## 1. The Ideal Form of Metaphysics



Leibniz conceived of metaphysics as an a priori demonstrative science.
In its ideal form metaphysics would be presented in a manner analogous
to Euclid's *Elements*, where propositions are rigorously
demonstrated on the basis of definitions and axioms. The point of
departure for this conception of metaphysics is Leibniz's theory
of truth. Leibniz thought that truth consisted in conceptual
containment: a proposition is true just in case the concept of the
predicate is contained in the concept of the subject. This implies
that all metaphysical truths are conceptual truths. Leibniz thought
that a concept could be defined by analyzing it into simpler component
concepts. A rigorous demonstration, for Leibniz, consists in a
"chain of definitions" (*catena definitionum*)
where one moves from premises to a conclusion via the substitution of
definitionally equivalent terms (A II.i.398; L 198). In order for such
demonstrations to attain the degree of certainty found in geometry
they would need to be set forth in a purely formal system, which
Leibniz termed his "universal characteristic"
(*characteristica universalis*). The universal characteristic
would allow one to express in a purely formal manner the composition
of any concept on the basis of a set of primitive concepts. This
system of representation, in conjunction with a logical calculus for
expressing identity and inclusion relations among concepts, would
enable one to set forth a strictly demonstrative metaphysics (see
Rutherford 1996 for a detailed discussion of Leibniz's
conception of a demonstrative metaphysics).



Leibniz's conception of an ideal metaphysics was incredibly
ambitious. He made impressive progress on the project during his
career, though he fell well short of attaining his lofty ideal. Some
of Leibniz's very early texts contain stretches of argument that
are not carefully divided into axioms, definitions, propositions, and
demonstrations, but which could be reconstructed to fit that model.
Consider, for example, Leibniz's unpublished 1672-3
*Confessio Philosophi* (The Confession of a Philosopher).
Towards the beginning of this work, after providing definitions of
"God", "justice", "love", and
"harmony", he demonstrates that "happiness consists
in the most harmonious state of mind" (A VI.iii.117; CP
31). Leibniz then argues (in the voice of The Philosopher):



> 
> 
> If all happiness is harmonious (as demonstrated), and all harmony is
> known by God (by the definition of *God*), and all experience
> of harmony is a delight (by the definition of *delight*), it
> follows that all happiness is pleasing to God. Therefore (by the
> definition of *love* assumed previously) God loves everyone,
> and, accordingly (by the definition of *the just*) *God is
> just*. (A VI.iii.117; CP 31)
> 
> 
> 



Leibniz's demonstration is slightly informal here (as one might
expect in a dialogue), but it could easily be reconstructed in
deductive form. In 1675-6 Leibniz wrote a number of unpublished
papers and notes on metaphysical topics (most of the papers are
included in Parkinson's *De Summa Rerum: Metaphysical
Papers*, 1675-1676). These texts include definitions of key
metaphysical concepts and many informal demonstrations of metaphysical
propositions. In the late 1670s Leibniz completed several short drafts
of works that were divided into axioms, definitions, and propositions,
although the subject matter of those works was not strictly
metaphysical (see *De Obligatione Credendi* A
VI.iv.c.2149-2155 and *Animadversiones in schedam ex Batavis
Missam* A VI.iv.c.2204-2210). In 1679 Leibniz quickly
composed a work that was closer to the ideal of a demonstrative
science of metaphysics than anything he had written to date (*De
Affectibus* AVI.iv.b.1410-1441). It contained a long list of
definitions of key terms along with some demonstrations of
metaphysical principles and theses. Leibniz's project continued
in the 1680s in a series of extensive definitional studies of key
concepts (see, e.g., *De Notionibus Omnia Quae Cogitamus
Continentibus* A.VI.iv.a.398-405, *Definitiones Notionum
Metaphysicarum atque Logicarum* A.VI.iv.a.624-630, and
*Tabula Notionum Praeparanda* A.VI.iv.a.630-635). By 1690
Leibniz had developed a logical calculus for expressing identity and
inclusion relations among concepts. Around this time, however, Leibniz
began to doubt whether it was possible to discover absolutely
primitive concepts. He also did not succeed in developing his purely
formal system of representation, the universal characteristic. Without
primitive concepts or the universal characteristic it was not possible
for Leibniz to attain his ideal of a fully demonstrative metaphysics.
It is plausible to think that Leibniz could nevertheless have
completed a work that was an approximation of the ideal, written in
Latin and using non-primitive concepts. Leibniz insisted throughout
his later years that he could complete a work along these lines. In
1710, for example, he explains to correspondent Charles Hugony that in
his (Leibniz's) recently published *Essais de
theodicee* he set forth one part of his views
"in an informal manner" and that he is "thinking of
[writing] a Latin work in which I will try to unfold my entire
system" (G 3:680). And in 1715 Leibniz writes to Biber:



> 
> 
> if God will grant me more free time, I will attempt by means of
> well-formed demonstrations to impart to a good portion of my views the
> certainty of Euclid's *Elements*. (LBr 64)
> 
> 
> 



But Leibniz never did unfold his entire system, even in this less
ambitious form.



Leibniz's account of the ideal form of metaphysics provides the
basis for one of the ways that he distinguishes between the esoteric
and the exoteric. In one of his earliest philosophical works, a very
opinionated preface to an edition of a book by Marius Nizolius,
Leibniz distinguishes between esoteric and exoteric modes of
philosophizing. In this text he claims that the notion of
demonstration provides the line of demarcation between the esoteric
and exoteric modes. In the former "all things are
demonstrated" while in the latter less rigorous forms of
argumentation are utilized (e.g., supporting a proposition by means of
an analogical argument). Works written in the exoteric mode, though
useful in various respects, are "not most rigorous, not most
exact" (A VI.ii.416). In this and other texts Leibniz equates
the esoteric mode of philosophizing with the geometrical model of
demonstration, as briefly described above.


## 2. Esoteric Form and Esoteric Content



Leibniz advocated the geometrical model of demonstration as the ideal
form for metaphysics throughout his career. He claimed later in his
career that he had all the materials at hand to compose a work that
was a close approximation of the ideal. Yet such a work he did not
compose. Why did Leibniz not make more progress on this task, which
would seem to be of such great importance? Leibniz often mentioned his
lack of free time as the reason for not completing an esoteric
treatise. But this seems to provide an incomplete explanation of the
situation. Though his extra-philosophical duties were numerous and
burdensome, he made the time to write quite a lot on metaphysical
subjects. If he thought that the geometrical model of demonstration
was indeed the ideal form for metaphysics, one cannot help but wonder
why he did not find the time to begin composing such a work.



