## 1. Theory of the Good



Leibniz's ethics centers on a composite theory of the good. Three
longstanding philosophical doctrines compose the theory: (1) the
Platonic view that goodness is coextensive with reality or being, (2)
the perfectionist view that the highest good consists in the
development and perfection of one's nature, and (3) the hedonist view
that the highest good is pleasure. This set of doctrines is disclosed
in Leibniz's tripartite division of the good into the metaphysical
good, the moral good, and the physical good (T SS209, p. 258). He
equates the metaphysical good with reality, moral goodness with
virtue, and the physical good with pleasure. Moreover, with each type
of good exists a correlative type of evil. The metaphysical good of
reality correlates with the metaphysical evil of privation of reality
or non-being. Similarly, the moral goodness of virtue relates to the
moral evil of sin or vice. Finally, the physical good of pleasure is
contrary to the physical evil of pain (T SS21, p. 136). The theory
constructed out of these divergent doctrines illustrates Leibniz's
eclectic approach to philosophical investigation. As he puts it in a
comment on his own system of philosophy, "This system appears to
unite Plato with Democritus, Aristotle with Descartes, the Scholastics
with the moderns, theology and morality with reason. Apparently it
takes the best from all systems and then advances further than anyone
has yet done" (NE, p. 71).   



Before looking at the way he attempts to advance moral philosophy and
the theory of the good, it will help to have some background
concerning what Leibniz calls the *metaphysical good* and its
correlative *metaphysical evil*. In uniting goodness with
reality, Leibniz borrows, not without putting his own stamp on it, a
view that had currency with certain medieval philosophers (e.g.,
Augustine, Boethius, and Aquinas). The doctrine nonetheless originated
in the Neoplatonic philosophy of Plotinus (204-269) and Porphyry
(234-c.305), though there is clearly suggestion of it in Plato
(e.g., *Republic* 518c, *Timaeus* 28b). In reuniting
goodness and reality, or to what he interchangeably refers to as
*perfection*, Leibniz thus characteristically recovers and
attempts to restore a doctrine that had currency among medieval
thinkers (for a study of the medieval treatment of the doctrine of
metaphysical goodness, see the essays in MacDonald (ed.) 1991).



Reality (i.e., perfection) in Leibniz's view is not the sort of thing
that something either has or does not have. It is not an
all-or-nothing matter. Rather, perfection is scalar--it comes in
varying degrees. God has infinite perfection, the maximum amount,
because He is limitless (PE, "Monadology," SS41).
Every existent other than God, including the universe, possesses a
limited degree of perfection. "For," as Leibniz explains,
"God could not give the creature all without making of it a God;
therefore there must needs be different degrees in the perfection of
things, and limitations also of every kind" (T SS31, p.
142). Because nothing but God is infinite, everything else exhibits
metaphysical perfection in varying, limited degrees.



Since everything but God exhibits a finite level of perfection,
everything but God also exhibits a degree of imperfection, some
privation of reality. Privation of reality necessarily belongs to
creation in the sense that it is logically impossible for a created
thing to be unlimited (PE, "Principles of Nature and Grace,
Based on Reason," SS9; T SS20, p. 135). Only that whose
existence is absolutely necessary and therefore depends on nothing
other than itself has infinite perfection. For Leibniz, metaphysical
evil is the privation of reality inherent in the natures of created
things (T SS21, p. 136) (for further reading on Leibniz's
conception of metaphysical evil, see Latzer 1994 and Antognazza
2014).



