Wilson, Catherine

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This is a repository copy of Why Do We Study Leibniz (After 300 Years)?.White Rose Research Online URL for this paper:https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/115492/Version: Accepted VersionArticle:Wilson, Catherine orcid.org/0000-0002-0760-4072 (2017) Why Do We Study Leibniz (After300 Years)? The Leibniz Review. pp. 1-9. eprints@whiterose.ac.ukhttps://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/Reuse Items deposited in White Rose Research Online are protected by copyright, with all rights reserved unless indicated otherwise. They may be downloaded and/or printed for private study, or other acts as permitted by national copyright laws. The publisher or other rights holders may allow further reproduction and re-use of the full text version. This is indicated by the licence information on the White Rose Research Online record for the item. Takedown If you consider content in White Rose Research Online to be in breach of UK law, please notify us by emailing eprints@whiterose.ac.uk including the URL of the record and the reason for the withdrawal request. Why	Do	We	Study	Leibniz	(After	300	Years)?			The	task	of	writing	a	piece	on	why	Leibniz	continues	to	fascinate	and	perplex	us	300	years	after	his	death	is	one	I	approach	with	both	enthusiasm	and	hesitation.	I	begin	with	a	question?	Can	our	traditional	attitude	towards	the	canonical	philosophers	of	the	past	survive	the	innovations	in	historical	research	that	have	taken	place	over	the	last	half	century?			The	growth	of	research	in	the	historiography	of	philosophy,	the	opportunities	for	inviquires,	sharing	of	knowledge	through	conferences,	discussion,	and	publications	that	have	been	made	possible	by	modern	academic	life	have	brought	the	figures	we	study	closer	to	us.	We	understand	in	ways	we	did	not	one	hundred	years	ago,	their	intellectual	contexts,	the	details	of	their	personal	and	professional	lives,	their	aims	and	frustrations,	and	the	reception	of	their	ideas	by	their	contemporaries.				This	increase	of	genuine	knowledge	has	in	many	ways	increased	our	admiration	for	the	canonical	philosophers,	whose	boldness	in	taking	on	received	ideas	and	institutions	exposed	them	to	attacks	and	even	persecution	and	most	certainly	created	stress,	anxiety	and	circumspection.		At	the	same	time,	it	has,	brought	these	figures	down	to	earth.	The	analytic	history	of	philosophy	showed	that	the	Arguments	of	the	Philosophers	were	always	contestable	and	nearly	always	faulty	or	trival,	or	at	least	poorly	expounded.		We	recognise	that	philosophical	publication	in	past	centuries	was	not	subject	to	peer	review	in	the	same	way	that	our	published	writing	is	carefully	scrutinised	for	cogency,	absence	of	contradictions,	anticpation	of	all	reasoinable	objectionss,	and	adequate	accounts	of	the	existing	literature.		As	we	no	longer	venerate	the	great	military	conquerors	of	the	past,	we	no	longer	venerate	the	‘intellectual	giant’	and	the	‘Great	Man.’	Critical	Theory,	although	most	philosophers	kept	it	at	arms	length,	revealed	the	complicity	of	the	great	and	the	good	in	science	and	philosophy	in	supporting	or	underwriting	racist,	militaristic,	misogynistic,	and	even	fascistic	policies	in	ways	that	could	not	be	ignored	and	that	proved	to	be	a	rich	mine	for	historiographical	enquiry.									Further,	our	better	understanding	of	social	mechanisms	enables	us	to	appreciate	that	philosophical	canonicity—a	form	of	secular	sainthood—is	arrived	at	in	somewhat	accidental	ways,	not	through	the	expression	of	personal	genius	alone.	It	requires	the	help	of	friends	and	allies,	being	of	the	right	gender,	and	having	been	favoured	after	death	by	persons	who	were	themselves	influential.	The	lives	of	the	old	philosophers,	usually	without	spouses	and	children,	often	absent	the	passions	of	attachment,	give	them	a	priestly	air	of	special	access	to	higher	and	deeper	truths.		