The Problem with Philosophy

The Lenten period is a time for many things, but for the religious intellectual, as much as for anyone, one of these important tasks is that of reflection, which is accompanied by earnest prayer. Thanks be to God, the past few weeks of reflection has caused the author to reflect upon his years spent at university, and this essay is the result of an extended mental critique of both the sort of topics taught at universities and the methods by which they are taught. The author himself spent three years studying for the degree of Baccalaureus Artium in Philosophy and Theology, followed by a Magister Philosophiae in Theology and Philosophy of Religion. He decided against completing a doctorate. 

Contemporary philosophical study in the Anglo-Saxon world is dominated by the analytic school. This would not be such a bad thing were it not for the fact that it seems to not only have stifled creativity in philosophy, but its influence appears to have infected most other branches of academic learning as well. The analytic school is remarkable for its desire to approach philosophy as though it were a science: with a slavish devotion to Bertrand Russell's "first order logic", rather than traditional forms of classical logic such as Aristotle's Organon, as well as a deference to science and mathematics rather than literature or the arts. Natural science has its place, but in the modern Western university, academia seems to have come to epitomise the Enlightened clique rather than the hub of practical discussion and preparation for what used to be the Western world's most respected end—the study of Divinity, or theology; and by theology we do not mean the contemporary academic discipline marred by the same analytic sterility of other fields.

Even in the United States, where it is still possible to take a degree in the "liberal arts", the traditional liberal arts are barely to be seen. The students of European academies of the middle ages, academies governed by the glorious synthesis of Christian theology and ancient Greek learning, were required to study seven liberal arts: the trivium, defined by the tripartite understanding of 1.) the natural reasoning of classical logic, more often than not, Aristotle's form described above (see also the Summa of Duns Scotus); 2.) the workings of grammar, which aided the student not only in understanding the syntax and semantics of their own language, but also the very real intellectual exercise of understanding the complexities of Greek and Latin; and 3.) the art of rhetoric, the essential means for crafting persuasive arguments. With these three skills together, the student was ready to essay his way into the more complex quadrivium, which was composed of 1.) arithmetic, itself a logical extension of the study of classical logic, operating by axiomatic rules and providing the groundwork necessary to complement 2.) geometry, which in simple terms equated to the measurement of both natural and speculative phenomena; 3.) music may seem like an odd addition, but its purpose is just as important as the study of music is today. In the medieval period, the study of music involved the understanding of musical rhythm, tone, harmony, poetics, and as such related to both the logical and aesthetic studies necessary for philosophical enquiry; stage 4.) astronomy involved the application of principles from the 1st and 2nd parts of the quadrivium to observance of the heavens, the separation of stars from planets etc. etc. Once both of these viae had been studied, the graduate bachelor was considered ready to engage in philosophical and theological studies of his own, a successful first year or two in which could grant him the status of teacher at his academy, a title which has since been translated into modern Masters' degrees, the Magister.

An understanding of God and his universe involved the study of the tools He has given us which we may use to understand His revelations. The traditional course of study in these academies allowed for both this very real intellectual challenge and graduation to the heights of respect and academic study. In answer to the objections of those who will use the moot counter-argument that "medieval philosophy, natural or otherwise, was mostly flawed", or even better "blinded by religious dogma" this is actually rather fallacious. It is to be expected that a civilisation at such a stage of development as was the case for Europe in the middle ages, without the technological capabilities of modern science, would make the odd blunder. There is no historical fact which would suggest that rational scientific understanding of the natural world would not have improved had the Enlightenment not reversed the prevailing academic tide of its age. In fact, science may even have been in a better state than it is today—since the empirical discoveries of "natural philosophy" were not seen as evidence against the Divine, but rather, further proof of His reality. Many medieval philosophers, such as Aquinas and Scotus, remain of great interest to contemporary thinkers, even if they are taught in an exceedingly dry and boring way. Yet still, the Enlightenment came, with its secular morality and logic which did not need God to exist, nay, it required the human mind alone! With that, the Academy of God and its disciplines were killed with a heavy death-blow, leaving the Church which had sustained it for so long with a deep-set anxiety about its truth-value, and its future. 

“What matters at this stage is the construction of local forms of community within which civility and the intellectual and moral life can be sustained through the dark ages which are already upon us. ... This time, however, the barbarians are not waiting beyond the frontiers; they have already been among us for quite some time. And it is our lack of consciousness of this that constitutes part of our predicament.” 

—Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue (University of Notre Dame Press, 1981), p. 263

The liberalism which grew out of the Academy of Enlightenment, which replaced God, is identified here by Catholic philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre, as the instigator of our own moral dark age. With the rise of the bourgeois intellectual, the sinful obsession with individual autonomy began to become the first and only aim of any kind of philosophical justification. Even philosophers such as Kant, who was manifestly a genius, became so troubled with the problem of having to justify moral behaviour within the tides of secularism that at times he appeared to compromise his own professed belief in the Christian God. Even in the Romantic reaction to Enlightenment rationalism, the works of theologians such as Friedrich Schleiermacher (see esp. his famous dialogue Weihnachtsfier, "Christmas Eve") demonstrate that for the developing middle class man, scepticism about the existence of God was not merely commonplace, but fashionable as a demonstration of one's social development. Whilst the failings of mainstream conservatism as an ideology is a story for another time, its failure begins to manifest here: conservatives such as Burke and his Victorian successors paid lip service to traditional values, and identified many problems with the Enlightenment, but defended traditionalist positions using the methods and rhetoric of the Enlightenment itself, rather than defending pre-Enlightenment dogma. Only de Maistre arguably came closest to success in the latter, but even he occasionally fell foul of social contracts and quasi-republican language in his description of government and religion.

When the Romantics began their quest for something beyond the self, they looked not for God, but for abstraction. The infamous school of German idealism, embodied by Hegel and his terrifying dialectical style, did not place God as the ultimate source of perfection, but the elusive concept of the Absolute. To this day no one quite knows what it is. Whilst Hegel's political philosophy bore some good fruit in the form of the Hegelian Right's early reactions to liberalism in the first half of the 1800s, the ambiguity of Romantic transcendentalism inevitably gave birth to Marxism, and the materialist worldview which accompanied it. From Marx was born a whole new culture of continental thought, and ultimately remains the source of many of the modern West's cultural, social, political, moral—cumulatively, civilisational crises. 

To this day, one either sides with analytic philosophers, most of whom are left-leaning centrist liberals, or with continental philosophers, almost all of whom are Marxists or left-Hegelians of some description. As many have pointed out, we have reached a stage where liberal capitalism and Marxist collectivism are in fact two sides of the same coin:

“The historian, novelist, and Fabian socialist H. G. Wells explained the kinship between Big Business and Communism in 1920. Wells described himself not as a Marxist or as a Communist but as a Collectivist...Wells comments on the situation [in Bolshevik Russia] he would like to see developing with Collectivist capitalism propping up Collectivist communism"

—Dr. Kerry Bolton, Revolution from Above (Arktos Media, 2011), pp. 16-17

Other philosophers, such as Julius Evola, state the reality more starkly, correctly identifying the materialism of both capitalism and communism. What is perhaps most tragic about all of this is that it has led to the politicisation of the academy. If you are not a good way left-of-centre, wave goodbye to your happiness at university, if not your career. It is not even worth picking a side. If you do not study the technical sciences, which unlike the arts, focus on the nature of the world and how we might harness it, rather than its telos, then you enter a world where academic exegesis and critical analysis is applied only for the shoring-up of preconceived biases and quasi-religious dogmatic ideologies. Liberalism, feminism, Marxism, queer studies, you name it—their purpose in the modern academy is not to examine history, mankind, or any real questions of existence and purpose, it is rather to warp, or indeed malleate the truths of history into soft, amenable falsehoods which can be used to justify the modern left's agenda: complete moral and social destruction. 

Those who enter academia in good faith, with genuine hopes of advancing humanity's understanding, are only useful idiots. All branches of philosophy—from philosophy proper, to divinity, to natural science—have been taken over by those who care little for truth and understanding. All but one of the author's many supervisors during his time studying theology at university were atheists. Yet, we are expected to believe that such people have a genuine interest in understanding the nature of the Divine? If a philosopher worth his salt wants to contribute to the intellectual world, his best bet is to leave the modern academy, and with his own pen, create new ones. 