It is likely that there were several additional factors that led
Leibniz to compose exoteric rather than esoteric works. Consider the
following remarks on the distinction between exoteric and esoteric
modes of exposition in his 1704 *Nouveaux Essais sur
l'entendement humain* (an unpublished critical examination
of Locke's *Essay Concerning Human Understanding* written
in dialogue form). The remarks occur in the context of a discussion of
the precision (or lack thereof) in natural language:



> 
> 
> The ancients distinguished the 'exoteric'
> [*exoterique*] or popular mode of exposition [*maniere
> d'ecrire*] from the 'esoteric'
> [*acroamatique*] one which is suitable for those who are
> seriously concerned to discover the truth; and that distinction is
> relevant here. If anyone wants to write like a mathematician in
> metaphysics or moral philosophy there is nothing to prevent him from
> rigorously doing so; some have announced that they would do this, and
> have promised us mathematical demonstrations outside mathematics, but
> it is extremely seldom that anyone has succeeded. I believe that
> people are repelled by the amount of trouble they would have to take
> for a tiny number of readers: like the question in Persius, 'Who
> will read this?', with its answer 'Maybe a couple of
> people, maybe no one'. Yet I think that if anyone did go about
> it in the right way, he would have no reason to regret his labour. I
> have been tempted to try it myself. (NE: 260-261)
> 
> 
> 



In this intriguing text Leibniz (through the voice of Theophilus)
notes that few people have tried to write in the esoteric mode, and
even fewer (if any) have succeeded in the endeavor. He also suggests
several reasons that authors avoid esoteric expositions. Esoteric
texts are both difficult to compose and unlikely to attract readers,
presumably because of their intimidating formal apparatus. And what is
the point of writing a text that no one is going to read? This point
is also emphasized by Leibniz in a 1705 letter to Burnett:



> 
> 
> I never write anything in philosophy that I do not treat by
> definitions and axioms, though I do not always give it that
> mathematical air, which puts people off, for one must speak in a
> familiar manner to be read by ordinary people. (G 3:302)
> 
> 
> 



Despite these significant drawbacks to writing in the esoteric mode,
Leibniz insists that if someone pursued this strategy "in the
right way" it would be a worthwhile project. In the *New
Essays* Leibniz does not explain what doing this "in the
right way" would involve. He does, however, provide some
important additional remarks on esoteric philosophy earlier in the
text. In the Preface he points out some key differences between his
philosophy and the philosophy of Locke:



> 
> 
> ...although the author of the *Essay* says hundreds of
> fine things which I applaud, our systems are very different. His is
> closer to Aristotle and mine to Plato, although each of us parts
> company at many points from the teachings of both of these ancient
> writers. He is more popular [*populaire*] whereas I am
> sometimes forced to be a little more esoteric [*acroamatique*]
> and abstract--which is no advantage for me, particularly when
> writing in a living language. (Preface to the *New Essays*, NE:
> 48)
> 
> 
> 



In these remarks Leibniz is using the term "esoteric" in a
subtly different way than he is in the earlier quote from the *New
Essays*. Whereas in the first text "esoteric"
designated a *mode of presenting* one's philosophy, in
this text it concerns the *content* of one's philosophy.
Here he is drawing attention to the fact that his philosophy is less
"popular" than Locke's. Locke's philosophy is
popular in the sense that much of his philosophy accords with the
deliverances of the senses and so-called "common sense".
Leibniz's philosophy, in contrast, is often very abstract and
far removed from ordinary opinions. Leibniz elaborates on this point
in a 1702 letter to Sophie Charlotte where he distinguishes between
things that can be known through the senses (the
"sensible") and things that are the "object of the
understanding alone" (the "intelligible"). Leibniz
claims that the existence of "intelligible things",
particularly the "mind or or soul", is more certain than
the existence of things that can be sensed. However, many people fail
to recognize this because "they take sensible things for the
only true things" (G 6:502-3; AG 188-9). This
overreliance on the senses makes it difficult for people to understand
Leibniz's metaphysics, which involves a number of things that
simply cannot be known through the senses. This puts Leibniz at a
significant disadvantage when it comes to trying to communicate his
philosophy to the general public. Readers are far more likely to find
favor with Locke's philosophy given that it coheres much better
with their current beliefs (see Nelson 2005 for more on this general
theme).



In some of his letters Leibniz makes the point about how difficult it
is for most people to understand his philosophy in even stronger
terms. Consider, for example, what he writes to Pierre Bayle in
1702:



> 
> 
> ...I should not be in too much of a hurry to publish what I have
> written, the point of which was only to provide some clarification for
> you, sir, and for some other people, so as to receive the same in
> return. For I write not so much to make an impression as to
> investigate the truth, which it is often useless, and even harmful, to
> publish--on account of the uninitiated [*des profanes*],
> who are incapable of appreciating it, and quite capable of taking it
> the wrong way. (G 3:66-7; WF 127)
> 
> 
> 



These are striking words. Read in isolation from his other remarks on
the exoteric/esoteric distinction, one might take this text to suggest
that Leibniz had two distinct philosophies--a false philosophy
suitable for presentation to the public, and his true philosophy,
which he only revealed to a few trusted correspondents. But
Leibniz's claim is not as radical as it might initially seem.
While it is true that the esoteric character of the content of his
metaphysics made it susceptible to being seriously misunderstood, his
solution was not to permanently hide his views from everyone who was
likely to misunderstand them. His point, as additional texts will make
clear, is that he thinks it is often useless and harmful to
*straightforwardly* present the content of his metaphysics to
the public (and even to trusted correspondents). For example, in a
1710 letter to Charles Hugony, he claims that some of his views



> 
> 
> cannot be presented in a straightforward manner [*ne peut donner
> cruement*], since people are likely to misunderstand them ...
> in relation to the senses. (G 3:680)
> 
> 
> 



This suggests that although Leibniz thinks it is unwise to present
some of his views straightforwardly, there is a way to
present them that is not straightforward. We need to now
consider what this involves.


## 3. The Primary Function of Exoteric Texts



Leibniz faced what might seem like an intractable problem. He thought
that the ideal form for metaphysics was the esoteric mode of
presentation. However, he knew that few people were inclined to read
texts presented in the esoteric mode due to their daunting formal
structure. Even worse, Leibniz thought that the content of his
philosophy was such that most people were likely to misunderstand it
in fundamental ways (see Whipple 2015a for a discussion of this
problem). How then would it be possible for him to communicate his
views to people? His letter to Hugony, cited earlier, suggested that
it would involve a non-straightforward presentation of his views. In
that text he did not elaborate on what non-straightforward
presentation involved, but he did provide more concrete suggestions in
some unpublished remarks appended to metaphysical notes written in
1676. The quotation is divided into several parts for ease of
reference:



> 
> 
> [a] Metaphysics should be written with accurate definitions and
> demonstrations, [b] but nothing should be demonstrated in it that
> conflicts too much with received opinions. For thus this metaphysics
> will be able to be received. [c] If it is once approved, then
> afterwards, if any examine it more profoundly, they will draw the
> necessary consequences themselves. [d] Besides this, one can, as a
> separate undertaking, show these people later the way of reasoning
> about these things. [e] In this metaphysics, it will be useful for
> there to be added here and there the authoritative utterances of great
> men, who have reasoned in a similar way; especially when these
> utterances contain something that seems to have some possible
> relevance to the illustration of a view. (A VI.iii.573)
> 
> 
> 