As	bachelors,	their	most	intimate	relationships	were	secretive	and	so	conducive	to	guilt	and	regret,	which	renders	much	of	their	moralising	suspect	as	hypocritical	overcompensation,	or	else	they	were	genuinely	indifferent	to	those	things	that	most	of	us	feel	make	life	worth	living.										Further,	most	of	the	canonical	philosophers	have	lived	in	a	condition	of	fear:	fear	of	imprisonment,	loss	of	livelihood,	ostracism,	persecution	or	punishment	for	heresy	or	political	opinion.	Before	they	acquired	university	posts,	they	were	financially	underwritten	and	protected	by	their	patrons	and	allies	with	whom	they	had	to	remain	on	good	terms.	Their	writing	often	seems	to	reveal	a	struggle	between	what	they	believe	deep	down	and	the	need	to	please	or	not	to	offend.						We	are	no	longer	idolators.	The	idolator	supposes	that	the	object	of	their	worship	expresss	itself	in	obscure	formulations	that	conceal	the	perfect	coherence	and	hint	at	the	infinite	complexity	of	his	thought.	The	worshipper	must	devote	their	life	to	the	holy	task	of	interpreting,	explaining,	and	justifying	the	idol’s	words.	So	the	philosopher	of	the	past	is	not	a	god,	and	idolatry	is	not	to	be	confused	with	adherence	to	the	principle	of	charity.		The	principle	of	charity	says	that	even	when	our	philosopher	is	ambivalent,	or	has	no	coherent	doctrine,	or	holds	morally	abhorrent	opinions,	we	must	try,	as	scholars,	to	understand	and	to	explain	why	he	or	she	is	mixed	up,	or	can’t	solve	their	own	problem,	or	why	they	hold	normative	views	we	now	find	dubious	or	repugnant.					II.			How	then	should	we	regard	the	subjects	of	our	study.	Perhaps	we	could	take	a	cue	from	the	title	of	the	first	volume	of	Elena	Ferrante’s	series	of	novels	about	Neopolitan	youth	of	the	middle	of	the	20th	century:	My	Brilliant	Friend.		We	come	to	love	our	subjects	as	they	are,	with	their	qualities	and	their	difficulties.	They	are	exasperating	at	times,	even	alienating	for	longish	periods	when	we	don’t	care	about	them	and	have	nothing	more	to	say	to	or	about	them,	but	inevitably	they	pull	us	back	into	their	orbit,	and	then	lead	the	way	again,	taking	us	into	new	regions	of	thinking	and	perceiving.	When	we	are	able	to	transmit	our	own	experiences	to	our	students,	there	is	a	second	level	of	pleasure	involved.					But	what	particular	literary	and	philosophical	qualities	draw	the	researcher	to	Leibniz?		What	is	the	basis	of	the	attraction?		And	what	are	the	difficulties	we	experience	with	him?	I	will	mention	four	outstanding	features:		Leibniz’s	relationship	to	the	Scientific	Revolution;	his	literary	qualities;	his	intellectual	acuity;	and	his	commitment	to	human	welfare.					The	Scientific	Revolution		Leibniz	came	onto	the	scene	in	the	midst	of	the	Galilean-Cartesian	revolution	that	rejected	the	Aristotleian	accounts	of	primary	matter,	forms	and	manfest	and	occult	qualities,	along	with	Aristotelian-Ptolemaic	geocentrism.	It	substituted	a	new	ontology	of	particles	in	motion,	the	notion	of	‘laws	of	nature,’	and	a	vastly	expanded	universe	of	multiple	worlds.	Its	ontology,	a	revivial	of	the	ancient	system	of	the	Epicureans,	was	minimalistic	and	restrictive,	but	at	the	same	time	trade	and	travel	and	the	enhanced	interest	in	natural	history	and	geology,	were	revealing	the	complexity	of	living	nature	and	of	the	composition	of	the	planet.	Leibniz	inserted	himself	into	these	developments	in	a	number	of	ways.		He	accepted	the	corpuscularian-mechanical	philosophy	as	a	convenient	scheme,	but	not	as	metaphysically	fundamental;	he	sought	improvements	to	mathematical	physics	in	the	laws	of	collision	and	dynamics,	and	to	the	vortex	theory.	He	placed	the	sciences	of	life,	as	distinct	from	the	sciences	of	nonliving	matter,	firmly	in	the	center	of	experimental	and	theoretical	enquiry,	and	he	undertook	investigations	of	fossils	and	geology	which	stimulated	the	great	breakthroughs	of	the	18th	century	in	understanding	the	history	of	the	earth	and	its	grea	age.			 