A quarter or two ago, I was trying to get a section of my students excited about Martin Luther. So of course I told them about his fascination with all things defecation. This sorta worked, but not as much as I had hoped.
Too bad, because Luther was a great character and a very interesting man. His theology, of course, is also sorta-kinda important to Western history. Just a tad. In trying to convey this sense of, “Dude, what a crazy motherfucker no?, and look what people did with his ideas!, Jesus fucking Christ” I made clear that I like and admire the man. Afterwards, a student asked me why. I told him he was an interesting character with important ideas. “So do you agree with him, then?” The question caught me completely off guard. Of course, if I had answered completely honestly and inappropriately, I would have responded, “Oh god, I don’t come across as Christian do I?” but instead I just look confused and said, “No, but it’s not necessary that I do to like him and be interested in his theology.” Luther was from the sixteenth century, for goodness sake. Everyone was a little ridiculous back then. How could I possibly pass up the gems of his flair and the significance of his ideas just because I’m not a Protestant, and in fact don’t even approximate a Christian?
The confusion, however, does not seem limited just to somewhat dense undergraduates. Last week a conversation about Foucault was struck up between me and my French tutor, and during some point I lightly made fun of the man. My tutor inquired whether I liked Foucault or not. I elaborated that I find Foucault personally to be pompous without justification – ie all show and no charm – and the sort of intellectual who hordes his intelligence over other people in an effort to intimidate them rather than inform or entertain them. I thought I had already indicated that I appreciated Foucault’s ideas; but she asked, seeming somewhat aghast, “he had really good ideas though, right?” Of course, I replied. I wasn’t even concerning myself with Foucault’s ideas, which whether we like them or not, prove endlessly helpful in historical analysis. But she didn’t seem convinced. Surely I must disagree with Foucault if I don’t like Foucault as a person. But that’s just because she doesn’t know how charming Derrida is in comparison.
My point: half the fun in learning about the ideas and people of the past is engaging through playful love or hate. I certainly don’t buy Luther’s theology – seeing as I am not Christian – but I love the man, imperfect though he was. On the other hand the basics of most of Foucault’s ideas are relatively solid – but I find the man utterly obnoxious, and by this point overwrought. This separation isn’t hard to do. It’s the point, almost, of the process of intellectual engagement with philosophy and the past; it provides the intimacy, and makes you a part of the pantheon.
In conclusion, fuck Thomas Jefferson, that little piss ant.