[a] is best read as a terse reference to the esoteric mode of
presentation. Although this is the way that metaphysics should ideally
be written, he thinks that it would be a mistake to publish anything
that "conflicts too much with received opinions". As we
have already seen, this is because many people will regard it as
absurd, summarily reject it, or misunderstand it entirely (possibly
all three at the same time!). Leibniz suggests a strategy of selective
omission, not to permanently hide the controversial features of his
philosophy, but as part of a longer-term strategy of preparing his
readers to understand his most esoteric doctrines. In some cases he
thinks that sympathetic readers who study his texts "more
profoundly" will be able to infer the esoteric conclusions
themselves. In [d] he suggests a complementary strategy of
supplementation. In subsequent works he can explicitly draw the
conclusions that may have only been implicit in the initial text.
Taken collectively Leibniz's remarks in this passage suggest
that the primary function of exoteric texts is pedagogical: they are
designed to serve as intellectual stepping stones that enable his
readers to gradually move from received opinions to esoteric
doctrine.



A number of Leibniz's remarks in later texts confirm that he
conceives of exoteric texts as important preparatory works. Consider,
for example, what he writes to Fontenelle in 1704:



> 
> 
> The true metaphysics, or philosophy, if you will, does not appear to
> me any less important than geometry, especially if there is also a way
> of introducing into it demonstrations, which until now have been
> entirely excluded from it, along with the calculus that will be
> necessary in order to give them all the entry they need. However, it
> is necessary to prepare readers with exoteric writings. The journals
> have served me well until now. (FC 1:234)
> 
> 
> 



Here Leibniz explicitly claims that his choice to present various
features of his philosophy in journal articles should be understood as
part of a broad exoteric strategy to prepare his readers to understand
the "true metaphysics". This helps shed light on some of
Leibniz's better-known remarks about the composition of his
journal articles. Consider what Leibniz writes to correspondent
Nicolas Remond in 1714:



> 
> 
> In the Leipzig journal [*Acta Eruditorum*] I adapt myself to
> the language of the schools, in the others I adapt myself more to the
> style of Cartesians, and in this latest piece I try to express myself
> in a way that could be understood by those who are not yet very
> accustomed to the style of one or the other. (G 3:624)
> 
> 
> 



Leibniz's strategy of adapting himself to the language of the
schools in some articles and to the language of the Cartesians in
others is one of his core exoteric strategies. He thinks that using
language that is familiar with his readers is a good way to make his
views seem not too far removed from received opinions. This is not
merely a feature of his published writings. Leibniz tailors his
writings in a similar way in his private correspondences. For example,
in his correspondence with Jesuit theologian Bartholomew Des Bosses he
frequently employs scholastic terminology, and in his correspondence
with (largely) Cartesian physicist Burcher De Volder he sometimes
presents his views with a Cartesian slant. To use a more concrete
example, early in the correspondence with De Volder, Leibniz appeals
to the doctrine of continued divine creation, which he (Leibniz)
regards as a central Cartesian tenet. Although he initially presents
the doctrine in a way that makes it seem like this is a point of
common doctrine between him and the Cartesians, it emerges later in
the correspondence that Leibniz only affirms the doctrine in a
qualified sense (for a detailed discussion of this issue see Whipple
2011). The general strategy here is to use language that is familiar
to the reader or correspondent and to emphasize initial points of
agreement. Fine-grained differences and esoteric implications are
typically avoided at the initial stages of engagement.



One important general point that emerges from Leibniz's remarks
in the letter to Remond is that there was more than one set of
"received opinions" that he needed to take into account.
The received opinions of a Cartesian and the opinions of someone who
was committed to a version of Aristotelian Scholasticism would be
different in fundamental respects. In the letter cited above Leibniz
speaks of another of his works, the *Principes de la Nature et de
la Grace, fondes en raison* (*Principles of Nature and
Grace, Based on Reason*), which targets yet another
audience--those who are not accustomed to the style of the
Cartesians or the scholastics. When it comes to exoteric philosophy,
one size does not fit all. Different strategies are required for
people with different backgrounds and views.


## 4. Eclecticism and Exoteric Philosophy



Leibniz is sometimes described as being an eclectic philosopher. There
are different ways of understanding eclecticism, but the basic idea is
that an eclectic philosopher is one who incorporates ideas from a wide
range of sources. In certain places Leibniz characterizes himself as
proceeding along these lines. He famously writes to Remond, for
example, that:



> 
> 
> I have tried to uncover and unite the truth buried and scattered under
> the opinions of all the philosophical sects, and I believe I have
> added something of my own that takes a few steps forward...most
> sects are right in a good part of what they affirm, but not so much in
> what they deny. (10 Jan 1714, G 3:606-7; L 654)
> 
> 
> 



It is undeniable that Leibniz read from an extraordinary range of
sources and that his thought was influenced by a number of these
texts. Although the precise nature of these influences is a matter of
scholarly controversy that cannot be engaged in this article, it is
important to note that Leibniz's exoteric strategies bear
significantly on this general topic. Recall the final sentence in the
long quotation from Leibniz's 1676 notes on exoteric philosophy:




> 
> 
> In this metaphysics, it will be useful for there to be added here and
> there the authoritative utterances of great men, who have reasoned in
> a similar way; especially when these utterances contain something that
> seems to have some possible relevance to the illustration of a view.
> (A VI.iii.573)
> 
> 
> 



Appealing to similarities between his views and those of his
predecessors is one of Leibniz's strategies for presenting his
philosophy in a way that makes it seem to be not too far from received
opinions. We need to remain open to the possibility that
Leibniz's proclamations of continuity between his thought and
the thought of his philosophical forebears often mask subtle or not so
subtle differences between their respective views. Nuanced differences
and radical implications may be left implicit or omitted entirely in
his more exoteric works. One might put the point as follows. Leibniz
is not merely finding ideas in other philosophers and incorporating
them whole cloth into his philosophical system. In some cases, at
least, Leibniz develops distinctive philosophical views and then seeks
out similar ideas in his predecessors as a strategy for presenting his
views to the public (see Schepers 2008 and Mercer 2001: 23-59
for more on this topic).