In a letter in which he replies to an inquiry by the philosopher
Christian Wolff (1679-1754) about the concept of perfection,
Leibniz gives the following analysis:



> 
> *Perfection* is the harmony of things, or the state where
> everything is worthy of being observed, that is, the state of
> agreement [*consensus*] or identity in variety; you can even
> say that it is the degree of contemplatibility
> [*considerabilitas*] (PE, 18 May 1715, p. 233-4).
> 



This indicates that there are in a sense two aspects of metaphysical
perfection. First, metaphysical perfection is constituted by harmony,
that is, unity in variety. A situation is harmonious to the extent
that a variety of things are ordered in accordance with general laws
or principles, such as laws of motion governing terrestrial and
celestial objects (PE, "Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on
Reason," SS11). Second, that which possesses a degree of
metaphysical perfection in the sense of harmony can also be said to be
worthy of observation to some extent. If there were nothing ordered in
accordance with general laws, there would be nothing worthy of
observation because everything would be submerged in chaos. Thus
harmony makes something contemplatible, like a painting by the Italian
Renaissance artist Raphael (PW, "Codex Iuris Gentium," p.
171).



Leibniz's ethics is therefore perfectionist in two distinct but
related senses. On the one hand, the metaphysical good consists in the
reality of a thing, its degree of metaphysical perfection, which is
identical to its harmony. This may be called *metaphysical
perfectionism*. On the other hand, Leibniz maintains that moral
goodness involves the development and perfection of a characteristic
or set of characteristics fundamental to human nature. Such a
characteristic in a cultivated state is called a virtue. This is
*moral perfectionism*. For Leibniz, metaphysical perfection is
a necessary condition for moral perfection in that intellectual
apprehension of harmony gives rise to moral perfection.



To see how he arrives at this position, it is necessary to return to
the other two types of goodness: the moral good and the physical good.
"Virtue," according to Leibniz, "is the habit of
acting according to wisdom" (PW, "Felicity,"
SS1, p. 83). Yet one virtue in particular reigns supreme and
contains all the others, and that virtue is justice, which Leibniz
defines as the "charity of the wise man" (PW, "Codex
Iuris Gentium," p. 171; cf. PW, p. 57 & p. 83). One whose
love is guided by wisdom possesses the charity of the wise. Love is
the pleasure one takes in the happiness and perfection of others (PW,
"Felicity," SS5; NE, p. 163). God's wisdom is infinite
and His love is universal, extending to all beings capable of
happiness. God's universal benevolence, Leibniz suggests, is an ideal
we ought to do our best to imitate and continuously aspire to (PW,
"Meditation on the Common Concept of Justice", pp.
57-8; cf. PE, "Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on
Reason," SS14, pp. 211-12). The more one's benevolence
expands to encompass the happiness of more and more others, the more
one grows in justice and virtue, thereby increasing in moral goodness
(for further reading on Leibniz's view of justice as the charity of
the wise, see Riley 1996 (Chapter 4) and 2003).



The physical good thus bridges the moral good with the metaphysical
good. It links virtue and harmony because, for Leibniz, pleasure is
the perception or knowledge of perfection. Pain, on the other hand, is
the perception or knowledge of imperfection (NE, p. 194; PW,
"Felicity," SS4). A sensual pleasure, such as the
pleasure of listening to music or that of viewing a painting, is a
confused perception of perfection (i.e., a confused perception of
harmony). In contrast, an intellectual pleasure, such as the pleasure
of knowing the fundamental order of reality, is a distinct perception
of perfection. Sensual pleasures in some cases approximate
intellectual pleasures, but they inevitably fall short because they
tend to be deceptive and transitory, whereas intellectual pleasures
are pure and lasting, and true happiness, according to Leibniz, is
simply a lasting state of pleasure (PW, "Felicity,"
SS3; NE, p. 194).



Despite his identification of happiness with lasting pleasure,
however, it is an oversimplification to characterize Leibniz's theory
of the good as nothing more than a form of hedonism. Given that
pleasure is a confused or distinct apprehension of harmony, knowledge
serves as the necessary means by which an individual cultivates the
moral good, the charity of the wise. Knowledge of the perfection of
others, of the perfection of the universe, and of God, the perfect
being, is inherently pleasurable and concomitantly contributes to the
proper order of one's character by generating love in conformity with
wisdom.



