Substances Without Windows
If whatever is composite is made of simples, what can a simple thing be like? Leibniz answers with monads: no parts, no shape, and no windows through which anything enters or leaves.
Whatever is composite must be made of simple substances, and the simple substances, monads, have no parts and no shape. Nor have they windows: nothing can enter a monad or leave it, so whatever changes in it changes from within. That inner life has two features, perceptions and the striving that carries a monad from one perception to the next. The picture is severe on purpose: a universe of beings never acted on from outside, each unfolding its own states. The ninety numbered paragraphs build everything else on this foundation.
- monads
- monadology
- substance
- change
- perception
- action and passion
- agency
- continuity
Enter a dialogue
- Older philosophers imagined a thing’s qualities detaching and travelling to the eye. Why do you insist that no quality can ever leave what it belongs to?
- Each simple, partless being, you say, is driven from one perception to the next by a striving of its own. Can something with no parts strive toward anything?
- Created beings arise from God by continual flashes, from moment to moment, in your words. Does that make each of us only a flash that must be renewed?
- If every created being changes at every moment, and only from within, what makes someone the same person from one year to the next?