Ethical Dilemmas as Central Themes – Can It Work In Your Story?
There’s something almost magnetic about a story where no one—not even the hero—knows the “right” thing to do. That magnetic pull is the power of an ethical dilemma. I’ve found that when you build your entire narrative around one, the tension and depth you can achieve are extraordinary.
Now, I get it—this isn’t a new idea. Storytellers from Sophocles to Scorsese have leaned into moral ambiguity.
But I think it’s worth asking: Are we really using ethical dilemmas to their full potential today?
Too often, I see them treated as a side quest rather than the engine driving the entire story forward.
And yet, when done well, an ethical dilemma can turn a simple plot into something that keeps readers thinking about your story long after the last page.
Think of Breaking Bad—is Walter White right or wrong? Does it even matter anymore?
That kind of sustained moral tension is gold.
In this post, I want to dig into why these dilemmas resonate so deeply—and how we can deliberately use them to supercharge our storytelling.
Why These Dilemmas Hit So Hard
They force us to confront ourselves
We all love watching someone else wrestle with a tough choice. Why? Because deep down, it forces us to ask, “What would I do?” Stories with ethical dilemmas invite self-reflection in a way few other narrative devices can.
Think of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go—a story about clones bred for organ harvesting. The characters’ acceptance of their fate forces us to question our own passivity in the face of systemic injustice. No flashy plot twists needed—just layered moral questions that haunt the reader.
They create authentic complexity
One trap we fall into, even as seasoned writers, is making things too clean. Villains are evil, heroes are good. But the real world doesn’t work that way—and neither should your story.
When you build a narrative around an ethical dilemma, you invite authentic, lived-in complexity. Cormac McCarthy’s The Road is a prime example. Should the father teach his son kindness in a world where kindness could get them killed? There’s no easy answer, and that ambiguity makes every scene pulse with tension.
They transcend genre
You don’t have to be writing literary fiction to use this tool. Ethical dilemmas are wildly versatile:
- In sci-fi, Ex Machina questions the morality of creating sentient AI.
- In fantasy, A Song of Ice and Fire constantly asks who truly deserves power—and what they’ll sacrifice for it.
- In romance, a love triangle can become an ethical question of loyalty vs. personal happiness.
Too often, writers assume moral complexity is only for “serious” stories. I think that’s a missed opportunity. The audience for every genre craves layered characters facing impossible choices.
They can anchor your entire structure
Here’s the big one: ethical dilemmas aren’t just character moments; they can be the thematic spine of your entire story.
I’ve seen too many drafts where the dilemma is tacked on—something the protagonist wrestles with in a single scene. But the most powerful stories use it as a throughline: the choice is set up early, complicated in the middle, and paid off in the climax.
Take The Good Place. The entire show is one long meditation on what it means to be good. Every twist and joke serves that central question. The result? A sitcom that delivers one of the most satisfying moral arcs I’ve ever seen.
Final thought for now
If there’s one thing I hope you take from this section, it’s this: don’t be afraid to lean in. Audiences can handle complexity. In fact, they crave it. When you structure your story around a central moral tension, you give readers something far more engaging than spectacle alone—you give them something to chew on, argue about, and remember.
Next, I’ll show you some concrete ways to build these dilemmas into your story’s bones. This is where it gets fun.
How To Weave Ethical Dilemmas Into Your Story
When I work with writers—whether novelists or screenwriters—this is where most of the questions come up: how do I actually build an ethical dilemma into the story in a way that works?
It’s one thing to know moral tension is powerful. It’s another to integrate it so that it shapes the entire narrative without feeling forced or preachy. The good news? There are concrete storytelling moves that make this easier. I’ll walk you through a few of my favorites here.
Character-Driven Conflict
First and foremost, the ethical dilemma must be something that grows from your protagonist’s values, not something dropped in from the outside.
If the choice feels external—like a problem handed to them by the plot—it won’t resonate. But when the dilemma cuts to the core of who they are, that’s when you’ve got real dramatic fuel.
Think of Tony Gilroy’s Michael Clayton. The title character’s dilemma—whether to expose corporate wrongdoing at great personal risk—emerges from years of moral compromise and growing internal conflict. It’s not an arbitrary choice; it’s the result of who he is and what he’s become.
Ask yourself:
- What values does my protagonist hold sacred?
- What would force them to choose between two of those values?
When your dilemma pits the character’s core principles against each other, the audience will lean in hard.
Symmetrical Stakes
Here’s a mistake I see a lot, even in otherwise strong drafts: the stakes on either side of the dilemma aren’t balanced. One choice is obviously worse than the other, so the tension evaporates.
You want symmetrical stakes—meaning, each choice must come with both a moral cost and a tangible consequence. If both options feel equally risky or painful, your audience stays invested.
In The Dark Knight, Batman must choose between saving Harvey Dent or Rachel Dawes—two lives, both personally significant, both with huge implications for Gotham. That symmetry keeps us on edge.
No Easy Outs
This is critical: once you’ve created your dilemma, don’t cheat.
No surprise rescues. No sudden third option that magically resolves everything. If you do this, your audience will feel manipulated.
Sophie’s Choice is devastating precisely because there is no way out. The power of the dilemma comes from forcing the character—and the audience—to live with an impossible choice.
You need to trust that the tension will hold. Often, the hardest scenes to write are the most effective ones to leave unresolved.
Delayed Consequences
One advanced move: don’t let the moral tension resolve instantly.
If the character chooses in act two, let that choice echo into act three—or even into sequels or later seasons. The lingering consequences are often more powerful than the choice itself.
