Design and Ethics: Does the Designer Bear Ethical Responsibility?

Didem Dagbagli
Sep 21
4 min read

Updated: Sep 23

Before diving into today’s digital age and the ethical debates surrounding artificial intelligence, we need to travel back in time to 1964. Only then can we understand the conversations that have shaped design history, and reflect on the roles a designer must assume beyond research and production.

Still from my animated artwork depicting being dragged into adolescence and observing the darkness lurking outside

Robben Island in Capetown, Source: South Africa Travel

One of the key moments when the triangle of designer, design, and ethics was questioned began when Prof. Richard Buchanan traveled to South Africa to open a design conference.[1] The irony lies in the fact that this human rights-focused event was held on a Cape Town beach facing Robben Island. A place where prisoners like Nelson Mandela once worked in limestone quarries, and now recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it stands as a symbol of human history.[2] For Buchanan, it also reflects how design in the 20th century had gone mad. His reasoning: design must be evaluated not only through technical and aesthetic merit but also through moral and intellectual values. In that sense, it seems only natural to describe an island specifically designed for punishment and suffering as “design gone mad.” Buchanan therefore asserts that even when a designer is fulfilling their task, they must also evaluate their work through the lens of human rights.

Prof. Victor Margolin delves deeper into the designer’s ethical obligations.[3] While emphasizing the importance of ethics in design, he also reminds us that designers are part of a larger production, distribution, and consumption system — one they don’t entirely control. Whether a product or service survives in the marketplace is determined not by its quality, but by consumer choice. So, who gets to define the true quality of a product or service, and how? That, he argues, is the responsibility of critics and citizens. In an ideal world, the designer assumes both roles.

Margolin proposes an ethical value system — one that considers labor conditions, materials, resources, recyclability, and the impact on public communication.

He illustrates this with a real-life case. According to several years of investigations by the Chicago Tribune,[4] [5] [6] [7] in the early 2000s, mid-range hotel chains began using the same heavy mattresses, blankets, and bedding used by high-end hotels like Shangri-La in an attempt to compete. From the perspective of guest satisfaction, this might have seemed successful. But for hotel workers, the story was very different. Since linens were changed daily, staff had to lift dozens of heavy items each day, leading to back injuries. With hotels offering only two 15-minute breaks per shift, workers’ physical and mental health suffered. When employees took the issue to court, their efforts failed due to close ties between hotel owners and Chicago’s legal circles.

At this point, Margolin turns the spotlight back onto designers. Did the designers of those heavy mattresses consider the strain they might cause hotel staff? Maybe they were only designed for home use, never intended for daily turnover in hotels — perhaps the designers never even knew about this usage. Even if that’s true, Margolin believes designers must assume responsibility. He proposes that designers boycott such hotels and launch a petition urging the public to do the same. His stance sparked differing reactions within the design community. Some supported him. Others questioned whether designers should have that much influence.

Original publication of First Things First Manifesto

Margolin’s argument reminds me of the First Things First Manifesto.[8] First published in 1964 by Ken Garland, the manifesto was signed by graphic designers, photographers, and students. It argued that the skills of those working in advertising were being squandered by competing corporate giants — a race that, they believed, contributed little to national well-being. The signatories advocated that such talents should instead be used in wayfinding systems, books, educational materials, instruction manuals, films, television, scientific and industrial publications — in short, in the promotion of industry, education, culture, and public awareness. It ultimately proposed reversing priorities for more useful and lasting communication. Signed by 22 people, the manifesto stirred debate.

According to Matthew Soar, [9] some critics found it elitist and insufficiently inclusive. On the other hand, Adbusters magazine emphasized how it highlighted the dilemma of designers trying to use their work as a tool for social change.

Soar’s analysis supports the manifesto by citing Katherine McCoy: “Designers must move beyond a mentality of obedience, neutrality, and servitude to industry. Design is not a neutral, value-free process. A design has no more integrity than its purpose or message.”

2020 Edition of First Things First Manifesto, Live

The First Things First Manifesto has evolved over time, [10] been translated into many languages — including Turkish — and remains globally influential. Its most recent version, updated in 2020, is still accessible online.[10]

Returning to Margolin, he poses a profound question to summarize his entire perspective: How can we live in a manner that upholds human dignity in an age of constant technological advancement? As an answer, he refers to a concept he encountered in an anthology edited by Steven Heller and Véronique Vienne — a term that also gave his essay its title: Citizen Designer.

In Margolin’s view, a designer must be both a creator and a citizen. This means designing, producing, thinking critically about the social impact of design, and participating actively in politics.