## 5. Selective Omission in Leibniz's *Systeme Nouveau*



Leibniz first presented his philosophy to the public in an essay
titled "*Systeme nouveau de la nature et de la
communication des substances, aussi bien que de l'union
qu'il y a entre l'ame et le corps*"
(*New system of the nature and communication of substances, and of
the union of the soul and body*). This essay was published in 1695
in the *Journal des savants*. If one were to read this essay in
isolation from Leibniz's other writings (as would have been the
case with most of his readers) one would likely have no idea that it
is an exoteric text. He prefaces the essay in the following way:



> 
> 
> Finally, since some important persons have desired to see my opinions
> further clarified, I have risked publishing these meditations, even
> though they are not at all popular [*populaires*], nor can they
> be appreciated by all sorts of minds. I have decided upon this mainly
> to profit from the judgments of persons enlightened in these matters,
> since it would be too troublesome to seek out and call individually
> upon all those who would be disposed to give me
> instruction--which I shall always be glad to receive, provided
> that it contains the love of truth, rather than a passion for
> preconceived opinions. (G 4:477; AG 138)
> 
> 
> 



Note that Leibniz claims that his meditations are "not at all
popular" and that many people will not be able to appreciate
them. These remarks, in conjunction with the comment on preconceived
opinions, are designed to encourage the reader to seriously consider
the views that he will be presenting despite the fact that they will
be difficult to understand and will likely diverge--perhaps
significantly--from the reader's current beliefs. What
Leibniz leaves unsaid, however, is that the *Systeme
nouveau* is written according to the exoteric mode of
presentation. First, the essay is clearly not written in accordance
with the formal apparatus of definitions and demonstrations that is
required in a strictly esoteric presentation. Second, and perhaps more
significantly, Leibniz purposefully omits some of the most
controversial features of his philosophical system in this essay.



In order to more fully appreciate the exoteric features of the
*Systeme nouveau* it will be helpful to consider this
text in relation to Leibniz's earlier *Discours de
metaphysique* (*Discourse on Metaphysics*). Leibniz
wrote the *Discours* in 1686. Although it was not published
during his lifetime, this text has become one of Leibniz's most
famous works. It is best known for presenting the complete concept
theory of substance. This theory states, roughly, that each substance
has an infinitely complex complete concept that specifies everything
that will ever happen to that substance. It is contained in the
complete concept of Judas, for example, that he betrays Jesus (along
with everything else that can be truly predicated of Judas). Leibniz
was well aware that his readers might think that the complete concept
theory implies that all of a person's actions are necessary, and
thus that no person is free. In the main text of the *Discours*
and in its section headings Leibniz attempts to show that Judas'
betrayal of Jesus, for example, is both contingent and a free action
despite being foreseen in Judas' complete concept for all
eternity. Part of Leibniz's strategy for showing this is his
claim that Judas' reasons for betraying Jesus "incline
without necessitating". Leibniz's discussion of these
thorny philosophical issues is exoteric, at least to a certain degree.
Like the *Systeme nouveau* it was not written in strict
accordance with the esoteric mode of presentation. And arguably,
Leibniz's use of language such as "inclination without
necessitation" is carefully chosen with the aim of making his
position seem closer to received views.



The section headings of the *Discours* were sent to Antoine
Arnauld, a well-regarded theologian and philosopher of the day, to see
how the text would be received. Leibniz could not have been encouraged
by Arnauld's response:



> 
> 
> I find in these thoughts so many things which alarm me and which
> almost all men, if I am not mistaken, will find so shocking, that I do
> not see of what use a writing can be, which apparently all the world
> will reject. (G 2:15)
> 
> 
> 



Arnauld singled out as an example the complete concept theory of
substance, which he took to imply a "more than fatal
necessity" that would undermine the very possibility of human
freedom. Leibniz's attempts to forestall this implication in the
sections headings of the *Discours* had not worked as planned,
at least for Arnauld. Leibniz attempted to assuage Arnauld's
concerns in subsequent letters with moderate success.



It is no surprise that Leibniz chose not to publish the
*Discours*. It is also no surprise that the complete concept
theory of substance does not make an appearance in the
*Systeme nouveau*. This does not imply that Leibniz
abandoned the complete concept theory; it might just be that he came
to realize that it was not the most effective way of introducing
readers to his philosophical system. Leibniz utilizes the exoteric
strategy of selective omission, choosing to avoid a detailed
discussion of necessity and contingency. Instead he introduces his
theory of substance by appealing to the less controversial
characteristics of unity and activity, and by trying to show how his
theory could resolve the notorious problem of mind-body interaction.
Letters to some of Leibniz's correspondents confirm that he was
"testing the waters" in the *Systeme
nouveau*, and that he would reveal more of his system to the
public if it was well received. He writes to Simon Foucher, for
example:



> 
> 
> If the public receives these meditations well, I will be encouraged to
> offer in addition some rather remarkable ideas I have for alleviating
> the difficulties concerning fate and contingency, and to clarify an
> essential distinction that can be drawn between material forms and
> intelligences or spirits. (1695, G 1:423)
> 
> 
> 



Leibniz's aim was not to permanently hide his views on
contingency, fate, and freedom. By selectively omitting some of these
more controversial features of his system he increased the likelihood
that his readers would grasp the features of his system that were
presented in the *Systeme nouveau*. Once they endorsed
these parts of the system they would be more receptive to
Leibniz's views on more controversial topics. Such was
Leibniz's hope, in any case.



Leibniz returned to the topics of fate, necessity, and contingency in
the one philosophical book that he published during his lifetime, the
*Essais de theodicee* of 1710. It has been
suggested in the secondary literature that Leibniz's treatment
of necessity and contingency in this text is exoteric to a significant
degree (Adams 1994:52). For example, Leibniz frequently uses terms
such as "inclination without necessitating", "moral
necessity", and "hypothetical necessity" without
providing strict definitions of them. Some of Leibniz's
predecessors understood these terms in ways that implied a
non-deterministic view of human action. According to most
interpretations of Leibniz's considered views on these issues
(based on a number of texts other than the *Essais de
theodicee*), he was committed to a strict
determinism (but not necessitarianism) about human actions. However,
by omitting definitions of terms like "moral necessity" in
the *Essais de theodicee* Leibniz might have
allowed readers that were committed to non-deterministic accounts of
"moral necessity" to assume that he was using this concept
in a way that was less deterministic than his considered view allowed.
This is in keeping with Leibniz's stated strategy of not
presenting anything to the public that is too far removed from
received opinions. One way of not presenting something to the public
that is far removed from received opinions is to selectively omit it
(his strategy in the *Systeme nouveau*). Another
strategy is to present a view that is far removed from received
opinions in a way that makes it seem less removed than it actually is.
If Leibniz is utilizing this latter strategy in the discussions of
necessity and contingency in the *Essais de
theodicee*, it does not imply that he is trying to
permanently mislead his readers. As we have seen, he has several
general strategies for helping his reader progress to a more rigorous
understanding of his views. One of the strategies is to provide subtle
hints such that a "more profound" examination of the text
would yield a deeper understanding. By omitting clear definitions of
terms such as "moral necessity", however, it is not clear
whether there is enough material in the *Essais de
theodicee* for even a discerning reader to grasp
Leibniz's views on necessity and contingency. But Leibniz did
not claim that such inferences could always be made on the basis of an
exoteric text alone. In a number of cases his exoteric treatments need
to be supplemented by a more rigorous work. And we must keep in mind
that Leibniz clearly did conceive of the *Essais de
theodicee* in precisely this way (see Antognazza
2009: 481-2). He writes to Charles Hugony shortly after its
publication:



> 
> 
> My essays on the goodness of God, the freedom of man, and the origin
> of evil have been printed in Holland, but I did not want to put my
> name on them. They are woven together from what I said and wrote at
> various times to the Queen of Prussia, who enjoyed reading M. Bayle
> and in whose company the difficulties that he raises on these matters
> were often discussed. I try to explain one part of my views in a
> rather informal manner [*un peu familierement*]. As you know,
> some of my views cannot be presented in a straightforward manner
> [*ne peut donner cruement*], since people are liable to
> misunderstand them, not in relation to religion, which is strongly
> supported, but in relation to the senses. I am therefore thinking of
> [writing] a Latin work in which I will try to unfold my entire system.
> (6 November 1710, G 3:680)
> 
> 
> 



Leibniz's remarks in this passage cohere well with the other
remarks on exoteric philosophy that we have considered thus far. As in
the case of the *Systeme nouveau* and Leibniz's
other journal articles, he conceives of the *Essais de
theodicee* as a preparatory work that will help
prepare his readers for a more systematic and rigorous presentation of
his views.


## 6. Additional Exoteric Strategies



We have seen that the primary function of exoteric texts is to serve
as intellectual stepping-stones that bridge the gulf between received
opinions and esoteric truth. Leibniz utilizes a wide range of
strategies in his exoteric works, some of which we have already
discussed. Several additional strategies deserve mention as well. Let
us begin by returning to Leibniz's remarks on the distinction
between esoteric and exoteric modes of presentation in the 1670
*Preface to Nizolius*:



> 
> 
> There is...a vast difference between modes of philosophizing
> [*philosophandi modus*], for one is, if I may so speak,
> esoteric [*acroamaticus*], another is exoteric
> [*exotericus*]. The esoteric mode is that in which all things
> are demonstrated; the exoteric is that in which some things are said
> without demonstration, but they are still given confirmation by means
> of certain similarities and by dialectical arguments, or even by
> arguments based on definition, but not proposed except dialectically,
> [and] they are illustrated by examples and likenesses. Such a kind of
> speaking is indeed dogmatic or philosophical; however, it is not
> esoteric, that is, not most rigorous, not most exact. (A
> VI.ii.416)
> 
> 
> 



One point that we take Leibniz to be making here is that in exoteric
contexts propositions can be treated as hypotheses rather than
providing rigorous demonstrations of them. He seems to think that in
certain cases his readers will be less hostile to a novel thesis if it
is presented as a hypothesis than if it is presented as a thesis that
can be demonstrated from metaphysical principles. Although
propositions that are presented hypothetically are not demonstrated
they can be motivated and illustrated by examples, analogies,
metaphors, and stories (as he says later on). He does not, however,
claim that an esoteric work cannot contain analogies, metaphors, and
the like. It can include these things, which "give a pleasing
respite to a weary soul", so long as they are carefully
distinguished from the rigorous demonstrations that form the core of
the work. Leibniz notes that this difference is also observed in
mathematics where demonstrations, which are rigorous and exact, are
carefully distinguished from scholia in which reasoning can be treated
in a more familiar manner.



It is striking to look at a text like the *Monadologie* through
the lens of Leibniz's remarks about the distinction between
esoteric and exoteric modes of presentation in the Preface to Nizolius
(and the other texts that we have considered thus far). The text is
replete with analogies, metaphors, and other forms of argumentation
that fall well short of rigorous demonstrations. On the assumption
that Leibniz remains committed to his early account of the distinction
between the esoteric and the exoteric, it follows that even the
*Monadologie*, which has traditionally been taken to be one of
the definitive statements of Leibniz's mature metaphysics,
contains numerous exoteric features. As in the case of the
*Systeme nouveau*, Leibniz does not explicitly flag the
exoteric features of this work as exoteric. It is thus easy to mistake
exoteric illustration for esoteric demonstration.



Before considering a few particular examples of exoteric strategies in
the *Monadologie* (and other texts), it is worth reiterating
Leibniz's explanation of why his philosophy was easy to
misunderstand. In the letter to Hugony quoted earlier Leibniz said
that he needed to present his philosophy in an informal manner because
it was likely to be misunderstood *in relation to the senses*.
The tendency people have to rely on a sensory-based theory of
knowledge is one of the primary stumbling blocks that prevent them
from understanding his philosophical system. Many of Leibniz's
core concepts and principles can only be adequately grasped through
the intellect, not through the senses or the imagination (see, for
example, Leibniz's remarks on force in *De Ipsa Natura*
(G 4:508; AG 159)). One of Leibniz's main exoteric strategies
for dealing with this situation is to utilize *sensible*
analogies, *imaginative* metaphors, anecdotes, and stories to
introduce and motivate his abstract concepts, principles, and theses.
Such metaphors and analogies enable his readers to attain an
introductory understanding of the thesis or principle in question. Let
us consider a few examples.



In explaining the thesis that there is no inter-substantial causation
between finite substances in the *Monadologie*, Leibniz
famously says: "monads have no windows through which something
can enter or leave" (G 6:607; AG 214). This metaphor of being
"windowless" helps the reader attain some understanding of
Leibniz's thesis, but it will be an imperfect understanding to
the extent that it involves conceiving of monads as being
extended.



Leibniz frequently uses imagistic metaphors to describe God's
sustenance of finite substances. Late in the *Monadologie*, for
example, he writes:



> 
> 
> all created or derivative monads are generated, so to speak, by
> continual fulgurations of the divinity from moment to moment. (G
> 6:614; AG 219)
> 
> 
> 



And in the *Essais de theodicee* Leibniz uses the
analogy of a heavy-laden boat travelling down a river to explain how
God and finite substances can be said to co-operate in the production
of particular effects in the ordinary course of nature (T 30-1).
Both the metaphor and the analogy provide useful but imperfect devices
for conceiving of things that cannot be sensed or imagined, strictly
speaking. In reading Leibniz's texts it is important to
recognize that these are only metaphors and analogies--they are
not meant to provide metaphysically rigorous descriptions of divine
action (see Whipple 2015b).



Leibniz is committed to the principle of the identity of
indiscernibles. This principle states, roughly, that it is impossible
for there to be two numerically distinct substances that are
qualitatively identical. In discussing this principle Leibniz
sometimes supports it by appealing to an anecdote and other empirical
considerations. In the anecdote he recalls discussing the principle
with an "ingenious gentleman" who thought he could find
two perfectly identical leaves. Princess Sophia, who was observing the
conversation, "defied him to do it; he ran all over the garden a
long time to look for some but it was to no purpose"
(4th letter to Clarke, G 7:372; AG 327-8). Leibniz
also defends the principle by appealing to the empirical results of
the microscopists: objects that can seem qualitatively identical to
the naked eye (two drops of water, or two drops of milk) are shown to
be different when viewed under the microscope. Neither the anecdote
nor the appeal to microscopes is intended to be anything like a
rigorous proof of the principle of the identity of indiscernibles. A
rigorous proof would show how the principle is derived *a
priori* from other principles such as the principle of sufficient
reason.



