January 19, 2026
The Ethics of Ambivalence
Ambivalence is a basic feature of relationships.
It shows up everywhere: families, friendships, partnerships, therapy. Ambivalence often produces confusion about how to act ethically. When care and frustration coexist, when attachment is paired with limit, it can be difficult to know what responsibility requires.
Ambivalence can feel like a moral failing. Yet in some sense, it’s the opposite. To relate subject to subject—to encounter another as whole and imperfect—requires tolerating mixed feelings. The absence of ambivalence can just as easily signal idealization, splitting, or cut-off.
Ambivalence may actually be a precondition to ethical relating.
Ethics, Freedom, and Choice
Simone de Beauvoir’s The Ethics of Ambiguity offers a useful framework for thinking about this. There, Beauvoir argues that ethics begins under conditions of moral uncertainty. Good faith is not purity of intention or guaranteed outcomes, but the willingness to act without denying responsibility. Ethics are lived, risky, and ongoing. Meaning continues to emerge rather than resolve.
While Beauvoir is among the twentieth-century thinkers most deeply concerned with intimate relational ethics, in her public-facing work, ambivalence tends to be situated as a social condition rather than an intrapsychic one.
Existentialist ethics was largely concerned with conflicting values, competing agendas, and double-binds where no choice is innocent or perfect. What The Ethics of Ambiguity does not fully theorize is the uncertainty that arises within the subject: loving and resenting the same person, wanting closeness and distance simultaneously, guilt without the possibility of repair. (These themes are present in some of Beauvoir’s novels, but without clear guidelines for ethical action under such conditions.)
Culture
Contemporary culture tends to struggle with ambivalence. In opt-in contexts with high emotional risk—dating, sex—this is often useful. Concepts like enthusiastic consent help clarify choice. Noting too much ambivalence too soon quickly resolves the dilemma.
Ongoing relationships, especially familial and platonic ones, tend to be less clear. If enthusiastic consent were the standard for everyday relational contact…
History, attachment, care, and boundaries complicate ethical responsibility.
What We Want and How We Feel
Collectively, we elevate clarity and consistency as ethical ideals, and for good reason. As recipients in relationship, most of us want to know where we stand. Legibility feels safe, respectful, fair. Yet as participants in relationship—as subjects rather than objects—we experience movement: shifts in feelings, capacities, and needs.
When clarity and consistency are moralized, they can imply stasis in a relational field that’s inherently dynamic.
Guilt
Many people experience ambivalence as troubling. They can feel pressure to choose a position and hold it, to feel one way, to resolve. Guilt becomes confused with instruction; one thinks, if I feel guilty, I must be doing something wrong. Sometimes this is the case. More frequently, guilt signals a sense of obligation without knowing what that obligation requires. It may reflect conflict without a clear ethical directive, or the recognition of a limit rather than a violation.
The Ethics of Ambiguity asks: how do I act ethically when outcomes are uncertain? Many people—clients included—ask: how do I act ethically when my own motives are mixed? Ambivalence can be understood as an intrapsychic form of ambiguity within relationship. Here, ethics involves the capacity to tolerate non-resolution. Good faith may not mean full transparency or emotional purity. It means staying engaged without denying complexity.
The Unconscious
Existential ethics often assumes a subject largely transparent to herself. However, in relationships, ethical failure doesn’t usually come from bad intentions so much as oversimplifying our own motives. Certainty can look ethical while functioning as avoidance. Ambivalence asks that we resist certain reflexes: collapsing into over-disclosure, fleeing into distance, or projecting unresolved inner conflict.
Inquiry
Under conditions of ambivalence, questions become an ethical practice.
How much contact can I actually sustain right now without resentment?
Am I withholding open communication because the relationship can’t metabolize it yet, or because I can’t?
What part of my guilt is ethical signal, and what part is inherited expectation?
What would acting in good faith (doing my best) look like if resolution isn’t possible?
What limits can I name without turning them into moral justification?
The aim isn’t to solve ambivalence, but to hold responsibility without purity. Read this way, Beauvoir’s ethics—lived, unfinished, and unanswerable—remain useful for considering the ordinary dilemmas of relational life. The ethical task isn’t resolution, but staying with the questions that mixed feelings generate.