Designers, our mandate is to help our clients succeed. This success isn’t measured by how well they fare with our help, it’s how they flourish in the long run without it. But first, we need to understand each other.

During a one-on-one interview, a stakeholder stopped me mid-question and asked, “how is this conversation relevant to the redesign of our website?” I stammered for a second then answered what was an excellent question. I realized I hadn’t fully explained the point of stakeholder interviews, i.e., in order to fully grasp what we would be designing, we needed to understand (among many other things) an individual’s role within the organization. In essence, this stakeholder’s day-to-day would factor into the redesign.

It was a humbling moment and is still a great reminder every time I assume that everyone understands how a broad question like, Tell me about your day can lead to design decisions. For a project to succeed, it’s crucial that people across the organization are heard and — as I found out in that awkward moment — understand our process.

In fact, if we truly want our clients to succeed (and we do!), we must include them in our process, giving them the tools and language to champion the project.

Bringing clients into the research is a lot like the concept of nemawashi, which translates from Japanese as “going around the roots,” as if preparing a tree to be transplanted. If you’ve ever planted or replanted a tree, you know that it takes takes a lot of coordination and teamwork to make sure the tree survives in its new home. In the business world, nemawashi in practice means that when someone needs to get support for a new idea, they discuss it first with key players prior to the big group meeting. It can be political, but not necessarily. Our goal isn’t to be sneaky or back-channel an idea, it’s to socialize the idea and smooth out any potentially sensitive (or just plain wrong) points prior to bringing it to a large group setting, which can be tense anyway.

Part of me wants to create suspense before a presentation, then dazzle the clients with brilliant research and recommendations, as in, Look at what we learned! I want drama.

But in client services, drama and surprise can wreck a project, and at the very least, undermine the research.

That’s not to say that there’s no place for surprise, it’s that we’re going for a shared, participatory surprise. By the time we offer the core client team a sneak peek at our work, they have challenged us, offered invaluable feedback on how to frame certain topics, and raised questions or concerns. Most important, they have become advocates for the project. Instead of the message coming from us (designers), it’s coming from Us (designers + client). We’re all on the same team and when that happens, it’s exhilarating.

It’s a little bit more work up-front, but so worth the effort. Once we’ve made that initial investment of time, our jobs actually get easier. Better still, we know that the decisions we make together are grounded in research and shared understanding, not guesswork or whim.

True nemawashi — cultivating an ongoing interest in others’ ideas — is an investment. When we are transparent with our process and invite others to participate, we add a huge layer of complexity.

Here’s the hardest part about nemawashi: it means letting go of your ego. When we bring others into our process, we might have to change course, or change our mind.

There are times when it can seem easier to barrel ahead and do our work and come up with our insights (there are many ways to be lazy). When we hoard our ideas, we can fool ourselves into thinking that we’re the only experts, or the heroes who get to sweep in at the last minute with the answer that’s eluded everyone for years.

So, if nemawashi is hard, messy, time-consuming, and humbling, why bother? Wouldn’t it be easier to just build the damned website?

Here’s why: Regardless of how a project is defined, most of our work with clients has very little to do with a website. When we talk to stakeholders, we often learn that the ways they work together are inefficient or duplicative. We hear of complicated workarounds and old habits that persist because “it’s always been that way” or because different departments or individuals aren’t aware of what others are doing. Or because people don’t have the time or resources to change things, or the power to make those changes.

When we see these patterns, we are obligated to tell the organization because ultimately, nothing we design will succeed if the people within the organization continue to work in counterproductive ways.

But delivering a message isn’t enough.

Designers, we need to bring our clients into the design process from the very beginning and keep at it, even if it involves tough conversations or extra work. Although I would counter that this extra work is in fact our real work.

We explain the why behind our approach and decisions, and invite them to participate in the discovery and decision-making along with us.

Still not convinced?

Here’s another true story: When I lived in downtown Los Angeles, there were two tree plantings in our neighborhood.

The first planting was really quick. One day the city came in, planted the trees, and never returned.

The second one was organized by a group of neighbors living on the same block. It took months of careful planning, complete with town halls, detailed maps, supply checklists, and watering schedules, so that by the time actual planting day arrived, everyone knew exactly what needed to happen. The trees got planted, photos were taken, and for the next several weeks, neighbors took turns watering until the new trees could get established.

A few months later, the first set of trees died and was never replanted.

The second set? Those trees had grown about a foot, even during a particularly hot summer. In fact, they’re still going strong years later, and what used to be a forbidding stretch of pavement has been transformed. Neighbors walk where they once drove. Birds, butterflies, and bees make the trees their home. People come from around the city to dine al fresco under the trees’ shade.

When those trees became the neighborhood’s, that’s when they both began to thrive.

Sarah is a designer researcher at Mule Design. Lover of good questions, things that smell nice, and exclamation points!