The harmony of the universe then is a precondition for virtue and
happiness, but harmony alone is not sufficient. Knowledge is also
necessary. If there were no minds, or if there were no minds capable
of knowledge, the universe would be devoid of virtue and happiness.
Thus knowledge unifies Leibniz's composite theory of the good. He
says,



> 
> SS15. One must hold as certain that the more a mind desires to
> know order, reason, the beauty of things which God has produced, and
> the more he is moved to imitate this order in the things which God has
> left to his direction, the happier he will be.
> 
> 
> SS16. It is most true, as a result, that one cannot know God
> without loving one's brother, that one cannot have wisdom without
> having charity (which is the real touchstone of virtue), and that one
> even advances one's own good in working for that of others....
> (PW, "Felicity," p. 84)
> 
> 
> 



The intellectualist cast of Leibniz's ethics stands out unmistakably
in this passage. Knowledge of the order, rationality, and beauty of
creation is necessary for happiness. So too is actively imitating that
order. Together, they are sufficient. Without knowledge, action and
the effort to promote the perfection of others do not necessarily meet
with success and may even backfire, leading to greater physical evil.
Without actively promoting rational order, knowledge alone does not
lead to happiness. Leibniz's ethics no doubt has an intellectualist
character, but mere passive contemplation of the rational order of the
universe is not the ideal of moral goodness. Instead, moral goodness
combines knowledge of the rational order with the active promotion of
rational order as far as possible (for a discussion of Leibniz's view
of the role of divine grace in the attainment of salvation, see
Rutherford 2014).


## 2. Natural Law Theory



So far we have seen that, for Leibniz, the human good consists in the
lasting state of pleasure that accompanies moral perfection. 
Moral perfection, in turn, is cultivated through the perpetual pursuit
and acquisition of knowledge of the perfection of others, the
universe, and God. Although all knowledge contributes to moral
perfection and is therefore practical in a broad sense of the term,
ethics nevertheless is a distinct branch of science, capable of the
same level of demonstrative rigor as arithmetic and geometry (NE,
Preface, p. 50; PW, "Meditation on the Common Concept of
Justice," pp. 49-50). Leibniz shares this view of ethics
with other important seventeenth-century thinkers, such as Hobbes
(1588-1679), Spinoza (1632-1677), and Locke
(1632-1704). And although Leibniz never wrote a comprehensive
ethical treatise in the geometrical style, it is clear from what he
left us that, in addition to a naturalistic-metaphysical theory of the
good, ethical science also includes a science of natural law. 



As a natural law theorist, Leibniz holds that compliance with the set
of universal ethical principles that make up the natural law is
necessary and sufficient to achieve the good. Also, like the eminent
modern natural lawyer Hugo Grotius (1583-1645), whom Leibniz
greatly admired--referring to him as the "incomparable
Grotius" (PW, "Opinion on the Principles of
Pufendorf," p. 65; T SS6, p. 77), he believes that the
natural law and the obligation to comply with it are independent of
God's will. It is not possible, in other words, for God to have
legislated a different set of moral absolutes than those that obtain;
nor do the moral absolutes derive their obligatory authority from
having been legislated by God. According to Leibniz,



> 
> Neither the norm of conduct itself, nor the essence of the just,
> depends on his [God's] free decision, but rather on eternal truths,
> objects of the divine intellect, which constitute, so to speak, the
> essence of divinity itself. . . . And, indeed, justice follows certain
> rules of equality and of proportion [which are] no less founded in the
> immutable nature of things, and in the divine ideas, than are the
> principles of arithmetic and of geometry (PW, "Opinion on the
> Principles of Pufendorf," p. 71).
> 



The concept of justice in Leibniz's view is fixed independent of God's
choice, and so God has no more power to alter the nature of justice
than He does to alter the nature of circularity.



