How must we design responsibly for the future?
Introduction
My Grandfather’s Hoover is now almost 60 years old. It still runs the same way it always has, so he continues to use it the same way he always has — this might not seem so significant to him, but to me, it’s pretty incredible.
It isn’t that I have an oddly excitable interest in vacuums — I don’t, rather; I am blown away with the possibility that an ordinary household commodity can (and proceeds to) last for such an enormous amount of time. With my generation, or even my parents’, seldom would we expect, nevermind encounter, a design that serves a user to such an extended period. ‘Design’ to us, likely infers style or decoration, a means to ‘catch the eye’, whereas to my Grandfather’s generation, it’s a term that implies something much more humble; that is, utility and practicality. This disparity reveals exactly why in contrast to my astonishment, my Grandfather might see an operating 60-year-old vacuum as normal or even as expected. The thing is, he has the right mindset, why shouldn’t our objects be designed to last? How so then, can we reclaim this notion of design and return it to its former value of purpose and responsibility?
The forthcoming chapters will look to investigate and closer-examine this issue of responsibility within the context of design, intending to determine a comprehensive answer to the overarching question, along with reasoned theory to propose solutions. After first acknowledging the need, importance and relevance of responsible design in consideration of our current global condition, we can enter a deeper inquiry into a more explicit definition of the subject’s meaning and undertones. Integral to our understanding of responsible design’s landscape, an exploration into previous instances of social and sustainable design thinking throughout history will not only inform us with context, but will assist us with inspiration for dealing with contemporary matters. Amongst this will be a segment on my research methodology, followed by a review of particularly influential texts of which inevitably will shape the discussed themes that feature through this dissertation.
The main campaign of the investigation will tackle ‘responsible design’ by dismantling it into three parts; firstly considering the term ‘design’ as an etymology, questioning why we design — through the subject of problems, society and socialism. From here, we will then be dealing with design in terms of the physical object, distinguishing, with debates of innovation and consumer seduction, what constitutes for irresponsible design practice as well its reverse. As we accumulate a greater understanding of the subject area, developing an increasingly informed interpretation and personal perspective, the third component of ‘how we design responsibly’ will consider design in an aesthetic context. Topics regarding the styling and exterior of what we design will aim to decipher how best responsibility can be represented through visual expression. An analytical reflection of the prevalent points of discussion and reason raised throughout previous chapters will then be further streamlined to set about tying up all that will have been covered, in anticipation of a (hopefully) convincing and comprehensive conclusion, that satisfies the overall question of the dissertation.
Reclaiming ‘Design’
Why is the question of responsibility in design needing to be asked?
Well, what do we even mean when we say ‘design’? Let’s acknowledge this second question before we tackle the first. To start, we can begin through recognition of the present and growing indiscretions regarding what is considered ‘design.’ While later, we will look to distil an exact definition of the term (design), for now, to initially respond to the question posed; the term ‘design’ has been subject to continual change and ballooning of meaning into something now almost indefinable. It is from this confusion that problems stem. So, we need to clearly grasp again what ‘design’ means.
In the sea of language, words are articulations of meaning — they are vital clarifications within the expression of language — with a distinct meaning, a word’s use becomes most effective. Therefore, the significance and danger in the haziness of definition is how we could eventually lose touch of a word’s utility and effect; in this case, we could lose design’s utility and impact. In the same frustration we might have towards people who use the word ‘literally’ to the uttermost inaccuracy of the word’s actual or literal meaning, the term ‘design’ is undergoing similarly damaging misuses. When the distinctions of what makes design design (and not art or fashion or decoration) are muddied and ambiguous, we leave behind the substance of design’s foundational purposes and its powerful potential. For us to continue distancing our usages of the term away from more faithful interpretations of ‘design,’ we proceed to disservice ourselves from the immense utility the tool design provides in solving problems.
And, as of right now, as a planet, we have many problems. Particularly concerning the destruction of our natural world, which irresponsible design has played a considerable part in — through critical lacks-of-concern when designing our objects, clothing, and all others. This, along with our obsession with consumption, has led us to where we find ourselves standing now, shadowed by our man-made mountains of disposed-of in-disposables. This is the makings of last year’s phone — now obsolescent, last season’s look — now unfashionable or last week’s rubbish — now everlasting. As our global climate heats, raising our sea levels and while our resources deplete along with our prospects of survival, it seems now is precisely the time to reflect on how we might design more responsibly.
If we needed more convincing over the situation, who better to listen to than the legendary German industrial designer Dieter Rams (Responsible for designing over 500 rigorously refined, thought-out, timeless products under companies’ Braun’ and ‘Vitsoe’).