We could do with a revival of the traditional liberal arts and genuinely rigorous preparation for academic study. The contemporary notion that university is a prerequisite for admission to the workplace is only a perverse extension of the Marxist idea that the people must be trained in leftist philosophy before they can be allowed out into the world to put any kind of left-wing philosophy into praxis. Most of the hordes of BA students who leave university today have no idea about the legacy of the institutions they proudly walk out of, and the offering of Bachelor's degrees in Photography certainly won't go far to revive that legacy. It will take some effort to revive the seven liberal arts (trivium and quadrivium) and two higher disciplines (philosophy and theology) which European civilisation once thrived on, but it is possible, if dedicated teachers can find dedicated students willing to face some proper educational rigour, and explore in detail the true nature of this world which God has entrusted to us. 

Holy John Damascene, pray for us!

Holy Augustine, pray for us!

Of Catholicity

The author sits writing this with the recent words of his priest's sermon fresh in his mind. This Sunday was clearly a providential one, since whilst the sermon given is always insightful, this one prompted proper reflexion. The sermon itself was about Catholicity, a words which most Christians should be familiar with, not only because it is the noun form of one of the Four Marks of the Church, but because it has come to define the Christian faith itself, not merely the section of it which is frequently referred to as 'Catholic'. As attempts to define Catholicity, both in traditional and Novus Ordo terms, creep into the canons of everyday preaching, it seems more important now more than ever to have a meaningful discussion of Catholicity—first and foremost therefore, credit be where it is due, with that priest in question, for making this discussion possible. 

The article linked here has been circulating in liberal media about a woman fired from her job as a teacher for being "not the right kind of Catholic", i.e. homosexual, or to paint a more accurate (and this difference is significant) picture of the situation, fired from her job for having a same-sex wedding. Of course, as far as liberals are concerned, this is an outrage, and only goes to prove the inherent prejudice and intolerance of the Catholic faithful, indeed, how dare they discriminate against this lady for marrying "the love of her life", how callous! how ungodly! But, as ever, there is more to the narrative than meets the eye. Putting aside natural arguments, such as that a Catholic school would obviously not want its children, to whom it has a duty of care, to hear all about their female teacher's false "wife", let us consider instead the theology of the situation.  

When discussing Catholicity, the priest did so in the context of the reading, which was taken from Matthew 25, the parable of the Sheep and the Goats. Something was therefore made abundantly clear in the course of this reading. Catholicity is about who we are, and in being Catholic—in Greek, καθολικός, "whole, universal"—we are united to the Church of Christ wheresoever we go. We are Catholic within our church's four walls, and we are Catholic when sitting at home enjoying a cup of hot tea. But there are some who are not Catholic, as the parable in question teaches us. What does Christ say?

“Then he will say to those at his left hand, 'You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.'” (Mtt:25:41-43)

So there is a separation between sinners and the saved. So, there is another prerequisite for Catholicity, submission to Christ. We must consciously choose to cast our own needs aside, shun sin, and strive only for the sake of God—as Christ expresses it, to feed him, clothe him and visit him wherever we can. Now of course, it is impossible for us to not sin at all, being humans, we are sinful by our fallen nature, and even the most blessed monastics fail to escape the taints of sin. It is for this reason that the sacraments exist. The Eucharist itself is an expression of God's forgiveness of sins, but perhaps most importantly, the sacrament of confession is the purest expression of our need for forgiveness—it is also one of the most widely-abused of all the sacraments. 

The Church teaches that there are certain grave sins. We can confess white lies and casual errors as they happen, these are the most common fallen sins, but some sins arise from the deliberate choice to indulge in behaviours harmful to godliness. One of those is homosexual practices, but there are of course others. Now, it does not befit us to judge, but it does befit us to defend our Church. In that vein, it is a sinless thing to declare that Catholicity is not something to be bent and changed to the will of what society considers right this day, or that. Yet this is what we see in the case of the homosexual teacher who got "married". It is not a case of being "the wrong kind of Catholic" but of frustration with the fact that "Catholicism doesn't bend to my individual identity". Yet this is not how sin works, least of all grave sin. 

It is often hard to choose to cast aside grave sins. We are faced with grave temptation regularly—and it is not supposed to be easy. There is a challenge in rejecting sin, overcoming our own nature, and living for God. But God will not change his rules if we sin. If we confess, and make a conscious effort to not sin again, we are absolved. If we sin again and again and simply use sacraments such as confession as a get-out clause, praising God for his "oh so goodness", and claiming that an all-loving God forgives all without genuine repentance is a grave sin in itself, based on an equally grave misunderstanding of Church theology. 

