This is a question I return to often in my clinical work as a therapist in Melbourne – not as a slogan, not as advice, but as an ethical compass.
It’s a question Jacques Lacan poses in his Seminar VII on ethics, and it cuts in a very different direction from the questions we are usually asked in therapy or in life.
Not:
- Did you do the right thing?
- Were you good enough?
- Did you follow the rules?
But something far more unsettling:
Have you acted in conformity with your desire?
At first glance, this can sound indulgent or even dangerous. We are so used to hearing about desire as something impulsive, selfish, or immature, something to be controlled or corrected. But in psychoanalysis, desire does not mean “doing whatever you want.” It refers to something deeper, more structural, and often much harder to face.
Desire is not comfort.
It is not happiness.
And it certainly isn’t gratification.
Ethics is not morality
In much of modern psychology, ethics tends to be understood in moral terms: reducing harm, improving wellbeing, helping people function better. These are not wrong aims but they are not the same as psychoanalytic ethics.
Psychoanalysis draws a sharp distinction between morality and ethics.
Morality tells us how we should behave. Ethics asks what it costs us to live in a way that is not ours.
Many people come to therapy feeling anxious, depressed, or stuck not because they have done something “wrong,” but because they have spent years doing what was expected of them. Being reasonable. Being good. Being accommodating. Being strong. Being self-sacrificing.
And often, underneath the symptoms, there is a quieter truth:
Something essential was given up along the way.
Guilt doesn’t come from transgression
This is one of the most counterintuitive ideas in psychoanalysis.
We tend to think guilt comes from breaking rules or hurting others. But clinically, guilt very often appears after someone has compromised themselves after they have backed away from something they wanted, said yes when they meant no, stayed silent when something mattered.
In this sense, guilt is not evidence of immorality. It is evidence of betrayal not of others, but of oneself.
People will say things like:
- “I don’t know why I feel so guilty, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
- “On paper, I made the sensible choice… but something feels off.”
- “I did what I was supposed to do, and now I feel empty.”
These are not failures of character. They are ethical conflicts.
“Giving ground” on desire
Lacan uses a striking phrase: giving ground relative to one’s desire.
What does that look like in real life?
It can seem like:
- Choosing safety over truth, again and again
- Staying in relationships, jobs, or identities that no longer fit
- Translating desire into something socially acceptable so it won’t upset anyone
- Using moral language (“it’s the right thing,” “others have it worse,” “I should be grateful”) to silence an inner conflict
Often this happens gradually. There is no dramatic decision just a series of small accommodations. And yet, over time, something tightens. Anxiety appears. The body speaks. Repetition sets in.
In psychodynamic psychotherapy in Melbourne, therapy is not about pushing people to act recklessly or impulsively. It’s about creating a space where these compromises can be spoken, not justified away.
Why psychoanalysis doesn’t give advice
One of the hardest things for people new to psychoanalytic therapy is that we don’t tell you what to do.
This isn’t because we’re evasive or neutral in some abstract way. It’s because ethical acts cannot be outsourced.
If an analyst tells you how to live, whose desire are you acting on?
Psychoanalysis does not promise:
- reassurance,
- moral clarity,
- or guarantees of happiness.
What it offers instead is something more demanding: responsibility for one’s desire, without alibi.
That responsibility is not heroic. It’s often quiet, lonely, and unglamorous. It may involve loss. It may involve disappointment. But it is also the point at which symptoms no longer have to carry what the subject refuses to say.
The danger of “being good”
Many people especially those who are conscientious, caring, or socially attuned organise their lives around goodness. Around being ethical in the everyday sense.
But psychoanalysis is interested in a different question:
At what cost?
Being good can sometimes function as a defence against desire. So can productivity. So can caretaking. So can compliance.
None of these are problems in themselves. They become problems when they are used to avoid something that insists.
Therapy as an ethical space
Psychotherapy, when it takes ethics seriously, is not about fixing or normalising. It is about making room for what has been excluded: desire, contradiction, ambivalence, conflict.
In my work as a psychologist in Hawthorn, Belgrave and Kew, I’m less interested in helping people become who they think they should be, and more interested in listening for:
- where they feel divided,
- where they repeat,
- where they feel guilt without knowing why,
- where something keeps returning despite all reasonable explanations.
Ethics begins there.
Not in ideals. Not in slogans. But in the difficult work of speaking what has not yet found words.
A different question to leave with
So instead of asking:
- Is this the right decision?
- Will this make me happier?
- What will others think?
A psychoanalytic question might be:
What am I giving up if I don’t do this?
Not because desire should always be acted on but because it must at least be acknowledged.
That acknowledgement alone can shift something fundamental.
And sometimes, this is where therapy truly begins.
Disclaimer
These writings are not therapy; they are general information about therapy. They are not a substitute for therapy or professional psychological advice. While care has been taken to ensure accuracy and reference to published research, therapy and psychoanalytic work are domains of ongoing study. A written text cannot replace the conversation that takes place in therapy sessions, which are dynamic, evolving, and centred on individual experience. Each person’s situation is unique, and meanings can only be spoken and explored within one’s own sessions. If something in these writings resonates with you and you are considering therapy, you are welcome to book a session.