To stand
up and lecture without stage-fright and with sympathy for
one's own speaking is something that ought to be refrained
from, since under all circumstances, the results thus
achieved would be negative. It leads to lecturing becoming
sclerotic, to ossification, and to capsulated talk, and
belongs to the elements that ruin the sermon for people.
I would truly
not be speaking about lecturing in the sense of the task of
this course if I were to enumerate rules of speaking to you,
taken from some old book on rhetoric, or from copied, old
rhetorical speeches. Rather, I would like to enjoin upon you,
out of living experience, what one should really always have
at heart when one wants to affect one's fellow-men by means
of lecturing.
Things
certainly alter somewhat if one is forced into a debate
— if, I should like to say, a certain
rights-relationship between person and person arises in the
discussion. But in the discussion, through which
rights-relationships could be learnt most beautifully, this
projecting in of general rights-concepts into the
relationship which prevails between two people hardly plays a
role today. There, it is really a matter of not being in love
with one's own way of thinking and feeling, but rather of
feeling averse toward what one would like to say on the
topic, and what one actually brings up. This can be done if
one understands how to hold back one's own opinion, one's own
annoyance or excitability, and can get across into the other
person's mind. Then this will be fruitful even in the debate
when a statement must be rejected. Of course, one can not
simply reiterate what the other person says, but one can
appropriate from him what is needed for an effective
debate.
A striking
example is the following: ( It is retold in the latest issue
of Dreigliederung; I experienced it more than
twenty years ago.) The delegate Rickert delivered a speech in
the German Reichstag, in which he reproached
Bismarck for changing his political alignment. He pointed out
that Bismarck had gone along with the Liberals for a time,
turning afterwards to the Conservatives. He gave an
impressive speech, which he summarized in the metaphor, that
Bismarck's politics amounted to trimming one's sails to the
wind. Now, you can imagine what an effect it has inwardly, in
terms of feeling, when such an image is used in a hall of
parliament [ — the proper German translation for
parliament is really Schwatzanstalt. — ]
Bismarck, however, rose and with a certain air of
superiority, to begin with, turned the things he had to say
against delegate Rickert. And then he projected himself into
the other as he always did in similar cases, and said,
“Rickert has reproached me for trimming my sails to the
wind. But pursuing politics is somewhat like navigating. I
would like to know how one can steer properly if one does not
want to adjust to the wind! A real sailor, like a real
politician, must obviously adjust according to the wind in
steering his course, — unless, possibly, he wants to
make wind himself!”
You can see,
the image is picked up and used, so that the arrow in fact
hits back at the archer. In a debate it is a matter of taking
things up, of getting things from the other speaker. Where a
frivolous illustration is concerned, the matter is
comprehensible. But one will also be able to do it in
seriousness; seeking out from the opponent himself what
unravels the matter! As a rule it will not be much use merely
setting one's own reasons against those of the opponent.
In a debate one
should be able to attune oneself as follows: The moment the
debate gets going one should be in a position to dispose of
everything one has known hitherto, drive it all down into the
unconscious, and actually only know what the speaker whom one
has to reply to, has just said. Then one should squarely
exercise one's talent for setting aright what the speaker has
said! Exercise the talent for setting aright! In debate it is
a matter of taking up immediately what the speaker says, and
not simply pitting against it what one already knew long ago.
If that is done, as happens in most debates, the debate
actually ends inconsequentially, in fact it comes to nothing.
One has to be aware that in a debate one can never refute
someone. It can only be demonstrated that a speaker either
contradicts himself or reality. One can only go into what he
has set forth. And that will be of immense importance if it
is made use of as the basic principle for debates or
discussions. If a person only wants to say in the debate what
he has known before, then certainly it will be of no
significance at all when he puts it forward after the
speaker.
This once
stared me in the face in a particularly instructive way. In
Holland I was invited on my last trip also to give a lecture
on Anthroposophy before the Philosophical Society of the
University of Amsterdam. The chairman there was, naturally,
already of a different opinion than I. There was no doubt at
all that, if he were to engage in the debate, he would say
something quite different than I would. But it was equally
clear that what he said would ultimately make no difference
as regards my lecture, and that my lecture would have no
particular influence on what he would say, based on what he
knew anyhow. Hence, I considered he did things quite
cleverly. He raised what he had to say not subsequently in
the debate, but in advance! What he did add later in the
debate to his preliminary words he could equally have
presented beforehand, at the start — it would not have
changed matters a bit.
One must not
cherish any illusions about such things. Above all a lecturer
should familiarize himself very, very thoroughly with human
relationships. But, if things are to have an effect, one
cannot allow oneself any illusions about human relationships.
Above all — I should like to tell you this today, since
it will provide a certain basis for the next lectures —
above all, one should not surrender to illusions about the
effectiveness of talks!
Inwardly, I
always have to get into a terribly humorous frame of mind
when well-meaning contemporaries say again and again: It's
not a matter of words, it's a matter of deeds! I have heard
it declaimed again and again at the most inopportune points,
not only in dialogues, but also from various podiums: Words
don't count; actions count! As far as what happens in the
world in the way of actions, everything depends on words! For
those able to get to the bottom of the matter, no actions
take place at all that have not been prepared in advance by
someone or other through words.
But you will
realize that the preparation is something quite subtle! For,
if it is true — and it is true! — that through
pedantic, theoretical, abstract, Marxist speaking one
actually upsets people's stomach juices — whereby the
stomach juices infect the rest of the organism — then
outside actions, which very much depend on the stomach
juices, are the consequence of such bad speeches. The stomach
juices flow into the rest of the organism, when dispersed. On
the other hand again, when people only act as jokers, stomach
juices are produced incessantly, which really works like
vinegar, — and vinegar is a frightful hypochondriac.
But people will keep on being entertained, and what flows
nowadays in public is a continuous whirl of fun-making. The
joking-around of yesterday is still not digested, when the
fun-making of today makes its appearance. With that, the
digestive juices of yesterday go sour and become like
vinegar. The human being will in turn be entertained today.
He can make merry. But by the way he takes his place in
public life, it is really the hypochondriacal vinegar which
operates there. And this hypochondriacal vinegar is then to
be met with!
In fact, in
saloons it is the Marxist speakers who ruin people's
stomachs. And if people then read the Vorwaerts
[— apparently a comic paper], then this is the means by
which the upset stomach must be put in order again. That is a
very real process!
... It must
be known how the realm of speaking takes its place within the
realm of actions. The untruest utterance — because from
false sentimentality (and everything stemming from false
sentimentality is untrue!) — the untruest utterance
vis-a-vis speaking is: “Der Worte sind genug
gewechselt, lasst mich auch endlich Taten sehen!”
[“The words you've bandied are sufficient: 'tis deeds
that I prefer to see.” — Faust, Prelude on
Stage.]
That can
certainly stand in a passage of a drama. And where it stands
it is even justified. But when it is torn out of context and
made out to be a general dictum, then it may be
“correct,” but good it is quite certainly not!
And we should learn not merely beautiful, not merely
correct, but also goodspeaking. Otherwise we lead
people into the abyss, and can in any case not confer with
them about anything worthy of the future.
Notes:
Note 1. Mainly
the second part of a lecture given in Dornach on 14 October 1921.
The lecture is the fourth of the Speakers' Course, published in
German under the title: Anthroposophie. soziale Oreigliederung
und Redekunst. (Rudolf Steiner Verlag, Dornach 1971.) Translated by
Maria St. Goar. Revised.
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