The idea that justice and moral obligation do not depend on a free
decree of God is a significant doctrine in Leibniz's philosophy. In
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, a focal point of debate in
moral philosophy centered on a version of the *Euthyphro*
problem--between those who sided with Grotius and Leibniz in
holding that moral goodness and obligation do not depend on God's will
and those who held the opposite view, that moral goodness and
obligation are as they are as a result of God's free choice. Two of
the most important seventeenth-century proponents of the latter,
voluntarist position are Thomas Hobbes and Samuel Pufendorf
(1632-1694). Leibniz's objections to voluntarism became widely
known in the early eighteenth century when a letter he wrote attacking
voluntarism was appended to a new edition of Pufendorf's *The Duty
of Man and Citizen* (1718). This anti-voluntarist tract,
"Opinion on the Principles of Pufendorf" (written in
1706), contains one of his fullest discussions of justice. A full
treatment of Leibniz's anti-voluntarism would take us too far afield,
but a central criticism is that, in regarding moral goodness and
obligation as dependent on God's free choice, voluntarism undermines
the basis for our love of God (PW, "Opinion on the Principles of
Pufendorf," p. 71-2). If, as the voluntarist holds, moral
goodness is an artifact of God, it is not an essential attribute of
the divine nature. God therefore cannot be loved for His
goodness.  Voluntarism thus subverts morality and religion
because love of God is essential to both (for more in depth
discussions of Leibniz's anti-voluntarism, see Schneewind 1998
(250-259) and Haakonssen 1996 (46-9)).



Following a current in the natural law tradition, Leibniz supplements
his account of justice as the charity of the wise with three
principles handed down from Roman law via Justinian's
*Institutes* (533 AD). The three principles are "to hurt
no one" (*neminem laedere)*, "to give each his
due" (*suum cuique tribuere)*, and "to live
honorably" (*honeste vivere)* or, as Leibniz glosses it,
to live piously. Leibniz suggests that these principles underwrite
three distinct degrees of justice (PW, "Codex Iuris
Gentium," pp. 171-2). The lowest degree is "strict
right" (*ius strictum*), which has as its precept that
"no one is to be injured, so that he will not be given a motive
for a legal action within the state, nor outside the state a right of
war" (PW, "Codex Iuris Gentium," p. 172). Strict
right primarily includes a bare minimum set of negative duties, such
as the duties not to harm, not to murder, and not to commit theft. The
function of this degree of justice is the "conservation of
peace."  The second degree Leibniz calls
"equity" or "charity" in the narrow sense of
the term, which has its basis in the principle "to give each his
due."  This grade of justice includes, for example, duties
of gratitude and of charitable donation, things we owe to others but
which failure to fulfill is not sanctioned by law. Whereas strict
right functions merely to avoid misery by fostering peace, the duties
of equity actively promote the happiness of others as far as possible
within this life.



Strict right and equity, he explains, correspond to Grotius'
distinction between perfect and imperfect rights (PW, "Codex
Iuris Gentium," p. 172). Unlike Grotius, however, Leibniz views
this distinction as one of degree rather than as one of kind. Also,
equity, the second grade of justice, comprehends strict right within
its scope, and strict right and equity are comprehended under the
third and highest grade of justice, namely, piety.



The principle of piety is "to live honorably."  An
important difference between strict right and equity, on the one hand,
and piety, on the other, is that the former pertain to our pursuit of
goods and avoidance of evils over the course of our natural lives
while the latter pertains to our pursuit of goods and avoidance of
evils throughout our entire lives, that is, over the whole course of
our immortal existence. The third grade of justice thus relies on two
central tenets of Leibniz's metaphysics, for which he believes there
are demonstrative proofs; indeed, he believes he provides such proofs
(PE, "Principles of Nature and Grace, Based on Reason,"
SS4, SS8; PE, "Monadology," SS4, SS38).
The tenets on which this account relies are (1) that the soul is
immortal and (2) that God is the ruler of the universe. Most relevant
to our purpose are not the arguments he supplies in support of these
but, rather, the work that the theses do in his account of piety.



