The
Curative Education Course
by
Rudolf Steiner
Lecture One
Dornach, June 25, 1924
At
Rudolf Steiner's request no stenographer was present during
this course. The German text was assembled from notes taken by
several of the people present and can thus not be understood as
representing Dr. Steiner's exact words.
Translated by Mary Adams (revised and edited here to the extent
possible by Frank Thomas Smith)
My
dear Friends,
Well, as you know, we have quite a number of children whose
development has been arrested and whom we have now to educate
or in so far as it is possible, to heal. There are several of
these children here in the Clinic at Arlesheim, and there are
also a number at Lauenstein.
[The first two anthroposophical homes for handicapped children.]
In these lectures, I shall try to deal with our subject in such
a way that wherever possible our study leads to practical application.
Then, when Dr. Wegman puts some of the children at our disposal
for demonstration — for this is permissible among
ourselves — we shall also be able to discuss certain
cases with the child in front of us. To begin with, however, I
want to speak more in general terms about the nature of such
children.
It
is obvious that a thorough knowledge of education for healthy
children should already be possessed by one who wants to
educate incompletely developed children. For the very things we
notice in incompletely developed children, in children who are
suffering from some illness or abnormality, can also be
discerned in the so-called normal soul; only they show
themselves there less plainly, and in order to recognize them
we must be able to put to use a more intimate and close
observation. In some corner of soul of every human being lurks
a quality, or tendency, that would commonly be called abnormal.
It may be no more than a slight tendency to flights of thought,
or an incapacity to place words at the right intervals when
speaking, so that either the words fall over each other or else
the listener could go for a stroll between them.
Irregularities of this kind — and they are to be found
also in the will and feeling — can be noticed, at all
events to some slight degree, in the majority of human beings.
We shall have something to say about them later on, because for
anyone who sets out to deal, educationally or medically, with
serious irregularities, these slighter ones will be of
importance as symptoms. And one must, you know, be able to make
one's own careful study of symptoms, in the sense in which a
doctor speaks of symptoms by which he diagnoses illnesses. He
speaks also of the complex of symptoms which enables him to
survey the disease process; but he never confuses the complex
of symptoms with what is really the essential nature and
content of the disease itself. Similarly, in the case of an
incompletely developed child, we must regard what can be
observed in his soul simply as symptoms.
Psychography, as it is called — descriptive psychology
— is really nothing but symptomatology, the study and
knowledge of symptoms. When psychiatry today limits itself to
describing abnormal phenomena of thinking, feeling and willing,
this means no more than that it has made progress in the
accurate description of the complex of symptoms; and as long as
it cannot get beyond this point it is quite incapable of
penetrating to the essential nature of the illness. It is,
however, most important that we should be able to do this, to
perceive what “being ill” really means. And in this
connection, I want to ask your attention to the following. You
will find it helpful. Try to grasp it and hold it clearly
before your minds.
Suppose we have here
[A drawing was made.]
the physical body of
the human being, as it confronts us while the little child is
growing. Then we have the soul coming forth from this physical
body. This soul, which can show itself in varied expressions
and manifestations, may be normal or it may be abnormal. But
now the only possible grounds we can have for speaking of the
normality or abnormality of the child's soul, or indeed of the
soul of any human being, is that we have in mind something that
is normal in the sense of being average. There is no other
criterion than the one that is customary among people who abide
by ordinary conventions; such people have their ideas of what
is to be considered reasonable or clever, and then everything
that is not an expression of a “normal” soul (as
they understand it) is for them an abnormality. At present
there is really no other criterion. That is why the conclusions
people come to are so very confused. When they have in this way
ascertained the existence of “abnormality”, they
begin to do — heaven knows what! — believing they
are thereby helping to get rid of the abnormality, while all
the time they are driving out a fragment of genius! We shall
get nowhere at all by applying this kind of criterion, and the
first thing the doctor and teacher must do is to reject it and
get beyond the stage of making pronouncements as to what is
clever or reasonable, in accordance with the habits of thought
that prevail today. Particularly in this domain we must refrain
from jumping to conclusions and simply look at things as they
are. What have we actually before us in the human being?
