The Anthroposophical Foundation Demystified
2.1 Education arising from philosophy
The problem here is not that there [is] anything wrong with saying that it is the job of schools and teachers to pass on knowledge and skills conducive to effective individual and/or social functioning, success or flourishing, but that more needs to be thought and said about what constitutes such success or flourishing if we are to avoid dangerously narrow or attenuated conceptions of education and schooling.
(Carr, 2012, p. 28)
Both modern and ancient thinkers have argued that education without philosophy is often a form of – or may soon end up in – tyranny (Carr, 2012). In Plato’s dialogues, Socrates addresses this problem in critiquing the Sophists, who teach useful knowledge and skills simply for profit, with little regard to the virtue or moral development of their pupils. A similar approach to the Sophists appears to have been adopted by large tracts of modern educational curricula and governments, with their strong focus on skills relevant for the economy (Labaree, 2014). Exemplifying this, the European Commission recently claimed that discussions on the purpose of education were now finished: the purpose is simply to serve the economy (Dahlin, 2012). This adult-centred way of thinking about education has become seemingly detached from the nature of children, not stopping to, as small children do, repeatedly ask: ‘But why…?’
Even if one formulates ideas about what education should achieve beyond serving the economy, the ensuing ideals and aims often become too abstract, or take on the form of slogans that are difficult to implement, or which in and of themselves mean little. Examples of such slogans are perhaps that education should be for: ‘all’, ‘social justice’, ‘tomorrow’s world’, or ‘the whole human being’. The end-result of such slogans is often formulating ideals, standards and competencies that children should acquire, with education then becoming the process of fitting children into such abstract ideals (Steiner, 1924/2004).
Nor is it particularly fruitful to expound truisms, such as ‘let children be children’ or ‘educate for democracy and tolerance’. Although on the surface such ‘progressive’ statements sound nice, do they allow us to defend childhood if we cannot say exactly why a child is different from an adult? Does education for democracy mean that citizens need to function in society, simply vote once every few years and pay taxes (i.e. collectivism), rise up against state-sanctioned (kratos) injustice, or conform to the will of the demos (Greek for people)? What is tolerance, and how do we educate children to tolerance without generating indifference?
Currently, if one looks at government educational webpages from around the world, idealistic aims of education (e.g. tolerance, freedom, democracy) are stated alongside utilitarian ones (e.g. learning to read, supporting the economy). The former are nearly impossible to measure and dictate through policy, whereas the latter can be reduced to a narrow range of skills that can be taught and tested. The consequence for education tends to involve propelling this towards focusing on an increasingly narrow array of standards (i.e. reading, writing and science) that have clear practical utility (House, 2007).
Although certainly difficult, reflection on what the purpose of education should be needs to comprise the very first step in any formulation of education (Cahn, 2009). Indeed, Steiner education arose out of Rudolf Steiner’s struggles with age-old questions, such as: Are thinking and knowledge objective? Do we possess free will? What is the soul or psyche and human ‘I’? How do psychological states relate to physical states? How exactly are children different from adults? – and so on.
As will be outlined in this book, Steiner developed detailed ideas about the human being, on the nature of knowledge, freedom and truth, which form the philosophical groundwork of many of the principles in Steiner education. His philosophy was called anthroposophy: hence, just as education arises ideally from philosophy, anthroposophy arises from his philosophy, which we turn to next.
2.2 Anthroposophy arising from philosophy
By the turn of the century, a split had occurred, into a soulless neurology and a bodiless psychology.
(Sacks, 2015, p. 98)
In the decades before Steiner education arose, the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner spent much time outlining what he believed to be an approach to studying the world that had the potential to extend human understanding both downwards into the details of physical existence, and upwards, or into the more hidden workings and laws of the universe. He sought to combine: (a) a science of ideas as expounded by the likes of Plato and Pythagoras, with (b) a detailed observation of the world, as advocated by Aristotle and empirical science, via (c) an eminently phenomenological, experienced-based approach, in the sense of Goethe and the phenomenologists of the twentieth century.