Catholicity is about finding ourselves, indeed so, but finding ourselves does not manifest itself in this strange, liberal idea of hyper-individualism and sinful identity. Finding ourselves means overcoming our own nature via a spiritual journey with Christ, overcoming by sheer will the pain which charges us and demands that we choose the easier, but more sinful option. There is no such thing as a "wrong kind of Catholic", there are only Catholics and not-Catholics, and these vague and 'tolerant' attempts to redefine what it means to be united to Christ in his Universal Church can only be symptoms of the sick world in which we live. The indignation shown to those who attempt to defend the traditional doctrines of the Church only serves to prove our point about the agenda against our Church all the more cogently. 

A Method of Madness

No philosopher worth his salt will be able to give you a proper answer to the question 'what is logic?' If he were to hazard a guess, he might say something along the lines of "a linear system of reasoning based on valid inference." A meta-logician will try to work out what sort of rules logic ought to have, what makes x 'valid' et cetera, but logic itself is a method by which we can deduce truths. All of us, not merely philosophers, will use logic a great deal to create premises, build arguments, and hopefully, prove our point. One popular variation upon this in the academic world is the "dialectical method," where an individual, or usually more than one, offers arguments from two or more different perspective, and by evaluating the value of both sides, comes to a reasoned judgement about what solution is preferable. Hegel famously employed the dialectic to a great extent, and broke with the prevailing method of his time in doing so - which was classical logic. Marx took this further, but now the world is faced with something quite petrifying: the rational choice between modern dialectical materialism, traditional dialectic, or classical logic. None of these alone are sufficient without the study of Divinity.

Jordan Peterson, as a self-described "classic British liberal", is naturally rather fond of his classical logic, and since he has been the subject of a great deal of fuss in recent weeks, he seems a good dialectical focus for this essay. The Marxist left, and by extension, the liberal left which has been influenced by Marxism in recent years, has always strongly favoured dialectic in the style of their own great intellectual giant, Karl Marx himself. As a recent article for Jacobin magazine was all too keen to point out:

“Any attempt to confront Peterson’s worldview must deploy the legacy of reason within Marxism’s own commitments to dialectical logic and human freedom.”

Indeed, the left believes that its own method of 'truth-finding' can trump the classical liberal mantra of 'freedom and reason', for precisely the reason that Marxism seeks the exact same. This, indeed, is the problem that classical liberalism, or right-libertarianism has found itself within in recent years. In the Thatcher/Reagan era, when Soviet communism was a very real threat, someone on the conservative right could legitimately say that they believed in "freedom", and not compromise on legitimately right-wing principles all that much. At the end of the day, if you opposed communism, it was pretty obvious that you supported people's right not to be enslaved by oppressive ideologues. Today, however, with the Soviet Union and its satellites having collapsed, it is hard to say "I believe in freedom for x" because the left, as the above article demonstrates, will merely state that they want the exact same thing.

Liberalism has sold itself to the Marxist dialectic, in fact it has sold itself down the road of false reason so far that it has no idea what reason is—which is precisely why it is often so easy to defeat the left on many issues it holds dear in reasonable debate. We have the liberal forces of Enlightenment to thank for the rejection of religious revelation, and indeed, it is precisely because of this that many texts which provided a firm moral method, such as the Bible, have been rejected by mainstream society. A right-thinking Christian, even when forced to subject the Bible to the harshest criteria of literary exegesis, should still come out of the experience realising just how inspired a piece of writing the Christian scriptures are. Indeed, there is a reason why many contemporary moralists refer to their treatises as "Methods" in a quasi-scientific way (cf. H. Sidgwick, Method of Ethics)—it is simply because moral systems contained in the Bible were indeed just that: systematic, precise, at least as far as their interpretations were concerned. Questioning the moral positions of the Church was for a long time an intellectual waste, since most of its positions were considered to be self-evident. Enlightenment thought denied us this strong civilisational framework.

Even if it is not expedient to outlaw questioning of scripture, it is certainly useful for traditionalists to uphold the authority of traditional scriptural interpretation above all else. If Marx's Capital is the Bible of the left, then the Bible is our Capital. A fundamentally human text, the Bible is not merely a catalogue of moral laws and their development (cf. Wellhausen's History of Israel) but also a touching story of how people interact with each other, both on an individual and epic, trans-national scale. The Pentateuch forms the national epos of the Hebrews, and the life of Jesus the necessary bookend to that epos, as well as the full explanation of the nature of the new order that he established. We have law and poem, art and authority, mixed into a single document. The Bible is a real treasure, and it is comforting to read it in this age of intellectual madness.