Let
us look right away from this soul, which emerges only by
degrees and in which a part is often played by teachers —
concerning whom perhaps the less said the better! — let
us look away from this soul, and then we find, behind the
bodily nature, another soul, a spirit soul, which descends
between the time of conception and birth from the spiritual
worlds. For the first-mentioned soul is not the one which
descends from spiritual worlds. The soul which descends from
the spiritual worlds is something quite different and is not,
in the ordinary way, perceptible to earthly consciousness. This
soul that descends from the spiritual worlds takes possession
of the body which is being built up from the sequence of
generations in accordance with heredity. And if this soul is of
such a kind that it tends, when it grasps liver-substance, to
form a diseased liver, or if it finds in the physical and the
etheric bodies some inherited tendency to disease, which gives
rise to a feeling of illness, then disease will make its
appearance. Similarly, any other organ or nexus of organs may
be faultily inserted into what comes down from the world of
soul-and-spirit. When the connection has been made, when the
union has come about between what descends and what is
inherited, when this entity of soul-and-body has been formed,
then there arises — but even then, no more than as a
reflection in a mirror — that which we know ordinarily as
our soul life, as it manifests in thinking, feeling and
willing. This soul life that manifests in thinking, feeling and
willing is, however, as we said, no more than a reflection, it
is really just like a reflection in a mirror. It is all
obliterated when we fall asleep. The really permanent soul is
behind; it makes its descent and passes through repeated
earth-lives. And if we ask where it is in man, the answer is:
It has its seat in the organisation of the body. How is this to
be understood?
Let
us think first of the human being in his three systems: nervous
system, rhythmical system and metabolism-limb system. You will
understand me when I say that the nervous-and-sensory system is
located principally in the head; we can therefore speak —
although, of course, diagrammatically only — of the head
system when we are referring to the nervous-and-sensory system.
This is more literally correct in the case of the very young
child, where the upbuilding function of the nervous-and-sensory
system proceeds from the head and works thence into the whole
organism. The nerves-and-senses system, then, is localized in
the head. It is a synthetic system. What do I mean by that? It
brings together all the activities of the organism. In the head
is contained, in a sense, the whole human being. When we speak
of hepatic activity — and we ought really to speak always
of the activity of the liver, for what we see as liver is
nothing but a liver process that has become fixed — this
liver activity is entirely in the lower body; but for each such
nexus of functions there is a corresponding activity in the
head. Here, shall we say, is the liver activity. And there is a
correspondence to this liver activity in a particular activity
in the human head or brain. Here in the lower body, the liver
is relatively separated from the other organs, from kidneys,
stomach and so on. But in the brain, everything flows together,
the hepatic activity flows together with the other activities;
so that the head is the great synthesizer of everything that is
going on in the organism. And the effect of all this
synthesized activity is to set up a destructive process, a
process of breaking down. Substance falls away.
Whilst we have thus in the head a synthesizing process, in the
whole of the rest of the organism, and especially in the
metabolism-and-limbs system, we have an analysing process;
here, in contrast to the head, everything is kept separate.
Whereas in the head, the renal activity takes place together
with the intestinal activity, in the rest of the organism the
several activities are held apart. In the head, however,
everything flows together, it is all synthesized.
Now
this flowing together — accompanied as it is by a
continual falling away of substance, like rain — this
synthetical activity of the head is the basis of all our
thinking. For what has to happen in order that man can think?
What enters into man from the realm of soul and spirit,
enabling him to be active in the world — this
soul-and-spirit nature of his has to be endowed, in the region
of the head, with the synthesizing function and so be capable
of synthesizing in the right way the inherited substance; then
this harmoniously synthesized hereditary substance can become a
mirror. When, with the descent of soul and spirit, the
synthesizing activity begins to take place in the head, the
head becomes a mirror; the outer world is reflected in it, and
this produces the thinking that we ordinarily observe. We must
therefore distinguish between two functions of thinking: first
the one which acts behind the realm of the perceptible and
builds the brain — this is the permanent element in human
thinking; and then there is the thinking function that is not
real in itself but only a reflection. This latter function is
obliterated every time we fall asleep; it subsides as soon as
we stop thinking.
