Johann Joachim Lange: Humble and detailed research of the false and corruptive philosophy in Wolffian metaphysical system on God, the world, and the men; and particularly of the so-called pre-established harmony of interaction between soul and body: as also in the morals based on such system: together with a historical preface on that what happened with its author in Halle: among treatises of many important matters, and with short check on remarks concerning duplicated doubts on Wolffian philosophy - Immaterial materialism

Wolff's deterministic view of the world is essentially a materialistic doctrine, Lange thinks: immaterial souls are free to act how they want and their existence should thus make the world indeterministic. Now, Wolff does admit the existence of souls without renouncing his determinism, and we shall see next time how Lange reacts to this strategy.

In addition to souls, Lange sees immaterialism playing a role already in Wolff's doctrine of world, particularly in latter's notion of simple substances, which Lange interprets as essentially identical with monads of Leibniz. This is yet another point where Wolff himself is truly ambiguous. On the one hand, Wolff does note the resemblance of his simple substances with Leibnizian monads and does say that the simple substances in a sense represent the world. On the other hand, Wolff prefers to speak of elements and explains that representing is here symbolizing the interconnectedness of all things, because elements are not literally conscious of anything.

Despite Wolff's skepticism of full monadology, his doctrine of elements does satisfy some of Lange's criteria for immaterialism or idealism. Material things, Lange says, should be spatial and thus should be e.g. infinitely divisible, while Wolffian elements are not spatial and definitely indivisible. Wolffian matter is thus based on immaterial things and is therefore a species of idealism, which Lange thinks is just as bad as materialism - Wolffian philosophy is then doubly bad, because it combines both idealism (in its doctrine of simple substances) and materialism (in its doctrine of deterministic world).

Lange is clearly advocating the Aristotelian idea of matter as a undifferentiated mass, which can be carved out into different shapes, but which does not consist of independently existing units. While Wolff does accept his own idea of matter without any proper justification, Lange is equally stubborn and just states the self-evidence of his views – matter just cannot consists of something that is not matter. Lange would probably have been horrified of the modern nuclear physics, which he would have had to condemn as even more immaterial – matter consists there mostly of void together with some small points without any determinate place.

Interestingly, Lange's criticism has thus far dealt with questions that were later made famous by Kantian antinomies. Lange believes that world had a specific beginning in time and thinks that Wolff supposed it to be eternal; he holds determinism to be broken by free actions of humans and God, while he assumes Wolff to deny true freedom; and he believes matter to be infinitely divisible, while Wolff supposed it to consist of indivisible substances. Strikingly, Lange's anachronistic answer to second antinomy was diametrically opposite to others, probably because the doctrine of indivisible substances was associated with notorious atomism.

So much for Lange's views on Wolffian cosmology, next time we'll see what he thinks of Wolffian psychology.

Christian Wolff: Reasonable thoughts on God, world, and human soul, furthermore, of all things in general - Infinitesimal elements

Because the world is a complex object, it must ultimately consist of simple substances: we have already seen this statement in the chapter on ontology, although the argument supposedly justifying it was faulty. Just like the world was already characterised by its complexity, these ultimate elements of the world are characterised by their simplicity. They cannot, for instance, have any spatial magnitude and thus differ from Democritean atoms. Yet, they must still be placed within some place – or more likely, remembering the Wolffian notion of space, their relations should constitute space.

Wolffian elements should then be infinitesimally small, just like mathematical points. Then again, they cannot be mere points. Wolff uses as a justification anothe principle he learned from Leibniz – the so-called identity of indiscernibles. This principle is based on the higher principle of sufficient reason. All things must have a reason, thus, there must be a reason why one thing is in one place and another in another place. Because the Wolffian space is relational, he thinks that the reason cannot lie in the space itself – space cannot exist without things and their relations. If now the two separate things are supposed to be completely similar, there cannot be any characteristic causing one to occupy a different place from the other – in other words, they must occupy the same place, and indeed, be identical.

Whatever one thinks of Wolff's attempt to justify the principle, it is clearly against taking mathematical points as true existents: point cannot be distinguished from another point through nothing else, but its position. Wolffian elements resemble then more Leibnizian monads, with the exception that Wolff does not take seriously Leibniz's idea of perception as the essential characteristic of all monads. True, he does pay lip service to the idea, but only in the restricted sense that all the elements reflect the whole world by being in harmony with it, in other words, by being in harmony with one another: the state of one simple thing matches the state of other simple things, e.g.. when one thing is in a state of activity, another is correspondingly in a state of passivity.