The 87-year-old strongly shares this frustration and concern of how we have dirtied the term ‘design’ —
‘Our world is filled with too many products with superficial attractions and little or no real use. We have been indiscriminate and greedy. The term ‘design’ has been exploited and abused in the name of commercialism.’ (Rams, 2011,p. 350)
It seems evident that it has never been more imperative that we form a critique and intolerance against the rampant mistreatments of design that have polluted the discipline (and consequently the world). It is time that we reflect on what ‘design’ means, when design is necessary and distinguish what constitutes high quality, sustainable design, redirecting the discipline back towards its more principled roots. So that perhaps, even if we don’t, our future generations can experience using their vacuums for 60 years.
A Designer’s Pipe Dream?
To decipher how ‘responsibility’ might manifest into a series of design values, let us look at the term within the context of design as well as its history within that context.
The notion of ‘sustainability’ might feel to be only a recent phenomenon, a buzzword so beautifully vague that anyone now can use it to hide their eco-hypocrisies of production, protecting profits by greenwashing. While this much is made true as we see oil conglomerates corrupting the word through convincing campaigns where celebrities are challenged to reduce CO2 emissions (Shell, 2020), the concept of ecological sustainability has much purer roots and many designers throughout the last century have demonstrated glimpses of this awareness and genuine concern.
Among these apprehensive designers and thinkers, stands arguably the most renowned (and earliest) of those opposed to industrial mass production, William Morris (1834–1896) did not even have to see the magnitudes of manufacture from the twentieth century to know there would be damaging repercussions. Alongside the Arts and Crafts movement of the time, Morris expressed strong advocacy for the importance of artisanship in contrast to mass production methods, though because of the high quality and long-lasting nature of his work, it was only attainable to those affluent enough which was admittedly counterproductive to his firmly socialist standpoint.
News from Nowhere (1890) is perhaps Morris’ most coherent and influential contribution to eco-socialist design. In the utopian novel, citizens display and embody a socially-oriented way of thinking; their attitudes toward objects and ownership are a great way to start us off considering how responsibility might play out in conversation. We can imagine ourselves as the protagonist, who is unfamiliar to the world in News from Nowhere. Morris, W (1890) brilliantly illustrates this attitude through an exchange between the protagonist and a girl behind the counter of a pipe store. She hands the man (our protagonist) a beautifully carved and embroidered pipe despite his expressed fears of losing such an exquisite object, replying with optimism:
“don’t trouble about losing it. What will it matter if you do? Somebody is sure to find it, and he will use it, and you can get another”.
Although the example is so modest and simple, it represents a compelling outlook where what we design is successful when it retains value and utility — no matter the possessor. It places the priority on a design’s sustained usefulness, irrelevant to whether it is a third-hand classic or recently released innovation. Even if his most notable work was something of a fantasy, the whole novel, and what it represents left a significant legacy of inspiration to the design world.
In what might be considered the reverse of utopia: war — sustainable design and thinking have helped turn both defeat into revival — in WW1 with the Bauhaus in Germany, as well as survival into victory — with the CC41 Utility scheme in WW2 Britain. In 1919, in the thick of the uncertainty and wreckage after the first world war, the famous Bauhaus school initiated a new mindset of modernist optimism with social and responsible design at the forefront. In a dire time of not only political but extreme economic disarray, the school and its students were forced to be considerate over each design decision concerning material, waste and cost. Through sustainable, democratic approaches, design would soon represent a hopeful solution to Germany’s revival. Alternatively to William Morris’ vision, it was achieved with the transformation of craftsmen into industrial designers.
Dealing with similar war-induced shortages, the Utility Scheme (1941–1949) was a system organised by the Board of Trade in the UK to responsibly distribute and ration resources equally across the country’s whole population. The programme meant a complete overhaul of manufacturing and consumption methods in a (successful) attempt to provide for the appropriate needs of everyone. In the design of rationed clothing and furniture, design principles were treated with equal importance to the Board as minimising labour and resources were. Marjanne van Halvert (2016, p. 93) reports in ‘The Responsible Object’,
‘As opposed to providing only a cheap, temporary solution, Utility products were made to be durable and modern, in an attempt to educate the public in modern taste’.
If we take into account the huge impact that all forms of design can have on people’s surrounding visual and physical environment, as well as the reality that this environment is shared alongside many others’ designs (likely contrasting in style and viewpoints), a responsible designer must primarily be considerate. The materials and resources used in the manufacture of design will always affect our environment, and therefore, will eventually indirectly affect everyone. The stylistic choices of one’s design affect everyone’s environment too but do so only on a visual level, adding another style to our chaotic myriad of designs. The profession of the designer, considering one’s impact, is a serious duty of (rather than adding to it) diluting this chaotic world of excess and ugliness. It is to undertake the task of instilling positive and meaningful order, striving towards this while minimising possible damage to our natural environment, directly and indirectly. Like a firefighter’s profession would be regarded as a duty within a community, a responsible designer should follow a similar outlook. A frame of mind as such means not to eliminate the enjoyment or pleasure one gets from practising design, but to instead emphasise the importance of the role and to encourage deeper thinking behind the decisions of the designer. Finally, corresponding to this duty, a responsible designer ought not to shy away from problems that are most pressing by reverting to indulgence, but should step up, despite adversity, and tackle the difficult issues facing the world.