Another part of what descends from the realm of spirit and soul
builds up the system of metabolism and limbs —
analytically, building their organs which are separate one from
another and have each their own clearly distinguishable
outlines. If you set out to study the human body with its
several clearly distinguishable outlines, then in this body you
find liver, lungs, heart and so on. The metabolism-and-limbs
system is connected with all of these. The rhythmic system we
do not see; everything which is filled with physical substance
belongs to the system of limbs and metabolism; even what we can
see of the brain is metabolism. Now it is these single,
analytically built-up organs that lie at the basis of the will
in the human being, just as the synthesizing activity is the
basis of thinking.
And
now let us think of a human being who has arrived at being a
“grown-up”. During his earthly life he reached the
age of seven and got his second teeth, he grew to be fourteen
years old and attained puberty, finally he reached the age of
twenty-one, when the consolidation of his soul took place. If
we want to have any understanding at all of the development of
the child, we must clearly distinguish between the body a human
being has who has passed through the change of teeth, and the
body of a very young child who has not yet experienced the
change of teeth. As a matter of fact, what can be observed by
comparing these two outstanding examples is happening
continuously. The body changes with each year that passes. We
are perpetually thrusting something out from our body; a
streaming outwards, a centrifugal impulse is at work pushing
the body out. The consequence is that the human body is
completely renewed every seven or eight years. This renewal is,
however, particularly significant about the time of the change
of teeth at about the seventh year.
The
body which we have from birth till the change of teeth is, in a
sense, nothing else than a model that we take over from our
parents; it contains the forces of heredity, our forefathers
have helped to build it. In the course of the first seven years
we thrust off this body. And what have we then? A completely
new body comes into being; the body that man has after the
change of teeth is not built up by the forces of heredity, but
by the spirit-and-soul which has descended. The human being has
an inherited body until the change of teeth, and no longer; but
while he is thrusting off this body, he builds up a new body,
working from out of his own individuality. Thus, only since the
change of teeth have we had what we may call our own body. But
the inherited body is used as a model; and according as the
spirit-and-soul is strong or weak, will it either be in a
position to proceed in a more individual direction when
confronted with the inherited form, or be subject to the
inherited form — in which case the soul will be compelled
to shape the second body like the first, which was shaped by
the parents. What is usually adduced in the theory of heredity
is really nonsense. For it is assumed that the laws that
underlie man's growth up to the change of teeth simply continue
into later life; whereas the truth is, that the influence of
heredity has to be reckoned with only until the change of
teeth, and no further; the individuality then anters and builds
the second body.
We
must therefore distinguish, when speaking of a child, between
the body of heredity and the individual body which is its
successor. The individual body — and this body alone can
truthfully be called the personal body of the human being
— develops by degrees. Between the seventh and fourteenth
years the very strongest activity of which the individuality is
capable goes forward. Either the individuality conquers the
forces of heredity during this period, and then it can be
observed in the child that, after the change of teeth, he
begins to work his way out of the forces of heredity —
the fact will be clearly perceptible, and we teachers must take
note of it — or, the individuality is completely subject
to the forces of heredity, to what is contained in the model,
with the result that the hereditary likeness to the parents
simply continues beyond the seventh year. But it all depends,
you see, upon the individuality, not upon the forces of
heredity. Suppose I am an artist and you give me something to
copy and I change it considerably. Just as little as I can say
that you are responsible for my picture, just so little can it
be said that a person has acquired through heredity the body he
bears from the seventh year onward. This truth we must master
thoroughly, and then be able to know for ourselves in any
particular case how strongly the individuality is working.
Between the seventh and fourteenth years every human being
experiences a process of growth and development which
expresses, as strongly as in his case is possible, the
individuality he has brought down with him. In this period of
his life the child is thus comparatively shut off from the
external world; and we teachers have an opportunity to watch
during these years the wonderful unfolding of the forces of the
individuality. But if this development were to continue after
the fourteenth year, if the human being were to go on into
later life with nothing further than this unfolding of
individuality, he would become a person who perpetually refuses
and rejects everything that approaches him, a person utterly
without interest in the world around him. That this does not
happen is due to the fact that, during the aforesaid period, he
is building his third body, which manifests at puberty, and
this third body is built up to accord with the forces in the
earthly environment. The relation of the sexes is not
everything; the exaggerated importance given to it is just a
consequence of our materialistic turn of mind. In reality, all
connections with the outer world which begin to make their
appearance at puberty are fundamentally of the same nature. We
should really speak, therefore, not of sexual, but of earthly
maturity. And under earthly maturity we have to include the
maturity of the senses, the maturity of breathing — and
another such sub-division is also be sexual maturity. This
gives the true picture of the situation. The human being, then,
reaches earthly maturity. He begins to absorb what is outside
and foreign to him; he acquires the faculty of being sensitive
and not indifferent to his environment. Before this time, he is
not susceptible to the other sex, neither is he susceptible to
his environment. Thus, does the human being form and develop a
third body, which is active in him until the beginning of the
twenties.