For his approach to knowledge he adopted the term ‘anthroposophy’, which is derived from the ancient Greek words ‘ánthrōpos’ (human) and ‘sophía’ (wisdom). As mentioned earlier, anthroposophy is intended to provide an approach for better understanding life itself, which renders it, by definition, complex! Furthermore, because much of that which constitutes life is essentially invisible – such as memory, experience, thought, idea, emotion, mental image – anthroposophy necessarily delves into the realms of the invisible. Furthermore, another often overlooked point to note is that Steiner intended his epistemology to complement other approaches to knowledge. In no way was it intended that anthroposophical insights render those of other fields – be it psychology, biology, or even artificial intelligence – redundant (Steiner, 1917/1996).
One might well justifiably ask at this point, why do we need something like anthroposophy when millions of researchers and practitioners are working across the world to constantly provide new insight and improve human existence on this planet? Modern science has enabled countless important discoveries of primarily the physical world. Nearly every square inch of the Earth’s surface has been mapped, and matter and anatomy are being examined in ever-smaller detail. Brain and organic processes are being investigated with increasing sophistication.
Although there is undoubtedly still more of the physical world to discover, it has been argued that the next horizons to be explored are psychological-intellectual or soul-spiritual in nature (Lievegoed, 1985). Evidence of this need arises from the still primitive treatments available for the epidemic of psychological disturbances (House and Loewenthal, 2008). Similarly, our understanding of matters of the mind is still very much in its infancy. To illustrate this point, we still do not understand where logic comes from and how it comes to be such a reliable, eternal and steadfast companion, fundamental for knowledge and society. Similarly, there is still no accepted definition of what a number is (Rosenberg, 2012). Studies of the human brain recognize a complexity that matches that of the entire universe. As these simple examples show, the next important voyages of discovery will likely involve deepening our understanding of ourselves, which is precisely a goal of anthroposophy (Lievegoed, 1985).
A second reason for developing additional approaches to knowledge is that scientific progress can be extremely slow regarding the animate world, especially in the field of education. Educational research, when conducted empirically, tends to lead to a focus on quick and measurable gains (Suggate, 2015) – at the expense of a more patient, long-term approach as found, for example, in Steiner education. As discussed later, there are compelling empirical findings pointing to the harm that can be caused by focusing on short-term, measurable academic gains instead of guiding children in their development, like a gardener patiently does, intervening only as necessary. However, these empirical findings require decades of research, by which time ‘progress’ has flooded early education with new and ‘better’ programmes whose true effects also require decades of research to understand. An example here is the focus on digital learning – with technological giants able to develop products far more quickly than science is able to investigate their long-term effects. Clearly, we cannot always wait until empirical science has conducted decades of work and debate before embarking on educational reform. Instead, we need an approach to observing the child that is schooled in empirical reality but which arises out of a more sensitive observational ability. This also is a goal of anthroposophy.
In his last year of life, Steiner defined anthroposophy as ‘a path of knowledge and development that sought to lead the spiritual in the individual human to the spiritual in the world’ (Steiner, 1925/1989, p. 14). To do so, we must cultivate hard knowledge of both ourselves and the world around us, that recognizes both the physical and the psychological-intellectual realms of existence. Some readers may query the use of the term ‘spirituality’ when we have just argued that anthroposophy seeks to represent a scientific path to knowledge. However, before addressing the place of the spirit in science and education, let us first expand on what is meant here by the term ‘spirit’.
The English word ‘spirit’ originates from the Latin word ‘spiritus’, which is connected with breath, air, soul and life. In Steiner’s mother tongue, the German word for ‘spirit’ is Geist, which has a broader meaning than in English, encompassing both ‘spirit’ and ‘intellect’. Because Geist in German relates to both thinking and a less tangible essence (more similar to the English meaning of spiritus), it is easier in the German language to show how these two principles are potentially related, as the German idealistic philosophers tried to do. In English, however, the word ‘spirit’ has come to have abstract, religious connotations, and often evokes a negative reaction in people who perceive the term as being connected with a lack of rational, scientific thought. As discussed in more detail in later sections (see Chapter 3), the spirit as here intended can be understood as that part of the human being that is able to experience, often through thinking, that part of existence that relates to eternal, invisible but nonetheless ‘solid’ ideas. One particularly clear example of such ideas is those found in mathematics; although, for example, a negative number is nowhere to be ‘seen’, it is still a generally accepted concept with proven use (at least for mathematicians and engineers).
