“When we disentangle our identities from the civilization’s dominant story, we can begin imagining, embodying, and telling a new story, a story that gives us a deeper sense of meaning, belonging, and purpose, one that helps heal the Earth, our fellow humans, and our fellow creatures rather than destroying them.” –Brian McLaren¹

Stories have a special place in the human heart and mind. We love stories. Designers, much like writers, often refer to themselves as storytellers, crafting narratives of the visual variety. Marketers and advertisers have known about the peculiar human trait of storytelling, and the alluring, almost soporific effect good stories can sometimes have on us, for quite some time. Right now, some of the biggest stories floating around the design world have to do with sustainable design (SD), by which I mean an approach to creating products, environments, and systems that prioritize environmental responsibility, social equity, and economic viability throughout the entire lifecycle.¹⁰ Using resources efficiently, reducing waste, and designing for longevity, adaptability, and recyclability are common focusses of those concerned with SD, and it is indeed becoming an increasingly important topic of discussion for everyday designers concerned about their planet. Unfortunately, it is also becoming increasingly apparent that many current design practices, while claiming to be sustainable, often fail to address the deeper, systemic issues that contribute to environmental degradation.² In fact, a whopping amount of what gets designed out there is shaped by the whims of consumer culture.² Is it possible that the story we’ve been told—and seem to keep telling ourselves—about ‘value’ in our context has helped lead to egregious negative consequences like the exploitation of natural resources, environmental degradation, and the prioritization of profit over human and non-human well-being?

Unsustainability and Consumer Driven Design
One thing I seriously love about design is that it is a collaborative activity–whether it be the client or a co-worker, a copywriter, a photographer or illustrator, or the audience that I need to communicate with, design is certainly a team sport. Another thing I adore about being a designer is the satisfying feeling of making things that people either enjoy or that help them in some way. One downside of design that I was not always aware of, however, has to do with how much of what I do as a designer contributes to what Paul Micklethwaite describes as “ever-increasing levels of collective unsustainability.”²

In his essay Design Against Consumerism, Dr. Paul Micklethwaite, Research Lead for Design at Manchester School of Art, does a great job of explaining how designers have an audience. For Micklethwaite, the worst case audience scenario for any designer is when they “must focus only on the consumer of her product, and design for point of sale and purchase, with little regard for the long‐term value or impacts of a product. In this scenario, a client commissions the designer to simply deliver a product that can be sold.”² We’re so used to this process of  being accountable to the consumer (or the client, if you prefer), and designing things to “be consumed,” that we begin to lose sight of other things that are truly important and to which we are also accountable. Micklethwaite continues:

“Producers and consumers appear to be complicit in an undeniably short‐termist contemporary material culture. If everything is disposable, or has a replacement cycle far shorter than the material qualities the product would suggest (as in the case of mobile phones, which we are encouraged to replace at least every 24 months), there is little incentive to think long term. […] Yet long‐term thinking is precisely what sustainability asks for. The development of our consideration of time, and the extension of our habitual time frame to include more than the present and the immediate future, is a key dimension of sustainable thinking.” ²

If we as designers claim to be concerned about our current climate catastrophe but are not also concerned about the lifecycle of the things we’re designing then, to me, this is a fine example of failing to consider the future inhabitants of this planet to whom we are also most certainly accountable. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask: what is it that we value? And why we’re at it, why is it that we only seem to think of value in terms of money and how much is produced vs. how much is sold? Are there other stories out there? Other ways to think about value that do take into account what Micklethwaite describes as “externalities, such as exploitative labor and environmental damage” which are “rarely factored into the price we pay for an item as a consumer?”² Maybe a brief economic excursion into the concept of ‘use-value,’ famously discussed by one of the world’s most famous critics of our civilization’s current dominant story, can help shed some light on things.

Use-Value, Exchange-Value, and Scarcity
Have you ever heard a business or marketing type person say they want to “enhance” or “increase the value” of a product or service? It’s a pretty common neologism to hear in our North American context and it is one that implies that, while businesses may not always be able to control the value of a product/service directly in a market economy, they can try to “enhance” or “increase” the value through things like branding, processing, or differentiation. This is generally where graphic designers come in. However, it’s critical that we as astute designers examine the assumption routinely made here regarding the emphasis of exchange-value (which concerns money or riches) over use-value.