What descends from the spiritual world reaches a kind of end at
the time of the change of teeth; but it continues to work until
the twentieth year. It has already taken form in the organs and
has given the human being individual maturity, and earthly
maturity. Suppose that now some abnormality shows itself in the
soul, which reflects — and is in conformity with —
the structure of the organs and is conditioned by the
development of the human being. We shall then have an
abnormality of soul that has come about in this way. But if,
after the human being has passed his twenty-first year, an
abnormality appears in the liver or in some other organ, this
organ is by then so much on its own and so detached, that the
will — in its inner aspect — can keep itself
independent of it. This is less and less possible the further
one goes back into the years of childhood. But in a grown
person the soul has become relatively independent; the organs
already have a definite direction, and the oncoming of illness
in an organ will not work so strongly upon the soul and can
therefore be treated simply as a disease in that organ. In the
very young child, however, everything is still working
together; a diseased organ still works into the life of soul
— and very actively.
The
diseases usually diagnosed by our modern pathology are the
cruder illnesses; the subtler illnesses are not really
accessible to histology. These lie in the fluids that permeate
an organ, such as the liver for instance, or even in the air
— through that organ. The warmth permeating the organ is
also of quite special significance for the soul. If therefore
we are dealing with a child who shows evidence of a defect in
the will, the first thing we must do is to ask ourselves: with
what organ is the defect in the will connected? Is there some
organ showing signs of degeneration or of illness, with which
we can connect the defect in the will? That is the really
important question.
A
defect in thinking is not of such great importance. Most
defects are really defects in the will; for even when you find
a defect in thinking, you must look carefully to see to what
extent this defect in thinking is really a defect in will. When
someone thinks too rapidly or too slowly the thoughts
themselves may be quite correct; the trouble is that the will
which works in the dove-tailing of the thoughts into each other
is faulty. We must be able to discover in all such cases to
what extent the will is a factor. One can really only be sure
that there is a defect in thinking when, independently of the
will, deformations of thought, sensory delusions, make their
appearance. These then arise quite unconsciously in the human
being in the process of relating himself to the outer world.
The mental picture itself becomes irregular, or we have
something like “fixed ideas”, where the very fact
that they are fixed ideas lifts them out of the sphere of the
will. It is therefore most important we should take pains to
discern whether in a particular case we have to do with a
defect in the will or a defect in thinking. Defects in thinking
fall for the most part into the medical domain. In the
education of incompletely developed children, we have mainly to
do with defects of the will.
And
now look how the entire being of man plays into his
development. You can appreciate this from the description we
have been giving. Take the first seven years. There may be
defects due to heredity. It is during this period that such
defects come particularly into consideration. But a hereditary
defect should not be regarded in the mistaken way in which it
is regarded by modern science; it does not fall to our lot by
chance, but as a karmic necessity. Out of our own lack of
knowledge — in the spiritual world, of course — we
have chosen a defective body, one that is defective as the
result of the generations. The existence of defective forces of
heredity means that before conception there was a lack of
knowledge of the human organism. Before a human being comes
down to Earth, he must have an exact knowledge of the human
organism; otherwise he cannot enter into this organism in the
right way during the first seven years, neither can he
transform it rightly. The knowledge about the inner
organisation of man which we acquire between death and a new
birth is infinite in comparison with the scraps of knowledge
that have been acquired by external observation and are to be
found in the physiology or histology of today. The knowledge
which we have between death and a new birth and which then
sinks down into the body, and is forgotten because it sinks
down, a knowledge that does not direct itself, with the help of
the senses, to the outer world — this knowledge is
immeasurably great; it is however impaired if, in an earlier
life, we neglected to develop interest in our surroundings or
were prevented from doing so.