I doubt many of the fanboys of Jordan Peterson value the theological method. You might well hear many of them proclaiming that logic has the power to disprove the existence of God, or equating belief in God with belief in leftist utopia, or some such uninspired pseudo-scientific bawling. We must of course remember that classical logic does no such thing as 'disprove God'. Logic is a tool for building natural arguments, but it cannot do very much with arguments which arise from supernatural phenomena, such as the Divine. We might use logic to prove that something does not stand to reason linguistically or methodologically, but we cannot disprove a concept like God with it. Thus, we have a word of advise for those who follow the new darlings of the liberal right like Jordan Peterson: the left's intellectual methods are indeed crazy, but you would do well to think of what your ancestors used, those saints and theologians of past years, who combined so perfectly Divine authority with the tools of human reason gifted to Man from above.

Reject that authority, and you swiftly find yourself rejecting the foundations of civilisation, as the Marxists have done. This time our admonition is gentle: be careful what you wish for, because if Jordan Peterson and line upon line of classical liberal logicians are just looking to attack the Marxist left, then leave us all to live up the Enlightenment in perfect freedom, then we might all end up in the same state as we started in: dialectical dreams and electric memes. Not a strong throne and altar government with the salvation of all in mind. 

Dancing Round the Prickly Pear

After some deliberation, it has been decided that Reflections will become a place for poetry as well as the prose essay. The brief justification is that the author has experimented with poetry for a long time, and sometimes it is simply more meaningful to express truth through the medium of aesthetic art. If the reader is familiar with any of the Romantics, Imagists, and in particular T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound, then these works may be of some interest to them. 

Revelation 6:12-17

Wandering, wandering, wandering. 

Who are these faceless men

The ones who clutch forth at my flesh?

The mountains keep us, catacombs, all the more

Safe, at least so the mountains, catacombs tell us. 

Who are these faceless men who do not speak?

Wandering, wandering, wandering

And still no escape from they who cower. 

What is this heap of rock and wood

Which all the faithless flock beneath, unknowing

And unwilling to see beyond what they know?

A broken image there looks out—
The face of one already broken,
No one recognises the already broken man
But he does not blame them.
For you, broken face, have seen
The endless chasms which open now before us
And seeking now to prove a point
We forget to ask you what they are like
Underfoot.

Wandering, wandering, wandering,
Is there no end?
Wandering,
To this tunnel?
A shaft of light annuls the question,
The faceless men don't venture there.
Climbing, climbing, climbing, 
Nothing so arduous as walking away
From all the comforting torments of the rocky heap.
Climbing, blinding, nearly there
Until there, the shaft of light becomes
Blood, for no light exists beneath 
A moon without blessing or proper care. 

The faceless men don't venture here—

Screaming, fleeing, helpless sorrow

Hidden beneath the hope of safety

"Freedom in Death!" rises the cry of some

Vain fool. 

Many rocks here, but none safe to hide beneath,

Only hiding from them is the care of these men.

Cities twist within each other and the sky

Booms and cracks asunder, as though

The very Heaven itself was struck and cracked,

It seemed as though a thousand pieces of Earth

Did fall.

Like a scroll He rolled up the plains and rivers,

Closing the book at last. 

Chapters end. Books end.

The last line is read.

Dancing round the prickly pear

At five o'clock in the morning

Was the only dance they knew,

But the Lord of the Dance

When He asked what they knew

He did not know the way of the prickly pear.

All the faceless looked at one another

They asked "How could he not know?"

But no one knew, for no one knew each other,

So how could anyone know?

They still teach the dance to children now,

All other songs and dances are not right—

They don't give them a proper education, such things,

All proper, don't you know, all just, all good.

But when the children come above the surface

The prickly pear will nourish not one soul,

But will instead make bleed the wounds still freshly

Of those who had to see the world-book closed. 

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang or a whimper

But applause.

"Like a scroll He rolled up the plains and rivers,
Closing the book at last."

The Shape of Things to Come

The Shape of Water: a Review

Part I: The Plot Synopsis They Didn't Show You

Our protagonist is a mute, Hispanic woman with a sexual fetish for eggs oppressed by the ableist, patriarchal and white supremacist society of 1960s America, who by nature of necessity works in a secret US Government research centre. Her only friends are an equally oppressed dysphoric homosexual and African-America co-worker, who is in fact so oppressed that she works as a cleaner despite being arguably the most empathetic woman in the whole country at the time. Soon enough, before any of our oppressed friends can say "patriarchy", chief bad guy, Colonel White Supremacy brings an amphibian humanoid swamp-lurker into the centre against its will, and places it in captivity, much to the swamp-lurker's despair. At this point the audience realises how important it is to go vegan. 