A person is pious in Leibniz's sense of the term in virtue of being
perfectly just, which means that the pious person loves others in
conformity with wisdom. But it is extremely difficult to fully realize
this ideal love so long as one's outlook is restricted to the goods
and evils that may be encountered in one's natural life. If one's
outlook is limited to this life, one may come to fulfill the first and
second grades of justice without too much difficulty, but rarely does
anyone achieve the highest level of justice without consideration of
the soul's immortality and God's governance (PW, "Codex Iuris
Gentium," p. 173; PW, "Meditation on the Common Concept of
Justice," p. 58). This is because, even though the virtuous
person's "interior harmony" is intrinsically pleasing,
most are unable to appreciate virtue due to the fact that, from the
perspective of mortality, virtuous actions often go unrewarded while
vicious ones go unpunished. Thus most people will not bear tremendous
hardships for the sake of virtue. Only the most exceptional
individuals are willing to be virtuous and do the right thing at any
mortal cost. And this very willingness, this "spiritual
disposition" as Leibniz calls it, constitutes piety (PW,
"Meditation on the Common Concept of Justice," p. 58).



In the opening chapter of his dialogue between himself, represented by
*Theophilus*, and a spokesperson for Locke, named
*Philalethes*, Leibniz makes the following autobiographical
remark:



> 
> You [Philalethes] had more to do with the speculative philosophers,
> while I was more inclined towards moral questions. *But I have been
> learning, more and more, how greatly morality can be strengthened by
> the solid principles of true philosophy*; which is why I have
> lately been studying them more intensively, and have started on some
> quite new trains of thought (NE, p. 71, emphasis added).
> 



We are now in a position to see how specifically the solid principles
of philosophy strengthen morality. True philosophy (i.e., sound
metaphysics) aids morality by providing grounds for assurance that in
the end happiness is directly proportioned to merit. The more virtuous
one is, the greater the happiness one can expect because one's
well-being does not completely depend on the goods of this life and
because it is incompatible with God's universal benevolence and
infinite wisdom that even a single virtuous deed should go unrewarded
and a vicious one unpunished. "After this," Leibniz
concludes, "it must be imprudent not to be just, because no one
will fail to derive good or evil from what he will have done,
according as it is just or unjust" (PW, "Meditation on the
Common Concept of Justice," pp. 58-9). Even though
exceptional individuals may be able to remain virtuous at any apparent
mortal cost, it follows from Leibniz's metaphysics that there is in
fact no mortal price to pay for being virtuous. On the contrary,
virtue is necessary and sufficient for true happiness (for further
reading on Leibniz's natural law theory, see Brown 1995 and
2011a).


## 3. Moral Psychology



Leibniz believes that enlightened self-interest is in complete
agreement with the requirements of virtue. The cornerstone of this
harmony between interest and morality is metaphysics, his doctrines
concerning the soul's immortality and God's governance. Still, the
virtuous person does not regard right action and the well-being of
others as a means to his or her own happiness. According to Leibniz,




> 
> Thus he who acts well, not out of hope or fear, but by an inclination
> of his soul, is so far from not behaving justly that, on the contrary,
> he acts more justly than all others, imitating, in a certain way, as a
> man, divine justice. Whoever, indeed, does good out of love for God or
> of his neighbor, takes pleasure precisely in the action itself (such
> being the nature of love) and does not need any other incitement, or
> the command of a superior; for that man the saying that the law is not
> made for the just is valid (PW, "Opinion on the Principles of
> Pufendorf," p. 72).
> 



Not self-love but love of others motivates the virtuous person, or
what Leibniz calls "disinterested love" (PW, "Codex
Iuris Gentium," p. 171). Metaphysics thus strengthens morality
without overhauling it. In revealing that virtue alone ultimately
satisfies self-interest, true philosophy guides us steadfastly along
the path to virtue. Yet the truly virtuous person performs a morally
right action for its own sake.



