“We Are Each a Disaster in Our Own Right”

Words like “Nazi” or “Hitler” are regularly invoked as a kind of test case for any number of things. Claim that God will forgive even the worst offenders? Well, what about Hitler? Argue for some form of universalism (everyone gets saved in the end)? Surely not a Nazi? Talk about how every human being bears the image of God and contains something of a “divine spark” within them? Well, you know. Nazis are the worst of the worst. They’re on the very top of the shelf marked “morally reprehensible”—they’re the category we reach for when we want to argue that there are some people who are beyond the pale.

And for good reason. Nazis are indeed among the worst of the worst. They’re not alone, of course. The twentieth century alone furnished plenty of grim competition. But as a means for pointing to the most appalling, dehumanizing savagery that our species is capable of, the word “Nazi” is not invoked in vain. It’s one of the few categories we can all agree on, one of the few moral absolutes that remains. Everyone knows that a Nazi is a separate category of humanity, perhaps barely even human at all.

Which makes it all the more remarkable when one shows up in real life. In 2025. Kanye West (or “Ye,” as he seems to prefer) has been a reliable tawdry headline machine for years, but in the past few weeks he’s taken things to a new level. Apparently, he’s been selling T-shirts with swastikas on his website and posting all kinds of antisemitic bile on Twitter (or X), even explicitly referring to himself as a “Nazi.” Which has quite rightly earned him a generous helping of incredulous and bewildered condemnation. His views are appalling and worthy of all the full-throated denunciation they are receiving.

But what about his music? I can count on one hand (maybe even one finger) how many times I’ve listened to him. In his pre-Nazi days, I gather it was kind of fashionable to be a fan of his. I never liked his music, but I mostly attributed that to a deficiency on my part. I am constitutionally incapable of appreciating hip-hop. Another boring, white male Gen-Xer fixated on guitars and grunge, I suppose. But other people—people with more sophisticated musical tastes—called him a genius, revolutionary, transcendent, etc.

Nick Cave, for example. In the past, Cave has insisted that he wants Kanye West’s “I Am a God” played at his funeral. I have never listened to this song and am immediately suspicious of the theology based on the title, but I’ll set that aside for the moment. Predictably, some of Cave’s fans are now having a bit of a go at him. Does he stand by this statement? Would he actually allow the song of a Nazi to be played at his funeral? Surely not! Surely even good art (again, assuming that Kanye West indeed does represent “good art”… this writer remains unconvinced) must be sacrificed once the word “Nazi” is invoked!

Here’s what Cave had to say by way of response in his most recent Red Hand File:

We are all broken, flawed, and suffering human beings, each a disaster in our own right, each with the capacity to cause great harm, each brimming with misguided notions, perhaps the most deluded of which is the belief that we are somehow exclusively and morally superior to everyone else. Many of you might be thinking, “Well, speak for yourself! I’m not like Kanye! I could never behave like that!” Yet, given the circumstances, we humans are capable of anything. To be human is to be flawed, yet it is also to possess the potential to achieve staggering things—beautiful, brilliant, inspiring, wild and audacious things; things to be cherished, despite our complex and compromised natures.

As odious and disappointing as many of Kanye’s views are, and as sickening as antisemitism is—in its sadly always-present, ever-morphing forms—I endeavour to seek beauty wherever it presents itself. In doing so, I am reluctant to invalidate the best of us in an attempt to punish the worst. I don’t think we can afford that luxury.

I may not agree with Nick Cave when it comes to aesthetics, but I’m with him on his theological anthropology.