These ‘difficult issues’ are not solely to be limited to making environmental efforts; the previous point also alludes to designing for the real-world problems and people that get neglected. Namely, those in developing countries, those that are disabled or are refugees or without sanitary et cetera — ultimately, those who are in real need. One particularly pivotal advocator for this nature of design was Victor Papanek, author of Design for the Real World (1971). The book, revered for its hard-to-swallow critique of design, has become an essential component to any design student’s reading list, and for good reasons. Its brutal, unapologetic position of how our approach to design has gone awry and become so destructive, continues to lead as an ever relevant, necessary and powerful critique of the designer.
Additionally, the book instead steers us to see what the design profession instead can contribute to the world. Papanek (1971, p.219) explains with plainness, an alternative to the ways of design that are sympathetic to consumeristic temptations.
He does this with an impelled call for designers ‘to design for people’s needs rather than their wants’, emphasising especially to bring more attention to tackling the unappealing and uncared for issues aforementioned. In 1976, following on in an outlook similar to Papanek’s Design for the Real World, an ambition was clarified by the ICSID (International Council of Societies of Industrial Design) to ‘return to the earlier ideals of the profession’ by inviting a collection of designers to partake in an anthology of papers presented at the Royal College of Art. There was a determination to reshape the objective of design to be concentrated on meeting the needs of the modern world ‘by designing in human terms where social purpose combined with aesthetic expression and symbolic value’. (Bicknell, J. and McQuinston, L. 1976) This message, along with the concerns stressed earlier in the invitation with phrases like ‘Our waste of resources and a despoliation of the environment’ and ‘failure in the provision of many essential needs’, are potent examples of ethical designers not only already aware of the same global concerns we have today but also already looking to set a precedent of responsible design not only forty years ago, but too, with William Morris, well over a hundred years ago.
While the times we find these past examples of responsible design may seem drastically different from the current relevant state of affairs, often they are dealing with similar issues that our current society also faces. They offer not just context but valuable insights into tackling these issues and scarcities through social, responsible designing and thinking. All of which can educate us further with establishing principles and approaches to design with the future in mind.
Reclaiming ‘Design’
As we begin to diagnose how we might design responsibly for our future and what that might look like, it is essential we next try to understand the term ‘design’ fully; why we design and what are its foundational purposes. Early on in this essay, we registered that defining the exact meaning of ‘design’ has grown to be a perplexing task due to the all the different usages of the term within all types of contexts — and that this absence of clarity and distinction could later become damaging. We can start by breaking ‘design’ down into three parts; in this chapter, we will refer to the term in its broadest sense; its etymology and its underlying principles.
Experienced Muji designer Kenya Hara (2003, p. 24) kicks us off with a grounding articulation that defines ‘design’ as a strategy directed towards democratic problem solving
‘The essence of design lies in the process of discovering a problem shared by many people and trying to solve it’.
According to Hara, design and its purpose, in its purest form; is problem-solving – this clarification is one that desperately needs to be recalled when designing. Too often, the outcomes of what we produce don’t solve problems effectively; they deal with problems only in a short-term scope or, what’s more, they create problems rather than solving them.
So, How do we identify a problem? Problems are entwined with matters of need and the overcoming of bad or unwelcome situations. A problem may be as basic as your need for utensils to eat with, for instance — eating with your hands can be undesirable or problematic, especially if you’re having soup for dinner. Problems too can be complex, to the scale of a city’s need to navigate an underground rail network, or even bigger and more desperate; developing countries dealing with malnutrition or developed ones with widespread wildfires, like what we’ve seen engulf Australia. The key to identifying something problematic is that there is a legitimate need to overcome it. With irresponsible design, there is a blame that should partly be shared with consumers and their willingness to buy things that solve no problems. It is unlikely that anyone encounters and has to overcome a problem by owning a fidget spinner or four colourways of the same sneaker or a fridge with touchscreen doors (which we will return to). Designers and manufacturers will also invent problems for consumers to buy into, consequentially creating real problems and collateral damage through more useless waste. Whether out of laziness or carelessness or to keep up with latest trends, almost always, the root of this issue stems from when design instead becomes a tool for capitalistic greed. Design that promotes the wants of things we do not need. Design that’s only priority is to be fashionable or create a spectacle. Design that coerces us into buying more stuff. These are all strategies we see prominently; it is design where any potential of problem-solving gets eclipsed by the opportunity to make more money.
