Wickedness or Weakness, We're All Doomed

A new perspective on the overanalyzed dichotomy of DAMN.

A million articles analyzing DAMN. borrow the albums intro. This one is no exception.

Is it wickedness? Is it weakness? You decide. Are we gonna live? Or die?

It’s almost too obvious to point out the importance of these questions, but here we are. They’re practically the subtitle of the album. Any curious stan sees them as the window into Kendrick’s genius; philosophical questions that point deep into human nature. Indeed, the answer to the universe itself is probably hiding in between the lines. (Okay, maybe this is just me.)

They set up a dichotomy between wickedness and weakness. Are humans wicked - evil by nature? Or are they weak - evil by nurture? The difference, the questions imply, is the difference between life and death.

For the religious, these questions are everything. Whether God judges your sins as understandable failures or as evidence of evil determines whether you go to heaven or hell. In our criminal justice system, it’s the difference between murder (wickedness) and manslaughter (weakness); and with the right jury, you might even walk free.

In politics, the right blames the individual and the left blames society. Policies impacting hundreds of millions boil down to whether the problem is wickedness or weakness. Is welfare helping the weak, or is it enabling the wicked? And individually, it dictates how we judge others. Do we see interlocutors as blinded by stupidity, or just plain evil?

It’s not that deep

These questions are universal. They are profoundly relevant to many difficult societal and moral questions. But most adages and idioms are. And like most of this generic wisdom, it’s not that deep (or at least not that original).

The question of wickedness and weakness is just nature vs. nurture repackaged. It’s pop philosophy; a different way of framing that classic debate that always concludes with “it’s a mix of both.” It’s not a new insight - so what makes it interesting?

It reveals something about the person asking it. It’s a question you ask of evil - whether that evil is sin, murder, a perceived political villain, or even yourself. Is evil due to wickedness? Or weakness? The question is a search for a “why” - some justification for injustice.

Wherever the question is pointed, it reflects the hopelessness of the questioner. Imagine a person who asks, “if God exists, why is there so much evil in the world? Is God too weak, or is he too wicked? Or maybe we’re being punished - is it the wickedness or the weakness of humanity?”

The person asking this is suffering. They are in a crisis of faith. Because as long as wickedness and weakness are the only two options, we’re doomed.

These questions represent Kendrick’s dejected disposition. They’re the antithesis of the optimist who has faith in cosmic justice, who believes everything will be somehow made right. Instead, they represent the person who believes everything is already inescapably wrong.

Fear, fear that it’s wickedness or weakness

Fear, whatever it is, both is distinctive

Here, Kendrick doesn’t seem to fear wickedness or weakness individually, but the dichotomy itself. (“FEAR.”)

It doesn’t even matter

Either way, there’s still evil. Whether addiction is a disease or a choice, addicts are still living on the streets. And regardless of God’s nature, the world is filled with atrocities.

It ultimately doesn’t matter whether nature or nurture is ultimate; by the time you’re five, it’s practically over. Besides, you can’t go back in time to change either of these. If the world itself is the problem, then there is no solution.

And sometimes it really feels like the world is the problem. Maybe it’s a global catastrophe - a genocide, an existential crisis. Or maybe you just can’t catch a break. But when this happens, it’s hard to empathize with the world. It feels like wickedness.

The intro of DAMN., “BLOOD.,” serves as a cinematic trailer for this feeling. Prefaced by the haunting dichotomy, Kendrick tells a simple parable: he was on a walk, and saw a blind lady. She looked like she had dropped something. He went over to go help her, when she - for no reason whatsoever - shot him dead. The question rings out again: is it wickedness?

This launches a storm of ambiguity. Maybe evil is in our DNA, or maybe we can’t resist temptation (“YAH.”). Do we believe Kendrick when he says “in a perfect world, I would be perfect,” or instead when he says “if I kill a n****, it won’t be the alcohol” (“PRIDE.”/”HUMBLE.”)? Amidst the jarring juxtaposition between wickedness and weakness, a third possibility emerges, even more terrifying than being cursed to be evil: maybe we aren’t doomed.

Free Will

Maybe evil has an explanation. Maybe “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” is a false dichotomy. Maybe when we question God, asking him if it’s wickedness or weakness, He tells us it’s neither.

Because sometimes it feels like the world does give us the solution. Poetic opportunities and karmic coincidences challenge the idea of an unfair world. Even inspirational stories can inspire doubt. When this happens, free will feels real.

Suddenly we’re responsible for our suffering. But we’re also rewarded for our work. And that might feel even worse.

It was always me versus the world. Until I found it’s me versus me. Why, why, why, why?

In contrast with the dystopian parable of “BLOOD.,” DAMN. ends with a story of free will. The final track, “DUCKWORTH.,” vividly narrates the coincidence that created Kendrick Lamar. It concludes that despite a world that seems random and nihilistic, our actions truly do shape our fate.

You take two strangers and put 'em in random predicaments
Give 'em a soul so they can make their own choices and live with it
20 years later, them same strangers, you make 'em meet again
Inside recording studios where they reapin' their benefits
Then you start remindin' them about that chicken incident
Whoever thought the greatest rapper would be from coincidence?
Because if Anthony killed Ducky, Top Dawg could be servin' life
While I grew up without a father and die in a gunfight

Yet that tidy conclusion is undermined by the same gunshot that triggered our cynicism. The album then rewinds to “BLOOD.,” leaving us uncomfortably between the opposing worldviews. And this is by design: DAMN. can be played forwards or backwards, so either song can serve as the ending.

The unfortunate reality is that neither conclusion fits perfectly. And that’s the reality DAMN. emotionally captures. Not in an “it’s a mix of both” way, but in an “it depends” way - on our experiences, our environment, and our choices. It might be trite, but it’s not trivial.

The true dichotomy of DAMN. is of agency. And the true journey? You decide.