Suppose one day a civilisation were to arise that confined
human beings in rooms, keeping them there from morning till
evening, so that they were debarred from taking any interest at
all in the outer world. What would be the result? These human
beings would of course by such a process be precluded from
acquiring any knowledge of the outer world; and this would mean
that when they passed afterwards through death and in the
spiritual world they would be insufficiently equipped for
getting to know the human organism in this spiritual world,
with the result that when they descend again to Earth, they
would come with far less knowledge than one who had in his
previous life acquired the faculty for looking out upon his
surroundings with free, open perception.
There is another secret connected with this. You go through the
world. You think perhaps, as you go through the world, that a
single day is of little importance. And so, it is for ordinary
consciousness, but not for that which is building the
unconscious within this ordinary consciousness. If for one
single day, as you go through the world, you observe the world
intently and carefully, then this gives you the preliminary
condition for knowledge of all that is contained in the human
body. For what is the outer world in earthly life is the
spiritual inner world in life beyond the earth. And we shall
have to speak further of the results that cannot but ensue from
our present civilisation, and of how it comes about that
children are born defective. Those human beings who live shut
off from the world today will all of them at some time or other
descend with a lack of knowledge of the human organism, and
they will choose ancestors who would otherwise have remained
barren. It will be precisely those parents who tend to beget
sick or feeble bodies who will be chosen, while those who would
be capable of producing good bodies will remain sterile. Yes,
it is actually so: it depends upon the whole development of a
particular epoch, how a generation, when it descends again to
birth, will be formed and built.
When we look at a young child, we must see what it is in this
child that has come from its previous earthly life. We must
understand why it chooses organs that are diseased due to the
forces of heredity; and again, why he works himself into this
body with an incompletely developed individuality. Think of the
many possibilities that exist for a child, in this first period
up to the change of teeth, owing to the fact that what has come
down is not always quite able to cope with what it finds before
it. There is the possibility, let us say, of the child having a
good model in respect to the development of the liver; but
because the individuality is incapable of understanding what is
contained in the liver, the development of the same (upon the
model provided) during the second life-period is incomplete,
and we have, in consequence, a very significant defect of will.
Precisely in a case where the development of the liver has not
been complete in this second period, has not been in accordance
with the good development of the model, we find a defect of the
will. The child has will but does not get to the point of
carrying it out; the will remains in the thinking. As soon as
the child has begun to do something, he wills something else.
The will gets stuck, it is transfixed. For you must know that
the liver is not merely the organ modern physiology describes;
it is the organ that gives the human being the courage to
transform a deed which has been thought of into an accomplished
deed.
Imagine a man who sees a tram about to start and knows that he
has to go to Basel, but at the last minute cannot get into the
tram. There are people like this. Something holds him back, he
does not reach the point of getting in. This kind of paralysis
of the will may sometimes reveal itself in most curious ways.
But wherever it occurs, there is invariably a subtle defect of
the liver. The liver is the mediator which enables an idea that
has been resolved upon to be transformed into an action carried
out by the limbs. In point of fact, every organ is there in the
body for the purpose of acting as mediator for something to
come about.
I
was once told about a certain young man who had an illness of
this kind. He would be waiting for a tram, but when the tram
came he would suddenly stop short and not get in. Nobody knew
why, he did not know himself. He simply stood there rooted to
the spot. What was the cause of this condition? It was a very
complicated affair. The young man's father was a philosopher.
He had divided the faculties of the soul in a rather singular
manner into ideas, judgments and the forces of sympathy and
antipathy. He did not reckon the will among the attributes of
the soul. The will was omitted in his enumeration — from
sheer desire on his part to be honest and not to put forward
more than revealed itself clearly to his consciousness. He
carried this to such a point that it became perfectly natural
to him to have no mental concept of the will at all. Then at a
comparatively advanced age he had a son. By perpetually
ignoring the will he, the father, had implanted into the liver
an inclination not to transform subjective intentions into
deeds. This evolved in the son as an illness. And now you can
see why the individuality of the son chose this man for his
father. The individuality of the son had no understanding of
how to cope with the inner organisation of the liver; so, he
chose a constitution in which he need not trouble himself about
the liver, a constitution in which the liver was lacking in the
very function he had himself failed to bring down. You have
here a very striking instance of the need to look also into
karma if we want to understand the child.
This is what I wanted to say to begin with, and tomorrow at the
same hour we will continue.
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