Most famously, over the last 70 years, we have become passive participants to a particularly shady scheme; instances of planned obsolescence in design have risen alongside the equally speedy advancements of technology. Planned obsolescence now denotes what we’ve come to accept as consensus; that our objects are designed to not last. Such is the notion of designing and making a consumer object with the purposeful intent for it to have a finite lifespan.
This cynical process of production becomes an easier way of profiting from consumers than actually improving a product because, instead, due to inferior materials, construction or methods of making, the user is forced into soon having to replace what they bought not so long ago.
Started by struggling light bulb manufacturers in the American depression era, planned obsolesce counteracted unemployment and the collapse of sales and it did so successfully as a means of survival. (Van Halvert, M. 2016) Though after these struggles, the model was continued with the Phoebus cartel of electrical companies, curbing their market for complete economic control. From there it was later imitated into all areas of industrial design due to its lucrative lure.
Such adverse treatments of design and production have grown to enormously harmful scales where all manufacturing giants now operate with the same greedy approach. From unopenable devices, irreplaceable batteries to newfangled ports, even down to our subscription-driven lifestyles, the aim of delivering optimal use has been ignored.
Capitalistic interests have perverted design into a vicious epidemic where not only do the masses suffer in spite of a profiting minority, but to more detriment, so does the environment.
If we are to design responsibly going into the future, designers should establish and maintain a clear ambition to solve a problem to the fullest extent possible. To do this in coherence with foundational design principles, where usability and longevity are the priority alongside the users’ satisfaction of a need. We must understand why we are designing and keep our purpose and attitude toward design as pure as possible, devoid from expedience.
Considering the Collective
If we return to Hara’s description of design, crucial too, is the reference of commonality being part of the design process. Therefore suggesting design should have an attitude that is considerate to a collective. The mentioning of this in his interpretation makes a vital declaration of what design isn’t as well; that design isn’t a discipline that should look to benefit only the select few. At the least, the impact it leaves on the wider collective of peoples’ visual and physical environment should be considered, whether they are the audience or not. We should note, there are also many instances where a design’s audience has to be specific too (and not in an elitist way), this is fine — the essence of the point is about striving to maximise inclusivity when solving a problem. Unfortunately, though, much of what gets designed currently and put out into the world seems to prioritise only a privileged minority’s needs (or indeed wants) — failing design foundations not only in this one respect but by doing so also to the disregard and expense of the many.
This inequality feels a familiar reflection of many other aspects of our society globally; it is because of such imbalances and lack of communal concern that we find ourselves on the verge of global self-destruction. Hence, design now has the huge task to overcome attitudes that display an absence of care or respect towards our fellow man, our objects, environments and our future. In order to lessen the teeming magnitudes of greed and resentment that poison society into a polarised plight of ‘have’ and ‘have-nots’. If we are to reduce this unsustainable contrast between people, society (and design) surely has to assume the form of a more socially-oriented standpoint.
William Morris (1890) represents his vision of society precisely in this socialist manner, and these beliefs are constant throughout his work. He explains this vision:
“Well, what I mean by Socialism is a condition of society in which there should be neither rich nor poor, neither master nor master’s man, neither idle nor overworked, neither brain-sick brain workers nor heart-sick hand workers, in a word, in which all men would be living in equality of condition, and would manage their affairs unwastefully.”
Looking back now at ‘News from Nowhere’, we can see where the characters’ inclinations of generosity and equality have manifested from, and they do a brilliant job of carrying these attitudes out, doing justice to Morris’ philosophies. The instance of the pipe store exchange is one we can take to not only guide us in our treatment of objects and their design but more importantly, our attitude towards in regard to other people, in particular strangers.
Saying, “Somebody is sure to find it, and he will use it” usually wouldn’t be so reassuring to most people in our own world, arguably because we are most fulfilled when we are possessors of what we have bought or received, and so ‘News from Nowhere’ flips this. Alternately to how we operate, the example captures how, in Morris’ vision, every person is valued as truly equal to themselves, and their satisfaction of others’ happiness reflects that.
A shift towards this kind of social thinking is, of course, a considerable challenge for people, not just designers to attune to, bearing in mind also that this is a utopian idealism, it requires such selflessness and charity that realistically, we can only aspire to, aiming to implement glimpses of it in everyday life. In the same way though that through gifting, we are left with a special satisfaction in return, if we can receive this same satisfaction knowing whoever is in possession of an object is enjoying its use, this fulfilment would displace the incentive of designing — away from monetary gain in favour of common or collective gain. The quality of our designed objects, because of this incentive, would increase across the board, lessening the number of objects designed purely for commercial greed.