Few people are likely to interpret Leibniz's anecdote concerning
the principle of the identity of indiscernibles as a rigorous
argument. Other cases are more easily misunderstood, however. Consider
section 17 of the *Monadologie*:



> 
> 
> ...perception, and what depends on it is *inexplicable in
> terms of mechanical reasons*, that is, through shapes and motions.
> If we imagine that there is a machine whose structure makes it think,
> sense, and have perceptions, we could conceive it enlarged, keeping
> the same proportions, so that we could enter into it, as one enters
> into a mill. Assuming that, when inspecting its interior, we will only
> find parts that push and pull one another, and we will never find
> anything to explain a perception. And so, we should seek perception in
> the simple substance and not in the composite or in the machine. (G
> 6:609; AG 215)
> 
> 
> 



It is easy to see why this is one of the better-known passages in the
*Monadologie*. It contains a vivid imaginative thought
experiment that is presented in support of an anti-materialist
conclusion, namely that perception is inexplicable by means of shapes
and motions. Given that thought experiments along these lines have
been popular in contemporary philosophy of mind it might seem natural
to suppose that Leibniz takes the thought experiment to provide a
conclusive argument for his conclusion (it is sometimes referred to as
"Leibniz's Mill Argument"). Although this is not the
place to discuss the issue at length, we can say that Leibniz's
remarks on the exoteric/esoteric distinction suggest that this might
not be the case. It is plausible to think that the passage is designed
to appeal to people who rely heavily on the imagination in doing
philosophy; it could be a heuristic that will help motivate
Leibniz's thesis that perception is a property of simple
substances and not of bodies, not a rigorous argument for this
conclusion .



As the discussion of Leibniz's Mill Argument suggests, it is not
always easy to recognize when Leibniz is using an exoteric strategy.
Another place where an exoteric strategy might be at work is in one of
his most frequent "arguments" for the theory of simple
substances. Consider the first section of the *Principes de la
Nature et de la Grace* and the first three sections of the
*Monadologie*:



[1]
 "A substance is a being capable of action. It is simple or
composite. A *simple substance* is that which has no parts.
*A composite substance* is a collection
[*l'assemblage*] of simple substances, or
*monads*. *Monas* is a Greek word signifying unity, or
what is one. Composites or bodies are multitudes; and simple
substances--lives, souls, and minds--are unities. There must
be simple substances everywhere, because, without simples, there would
be no composites" (G 6:598; AG 207).
[2]
"1. The *Monad*, which we shall discuss here, is
nothing but a simple substance that enters into
composites--simple, that is, without parts. 2. And there must be
simple substances, since there are composites; for the composite is
nothing more than a collection, or *aggregate* [*un amas, ou
aggregatum*], of simples. 3. But where there are no parts, neither
extension, nor shape, nor divisibility is possible. These monads are
the true atoms of nature and, in brief, the elements of things"
(G 6:607; AG 213).


These texts contain important similarities and differences. In
 [1]
 he speaks of "composite substances", which he also
describes as "bodies", while in
 [2]
 he speaks only of "composites". Setting these differences
aside for the moment, both texts contain a version of what has been
termed the "grounding argument" for simple substances.
Taken at face value, the texts suggests the following argument:


1. composites exist
2. a composite is a collection of simple substances
3. therefore, simple substances exist



The reader seems invited in these passages (particularly in
 [1]
 and the first two sections of
 [2])
 to conceive of the relation between simples and composites in a
straightforward and intuitive way. If you have a dozen eggs, for
example, you must have twelve individual eggs. Trying to argue that
one could have a dozen eggs without having any individual eggs seems a
hopeless task indeed. The argument also initially lends itself to a
kind of physical atomism. If one thinks that tables and chairs, for
example, are collections of indivisible physical atoms, then the
argument is once again intuitive and difficult to deny. It becomes
clear in the third section of text
 [2]
 that the relation between composite and simple cannot be quite this
straightforward because the simples are not extended. Leibniz also
makes this point in the section that follows
 [1]
 in the *Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*. But something
like the intuitive picture remains. There are composites (bodies).
Composites are collections of simples. If you put a bunch of simples
together you get a composite. It is natural to think that the relation
between simples and composites is understood on the model of part and
whole. Simples are the parts that compose wholes (bodies).



Leibniz's considered view is far more nuanced and less
straightforward than texts
 [1]
 and
 [2]
 suggest. First, Leibniz does not think monads compose bodies in the
manner of a part/whole relation. As he explains elsewhere, a part of a
whole must be "of the same sort" as the whole (G 3:591).
Monads and bodies are not of the same sort because only the latter are
extended. This implies that the parts of an extended body must
themselves be extended. Leibniz does assert on a number of occasions
that bodies are aggregates of monads (or simple substances). However,
he has a technical conception of an aggregate (see Lodge 2001).
Suppose, for example, that there were a carton of twelve eggs sitting
on a table. This alone would not imply that there was an aggregate of
eggs, strictly speaking. For there to be an aggregate of eggs there
would need to be at least two eggs that are perceived by a mind as
being one thing (i.e., by perceiving them as a unity). So you cannot
merely add together a bunch of eggs to get an aggregate of eggs.
Similarly, you cannot merely add together a bunch of monads to get an
aggregate of monads. You only have an aggregate if there is a mind
that perceives the individuals as constituting one thing. The precise
details of how one should understand Leibniz's claim that bodies
are aggregates of monads is a matter of scholarly controversy that we
need not engage here. It will suffice to make the following points.
The fact that bodies are aggregates of monads implies that bodies
depend ontologically on monads but it does not imply that the relation
between monads and bodies is a part/whole relation. As Leibniz
explains to De Volder,



> 
> 
> properly speaking, matter isn't composed of constitutive
> unities, but results from them...substantial unities aren't
> really parts, but the foundations of phenomena. (G 2:268; AG 179)
> 
> 
> 



Once one becomes aware of Leibniz's technical notion of an
aggregate and of certain aspects of his conception of the part-whole
relation, it becomes less clear exactly how the "grounding
argument" in texts
 [1]
 and
 [2]
 is supposed to work. The intuitive appeal of the argument seems to
depend, at least in part, on assuming a straightforward account of the
relation between bodies and monads that Leibniz does not actually
endorse. Leibniz seems to encourage this oversimplified account of the
relation by omitting an explanation of his notion of an aggregate and
of his account of the part-whole relation, among other things. This
suggests that Leibniz is not trying to provide a fully rigorous
argument for the existence of simple substances or a full explanation
of the relation between monads and bodies in the *Monadologie*
or the *Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*. What Leibniz is
doing, one might think, is helping his readers attain a preliminary
grasp of the relation between bodies and simple substances--to
help them recognize that simple substances provide some kind of
ontological grounding for the world of bodies. By introducing the view
in the form of a simple and intuitive argument Leibniz helps to
motivate the radical idea that an infinity of immaterial mind-like
simple substances exist. The reader will thus be more likely to take
the view seriously enough to consider the further elaborations of the
theory that are presented in the remainder of the texts. This is not
to deny that Leibniz might have had a fully demonstrative
"grounding argument" for the existence of simple
substances, or that he wanted the fully demonstrative argument to be
consistent with the versions of the argument that are presented in
texts
 [1]
 and
 [2].
 The point is that Leibniz omits too many essential distinctions and
details for even a very discerning reader to be able to reconstruct a
demonstrative argument merely on the basis of texts
 [1]
 or
 [2].
 On this reading
significant portions of the *Monadologie* and the *Principes
de la Nature et de la Grace* are exoteric in content and form.
They serve to introduce some of the central features of
Leibniz's metaphysics while omitting many important details
(more details are omitted in the latter text, as we will soon
see).



