On December 2, 1697, Leibniz wrote to the Jesuit missionary Antoine Verjus that he would like more information regarding China,

This “commerce of light” is a guiding principle throughout Leibniz's relationship with China, from his earliest encounter with the Jesuit mission, through the publication of the Novissima Sinica, to the founding of the Berlin Society of Sciences. Leibniz pursues this broader goal through a series of particular exchanges and negotiations, the most significant of which is between Leibniz and the Jesuits involved with the mission in China. “Commerce of light” is not a careless phrase but one directed specifically against the two forces then driving globalization and European expansion. The most powerful force was the valuable commerce of goods already connecting Europe with Asia, Africa, and the Americas. From an early age, Leibniz was well aware of the economic forces behind European expansion.

LEIBNIZ AND CHINA

Thus far we have examined Leibniz's philosophy as a basis for cultural exchange and comparative philosophy. On a metaphysical level, exchange is driven by the value of diversity in the best possible world and the derivation of diversity from variations in monadic perspectives. On an epistemological level, exchange is driven by the necessary limits of our own perspective and the fact that monads in distant places have different and complementary perspectives. This foundation grounds many forms of exchange, such as the reconciliation of church factions and the founding of learned societies, but it particularly drives exchange with distant monads. For Leibniz, this drive for exchange was directed almost exclusively toward China. In this chapter, we will see how Leibniz conceived that exchange and what he hoped to learn. Leibniz showed an interest in China and other cultures from an early age, and, of Europeans who never left Europe, he became one of the most knowledgeable about China, particularly in the breadth of his knowledge. His interpretation of Confucian thought has serious flaws, but stands well above those of his contemporaries, and even some of the missionaries. From his research into Leibniz's sources, David Mungello concluded that Leibniz had probably read or was familiar with every significant book that had been written on China. Leibniz mentions almost all of them at some point in his correspondence. Leibniz affirms his knowledge of the available sources in a letter to Simon de la Loubère from 1692.

HERMENEUTICS

Thus far the application of Leibniz's philosophy to his engagement with China has focused on his views about exchange rather than his attempts to carry out a “commerce of light.” In spite of the limitations of his knowledge, Leibniz was engaged with Chinese culture and thought and with issues of interpretation. Even the vision of exchange presented in the last chapter depends on certain interpretations of China. One reason to consider how Leibniz engages China is his relative success as an interpreter. My claim is that Leibniz's philosophy provides a rich foundation not only for promoting cultural exchange but also for understanding how exchange works. Leibniz makes many mistakes, but his interpretations of the complexities of Chinese thought far surpass those of his contemporaries in Europe, and even many of the missionaries in China. This very success prompts us to ask if some basis in Leibniz's philosophy enables him to make the interpretations he does. A second reason for considering Leibniz's hermeneutics is the centrality of interpretation to his own philosophical practice. He presents himself as finding the best in diverse texts and synthesizing them, not only with China but also with the history of philosophy and with various Christian factions. While Leibniz does not reflect explicitly on intercultural hermeneutics, the foundation for understanding and interpreting other cultures has already been established in chapter 2.

At the time Leibniz wrote his most complex work on Chinese philosophy, the decision against the Jesuits and accommodation was already made. In 1704 Pope Clement XI decided against the Jesuits; his decree was published in China in 1707 and in Europe in 1709. Leibniz did not know it, but this decision was to remain the Church's position until the twentieth century. Kangxi was offended and issued a decree requiring missionaries to accept the position of accommodation if they wished to remain in China. The Jesuits evaded either the pope or the emperor for as long as they could, but, as the pope's decision stood firm, more and more missionaries were forced to leave. In 1724, Kangxi's son, Yongzheng, banished all missionaries except those necessary for astronomy. A long period of distance between Europe and China followed, lasting until hostilities broke out in the nineteenth century; hostility and forced concessions continued into this century. As the historical opportunity for exchange with China was lost, the philosophical landscape also shifted. The eclectic but avid Renaissance interest in other cultures had given way to gradual indifference among seventeenth-century philosophers, with the exception of Leibniz. Even so, it remained a time in which Leibniz could call for missionaries from China without creating too much commotion. Although Leibniz, Descartes, Locke, and Spinoza remain Euro-centric, all four make claims for the equal abilities of peoples from all cultures.

Leibniz and China? The topic usually meets with surprise. Even when people know that Leibniz had a life-long interest in China and directed his considerable energy and political skills to encouraging cultural exchange – his “commerce of light” – the topic remains strange and peripheral to the concerns of a philosopher engaged with philosophy's history. A broader interest in the place of other cultures in early modern thought meets with greater skepticism, because it seems obvious that other cultures have no place there. The reason Leibniz's engagement with China appears so surprising and worthy of attention is its contrast with the disinterest of his contemporaries. Yet our reaction of surprise should itself be surprising and worthy of attention. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, information from other cultures flooded into Europe, while Europe's economy became more and more obviously global. In this context of globalization, the odd phenomenon should not be Leibniz's writings on China but that everyone else showed so little interest in the world outside Europe. How could Descartes, so interested in the nature of “man,” show no interest in the variety of human beings? How could Locke, an “empiricist,” show so little interest in the experiences of non-Europeans?

Such questions seem somehow inappropriate or unfair, not the kinds of questions with which a philosopher would approach Descartes or Locke. Why? We think of our time as uniquely multi-cultural, and surely some aspects of our time are unique.