Point//Counterpoint: Godzilla vs. Kong

A moral, spiritual, and ontological investigation of a critical intellectual concern.

by Vera Drew & Trevor Drinkwater

Later this month, the greatest rivalry in movie history is finally coming to a head. For the first time ever in an American film, Godzilla and King Kong are facing off in the ultimate battle of the behemoths, and the question on every good progressive’s mind is: which of these two colossal combatants is it morally correct to root for? Is it more ethical to back the radioactive reptilian, or is the gargantuan gorilla the conscientious choice?

To help you navigate this most perplexing and perilous of ethical inflection-points, we’ve recruited two of the Left’s finest thinkers—Vera Drew and Trevor Drinkwater—to lay out the respective arguments for each titular titan.

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Kong: A Beacon of Hope for All Apekind

By Trevor Drinkwater

Devotees of the Great Lizard like to call it a god. But is it not, more accurately, a demon?

He emerges from the depths of the ocean, from a world beneath our own, populated by unspeakable horrors. This buried realm and the monsters that inhabit it represent the shadow world of our collective unconsciousness, where our deepest fears manifest as unearthly leviathans. This is the plane of demons, of evil itself. Some might even call it Hell.

Let us not be fooled: Godzilla battles other monsters from below, but not in our defense. It fights only for dominance, to be a king among devils. In desperate times, the Lizard is our bedfellow, but it will never be our ally.

Only Kong can be our champion. He may lack the otherworldly powers of his opponent, but he has something no other kaiju has: humanity. We can see it in his eyes. Though my esteemed colleague Ms. Drew is quick to dismiss the notion, any empathetic person ought to feel the palpable emotion in his sad gaze, something never seen in the scaly visages of his fellow Titans. The Ape alone demonstrates compassion and a capacity to bond with humans—which stands to reason, of course. He is our brethren, for we, too, are apes.

It’s no accident that in the biblical tale of Adam and Eve (the first two intelligent apes), the satanic figure that deceives them is a serpent. We innately see reptiles as a rival species, predators of our kind. It’s only natural that a grand cinematic metaphor for nuclear devastation would take the form of a giant lizard. It, like Satan himself, is a symbol for the evils of mankind, an emblem of all that we hate and fear in ourselves.

Kong is not only a physical ideal, but a moral one. 

The noble Ape, by contrast, shows us our lost innocence and reminds us of our potential. Kong is not only a physical ideal—a gorilla, the strongest member of the great ape family—but a moral one. His rage, fearsome though it may be, is righteous. When not merely defending his own dignity, he is defending whom and what he loves. From his island home, to the kindred spirits with whom he bonds, to the Earth itself. And Godzilla, the nuclear Adversary, threatens them all.

Reptiles had their time. For millions of years, great reptilian beasts held dominion over this planet. It was an epoch of endless chaos, in which violence was the only order. Now is the Time of Apes, and while our track record is hardly spotless, our large ape brains still hold the potential for civility, kindness, and grace. Absent the higher reasoning of apes like us, the principles of freedom and justice are nonexistent. When you root for the Lizard, you are not only rooting against your own kind, but against any hope of a better future.

We call him King Kong, but not because he rules over us. He is a king in the same way that Jesus Christ is king. He represents the very best in all of us. He inspires us. He is our hope for humanity, for all apekind. He is Kong, Earth’s true defender.

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Godzilla: A Non-Binary Icon

by Vera Drew

Like many sapphic, transfeminine, nonbinary women my age, one of the things I want most is to be devoured by a gigantic femme, so I may perhaps be biased.

I want to keep things positive, both because I respect my colleague Trevor Drinkwater and because I am a Christian. So I won’t argue the reasons why King Kong is a toxic heel and a rage-fueled egoist. I’m here to argue that you should root for Godzilla, not merely because the idea of getting vored by a gigantic lizard is incredibly cool and romantic, but because Godzilla is the LGBTQ+ representation we need right now to shatter the gender binary in film.

Now you might be thinking, “Godzilla is a straight man, you SJW cuck.” Or perhaps you’re a big Broderick-head who believes Godzilla is a woman. But even a cursory look at kaiju history will show that both of these takes are canonically incorrect and make you look like a complete dipshit.

In the subtitles of Godzilla films in the Toho canon, our green friend is almost exclusively referred to by the gender-neutral pronoun “it.” True, people use he/him pronouns for Godzilla in many American dubs, but this is Western colonialist erasure and should be disregarded. I assume that if I were to ask Godzilla what their preferred pronouns were (shortly before they lapped me up with their soft tongue and ate me), they would say “they/them,” so that is how I will refer to them for the remainder of this bulletproof argument.

In both the godawful 1998 version and the immaculate Shin Godzilla (2016), Godzilla is able to reproduce asexually. The fact that Godzilla’s reproductive process is inherently queer should lead to them being celebrated as a gender-expansive icon by my community. In Son of Godzilla, the film’s namesake Minilla is actually Godzilla’s adopted son—how’s that for historic? It’s hard enough for queer couples to adopt children today, let alone a queer single parent like Godzilla in the Sixties. Rainbows are tacky—a statue of Gojira should be erected in their honor in every gayborhood in the country. 

Godzilla is a destructrix god, a giant gay lizard risen from the ashes of nuclear fallout to destroy our planet. 

Kong most likely has a frontal lobe, but shows no sign of emotion or personality. That beast probably doesn’t even have a soul. And though reptiles are historically seen as ruthless, emotionless creatures, many lizards show pleasure when stroked (something I could maybe do to Godzilla’s tummy before I let them swallow me). There is a strong case to be made that Godzilla, unlike the godless brute King Kong, not only has a soul, but embodies spirituality. Like an enby Shiva covered in scales, Godzilla is a destructrix god, a giant gay lizard risen from the ashes of nuclear fallout to destroy our planet, that it may someday return to its virginal beauty.

Like most queers, Godzilla is a survivor of the perversion of toxically masculine modernity. They are both the physical representation and the comeuppance for patriarchy’s ultimate sin: the careless evocation of nuclear energy. Godzilla’s destruction is our planet’s baptism, and we are their Communion. If you don’t root for Godzilla, you’re basically saying you hate LGBTQ+ rights and you don’t respect God.

In conclusion, Godzilla deserves to win the fight against Kong, and I wish that they were real so they could eat me.

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