In between Colonel Supremacy's sadistic cattle-prodding of the lurker, solely because he's that mean, our mute protagonist starts feeding eggs to the lurker, and soon it becomes clear what sort of bond the two are developing. The more that Colonel Supremacy tortures the lurker, the more the protagonist's relationship with the non-human creature, which initially could have been no more serious than a human feeding their pet goldfish, becomes a tale of romantic development. 

Now enter General 'Murica from the US Army, who, placing all ends of the American State above basic human decency, orders Colonel Supremacy to kill and dissect the lurker. Undercover Soviet spy Dr. Mole pleads for its life, and is ordered by his paymasters to kill the lurker. Since, as it happens, communist traitors are so much more compassionate and in love with diversity than ordinary Americans of the 1960s, the protagonist frees the lurker from captivity with the help of Dr. Mole, and of course Mr. Dysphoria. The crux of the narrative probably lies here, as each of these different individuals set apart from the power structures of their times - one disabled, one gay, one communist and one plain non-human - rebel against the conformity expected of them and lift the middle finger to the sadism of Colonel White Supremacy and General 'Murica. In a comic yet deeply telling turn of events, Mr. Dysphoria makes a pass at a male pie shop waiter, only to be rebuked by his bigoted homophobic crush and ordered not to return, only for the crime of "being himself."

Colonel White Supremacy returns home to his ideal American family with his gorgeous blonde-haired wife and two young children. "This is America" he mutters, as if a symptom of the febrile seizure which is his life within the power structure of ethnostate USA. The embodiment of the reactionary, stubborn ultraconservative, even Colonel Supremacy's character displays echoes of discontent. Meanwhile, the protagonist smuggles the lurker into her bathroom, before flooding it so she can commit bestiality - er, have misunderstood and passionate lovemaking - with it. 

Eventually, Dr. Mole is betrayed by his own paymasters, and after some blood-curdling dramatic tension, Colonel Supremacy kills off the remaining commies before torturing the poor, empathetic traitor on the floor before him. In a classic example of Hollywood poetic justice, the lurker kills Colonel Supremacy in a final victory for diversity and tolerance, before transforming the protagonist into a lurker herself, so that the two of them can live happily ever after.

Part II: Analysis

There honestly isn't much more to be said after the satire above (and to be clear, it is satire). The media jumped on Guillermo del Toro's The Shape of Water, as the infamous fash bashing director takes the stage once more with this highly allegorical film about tolerance and fear of difference, at least, according to the left. There is, nevertheless, a problem, which is that however much del Toro and the critics may like to present The Shape as an "ode to 'the other'" or a treatise on tolerance, dressing up your 'other' as a non-human creature and including gratuitous scenes of a woman performing sex acts on an amphibian is just that - a woman performing sex acts on an amphibian - and most ordinary people will come out of such an experience disgusted rather than inspired. 

It is interesting that this film has been compared to the 1954 horror movie, Creature from the Black Lagoon, which took quite a different tack, the creature there being explicitly malicious, eventually sent back to its lair at the end of the story under a hail of bullets. A sign of the times, the critics might well tells us, that in the '50s we feared and fought the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and in 2018 we have sex with it. If that is not a sign of cultural and moral degeneracy, then it is hard to tell what is. To be perfectly honest, it is not even as though del Toro has tried to keep the deviancy of the story under wraps: admitting that the bathroom sex scene between Elisa and the fish-man was inspired by his childhood memories of watching Black Lagoon and wishing that the creature would have sex with Julia Adams. Disturbing? Quite so. 

Ultimately, bestiality is still bestiality. It was amusing to read in British media last week about the outrage with which the public met the story of an 80-year-old man being caught engaging in sex acts with a herd of cows. The judge hasn't even passed sentence, and already the papers are crying out about the "perverted pensioner" etc. But is what Elisa does to the fish-man in The Shape of Water much better than what this pensioner did to the cows? In reality, it's rather hard to argue that it is. 

Therefore, The Shape of Water might as well have been a film about a woman fisting cows - and no matter which way you spin that, it's still absolutely abhorrent.