Disinterested love is not completely selfless however. Nor can it
consistently be on Leibniz's view since he subscribes to a version of
psychological egoism; "for we do all for our own good," he
maintains, "and it is impossible for us to have other feelings
whatever we may say" (W, "Letter to Nicaise," p.
565). In his account of disinterested love, Leibniz in fact seeks to
reconcile egoism and altruism, and, in doing so, anticipates Bishop
Butler's (1692-1752) landmark attack against psychological
egoism (BM1, *Fifteen Sermons* (1726), pp. 364-373).



The key to Leibniz's reconciliation is a distinction between the
pleasure involved in the satisfaction of a desire and the object of a
desire. Desires spur all human actions. Some desires emerge distinctly
in conscious awareness while many do not, or do so only confusedly.
The former he calls *volitions* and the latter
*appetitions* (NE, p. 173). Satisfaction of any desire gives
its subject at least a minimal degree of pleasure, however fleeting.
An unfulfilled volition causes at a minimum enough suffering for one
to be aware of it, but an unfulfilled appetition, by contrast, gives
rise to "semi-suffering," or what he calls, following
Locke, "uneasiness" (NE, p. 188-9). Such
semi-suffering, Leibniz explains, "does not amount to
discomfort, but is restricted to the elements or rudiments of
suffering, which we cannot be aware of in themselves but which suffice
to act as spurs and to stimulate the will" (NE, p. 189). No
finite being is ever totally free of semi-sufferings and, to a lesser
degree, semi-pleasures. Even where we appear to ourselves to be
completely indifferent about our options, unconscious desires move us
toward one course of action rather than another (NE, p. 188).



Every desire inclines one to joy, its immediate satisfaction and the
transitory pleasure arising therefrom. Moreover, Leibniz takes it as
axiomatic that no one pursues anything but what appears to him or her
to be the greatest good (NE, p. 185; T SS45, p. 148). Failure to
be virtuous and achieve happiness is therefore a consequence of
ignorance, error, or inattention to what one knows. Inattention
results from a lapse in the ability to call to mind the knowledge one
possesses, and this, according to Leibniz, accounts for the puzzling
psychological phenomenon known as weakness of will  (NE, pp.
186-187). Weakness of will, it turns out, is a type of
forgetfulness. As such, an individual has some control over it, albeit
indirectly. Upbringing and education certainly affect an individual's
ability to bring specific thoughts to mind, but steps may be taken to
ensure that certain considerations rather than others occur to one in
practical deliberation (NE, p. 187 & pp. 195-196). For
example, Leibniz counsels,



> 
> Thus when a man is in a good frame of mind he ought to make himself
> laws and rules for the future, and then carry them out strictly,
> drawing himself away-abruptly or gradually, depending on the
> nature of the case-from situations which are capable of
> corrupting him. A lover will be cured by a voyage undertaken just for
> that purpose; a period of seclusion will stop us from keeping company
> with people who confirm some bad disposition in us. (NE, p. 187)
> 



Advance preparation is the key to strength of will. An individual
needs to equip him- or herself with principles and appropriate habits
of thought in order to make correct choices in pressure situations.
Otherwise, he or she is merely an instrument of conscious and
unconscious inclinations (for a discussion of Leibniz's view of
practical rationality see Roinila 2008).



Recall that true happiness is a lasting state of pleasure. The most
direct route to happiness, as commonsense testifies, is not through
the gratification of every desire that happens to occur to one.
Volitions and appetitions must be moderated by experience and reason
(NE, p. 189). Experience and reason teach us to neglect or postpone
fulfillment of some desires so that others may be fulfilled instead,
the most valuable among them being those that reason gives us (NE, p.
194-5). Reason generates inclinations whose strength and objects
are distinct, as opposed to bodily inclinations whose strength and
objects are confused. The confusion inherent in bodily inclinations
makes their fulfillment considerably more problematic than that of
rational inclinations. The bodily desire for nourishment, for example,
may be satisfied by eating a piece of fruit, but, as Leibniz points
out, "a fruit with a good taste and a good odor can conceal a
poison" (PW, "Felicity," SS6a, p. 83).
Fulfillment of confused bodily inclinations may, and too often does,
lead to pain and suffering further on. Such however is not the case
with rational inclinations. Distinct knowledge, which is a distinct
perception of harmony, satisfies the distinct inclinations of reason.
And since the universe is maximally harmonious, there is no end to the
pleasure we can derive from the acquisition of distinct knowledge.