A similar approach to anthroposophy can be found in the emerging discipline of phenomenology. Although phenomenology has many different forms developed by diverse thinkers, including Goethe, Sartre, Husserl and Heidegger, there are some common features that are also important for anthroposophy. First, the mind, or conscious experience, is seen as the starting point of inquiry, not an abstract law or hypothesis that is first projected into reality. Secondly, phenomenology tries to direct the mind to experiencing the various things of the world in their entirety before beginning to dissect these and theorize about them. Thirdly, any given phenomenon is seen as being experienced in a number of different ways and on a number of (potentially infinite!) different levels – a number is both a certain collection of objects and a mathematical building block or law, for example. A human being has a body, but also has psychological and intellectual-spiritual states too. Thus, to phenomenology, one side alone – usually the physical and quantitative one – should not dominate scientific considerations, but should always be considered along with other dimensions. Fourthly, at least in the phenomenology developed by Goethe and Steiner, our limits to knowledge are created by our limits to consciousness – something which has evolved historically, however, and will continue to do so.
As one first step, this phenomenology calls us to then go beyond theories and approach ‘the source of thoughts’ (Petitmengin, 2007) themselves, which may bring us to look more closely at the nature of thinking itself (Dahlin, 2009). Perhaps such an approach will allow us to develop educational ideas that arise directly out of the needs of children as these phenomenologically represent the needs of the times.
2.3 Education arising from anthroposophy
It is not our goal to teach ideology in the Waldorf school, though such a thought might easily occur to people when hearing that anthroposophists have established a new school. Our goal is to carry our understanding gained through [anthroposophy] right into practical teaching.
(Steiner, 1921–1922/2003, p. 125)
For many people, the first question that arises upon hearing of Steiner education is how can it be scientific and appropriate to our times when it is based on an anthroposophical foundation with its spiritual character – which makes it ‘religious’ and hence ‘unscientific’. As discussed throughout this book, a very good many practices in Steiner education are supported by empirical evidence, even when the Zeitgeist has been pushing hard in the other direction. Examples include: (a) the benefits of free play; (b) the positive effects of story-telling; (c) the value of incorporating nature, aesthetics and art into education; (d) the importance of physical movement for learning and development; (e) the dangers of electronic media; (f) fostering imagination; (g) the full recognition of imitation in early childhood; (h) the links between educational experiences and health; and (i) the importance of human relationships in learning. Indeed, these aspects have been at various times – or still are! – entirely absent from mainstream education.
Throughout this book, we refer to the idea that the anthroposophical approach to knowledge can be understood as a kind of self-education and self-development. According to this notion, the human being needs to develop new faculties to investigate new phenomena. The faculties that need developing depend on whether the phenomenon in question is a sense-perceptible or an intellectual or even spiritual one. In the physical sciences, equipment is used to extend human perception into domains that were previously not able to be perceived (e.g. the electron microscope, and the infrared camera). In the ‘spiritual’ sciences or humanities, such as philosophy or mathematics, the development of faculties of logic and the ability to think in and perceive mathematical laws can be learned.
In his book Riddles of the Soul (Steiner, 1917/1996), Steiner specified what he believed to be the relationship between anthroposophy and sciences that have physical sensory impressions as their starting point. These physical sciences provide sensory input that forms the content of mental images. In modern psychological and philosophical language, these mental images would be called ‘constructs’ or ‘representations’. These mental images are subjective representations of reality, based on an objective world existing outside, which is perceived by the senses. However, there is also a subtle, internal world that has its own rules, forming the representations from the ‘inside’.
If we closely observe this inner subjective world of mental representations, it is possible to notice that there is also an influence from an inner objective source alongside the outer one that we know as the physical world. This inner world is most noticeable for the modern human, in its manifestation in the laws of logic. In the world of mental images, even this objective inner world of logic reigns supreme. To illustrate the supremacy of objective inner worlds, try imagining a logical impossibility, such as a triangle with five corners, a colour that is bright pink and bright blue at the same time, or a single number that is both positive and negative.