His	view	was	that	the	physics	of	solid	bodies	with	measurable	weights	and	speeds	and	ascertainable	dimensions	and	directions	treated	phenomenon	that	were	in	some	way	produced	by	individual	entities	without	dimensions,	or	spatial	locations,	or	movement,	or	causal	influence.	They	were	nevertheless	undergoing	processes	of	change,	attributable	to	their	states	of	awareness	and	appetition,	and	the	appearances	of	the	visible,	tangible	common	world	depended	upon	this	unfolding.		He	was	clearly	right	in	what	he	denied:	the	corpuscularian	image	of	a	world	of	tiny	billiard	balls	with	determinate	boundaries	in	collision	left	too	many	questions	unanswered	(what	held	the	billiard	balls	together?	How	did	they	stick	to	other	billiard	balls	to	form	solid	objects?		How	could	collision	mechanics	explain	orbital	motion?)		Ad	even	if	his	inference	to	the	existence	of	monads	with	all	their	characteristics	and	their	hierarchical	organisation	was	the	wrong	account	of	subatomic	reality,	we	do	now	believe	that	space,	time,	solidity,	weight,	and	causality	are	in	some	manner	derivative	and	not	primitives,	and	that	entities	perceive	or	communicate	with	one	another	in	ways	that	do	not	accord	with	the	rules	of	the	visible	world:	that	causes	must	be	prior	to	effects	and	be	mediated	by	matter.				 His	contribution	to	the	life	sciences	was	to	bring	the	subvisible	world	of	living	beings	into	prominence	and	to	correct	the	Cartesian	thesis	that	nonhuman	aninmals	were	insensate	machines.		In	his	Protogaea,	he	speculated	on….				Literary	Qualities	Second,	Leibniz	employs	vivid	and	memorable	imagery	that	resonates	with	us	at	deep	levels;	his	thought	world	is	one	of	correspondences	and	analogies,	echoes	and	mirrors,	folds,	sparks,	and	seeds.	His	writing	is	free	for	the	most	part	of	technical,	scholastic	vocabulary.		In	the	New	Essays	and	in	the	Theodicy	the	reader	encounters	memorable	instances,	anecdotes		and	analogies:	the	brain	the	size	of	a	mill,	the	statue	of	Hercules,	the	ocean	waves,	sound	of	the	mill,	the	uneasiness	of	our	clocks.		The	images	of	development,	evolution	in	its	original	sense,	and	of	course	harmony	are	resonant	and	rich.	The	opening	passages	of	the	Monadology	seem	to	invite	the	reader	into	a	mysterious	new	world	of	souls	alive	and	twinkling	like	separate	stars	but	in	a	nonspatial	array	bedfore	we	are	invited	into	another	world—the	fishpond	teeming	with	life	in	smaller	and	smaller	formats	without	end.					Incisiveness	Leibniz	is	a	shrewd	reader	of	Hobbes,	Descartes,	Spinoza	and	Locke.	Although	his	reactions	to	them	often	strike	us	as	harsh	and	as	based	on	isolated	portions	of	their	thought,	he	appears	to	grasp	what	is	going	on	in	another	philosopher,	what	their	central	preoccupation.		In	Descartes,	he	detects	arrogance	mixed	with	a	kind	of	fatalism	along	with	the	defense	of	a	deeply	implausible	account	of	animal	machines	and	separable	souls.		In	Hobbes,he	finds	an	equally	implausible	account	of	the	material	mind	and	a	politics	of	fear;in	Spinoza	he	finds	an	impersonal	God	and	defense	of	a	secular	state;	in	Locke	an	atomist’s	ontology	and	moral	theory.		Regardless	of	the	fact	that	we	may	applaud	some	or	all	of	these	attitudes	and	positions,	we	have	to	admit	that	Leibniz	–despite	his	self-avowed	cursory	reading	habits—grasps	the	centrality	and	significance	of	these	positions	and	even	why	a	rival	philosopher	would	hold	them,	whilst	zeroing	in	on	their	weaknesses	without	the	tedious	longuers	of	their	official	opponents.					Welfarism	Fourth,	Leibniz’s	interest	in	technological	progress,	to	enhancing	efficiency	and	objectivity	in	the	law	and	to	human	welfare	in	his	schemes	for	the	remediation	of	poverty	and	illness.		These	interests	were	lifelong	and	exceptional	in	the	history	of	philosophy.	Leibniz	was	a	proponent	of	applied	as	well	as	pure	philosophy.		