Let us now consider one notable difference between the
*Monadologie* and the *Principes de la Nature et de la
Grace*. In the *Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*
Leibniz speaks of "composite substances" while in the
*Monadologie* he only speaks of "composites". The
difference is puzzling. In the *Monadologie* Leibniz is
typically taken to be presenting a strictly monadological metaphysics
according to which simple substances are the only finite substances.
Bodies exist and animals exist, but they are not substances (roughly
speaking he thinks that an animal is a dominant monad and its organic
body, which is itself an aggregate of monads). A number of texts
suggest that neither bodies nor animals are true unities, and only a
true unity (an *unum per se*) can qualify as a substance,
strictly speaking. Any reality that bodies and animals possess is in
some way derivative of the reality of simple substances. The obvious
puzzle is that Leibniz speaks of simple *and* composite
substances in the *Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*. What
are we to make of these seemingly divergent claims?



One way of accounting for divergent claims in different texts is to
say that Leibniz had different views on the issue over time. There is
no question that Leibniz's views on substance changed to some
degree over the course of his career (exactly how much they changed is
one of the most contentious issues in Leibniz scholarship). However,
the developmental strategy is more difficult (though not impossible)
to deploy in the present case because both texts were written around
the same time in 1714. Another possibility (suggested in the secondary
literature) is that Leibniz is exploring different theories of
substance at this point in his career. Though he is tempted by a
strictly monadological metaphysics (as presented in the
*Monadologie*), he is also considering an ontology that
countenances the existence of simple substances and corporeal
substances (where corporeal substances are "animals" as
described in the previous paragraph). Leibniz is laying out this
latter theory in *The Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*
(see Hartz 2007). There are some *prima facie* reasons for
resisting an interpretation along these lines (though it cannot be
conclusively ruled out). First, Leibniz does not describe himself as a
"theory pluralist" with respect to substance. As we have
seen, Leibniz consistently refers to his philosophy as a (single)
system. This is one of the things that make it amenable to the
geometric model of demonstration. When Leibniz addresses the fact
that he has not unfolded his entire system in a single work, he
emphasizes that this is not because he has not thought the system all
the way through. In one of his less modest moments he writes to
Burnett, for example:



> 
> 
> I never write anything in philosophy that I do not treat by
> definitions and axioms, though I do not always give it that
> mathematical air, which puts people off, for one must speak in a
> familiar manner [*familierement*] to be read by ordinary
> people...I would even dare to say that I have established
> sufficiently in all matters of thought what is most fundamental to
> them, and that I no longer have any need to reason about them. Thus
> what you wish for me to do was already done a long time ago. I have
> quite satisfied myself on nearly all matters of reasoning. (10
> December 1705 letter to Burnett; G 3:302-3)
> 
> 
> 



Another place where Leibniz emphasizes the systematicity of his
philosophy is in his correspondence with Des Bosses:



> 
> 
> My views certainly are connected with each other in such a way that no
> link can be removed without the chain's being broken. From the
> very consideration of possible worlds and God's choice, it
> follows both that he has chosen the best and that he has chosen it
> with one decree, whose object, obviously, is the chosen world.
> (October 1708 letter to Des Bosses, LR 113)
> 
> 
> 
> If only the attribute of incomprehensibility were proper to God alone!
> Then, our hope of knowing nature would be greater. But it is all too
> true that there is no part of nature that could be known perfectly by
> us, and the very interconnection of things proves this. No creature,
> however elevated, can perceive distinctly or comprehend the infinite
> at the same time; but, on the contrary, whoever comprehends even one
> part of matter likewise comprehends the whole universe on account of
> the same interconnection I mentioned. My principles are such that they
> can hardly be separated one from another. Whoever knows one well,
> knows them all. (7 November 1710 letter to Des Bosses, LR 189)
> 
> 
> 



More could be said about the context of these passages and exactly how
they should be interpreted. At the very least, however, these texts do
not suggest that Leibniz saw himself as unsure about which theory of
substance to endorse. That being said, Leibniz wrote a considerable
amount on the theory of monads and bodies between 1710 and 1714. Did
Leibniz's views on substance evolve during those intervening
years?



To answer this question one would need to delve deeply into
Leibniz's long and fascinating correspondence with Des Bosses
(as well as other texts). This is obviously not the place to provide
such an investigation, but we can briefly summarize a standard
interpretation of one of the central moments of the correspondence
(see Look and Rutherford's introduction [2007] to the
Leibniz-Des Bosses Correspondence, xlix-lxxviii). As a Jesuit
priest, Des Bosses was interested in determining whether
Leibniz's philosophy could provide an adequate ontological
framework for the doctrine of transubstantiation. The central point of
contention in their discussion of this issue concerned the reality of
corporeal substance. Did Leibnizian corporeal substances meet the
criteria for being a substance in the strict sense of the term? On a
monadological view a corporeal substance (or animal) is a dominant
monad united with an organic body, which is itself an aggregate of
subordinate monads. The "union" of a dominant monad and
its organic body consists in certain harmonious perceptual relations
that obtain between the dominant monad and the subordinate monads of
the organic body. This rather weak notion of union is not sufficient
to make the dominant monad and its organic body truly one being. This
implies that a corporeal substance is not a substance strictly
speaking because it does not possess *per se* unity. Des Bosses
thought that this reductive view of corporeal substance did not
provide a robust enough conception of the reality of bodies to
properly ground the doctrine of transubstantiation. In response to Des
Bosses' concerns Leibniz developed the notion of a substantial
bond (*vinculum substantiale*). This substantial bond
(superadded by God) could serve as a kind of metaphysical glue uniting
the dominant monad and the subordinate monads of an organic body.
Leibniz told Des Bosses that the only way for a corporeal substance to
be a *per se* unity would be through one of these substantial
bonds. Arguably, Leibniz did not endorse the theory himself; he told
Des Bosses that he preferred the more ontologically parsimonious
version of the theory of monads (letter of 16 June 1712; LR 255).