We can take this as an ideal attitude towards design to carry forward, staying in touch with foundational principles of design and retaining such intentions when designing. From this, not only would we reap the benefits of commercialism taking a backseat in priorities, the amplification of care and thought behind what would be designed would be made to last. With that, the pollution from design we see today would soon lessen.
I think it is evident from what we’ve gathered thus far, design ultimately should solve problems, and the problems that ideally get targetted should be genuine issues. These problems should be resolved to the greatest effect and inclusivity as possible. Design should be conducted through valuing and considering both the intended audience as well as unintended others.
Unneeded Innovation
Now following on from a position of clear understanding of what design means, along with its base principles, and after we can identify exactly why we are designing towards a particular purpose; the next step is determining what and when we should (and shouldn’t) design. For this forthcoming chapter, ‘design’ will next be considered in terms of the physical object. If we recall some of the previously mentioned issues of the current state of design, dominant among them is the obscene volume and frenzy of which we produce clutter. This clutter is a chaos of all kinds of ‘things’ that we desperately don’t need, and therefore, we should want to reduce. Or at least reduce its incessant production. Hence, before we begin introducing new designs to this heap, it is vital we first recognise existing examples that display malpractice of responsible design, in order to avoid falling into the same pitfalls. To then reinforce this, we can set out an agenda to resist tendencies that contribute to cluttering. For ourselves whether consumers or designers, we might too consider a series of questions that can be asked of already existing products and also in the formative stages of the design process, in order to strengthen the reasons behind what we design to produce. We should want what we create to stand for real value and use.
In a society where ‘McDonald’s has become the world’s largest distributor of toys’ (Sujic, D, 2008), where our toothbrushes look more like multicoloured spaceships, and our fruit is ‘protected’ in plastic wrapping, it is dismally easy to find examples of cheap or thoughtless design. We can identify these simply by examining how they compare to the responsible design principles discussed thus far. We have already stressed the criticality that design must inherently be centred around problem-solving and fulfilment of needs. That being so, when might innovation be necessary for the solving of problems and satisfaction of need? (and not wants).
Because innovation inevitably causes obsolescence, we have to be sceptical of it, the reason being that obsolescence inevitably becomes waste. We have to examine whether innovation genuinely benefits us and if we should pursue it so vehemently for the sake of ‘progression.’ The past has proved that even exceptional designs displaying all exemplary qualities of design principle can soon be turned redundant if they do not innovate alongside advancing technology. For anyone who might’ve purchased a vacuum since the year 2000, most likely they are onto their second or third by now. It begs the question, when considering the age of my Grandfather’s working vacuum, how much of innovation is improvement? In contrast, if we take portable music players, for example, a clear improvement is noticeable: from the size of a walkman down to that of the iPod Shuffle, capacities of 10 megabytes up to hundreds of gigabyte and then also the limitless freedom to stream.
This same technological development evidences also how features such as the classic iPod click-wheel (epitomising all aspects of good design through intuitively coherent usability and effective function) ultimately become artefacts as an effect of innovation’s progression.
A recent trend in design, too, that we have been bombarded with of late is innovation getting mistaken for turning any perfectly functional object into a ‘smart’ device. We now get seduced into wanting ‘innovations’ such as a voice-controlled kettle or a Nespresso Bluetooth coffee maker that notifies us to purchase another round of its subscribed single-use non-recyclable refill pods (Nespresso, 2020). These household smart devices which, for the most part, offer nothing of real convenience, instead are encouragements for us to become increasingly lazy, to be motivated only by alerts and reminders we receive from our screens.
On the subject of screens, Samsung’s (2020) ridiculous range of ‘Family Hub Smart Fridges’ all feature a large touchscreen on their door, letting you “know what’s inside your fridge with built-in cameras”, and empowering you with the ability to write shopping lists and binge your favourite TV series. I find this claimed ‘innovation’ laughable. The Samsung smart fridge is a perfect illustration of fooling consumers into desiring ‘new’ design features that were never needed.
I’m pretty certain that with any refrigerator I’ve ever encountered, I’ve been able to “know what’s inside” by opening the door and seeing; all without a touchscreen. When analogue designs get converted into unnecessary lines of tech (as seen above), not only is valuable time and skill wasted on inventing redundant, unhelpful design, we also guarantee further inevitable and premature obsolescence as these devices will eventually fail to keep up with technological innovation. This speeding up of product turnover only means for more material waste and damage to the natural world. I find it shameful that we as designers continue to indulge in absurdly wasteful enterprises that benefit only the consumer chic bourgeois. Real improvements instead could be made to things that affect all types of people for the better, not to mention, of course, all the neglected problems waiting to be solved for people in genuine need.
