A broken bone is visible on an X-ray. A signed contract either binds or releases. A red light means a complete stop. Reality, at its most basic level, is made up of facts that don't compromise. Ambiguity is usually a luxury of those whose water isn't cut off, of those who can afford to doubt the thermometer because they don't have a fever.
The problem with believing that everything is ambiguous is that it paralyzes us. If there's no certainty that the ground is firm, we don't walk. If we doubt that a promise is a bond, we don't trust. Functional societies are built on clear agreements: murder is wrong, the truth matters, debts are paid. There's not much room for "it depends" when we're talking about human dignity or scientific integrity.
Of course, there are nuances. Art, emotions, and human relationships all contain areas of ambiguity. But confusing that ambiguity with the absence of reality is a mistake. A cloud isn't a camel just because it looks like one.
Perhaps maturity lies in knowing when ambiguity is an intellectual refuge and when it's a trap. Faced with raw facts, with the consequences of our actions, with what hurts or saves, there isn't much ambiguity. And accepting that doesn't impoverish us: it anchors us to what is firm so that, from there, we can freely explore what truly deserves to be questioned.
Credit: I used Google Translate.
The image is my own.