Breaking Bad mastered this. Every morally dubious choice Walter makes ripples outward, forcing new dilemmas and compounding his downfall. The cumulative effect is crushing.
The Moral Mirror
Finally, surround your protagonist with characters who embody conflicting moral worldviews.
This lets you dramatize the dilemma without endless exposition. When side characters argue, act, or sacrifice based on their own principles, the audience experiences the moral complexity in action.
Think of The Leftovers—a show filled with characters whose wildly different responses to grief and the inexplicable make each choice feel achingly human.
When done right, ethical dilemmas don’t just make for great plot points—they turn your entire story world into a living, breathing moral argument. And that’s where the magic happens.
Common Mistakes When Writing Ethical Dilemmas
I’ve been around enough story rooms and manuscript workshops to know this: ethical dilemmas are often misunderstood, even by pros. Here are some of the biggest pitfalls I see—and how you can avoid them.
False Equivalence
You’ve probably seen this one: a story where the “dilemma” boils down to two extremes presented as equally valid.
Example: Save a kitten or blow up a city. C’mon. No one’s fooled.
For an ethical dilemma to work, both options must be emotionally and morally complex. If one is obviously evil or stupid, you lose credibility.
Instead, study cases like The Americans. Philip and Elizabeth’s loyalty to their country constantly clashes with their love for their American-born children. Neither choice is pure; both come with unbearable costs. That’s what real moral tension looks like.
Preachy Narration
Another common misstep is authorial moralizing. If your narrator (or your tone) starts telling the reader what the right choice is, you undercut the whole dilemma.
Readers want to wrestle with the moral ambiguity themselves. Let them. Your job is to present the complexity honestly, not to resolve it for them.
Mad Men does this beautifully. Don Draper is often morally reprehensible, yet the show never explicitly judges him. It invites the audience to grapple with their own shifting reactions.
Overcomplication
This one surprises people: too much complexity can kill your ethical tension.
I’ve read drafts where the author piles on so many subplots and thematic layers that the core dilemma gets lost.
Remember: clarity is key. Your audience needs to feel the dilemma in their gut. If they’re confused about what’s at stake or why it matters, you’ve lost them.
The Crucible is a masterclass in clarity. Proctor’s choice—to preserve his integrity or save his life—is simple, primal, and emotionally devastating.
Avoiding the Payoff
Some writers flinch at the moment of decision. They build up the moral tension… and then resolve it offscreen or with a cop-out.
Don’t do this. Show the choice. Live in the consequences.
One of the most searing moments in The Sopranos is when Carmela confronts her complicity in Tony’s world. The show doesn’t let her off the hook—and that honesty is part of why it endures.
Final Word on Mistakes
In short: trust your audience, trust your characters, and embrace moral messiness. That’s where your story will come alive.
Taking Ethical Dilemmas Even Further
Okay—let’s say you’ve got a solid ethical dilemma baked into your story. Now what?
The best storytellers don’t stop there. They find ways to deepen, evolve, and complicate the dilemma across the entire narrative arc. Here are some advanced techniques I love.
Escalation of Stakes
Introduce moral decisions early—but don’t resolve them. Instead, let the stakes escalate as the story progresses.
Early choices should come back to haunt your protagonist later, forcing them to confront new dimensions of the original dilemma.
The Wire excels at this. Characters like McNulty and Stringer Bell make ethically murky decisions early on—then spend seasons wrestling with the fallout as the stakes grow higher.
Reframing Events
One brilliant move: reveal new information late in the story that reframes earlier moral choices.
This forces both your character and your audience to reevaluate what seemed like the “right” decision.
Arrival pulls this off perfectly. Louise’s choice to engage with the alien language takes on new, heart-wrenching meaning once we understand her knowledge of future grief.
Moral Cost vs. Moral Clarity
One tension I love to explore is this: sometimes gaining moral clarity requires paying a steep price.
Maybe the protagonist comes to understand the right thing to do—but doing it will cost them dearly.
This is the engine behind Schindler’s List. Oskar Schindler’s increasing moral clarity comes with financial ruin and unbearable guilt.
Your audience will be riveted when characters face this kind of gut-wrenching clarity.
Echoes and Parallels
Use subplots to mirror or contrast your central ethical dilemma.
When done well, this creates resonance across your story. Different characters wrestling with similar (but not identical) questions can deepen the theme and enrich your world.
The Leftovers does this beautifully, as different characters embody radically different responses to the same global trauma.
Character Regression or Growth
Finally: let your characters’ moral choices drive their transformation.
Too often, we treat moral decisions as plot points rather than as engines of character change.
But the most powerful stories show how these choices reshape the protagonist. They may grow, regress, or both—but they should not be the same person at the end.
Better Call Saul is a stunning example. Jimmy’s ethical compromises steadily erode his identity, turning him into Saul Goodman before our eyes.
The Big Takeaway
If you commit to evolving your dilemma across the story—and let it transform your characters—you’ll give your audience an experience they won’t forget.
Before You Leave…
I hope this gave you some fresh ways to think about using ethical dilemmas in your storytelling. I know many of you are already pros at this—but sometimes revisiting the fundamentals with fresh eyes can unlock new creative energy.
If there’s one thing I’d leave you with, it’s this: don’t play it safe. Ethical dilemmas are at their most powerful when they make you uncomfortable as a writer. If you lean into that discomfort, your story will hit harder—and stay with your audience far longer.
Thanks for reading. Now go write something messy and true.