Kōhei Saitō, associate professor of philosophy at the University of Tokyo, sums up one of Karl Marx’s key economic concepts very well in his book Slow Down by explaining that use-value, which existed long before capitalism, refers to the intrinsic quality of something, like air or water, that fulfills a human need or desire.³ In contrast, riches are measured in monetary terms, relying on the calculation of a commodity’s “value,” which only exists in a market-based economy.³ According to Marx, under capitalism, the emphasis shifts to increasing the value of commodities, making this logic the dominant one by far.³ As a result, use-value becomes secondary, merely serving the purpose of creating value for commodities.³ While the primary aim of economic activity in pre-capitalist societies was always to meet human needs through use-value, capitalism displaces this focus, often sacrificing or even destroying use-value to enhance a commodity’s value.³

In other words, in our economic context “value” is equated with exchange-value meaning that we tend to end up thinking of value in terms of precious, scarce commodities which are measured in importance according to their monetary significance. In general, the greater the monetary price the more valuable the item is considered to be. The reason we do this is because it is the story we’ve been told (or more likely sold), and it’s the one we keep telling to each other over and over like a recursive loop. Similar to what happened with the division of the commons in sixteenth century England,³ once some sort of method is devised to make an abundant, commonly accessible resource artificially scarce, the market can assign it value. Saitō uses water as an example:

“Water exists in great abundance, at least in Japan and in many countries in the Global North. Water possess unassailable use-value, as everyone needs it to live. For this reason, it should be freely accessible and belong to no one. But water has become a commodity circulating in plastic bottles. Becoming a commodity has transformed water into something scarce, unable to be used without spending money.” ³

What Saitō makes perfectly clear in his book—and what should be becoming clear to all by this point–—is that an overemphasis on mass production and consumption, economic growth and exchange-value has no doubt lead to various egregious negative consequences including the exploitation of natural resources, environmental degradation, and the prioritization of profit over human and non-human well-being.³ In other words, the story we’re entangled in is very much a suicidal one. Conversely, prioritizing use-value in a push toward a use-value-centered economy, which would involve carefully considering how goods and services contribute to human flourishing, quality of life, and social welfare rather than solely their marketability or profitability, is perhaps one way designers who care about sustainability can actually begin to make a difference.

Now that we have a better interdisciplinary understanding of value thanks to Saitō and our German social scientist friend, Karl Marx, let us now turn to seek inspiration for some foundational sustainable design practices from a once famous German school of design that grounded their principles in social responsibility above all else.

HfG Ulm’s Different Story
Once upon a time, in 1953, during a period of reconstruction and technological advancement in post-World Ward II Germany, there emerged a pioneering institution which would become known for its progressive, interdisciplinary approach to design education. Mass production was well underway by 1953, and The Ulm School of Design (German: Hochschule für Gestaltung Ulm or The HfG), founded by Inge Aicher-Scholl, Otl Aicher, and Bauhaus alum Max Bill, sought to address modern challenges related to design which included examining the ethical, functional, and sustainable aspects of designing for mass-produced goods.⁵ They responded to some of the issues created by mass production in their time–issues still very much alive today, such as overconsumption, poor-quality, and short-lived products. The Ulm School instead advocated for functional, high-quality, and sustainable design principles. These included things like:

• Functionality and Minimalism
  The Ulm School promoted functionalism in design, meaning that every product should be purposeful and serve the user effectively, reducing unnecessary waste.⁶ They also emphasized minimalism to avoid excess and overproduction, which aligns with sustainability principles by limiting the consumption of resources.⁶
• Material Consciousness
  The Ulm School also stressed the importance of material choice. Students were taught to consider the sourcing of materials, ensuring that they were not only suited to the product’s function but also environmentally responsible.⁶ The aim was to minimize the extraction of raw resources and reduce reliance on harmful or non-renewable materials.⁷
• Systems Thinking
  The school encouraged systems thinking, which pushed students to understand the broader ecological and social systems their designs would affect.⁸ This holistic approach meant considering the entire life cycle of a product, from the extraction of materials to production, transportation, use, and eventual disposal.⁸
• User-Centered Design
  The Ulm School placed strong emphasis on user-centered design, which involved understanding the real needs of people and designing products that improved daily life without promoting consumerism or wasteful consumption. This was a challenge to the then-dominant notion of design being used to create short-lived trends or to increase consumption.⁸
• Technological Integration
  Additionally, The Ulm also sought to integrate new technologies in ways that were socially and environmentally beneficial. This included exploring how automation and industrial processes could reduce material waste, lower energy use, and make products more affordable while being environmentally responsible.⁸

If these principles sound familiar to you they should because, as Carolina Short points out in her great essay on the Ulm School, “The HfG Ulm through its discourse, the educational Ulm Model, and the projects developed by students and Faculty showed an avant la lettre concern and awareness on sustainability. Even without using this term, the design notion the school proposed included the sustainability sprout. The programme contained social equity concern, a focus on resource optimisation and respect for the planet and the environment, core grounds for Sustainable Design practices.”⁵ Core grounds indeed.

