This paper is a discussion of the treatment of Leibniz's conception of substance in Heidegger's The Metaphysical Foundations of Logic. I explain Heidegger's account, consider its relation to recent interpretations of Leibniz in the Anglophone secondary literature, and reflect on the ways in which Heidegger's methodology may illuminate what it is to read Leibniz and other figures in the history of philosophy.

I argue for three main claims about Leibniz. (1) He views representation as a kind of structural correspondence between the representing thing and its target. (2) The primary sense in which he considers a perception or representation distinct, as opposed to confused, concerns the degree to which its structure is explicit or consciously accessible. (3) This is also the sense in which he takes concepts or ideas to be distinct.

Leibniz argues that God doesn't create everything possible because not all possible things are compossible, that is, compatible with each other. Much recent debate has focused on Leibniz's conception of compossibility. One important aspect of this debate, which has not been examined directly, is the distinction between possible worlds and possible creations: the notion of possible world is more robust than simply whatever God can create. Many commentators have relied on this distinction without a clear formulation of it. I develop (...) the distinction between possible worlds and possible creations by looking at how Leibniz characterizes what God is capable of creating. I argue that possible creations must be both logically consistent and determinate. Possible creations differ from possible worlds insofar as possible creations fail to be either maximal or harmonious. I conclude, therefore, that focusing on the notion of determinateness offers a new approach to answering the question why doesn't God create everything possible? (shrink)

Imaguire-Guido_On-the-ontology-of-relations.

The editors of this volume, in their introduction, take Jonathan Bennett’s A Study of Spinoza’s Ethics as the exemplar for the eleven essays collected here, hailing Bennett’s book as setting “new standards for philosophical research on Spinoza”. Bennett’s work is indeed a worthy model. Aside from its more generic virtues, such as learnedness and conceptual rigor, perhaps what is most distinctive about Bennett’s treatment of Spinoza is his method, which he calls the “collegial approach.” This method proceeds by studying “the (...) texts in the spirit of a colleague, an antagonist, a student, a teacher—aiming to learn as much philosophy as one can from studying them.” Bennett has, employing this approach, produced a large number of useful works on early modern philosophers, and his efforts concerning Spinoza are among the best of them. But does Bennett’s example provide any unity for this collection? A number of these essays, Della Rocca’s and Manning’s, for example, indeed take what could be fairly described as a collegial approach to the study of Spinoza. Still others, however, such as Kulstad’s, place more emphasis on historical scholarship than the collegial approach prescribes. This matters, however, very little. Exemplary as Bennett’s work is, the study of the history of early modern philosophy has, in recent years, benefited from the work of scholars using a wide variety of methods. I think it fair to say that the essays collected in this volume, not at all to their detriment, reflect this diversity. (shrink)

Everyone interested in Leibniz ought to read this fine, stimulating book. It is admirably written in the tradition exemplified by the references below and will especially appeal to those familiar with the analytical exposition in those works.