So when confronted with ‘innovation’ in design, while it undoubtedly has the potential to instil positive progression and improvement to our lives, we should still be questioning “what is this really offering to the world?” “Is this particular design solving a problem or satisfying a need in my life that others things don’t do already”? “Why is this design ‘innovation’ necessary and does it actually enrich my life?” “Does this product aim to serve me for as long as possible, or does it just aim to trap me as a customer for as long as possible?” These scrutinies are all fair and reasonable to raise with new design, not only is it crucial for designers to ask themselves but equally, as consumers. By demanding only high-quality, thoughtful design, we can subsequently dilute the industry of unethical and irresponsible design.
Cat Food & Ford Cars
“The things we design in the future don’t need to be new creations and innovations but instead should be redesigns of the ordinary we think we know so well.”
Kenya Hara (2003, p. 48) goes further to stress the importance of using design to improve what we already have, rather than to continue innovating. Arguing that we shouldn’t ignore, skip over and move on from what is familiar, regularly used, and that could be bettered, just to generate more distractions and impulse through innovation. This arcs back to responsible design fundamentals, of designing to solve problems and for needs rather than wants. It is this fight to reclaim what the term ‘design’ was set out to achieve and to avoiding usual temptations that can overrule such as overindulgence and commercial gain.
Revered product designer and close collaborator of Hara’s at Muji, Jasper Morrison (2007, p. 28) addresses this misdirection of the design profession;
“Encouraged by glossy lifestyle magazines, and marketing departments, it’s become a competition to make things as noticeable as possible by means of colour, shape and surprise.”
Not only are we now designing merely as a tool to make more money, no matter the environmental impact, but we have also come to the false presumption that visually, design is only a medium to “catch the eye” and “stand out.” The tragedy in this is an inaccurate focus where designers are not attempting to be outstanding through the quality of their design but instead with surface glamour (which holds the same transience as fashionable trends, stimulating more waste).
In 1963, responding to “trivial” uses of artistic talent in a world shaped by advertising, British graphic designer Ken Garland, accompanied by 20 others working and studying the creative industry, felt compelled to write and publish a manifesto named ‘First Things First’. Garland, K (1963) advocated that “there are other things more worth using our skill and experience on” as designers, than hammering our imagination to sell for all sorts of frivolous commodities from cat food to Ford cars. The manifesto challenged the creative industry to refocus their endeavours toward projects that positively contribute to not only the profession but to bettering our education, culture and wider view of the world, acknowledging that the ending of advertisement is impossible but strongly urging for a much-needed shift of priorities. One “in favour of more useful and lasting forms of communication.” Garland, K (1963)
This shift and attitude heavily paralleled with the sentiments that have so far themed this examination of responsible design, ‘First Things First’s agenda utterly outlines the viewpoint of conscientious design thinking and distinguishes what we should and shouldn’t be designing for. While thus far, our overarching question has largely been tackled within the context of industrial design, Garland’s manifesto helps us conceptualise the subject within a more communicative setting of design, separate to matters of material responsibility.
Too much of what we are surrounded by in today’s consumer society has been designed for trivialities, as what is trivial often is most lucrative, I think it’s essential that if from design we deserve genuine value, service and usage, we have to demand it — from brands, from designers and through our own restraint and intolerance. No longer should we stand for inauthenticity through artificial innovation, marketing gimmicks and above all, irresponsible design. What design should be is; a solution that serves as many people’s needs as possible, as effectively as possible, without compromising others and their environment and with a plan for this service of design to sustain and last for as long as it can.
Outstandingly Ordinary
Before we move closer to a comprehensive response to this essay’s investigation of designing responsibly for the future, let’s firstly reflect on what we feel we can now establish through that which has been determined. We laid out why responsibility in design is a relevant and vital issue to be discussing and began exploring this by breaking down the fundamental reasons of why we design. From here, through consideration of values, looked to understand what should responsible design set out to accomplish and too, what makes design irresponsible as well as how we oppose this. In proceeding towards a thorough resolution, we next look to answer ‘how we go about designing responsibly and how this might look as an outcome?’ We will conduct this subsequent investigation by questioning ‘design’ as a means of beautification, analysing it in terms of aesthetics.
Kicking back off from the same extract as before by Jasper Morrison in the book Super Normal, we can begin to delve further into the question of visual language within the context of responsibility. Morrison, J (2007, p. 29) grapples with how people opt for seemingly ‘special’ design over normality, reminding us that, that which seeks to surprise or stand out visually, often denotes something of lesser value.
“There are better ways to design than putting a big effort into making something look special. Special is generally less useful than normal, and less rewarding in the long term.”
This declaration sets straight that the quality and benefit of a design is inherent with sustained, humble practicality. Design that displays modest and unobtrusive usefulness perform their role of function not needing to shout about it loudly; they quietly serve and perform without using vibrant styling, colour or big logos; attributes as such indeed demonstrate consideration and responsibility of duty.