Interestingly, in her essay, Short goes on to describe how the HfG radically rethought the role of the designer as well, marking a shift in design education during the 1960s by incorporating design theory, encouraging interdisciplinarity, and engaging with real-world industrial projects.⁵ After Max Bill left, the school’s approach evolved to view the designer as a partner in the industrial process, rather than as an artist.⁵ This change responded to the need for designers to have knowledge in various fields, which was in line with the demands of European industry since the 1950s.⁵ Designers were tasked with coordinating different aspects of product fabrication and use and their work became tied to science, mathematics, technology, and theory, making them responsible for determining what should be produced and how.⁵ The HfG Ulm’s approach was a holistic one, aiming to create functional and long-lasting products through socially and environmentally responsible methods.⁵

Essentially, by positioning designers as partners in the industrial process The Ulm School hoped to ensure that design played a pivotal role in creating functional, well-engineered products that could improve everyday life while meeting the needs of a modern, industrialized world. Fascinating idea. Designers not as production workers pushing pixels around and slangin’ content for profit at the bottom of a hierarchical totem pole, but designers as interdisciplinary problem solvers and partners whose work directly influences the quality and function of products/services needed in everyday life. Now that is a story I can get behind!

Fortunately, once again, I’m not the only one who can get behind this story. The Ulm School of Design’s principles mentioned above—things like functionalism, systems thinking, minimalism, and social responsibility—have influenced many design practices and many designers, including the indomitable utilitarian designer and outspoken critic of consumer culture, Dieter Rams, who was once quoted as saying: “Indifference towards people and the reality in which they live is actually the one and only cardinal sin in design.”⁵

Encouragingly, many contemporary designers, such as those creating products certified under the Cradle to Cradle standard, apply the Ulm School’s systems thinking by considering the entire lifecycle of a product. Cradle to Cradle products are designed to be disassembled and recycled or safely returned to nature, reducing environmental harm, a core tenet of the Ulm School’s approach to designing with environmental and social considerations in mind.⁹

Conclusion
If we are to attempt to minimize negative impacts in our current geological epoch, the one known as the Anthropocene—named after us for the devastating effects human activities have had on the planet thus far—the importance of adopting vehement sustainable design practices are increasingly vital. However, as designers with lots of other things on our minds (like color schemes, grids, and reality tv), we are unfortunately often unaware of the water in which we swim. The unexamined stories/ideologies in which we are entangled, and which shape us throughout our lives, can have real governing power over us for good or ill.

As Paul Micklethwaite warns, we must move away from designing objects that contribute to unsustainability and consumerism, and instead create strategic interventions that address our current environmental crisis.² By embracing principles like those of the Ulm School, there is a chance that designers can become interdisciplinary partners in the industrial process, shaping a future that is not only aesthetically pleasing but also environmentally sustainable.

The story we tell through design matters. It can either continue the cycle of overconsumption and environmental harm or guide us toward a future where use-value, social responsibility, and sustainability take precedence. Designers have the opportunity—and the responsibility—to tell a new story that ensures a more enduring and sustainable future for all.

…

Bibliography

1. McLaren, Brian D. Life after doom: Wisdom and courage for a world falling apart. New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2024.

2. Micklethwaite, Paul. “Design Against Consumerism.” Essay. In A Companion to Contemporary Design since 1945, 436–56. Wiley-Blackwell, 2019.

3. Saitō, Kōhei, and Brian Bergstrom. Slow down: The degrowth Manifesto. New York: Astra House, 2024.

4. Dziersk, Mark. In tribute to mr. Rams, February 13, 2012. https://www.fastcompany.com/1815761/tribute-mr-rams.

5. Short, Carolina. “The Ulm School of Design Discourse: A Foundation for Sustainable Design.” The Design Journal 24, no. 3 (February 11, 2021): 343–61. https://doi.org/10.1080/14606925.2021.1881204.

6. Betts, Paul. The authority of everyday objects: A cultural history of West German industrial design. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004.

7. Lindinger, Herbert. Ulm Design: The morality of objects. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1991.

8. Margolin, Victor. The politics of the artificial: Essays on design and design studies. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2018.

9. Braungart, Michael, and William McDonough. Cradle to cradle: Remaking the way we make things. London: Vintage Classics, 2019.

10. Bjornard, Kristian. “What Is Sustainable Graphic Design?” Medium, November 24, 2021. https://uxdesign.cc/what-is-sustainable-graphic-design-1f84950e05eb.

Tags:Dieter Ramseconomicsexchange-valuegraphic designmarxminimalismSaitoSustainable DesignUlm Schooluse-value