Following	his	recent	biographer,	we	could	mention	his	hopes	and	plans	for	the	reform	of	the	imperial	constitution,	the	reorganization	of	the	legal	system,	state	supported	schools,	vocational	training,	poverty-reduction,	health	improvement,	pensions,	and	life	insurance.i		The	universal	language,	the	reform	of	jurisprudence,	and	the	advancement	of	pure	and	applied	science	and	mathematics,	were	to	have	as	their	beneficiaries	specifically	those	deprived	of	resources,	opportunities,	and	justice.ii	‘One	must,	Leibniz	said,	‘furnish	the	poor	with	the	means	of	earning	their	livelihood,	not	only	by	using	charity	and	charitable	foundations	to	this	end,	but	also	by	taking	an	interest	in	agriculture,	buy	furnishing	to	artisans	materials	and	a	market,	by	educating	them	to	make	their	productions	better,	and	finally	by	putting	an	end	to	idleness	and	abusive	practice	in	manufactures	and	in	commerce.’iii				III.			Now	to	the	difficulties:	I	will	classify	these	under	three	headings:	the	problem	of	projection	of	the	monad	world	into	the	world	of	experience;	the	position	on	evil	and	the	associated	doctrine	of	immortality;	and	theocratic	political	philosophy.				First,	it	is	now	generally	agreed	that	there	is	no	way	of	directly	translating	the	metaphysical	level	of	reality	which	is	nonspatial,	nontemporal,	and	populated	by	appetitive,	perceptive	nonextended	entities	into	the	phenomenal	world	consisting	of	tiny	organisms	some	which	coalesce	into	hierarchcally	organised	living	structures	such	as	individual	plants	and	animals.	Nor	is	it	really	possible	to	understand	how	objects	such	as	billiard	balls	and	metal	screws	are	actually	composed	of	microorganisms	existing	in	stable,	proximal	relationships.		As	noted,	we	can	endorse	Leibniz	intuition	that	our	world	isin	fact	a	well-founded	phenomenon	in	a	way	that	none	of	his	contemporaries	grasped	as	clearly	as	he	did,	but	decades	of	research	have	not	given	us	the	transformation	rules	we	would	need.		Perhaps	there	are	no	transformation	rules	and	contemporary	physics	will	face	this	problem	as	well?					Second,	the	doctrine	that	an	omnipogtent	and	benevoleny	God	exists,	created	the	world,	and	does	not	will	or	permit	any	true	evil—any	evil	from	which	a	greater	good	does	not	spring.	This	doctrine	meets	with	incredulity	from	a	number	of	groups.		First,	there	are	those	philosophers	who	find	the	notion	of	a	unique	creator	of	the	universe	endowed	with	superhuman	but	neverless	human-like	cognitive	powers,	intentions,	and	moral	attitudes	incredible.	Second,	there	are	those	who	do	not	find	this	notion	incredible,	but	who	believe	that	physical	and	moral	evil	tsnunamis,	plagues,	earthquakes,	the	loss	of	life	though	freezing,	burning	and	starving	and	the	agency	of	torturers,	perpetrators	of	genocide	and	casual	sadists	argues	against	the	existence	of	a	God	or	at	least	in	favour	of	Manichaeism.	Third,	there	are	philosophers	who	apparently	do	not	find	the	notion	of	a	unique	psychologically	complex	creator	implausible,	but	who	reject	the	claim	that	human	reason	can	establish	that	both	physical	upsets	and	wicked	human	agency	always	lead	to	greater	goods.		They	would	prefer	to	understand	the	divine	will	as	inscrutable.			Leibniz’s	notion	that	divine	justice—retribution	for	wickedness	on	the	part	of	human	beings	that	goes	unpunished	during	their	lifetimes—must	be	targeted	at	naturally	immortal	persons	whose	metabolism	as	we	would	think	of	it	life,	persists	in	damped	down	form,	rather	than	organisms	revived	from	the	dead	state	is	not	acceptable	to	the	majority	of	present	day	theists	who	would	also	question	the	allied		assumption	that	retribution	implies	the	imposition	of	physical	pain.			Third,	there	is	Leibniz’s																																																																		i Maria Rosa Antognazza, Leibniz: An Intellectual Biography, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 196.  ii Ibid., p. 210. 																																																																																																																																																																								iii Ibid., p. 106.  

Why Do We Study Leibniz (After 300 Years)?

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Why Do We Study Leibniz (After 300 Years)?

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