The correspondence with Des Bosses has thus been taken to provide
support for the interpretive thesis that Leibniz's mature
ontology of finite substance countenances the existence of simple
substances exclusively (but see Garber 2009 for an opposing view). The
correspondence also shows, importantly, that the mere occurrence of
the word "corporeal substance" in a text does not
immediately imply that Leibniz takes corporeal substances to be
*substances*, strictly speaking. These conclusions might help
resolve the apparent tension between Leibniz's remarks on
substance in the *Monadologie* and the *Principes de la
Nature et de la Grace*. The text of the *Monadologie* more
accurately reflects Leibniz's considered position because it
only characterizes simple substances as "substances". The
*Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*, in contrast, is less
rigorous on this issue (more exoteric) because it uses the term
"composite substance" when composites are not substances,
strictly speaking (Rutherford 1995: 281-2).



But why would Leibniz use a term like "composite
substance" in the *Principes de la Nature et de la Grace*
if it did not accurately reflect his considered position? Here is one
possible answer. In presenting his theory of simple substances Leibniz
was concerned to avoid a fundamental misunderstanding. The
misunderstanding is that if the only true substances are unextended
simple substances, then bodies must be mere illusions. Leibniz does
not think that bodies are mere illusions. His view of bodies (from the
perspective of the theory of monads) is, roughly, that they are
"real but not fully real". To adequately grasp
Leibniz's view one must understand that his ontology
countenances different levels or degrees of reality. Simplifying
things considerably, these degrees range from the ideal (the least
real) to the phenomenal (mid-grades of reality) to the level of monads
(the most real). Bodies fall within the purview of the phenomenal:
they are *more real* than entities that are purely ideal (e.g.,
space) but *less real* than simple substances. Bodies are
accorded an enhanced degree of reality (in comparison to merely ideal
entities) because they are well founded on the reality of monads. The
precise nature of this "well founding"--and of
Leibniz's ontological scheme more generally--is a
complicated and controversial matter. The nuanced framework (however
one might fill in the details) does not lend itself to a
straightforward and intuitive presentation in several paragraphs of
text (see Whipple 2020 for a more detailed account).



One can reasonably view the *Principes de la Nature et de la
Grace* as one of the most exoteric presentations of
Leibniz's theory of monads. In the text he omits nearly all of
the details of his nuanced ontological scheme. He describes bodies as
"composite substances" so that his reader will recognize
that both simple substances and bodies are "real". By
overemphasizing the degree of reality that he grants bodies he is able
to introduce the theory of monads in a way that makes it appear less
far removed from received opinions. It also helps avoid the serious
misunderstanding that bodies are mere illusions--a
misunderstanding that one could easily fall into in the absence of a
full presentation of Leibniz's ontological scheme.



This very brief sketch of an "exoteric resolution" of the
textual discrepancy between Leibniz's use of the word
"substance" in the *Monadologie* and the
*Principes de la Nature et de la Grace* provides an alternative
to the "developmental" and "two theory"
readings of the relevant passages mentioned earlier. It suggests a
more general moral for Leibniz scholarship. Whenever one is faced with
texts that appear to provide conflicting remarks on an issue, it is
important to consider whether an exoteric strategy that could resolve
the apparent conflict might be at work. It is not easy to determine
when an exoteric strategy is at work given that Leibniz rarely flags
the features of his works that are exoteric within the works
themselves. One must consider Leibniz's general remarks on
exoteric strategies along with any additional texts that explicitly or
implicitly bear on the passages in question. It is only once all of
these texts have been examined that one can argue that a particular
interpretive hypothesis is the best all things considered. In some
cases an esoteric/exoteric interpretation will be the most plausible;
in other cases it might be more plausible to view Leibniz as having
changed his views over time, or as having not fully resolved a
difficult problem, among other possibilities (see Whipple 2010 for
discussion of a problem where it is particularly difficult to discern
the most plausible interpretation).


## 7. Summary



Throughout his career Leibniz distinguished between esoteric and
exoteric modes of presentation in philosophy. He endorsed the esoteric
mode, which was modeled closely on the Geometrical model of
demonstration, as the ideal mode of presentation. Leibniz did some
important preparatory work for an esoteric presentation of his
metaphysics in the 1670s and 1680s, but he never completed a work that
was in strict accordance with the esoteric ideal. Although he
continued to regard the geometrical model of demonstration as the
ideal, he thought it would be a mistake to *introduce* his
philosophy to people in the form of an esoteric treatise. This is
because the *content* of his philosophy was highly esoteric; it
involved a range of abstract principles and theses, many of which were
far removed from received opinions. He thought that if he were to
present his philosophy in a strictly esoteric manner people would
misunderstand it and summarily reject it. This is why exoteric texts
were so important for Leibniz. They were designed to serve as
intellectual stepping-stones that could help readers move from
received opinions to esoteric truth. In letters to trusted
correspondents Leibniz explicitly describes his journal articles and
the *Essais de theodicee* as exoteric works. But
even Leibniz's letters to trusted correspondents such as De
Volder and Des Bosses fall short of the esoteric ideal. All of
Leibniz's texts are exoteric to a certain degree, but some are
more so than others. They can be categorized as more or less exoteric
depending on the degree to which they approximate the esoteric ideal
in form and content. It is difficult to provide this categorization
given that Leibniz never completed a strictly esoteric treatise.
However, Leibniz's general comments about the exoteric mode of
presentation can help us form reasonable hypotheses about the
implicitly exoteric features of his texts. We have seen that Leibniz
utilized a variety of complimentary exoteric techniques,
including:


1. Selective omission: he omits the features of his philosophy that are
furthest removed from received opinions. In some cases it is possible
to infer the omitted views from a careful reading of the exoteric
text; in other cases a supplementary work is required.
2. Surface reading vs. deep reading: the text admits of an intuitive
surface reading that can make his views seem closer to received
opinions than they actually are. The texts are also compatible with a
more rigorous but less straightforward reading; it may or may not be
possible to grasp the deeper meaning on the basis of the exoteric text
alone.
3. Familiar language: he tailors his language to his audience so that it
will appear more familiar to them. For example, he uses Cartesian
language when he writes in the journals of Paris and the language of
the schools when he writes in the journals of Leipzig.
4. Eclectic references: he appeals to the claims of well-regarded
historical and contemporary figures to illustrate and motivate his own
theses.
5. Hypothesis: he presents a thesis as a hypothesis rather than providing
a strict demonstration of the thesis, even if he is capable of
providing the demonstration. He thinks that in some cases a reader
will be less hostile to a novel thesis if it is presented as a
hypothesis.
6. Sensible analogies, metaphors, imaginative thought experiments,
stories, and anecdotes: he utilizes these devices because they allow
readers that are accustomed to conceiving of things by means of the
senses and the imagination to attain an introductory understanding of
theses and principles that are abstract and distinctly conceivable
only through the intellect (not the senses or the imagination).



Some work identifying particular exoteric strategies has been done in
the secondary literature on Leibniz. However, much work remains to be
done. More detailed examinations of the exoteric features of
Leibniz's works will help us more adequately determine which
texts (if any) present his considered views and the extent to which
his philosophy is systematic.