We have already seen in a previous text (http://thegermanidealism.blogspot.com/2011/11/units-of-force.html ) what actually individuates Wolffian elements: they are all units of force or activity, each developing independently of all others. What Wolff adds in this chapter is the explanation how bodies are generated out of the elements. Just like states of all the elements are harmonious in general and this general harmony constitutes the world, the states of particular elements might have a stronger harmony and thus form a complex unity or body.

Wolff goes to great lengths in explaining what characteristics all these bodies have: for instance, bodies consist of an essence (the structure of having been assembled in a certain manner from elements), matter (their activity of resisting externally induced movement) and moving force (their activity of moving themselves and mediately also other bodies). This analysis is not very original, but in essentials lidted from Leibniz's physical writings, and not philosophically fruitful, so I shall ignore it.

What interests me more is the relationship of the elements and the bodies. The existence of bodies is dependent on the existence of simple elements: a faulty assumption, perhaps, but one which Wolff endorsed. The divisibility of bodies has then a limit, because the elements cannot be divided anymore. This limit Wolff places outside possible experience, when he once again confirms that elements as simple things cannot be seen. This time he even has a proper argument: elements cannot be affected by movement, hence, light will not interact with them and they are therefore invisible to us.

On the other hand, bodies as spatial must be divisible into further spatial things, that is, further bodies. Wolff appears then to accept both infinite divisibility of bodies and the existence of a limit for that divisibility: indeed, his arguments for both are almost exactly those Kant will use in his second antinomy. Kant's antinomies are based on the assumption that the two arguments are both convincing and that both of their results cannot hold at the same time: Kant can then note that this apparent paradox is avoided by adpoting his own transcendental idealism. We have already seen at least one argument in the second antinomy is far from convincing. If we can also find out a convincing reason how Wolff could accept the two arguments without falling into contradiction, Kant's ”negative argument” for transcendental idealism would fall apart.

The simple solution for the seeming contradiction is that the indivisible elements are not extended, but point-like entities: thus, they are dimensionless and cannot be divided anymore. Analogically, mathematical figures can be divided into further and further figures, but no division leads into anything smaller than indivisible points. In other words, elements are the result of a practically impossible infinite division of bodies: thus, after every finite division we are in a point where the antithesis of Kantian antinomy works, although there is a final limit which no finite division can reach and in which the thesis holds.

This is enough of Wolffian cosmology. Next time we are back with studying human soul in rational psychology.

Christian Wolff: Reasonable thoughts on God, world, and human soul, furthermore, of all things in general - Lego block view of the world

System builders do love to divide things into two classes (unless they are German idealists and probably more into threefold divisions). Wolff follows this tradition and distinguishes between simple and complex things. (By the way, one just has to appreciate German language for its capacity to make such important concepts easy to grasp. Simple things are ”einfache”, which could be translated as ”one-folded” - simple thing has but one part. Complex things, on the other hand, are ”zusammengesetzt” or ”put together” out of smaller things. English equivalents are less transparent.)

How does Wolff then justify his division? The existence of the complex or assembled objects he accepts as given in our experience: the things outside us can be seen to consist of smaller things. In addition to being assembled of other things, complex things have various other characteristic properties:

• complex things have a magnitude (after all, they consist of many things)
• complex things fill space and are shaped in some manner
• complex things can be enlarged or diminished and the order of their parts can be varied without changing anything essential
• complex things can be generated by putting things together, and they can be destroyed by separating the constituents
• the existence of the complex things is always contingent
• the generation of complex things takes time and is humanly intelligible

Simple things, on the other hand, cannot be found in the experience, Wolff says, so their existence must be deduced. Here Wolff invokes the principle of the sufficient reason: the existence of a complex thing cannot be explained completely, unless there is some final level of things from which the complex thing has been assembled. These simple things have then characteristics completely different from the complex things:

• simple things do not have any magnitude
• simple things do not fill space nor do they have any figure
• simple things cannot change their internal constitution (because they do not have one)
• simple things cannot be assembled from other things nor can they be disassembled; they can only be generated ”at a single blow” (einmahl)
• simple things are either necessary or generated through something necessary
• the generation of simple things is atemporal and non-intelligible to humans

Wolff's scheme reminds one probably of atomism, yet, atoms have usually not been described as non-spatial: in this Wolff's simple things resemble Leibnizian monads. Yet, if we ignore for now the nature of space, which I shall be discussing next time, we can discern a common pattern shared by atomism, Leibnizian monadology and Wolffian ontology of simple and complex things.