All desires, no matter how confused or distinct, incline one toward
the pleasure one takes in their satisfaction. Leibniz then can be
understood as subscribing to psychological egoism where by this is
meant that a person does all to satisfy one or more of his or her own
inclinations. But it does not follow that all inclinations are
alike--that, say, all of one's desires have one's own pleasure as
their object. This is where the egoist goes wrong and where Leibniz
finds room for accommodating both egoism and altruism.  What all
actions have in common is that they are spurred by an inclination of
the agent, the satisfaction of which gives him or her pleasure. But
the same type of object does not satisfy all inclinations alike. For
Leibniz, some inclinations have confused sensible objects, such as the
sweetness of fruit, the melody of a song, or the beauty of a painting.
Others have distinct intellectual objects, such as the perfection of
God, of the natural world, or of another human being. A sweet piece of
fruit cannot satisfy a desire for perfection in the natural world any
more than a distinct perception of harmony in the natural world can
satisfy a bodily desire for nourishment. Different inclinations
concern different objects.



To be inclined toward the perfection of another rational being is to
be disposed to take pleasure in their perfection. Notice however that
the object of the inclination, that which one's view is fixed on, is
not one's own pleasure. This does not mean that an individual's own
pleasure cannot be the object of one of his or her desires. For most,
self-love may be their predominant motive. Nevertheless, an individual
can have an other-directed desire for the perfection of another
rational being, which is to have disinterested love. To love
disinterestedly, Leibniz explains, is to be "disposed to take
pleasure in the perfection, well-being or happiness of the object of
one's love. And this involves not thinking about or asking for any
pleasure of one's own except what one can get from the happiness or
pleasure of the loved one" (NE, p. 163). Since happiness is the
outward manifestation of perfection, it makes no real difference
whether love is said to have the perfection or the happiness of
another rational being as its object. Leibniz thus makes the
insightful suggestion that, though we do everything we do out of an
inclination whose satisfaction gives us pleasure, this is perfectly
compatible with desiring the perfection of another without any other
end in view, which actually occurs whenever the object of our desire
is another's perfection or happiness. "In truth," Leibniz
concludes, "the happiness of those whose happiness pleases us
turns into our own happiness, since things which please us are desired
for their own sake" (PW, "Codex Iuris Gentium," p.
171) (for further reading on Leibniz's conception of disinterested
love, see Brown 2011b).



Genuine altruism, then, does not require complete selflessness.
Indeed, selflessness, even if it were possible, would not be desirable
(W, "Letter to Nicaise," p. 566). After all, according to
Leibniz,



> 
> One cannot envisage in God any other motive than that of perfection,
> or, if you like, of his pleasure; supposing (according to my
> definition) that pleasure is nothing but a feeling of perfection, he
> has nothing to consider outside himself; on the contrary everything
> depends on him. But his goodness would not be supreme, if he did not
> aim at the good and at perfection so far as is possible. But what will
> one say, if I show that this same motive has a place in truly virtuous
> and generous men, whose supreme function [*degre*] is to
> imitate divinity, in so far as human nature is capable of it? (PW,
> "Meditation on the Common Concept of Justice," pp.
> 57-8).
> 



Imitate divinity--this is the overarching imperative of Leibniz's
ethics, if not the guiding principle of his entire philosophical
system. For him, God, not humanity, is the "measure of all
things" (PW, "Opinion on the Principles of
Pufendorf," p. 69). Our chief task therefore is to make
perpetual progress toward the ideal of divine nature, for each of us
is like a little divinity in the City of God (PE,
"Monadology," SS83 & SS85, pp. 223-4; T
SS147, pp. 215-216).