Steiner saw no reason why science should confine itself to physical facts simply because only ‘physical’ instruments were recognized as objective. Instead, he maintained that we have to simply find the right instruments for psychological-intellectual phenomena as well. The great philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724– 1804), whose ideas are still very influential today, was of the opinion that there were clear limits to our knowledge. Everything that could not be investigated with physical instruments and logic was an issue of faith. From an educational point of view, this means that certain questions remain difficult to investigate once these transgress Kant’s boundaries of knowledge. For Steiner, following from Goethe, the question was rather, how we can develop the faculties that we need to investigate previously inaccessible questions. Steiner believed, accordingly, that there should be no boundaries to knowledge (Steiner, 1918/1986): everything was a question of development. And herein lies the need for anthroposophy alongside psychology, sociology and anthropology.
To summarize, a sound education that does not fall into abstract idealism or unreflected pragmatism needs to be built on careful contemplation and inquiry on both the purpose of education and the nature of the human being itself. In contrast with our impressive conquering of the external physical world, we are but dabbling fools in exploring our psychological-intellectual lives. Here we depend on logic, mathematics, memory, intuition – without being able to say what these really are, or how they arise. To do so requires new advances in self-knowledge, which is what Steiner tried to initiate with his anthroposophy. Based on his insight, he detailed his understanding of the human being, which we will discuss after presenting a brief sketch of Steiner’s life. In short, the anthroposophical approach has two key implications for education. First, Steiner education is based on a thorough phenomenologicalanthroposophical observation of human experience. Secondly, this method of observation leads to the recognition of both spiritual and psychological aspects of human existence alongside physical ones. Both have to be cultivated with the exactitude and creativity with which modern empirical science sets about its tasks.
2.4 A short sketch of Rudolf Steiner’s life and work
Although Rudolf Steiner died before the first Waldorf kindergartens became established, his work forms, without question, the foundation of this educational approach. Steiner was born on the 25 February 1861 in Kraljevic, a village formerly part of the Austro-Hungarian empire but now situated in modern day Serbia. His family relocated frequently during his childhood, as his father worked for the Austrian train service. Despite having to travel daily for up to three hours on foot to school, Steiner read widely, teaching himself languages, which allowed him to tutor other students in order to supplement the meagre family income. Philosophy played a prominent role in his reading list, especially Immanuel Kant and, later, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and he was also particularly fascinated by geometry and mathematics.
After finishing school, he attended the University of Applied Sciences in Vienna (1879–1882), where he began his career writing philosophical and cultural works. From 1884 to 1890 Steiner worked as a tutor for the Specht family, where he was responsible for educating their intellectually disabled ten year-old son Otto, who suffered from hydrocephalus. When Steiner began working with Otto, he hardly seemed capable of learning, having only acquired ‘reading, writing, and arithmetic in a most rudimentary form’ (Steiner, 1925, p. 84). In his time with Steiner, Otto not only soon caught up in his subjects but he also excelled to such a degree that he later went on to study medicine and qualify as a doctor. Steiner wrote that his time tutoring Otto provided ‘a rich source of learning’ with some of the acquired knowledge later metamorphosing into the guiding principles of Steiner education. Steiner wrote of this time:
I had to find access to a soul which was in a kind of sleeping state that gradually had to be enabled to gain mastery over its bodily manifestations. In a certain sense, one had first to awaken the soul within the body. I was thoroughly convinced that the boy really had great, although hidden, mental capacities.... This educational task became to me the source from which I myself learned very much. Through the method of instruction which I had to apply, there was laid open to my view the association between the spiritual-mental and the bodily in man. There I went through my real course of study in physiology and psychology.
(ibid., S. 84–5, translation adapted by the authors from wn.rsarchive.org)
Based on a recommendation from Steiner’s friend and mentor, the professor Karl Julius Schröer (1825–1900), he was nominated to edit Goethe’s natural scientific writing. As with his time in Vienna, this new activity in Weimar – a cultural and geographical centre of Germany in the late nineteenth century – bought Steiner into contact with many prominent personalities in the blossoming literature and art movements of the time. In 1892, Steiner received a doctorate in philosophy for his work, the essence of which was later published in one of his most widely read books The philosophy of freedom.1 In this work, Steiner attempted to lay the philosophical foundations for using our thinking to rise to a spiritual world view resting on solid scientific foundations, from which humankind could learn to become truly free.