A design of this sort might manifest as a wayfinding system that effectively navigates but also does not infringe on its surrounding environment; another might be a bag of mine from (ironically) Muji. Its an unbranded black tote bag constructed with a durable water repellent material, along with its ability to expand via a subtle side zip, the bag provides complete versatility and reliability to me, being perfectly suited to whatever I wear, whatever I carry and wherever I go.
The 606 Universal Shelving System designed by Dieter Rams in 1960 equally embodies this type of design. Still made by Vitsœ today, the versatile system embodies long-lasting understated quality, consisting of standard components, it enables the shelves to be endlessly adaptable to new rooms, homes and people.
The 606 shelving system remains a constant throughout people’s lives, carrying and displaying all kinds of their belongings yet never seeking attention or recognition. Rams’ design is interestingly only one of three products that Vitsœ sell and is the result of a responsible business model eliminating the wasteful transience of sales and seasonal stock — by being “against obsolescence.” It is equally because of their ethically honourable attitude to design, evidently influenced by Dieter Rams:
“Products that do not strive for built-in obsolescence but prefer to be discreet, adaptable and faithful servants in the face of a turbulent world. Products that minimise their inevitable impact on the world’s environment and resources by being useful for as long as possible” (Vitsœ, 2019).
Vitsœ’s ethos is practically faultless in not only how they go about designing their products with the same visual principle as Morrison previously idealises, but even more impressively, with their devotion to longevity, which the whole brand appears to revolve around. The company, now based in the UK, is a perfect depiction of a responsible design operation. However, this achievement may be due to an absence of obsession with profit, which, for most other businesses, is not easy to shake. Instancing Vitsœ while on the one hand gives us much hope, providing us with a frame of reference to how we might go about achieving a responsible design outcome, on the other, leads us to wonder, is financial sacrifice the only key to this?
Deyan Sudjic (2008) offers another, more compromised approach to designing our objects in line with an acceptance that material lifecycles will persist in moving rapidly.
“Even if our possessions do not age well, and we continually replace them, designs that evoke archetypes offer a consoling sense of continuity.”
This sense of a design archetype is something that conjures up design déjà vu, familiarity with an object that provokes us to have already an established understanding of how something functions. There is, of course, a valuable history behind design in which we feel accustomed to, it formulates efficient visual communication through embedded semiotics that have been developed over time. This is all very similar to the point Kenya Hara makes: that we needn’t be inventing new forms but instead should be redesigning what we already know. Sudjic’s suggestion absolutely provides relevance in how we best design for the future and benefit from the past, further steering us to solutions that are adverse to illusory innovation and facade design. It also admittedly, does feel though to be a less comprehensive diagnosis of designing responsibly, not that it claims to be. Indeed, his usage of the word ‘consoling’ captures perhaps Sudjic’s recognition that this is more a compromise than a solution that might extend the lifespan of design today.
With design philosophies from the likes of Dieter Rams in Germany and Kenya Hara of Japan, manifestos manifesting from Britain by Ken Garland, not forgetting, Jasper Morrison as well as Austrian-American Victor Papanek having his say — we can now better decipher how so, (considering this diverse range of sources so far) do we design responsibly for the future? Distilling what has most frequently themed in the discussion of aesthetics, or if you like, of how we go about responsibly designing design, theories of modest practicality and reduction of both material and visual excess have led to the most comprehensive answers. Taking forward the principles that to me, have been most convincing, into a streamlined idealism, how we must design is through finding the most functional approach to a problem’s solution, using only necessary materials that have a minimal physical impact on the environment. We should too, design aesthetics to not be intrusive to surrounding visual environments, or otherwise, design so that these aesthetics can be adapted to a user’s unique preference. The rationality behind an unimposing or minimally embellished visual language is to place functionality and long-lasting usage at the forefront of priorities. Simplicity, in most instances, is the resulting appearance of such principles, providing honest clarity, understanding and versatility. On top of this, simplicity also dilutes the confusing and cluttered chaos of the world into something more digestible — relating back to the designers’ duty of instilling positive and meaningful order.
Tin Cans & Contrasting Cultures
I’d like to close up this determining of ‘how we design’ by disputing the consensus that has thus far dominated with one final case study. The Hochschule für Gestaltung in Ulm, Germany, was a design school founded in 1953, it represented many similar values to those of the Bauhaus in regard to industrial design, though took a further puritan approach to design. It’s outlook closer sympathised with idealisms we’ve so far seen by the likes of Rams, Vitsœ and the designers of Muji, with their theories revolving around absolute functionality and elimination of excess. Their strict restraint was an encouragement towards design that is entirely concentrated on serving the user to the greatest effect. Letting the quality of the object speak for itself. They, as I too believe, high-grade design should, in a sense become invisible with its faultless functionality (rendering it unnoticeable). In the following case study, we see the Ulm School of Design clash over the visual design of responsible design advocator Victor Papanek.