This pattern is based on the idea that world is like a game with legos. There are magnificient buildings and vehicles, but they are all made out of small objects – lego blocks – which in themselves cannot be broken down to smaller pieces. No complex of legos is necessary and you can even see the revealing lines that tell how to disassemble a ten-story castle into individual blocks. Indeed, in all the various combinations, lego blocks remain distinct individuals that just happen to be attached together.

The lego block view of the world is so common these days that it is difficult to remember other possibilities. It was different with Aristotle, who in his physical studies casually notes that substances might also be mixed, that is, combined in such a manner that the combined substance vanish and a new substance appears in their place. We may easily picture such a mix through an example of adding sugar to water: the powdery sugar vanishes, but also mere water, and in place of the two a sugary liquid appears.

One might oppose my example with the observation that the sugar and the water do not really vanish when mixed, but sugar molecules merely disperse among the water molecules. Yet, this observation itself is based on empirical studies and one could not decide a priori whether this particular case was a true mix or a mere assembling of lego blocks. In other words, the example shows that Aristotelian mixes are a conceivable possibility. Furthermore, it is also a possibility which we could well comprehend and imagine: we could model any Aristotelian mix through the picture of sugar combining with water.

Indeed, we need even not think of mixing two substances of different sorts. It suffices to picture a portion of water combining with another portion of water. The result is not two portions of water, but one bigger portion, or in other words, the original things have vanished in combination and been replaced by a new thing. This conceptual possibility is ingrained in the mass terms of some languages: things like water do not appear to behave like the lego block model, thus, we cannot e.g. speak meaningfully of several waters (we have to speak of many portions of water etc.)

If the possibility of an Aristotelian mix is admitted, Wolff's whole division of simple and complex things becomes somewhat suspect. The simple things should, on the one hand, be the ultimate constituents, which are required for explaining the existence of the complex objects: they should be the independent substances, while the complex substances are contingently assembled from them.

Then again, simple things should, on the other hand, be indivisible and they could not have been generated through a combination of other things. Yet, if a thing has been or at least could have been generated through an Aristotelian mix, it would not be simple in the second sense, while it well might be simple in the first sense, that is, an independent substance. In other words, a substance might be generated from other substances, but still not have any parts or constituents.

Wolff himself actually considers the possibility that a simple thing could just change into other simple things, somewhat like Aristotelian elements – fire, air, water and earth – can change into one another. Yet, he quickly disregards this possibility, because either it would be a miracle where one substance is instantly destroyed and another takes it place or then the apparently independent things are mere states of one thing. Only with the latter option, Wolff adds, does the previous state explain the latter state.

Wolff's denial of Aristotelian change of elements is itself unfounded. Even less convincing it is as a criticism of an Aristotelian mix. Although an apparent change of one thing to another thing should be interpreted as a mere change of state, an Aristotelian mix involves a combination of several things into one unified thing, and it feels rather awkward to call two separate things a mere state of their combination or vice versa.

The flaw in Wolff's division of things is important, because it suggests a similar flaw in Kant's second antinomy. The antinomy should consist of two equally convincing statements that could not hold at the same time: ”everything in the world consists of simple things” and ”there is nothing simple in the world”. The two statements could well be both true, if the simple things in the first statement meant final constituents of assembled things, but the simple things in the second statement meant indivisible substances. That is, the final constituents might have no parts, but they could be so manipulated that in place of a particular thing, many things would appear (this division is essentially a reverse of the Aristotelian mix, and indeed, Aristotle himself apparently thought divisions worked this way). We shall have to return to the issue when we get to Kant's Critiques (it will probably take twelve years).

Wolff's theory of simple and complex things has other problems as well. For instance, Wolff merely assumes that simple things cannot be observed. He does not mean that we could not imagine what simple substances would be like, and indeed, he admits that we perceive very small things as having no discernible parts. Yet, Wolff notes that magnifying glasses have proven that these apparently simple things are actually complex – but this empirical evidence does still not prove the general inobservability of simple things.

A more substantial reason for the unobservability of simple things is Wolff's conviction that simple things cannot be spatial, while all observable things are. But why simple things couldn't be spatial? This is a question I will consider next time, when I investigate Wolff's theories of space and time.