Between finishing his doctorate in 1892 and the founding of the first Waldorf-Steiner school in Stuttgart in 1919, Steiner lived first in Berlin and then in Dornach in Switzerland. This intervening period saw him lecture in a workers’ school, edit a literary and culture journal, head the German section of the Theosophical Society before being displaced because of his failure to comply with its ever-growing anti-Western streak, produce many written philosophical works, hold thousands of lectures around Europe, and found the Anthroposophical Society. Prior to his death on 30 March 1925, Steiner wrote and lectured on multifaceted topics relating to the fields of medicine, agriculture, education and special education, philosophy, architecture, eurythmy, theology, Christology, natural science, history and psychology. This work is reflected today in a very large number of institutions, including: biodynamic farms, Steiner schools, special schools, anthroposophical medical practices, the Christian Community and higher education institutions.
The first Waldorf-Steiner school was founded in Stuttgart during the catastrophic year directly after the end of the First World War. Emil Molt was the owner of a large cigarette factory and was concerned about the well-being of not only his workers, but about society as a whole. After attempts to improve the working conditions and cultural life of his workers, he came to the conclusion that a new educational approach was needed before sustainable societal change was possible. Molt then asked Steiner about the possibility of founding a new school, which soon gave rise to the Waldorf education movement, named after Molt’s Waldorf-Astoria cigarette factory.
Subsequently, Steiner began to lecture more systematically on his ideas about education, not only in Germany but also particularly in Holland and England. There are many fascinating accounts of his visits to the first Waldorf school. He would involve himself in many different capacities – from jumping in to take over lessons, observing children and instruction, meeting with individual students, advising and supporting the teachers, and helping with the development of the school. By all accounts he was greatly admired by the students and teachers, and he could often be seen walking down the corridor smiling to himself after being in the classroom. It is believed that the school and corresponding educational approach was the favourite of all the initiatives arising out of his philosophy (Lindenberg, 1997).
On New Year’s Eve of 1922/1923, the nearly completed first Goetheanum was burned to the ground in an arson attack, which constituted a very significant blow for Steiner. The Goetheanum was a building that Steiner and others had built on a donated piece of land in Dornach (near Basel, Switzerland). The building had a wooden construction, much of it carved by Steiner and his colleague’s own hands, embodying a new form of ‘organic’ architecture. Many reports indicate that this event affected Steiner greatly, with his health suffering immensely (ibid.). Nevertheless, after expending every available effort to put the fire out until the smouldering ashes were greeted by the first sunrise of the New Year, a determined Steiner insisted that work must continue, and his programme of lectures continued on that very day. Recognizing several deficiencies in the Anthroposophical Society, Steiner re-founded this society one year after the Goetheanum fire, and was elected as its head. In the next nine months his activity was still more intense, travelling frequently and maintaining a busy schedule of lecturing and writing on a diverse range of topics, visiting and advising the growing initiatives in medicine, agriculture, education and religious renewal, and making plans for the building of a new Goetheanum. In September of 1924, however, his activity was abruptly halted due to deteriorating health, and he died on 30 March of the following year.
Steiner was, and remains, a controversial figure, evoking a broad spectrum of reactions. Some people look on his life’s work with astonishment, struck by the number of new initiatives he developed, his depth of knowledge and insight into many diverse fields, and his human qualities of humour, self-sacrifice and attempts at cultivating a cultural impulse to raise post-war Europe out of its misery. Others see in him a significant person and respect the fruits of his work but themselves have difficulty relating to the perceived ‘mysticism’ or the strong spirituality in his work. A small number of vocal critiques – and a cursory search of the internet bears testament to this – simply reject his ideas out of hand, and scour his work searching for statements that can be used to argue that Steiner education and anthroposophy are dangerous. Finally, there are a small number of scholars who work academically with Steiner’s work, and a growing number of empirical publications testing aspects of Steiner’s approaches in medicine, education and agriculture.
• The purpose and philosophy of education need to inform how we educate.
• One approach to understanding the purpose is to understand humanity. This leads from philosophy, to anthroposophy, to education.
• Rudolf Steiner founded anthroposophy to focus and develop our abilities to attend to subtle yet crucial aspects of humanity that are often ignored.
• Such crucial aspects include acknowledging and exploring our mental life, which can provide a new source for insight into the riddles of education.