Casting our minds back now to Papanek (1971) — introduced previously for his urging of designers to focus on ‘people’s needs rather than their wants.’ The design author (and critic), in the early 1960s, alongside his students, embarked on designing objects oriented towards social inclusion. With the gifted electronic assistance of his student George Seegers, a prototype radio transceiver was built by the pair, intending to provide mass communication to developing countries, with its highly low-tech approach.
Composed of a tin can, wax and a wick as a power source, the radio could operate without a current or batteries, simply by burning the wax (which could, in addition, be replaced with anything flammable from paper to cow dung). While its unappealing form (being merely a juice can) may not have caught the eye in the design world, it was picked up by UNESCO who distributed the humanitarian project to disconnected communities locally. The tin can radio receiver stood for an unashamedly rawer form of responsible design. It was directed at those in most need, isolated from more advanced, seductive westernised design.
Papanek fascinatingly presented his vernacular radio transceiver at the Ulm School of Design in 1967, to a reaction of disgust and disagreement to the design’s rugged appearance and absence of formality, the professors proposed to paint it a tasteful grey. Although acknowledging the radio’s ugliness, the humanitarian designer defended the look of the design for he argued (Papanek, V. 1971) he was in no position ethically to impose his personal view of good design aesthetics onto “millions of people in Indonesia, members of a different culture.” Furthering his reasoning with the fact that this change would lift the price for it by one-twentieth of a penny per item — a significant and unnecessary difference placed on these people. What’s more, by leaving the radio free of ‘design’, it enabled the user to decorate the tin-can in their own taste. Papanek’s conflicting opinions over the ethics of responsible design bring out some pertinent discussions of how design can have varying responsibilities depending on the circumstances of an intended audience. Here he illustrates the importance of this in a context where even top design professors at Ulm are educated that western approaches to design and aesthetics are not always the most suitable, most effective solution to all situations. The tin can radio transceiver, (that as Papanek reports, was still being used twenty years later of his time of writing) opens us up to a method of responsible problem solving that not only deals with a neglected community in real need but also extreme poverty. It does this seemingly exclusively from what one in western culture might usually consider design — eliminating any concern for beauty and being even more reductive from idealisms, in a vernacular outcome that prioritises use above all else. This example too offers a diagnosis to the pretentiousness in imposing design doctrines to foreign cultures by suggesting a democratic solution of co-design, allowing the user to dictate the design.
Resolving Responsible Design
(Conclusion)
It’s up to us now, both designer and consumer, to be responsible, to show restraint against the temptations of indulgence and greed, to adhere to social and ethical principles and to demand authenticity, consideration and quality. Responsibility is indisputably relevant and desperately integral to restoring ‘design’ to its fundamental purposes and powerful potential. It is design’s opportunity of redemption against the profession’s current unsustainable schemes of insincerity and exploitation, and ultimately it is our only optimism for survival.
Past designers and thinkers have strived to overcome the same indiscretions we face today, through our growing self-awareness and through what we have learned throughout history, we do have the capacity to instil substantial positive change. Our design can be responsible when we adopt the attitude of William Morris, the resourcefulness of the Bauhaus, rationality of the Utility Scheme and awareness of Papanek. The same goes for us as designers, if we can exhibit elements of Kenya Hara’s wisdom, Morrison’s restraint, and Ram’s expertise.
Design’s ambiguity is an inducement for us to rediscover its definition and foundational problem-solving principles, to guide what we aim to create to centre around tackling real-world issues, satisfying needs and serving utility. Connecting attitudes to design values have solidified that the backbone of a responsible design process should be thorough consideration; of inevitable environmental impacts both physical and visual, socially: of inclusivity, of culture and also of the consumer: seeking to meet demands effectively and ethically. Equal in significance is the ability to recognise irresponsibility in design. Not only should we be able to distinguish the bad practices of design from the good, but we should also have a developed intolerance for those designs that exhibit purposeful inclinations towards negative commercial artifices such as planned obsolescence, ingenuine innovation and surface glamour. The aesthetic treatment of design should follow the prioritisation of strict functionality, aiming to visually achieve only modesty and quiet elegance through restraint, reduction and simplicity in order to not intrude on surrounding environments and atmospheres. We can additionally utilise the valuable coherence of archetypes to our designs, reassuring users with interactions of familiarity and comprehension towards design.
How we must design responsibly for the future is first, through determining the most effective approach to a problem’s solution, then implementing this using materials of minimal physical, environmental impact and finally designing aesthetically not to be intrusive to surrounding visual environments, all to facilitate long-lasting use.
– To the same longevity of my Grandfather’s Hoover.
Thanks for reading
