Ethical Design Leadership

Abstract

Design is human (and consequently imperfect). Design requires ethical decisions about when to start and stop. And design appropriately addresses problems where a single choice is insufficient. Ethical interior design leadership requires us to define our values, make decisions based on these values, and lead by taking on the hard problems. What we celebrate, how we present our discipline and profession, and why we advocate for people (and the planet) implicitly reveal our ethical frameworks. How we define problems exposes our values. When we choose to start and stop solving problems matters.

The fact that it is not possible for the design process to be fully controlled—that it is not possible to guarantee a desired result—is not seen as a problem. Instead, it is seen as a consequence of the nature of designing as a human activity aimed at producing solutions that do not yet exist” (Stolterman, 2021, p. 66).

A small shift in one thing can produce big changes in everything (Meadows, 1999, p. 1).

Fifty years ago, Irwin Altman and Henry Sanoff separately challenged interior design educators about values and decision-making processes. Altman (1975) framed interior design as a set of decisions “within [a] value system. . .[that asks] what to leave undone” (p. 64). Sanoff clarified that interior design, like other design disciplines, deals with problems where a “single range of choice” is insufficient and the choices made are inherently values-laden (Sanoff, 1975, p. 83). These ideas are as important as ever. Designers are solving undoubtedly complex, less definite, and more consequential problems than we previously understood (Chan, 2018; Orthel & Day, 2024, 2023). Simultaneously, the value of expertise to society is increasingly questioned (Eyal, 2019). In the past, interior design leadership has been about knowledge and interaction. Defining the body of knowledge and demonstrating that knowledge’s real-world interactions established the discipline and profession (Clemons & Eckman, 2011; Eshelman, 2004; Guerin, 1992; Guerin & Martin, 2004; Guerin & Thompson, 2004; Khan & Königk, 2020; Marshall-Baker, 2005; Martin, 2008; Orthel, 2025). While knowledge and interaction remain vital to continued disciplinary growth, the future of interior design leadership relies on ethical decision-making. Unless truly random, all decision-making relies on (tacit or explicit) values. “Design clearly—though not always explicitly—has to presume some fundamental ideals of what is a good or worthwhile life. . . .[T]o make design feasible, these ideals are usually tempered within the parameters of some acceptable rules or obligatory norms” (Chan, 2018, p. 186). As technology empowers designers to more rapidly explore more options and information, when to start (e.g. which problems and how we define problems) and when to stop (i.e. is the solution satisficing) are questions of growing importance and ethical concern. The decisions design leaders make have systematic consequences that compound across geography, culture, and time. Whether framed as sustainability, justice, or lived experiences, interior designers make decisions affecting large segments of the population (as users, employees, suppliers, and neighbors). Making good decisions frames design decisions as ethical decisions. Preparing to make good design decisions begins with an ethically strong and challenging design education (Stolterman, 2021).

Design ethics remain underdeveloped even as we increasingly recognize that design work has wicked, systemic contexts and consequences (Chan, 2018; Chivukula et al., 2024; Donia & Shaw, 2021; Lavi & Reich, 2024). ¹ Regardless of scale, design decisions should not be “diddling with the details, arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic;” design decisions should use leverage to alter systems in profound ways (De Young & Kaplan, 1988; Meadows, 1999, p. 6). Interior design leaders need to contribute more directly and frequently to the discussions surrounding design ethics. Danko (2010) argued interior design’s future required shifting from “designing the material world to designing change” (p. v). Designing change requires thinking about a new scale of problem (Mau, 2004; Meadows, 1999; Rittel & Webber, 1973). Systems of relationships—based in ecology, human interaction, economics, and other fields—provide the rapidly evolving context for any decisions designers make. Interior design leadership “centers on values consciousness: a clarity of purpose with the ultimate aspiration of influencing the world through. . .values” (Danko, 2010, p. vii). Beecher (2015) described the interiors- and values-based work of Martha van Rensselaer at Cornell University as grassroots efforts to build agency and social community among housewives in the early twentieth century. While practically focused on improving the function, sanitation, and productivity of kitchens in rural New York communities, van Rensselaer’s design bulletins and correspondence also helped these women develop social and political community parallel with the suffrage movement. Recently, Cole and Hamilton (2024) proposed transition interior design as an approach to reshape how sustainability informs design decisions and human activity. They argue, “Instead of disappearing with the oil age, interior design could become a profession that supports what it means to live well on a planet with finite resources” (Cole & Hamilton, 2024, p. 19). Their vision extends core ideas that drove interior design’s early work to address contemporary values.

Khan and Königk (2020) challenge us to understand how the differences between education and practice matter. Education’s ideals often conflict with the pragmatic realities of a project with a budget, client expectations, and other limitations. In these pinch points, designers seem to replace broader values with necessity and expediency. This conflict undermines interior design’s position in society.

Because designers’ decisions are rooted in abductive logic (e.g. what if. . .?) rather than inductive logic (case to rule) or deductive logic (rule to case), how we incorporate ethical issues is distinctive. Design reasoning is guided by possibilities. We may use heuristics to guide or shorten our process, but design solutions are not the result of rote processes. Designers make decisions grounded on context and fluid possibilities, combining prior and emerging knowledge into composites based on values-based problem-solving (Szabo, 2020). In possibility, there is greater opportunity for deviation from established norms (i.e. innovation and creativity). Like others, designers have ethical frameworks built into their biases and preferences (Corple et al., 2020), but designers implement ethics and values differently—perhaps with more optimism, perhaps with fewer pragmatic considerations, and perhaps with more flexible pathways to desired outcomes. Just as design is deeply contextual and problem-specific, “ethical decision-making is a ‘situated practice’” (Corple et al., 2020, p. 263). Design leadership requires us to be conscious (and often explicit) about how our ethical reasoning informs proposed solutions. Design leadership begins by knowing what we value and why.

First, What Do We Value?

We, as a collective pronoun, implies a false unity. In a democratic and liberal society, ethical perspectives and values will be diverse and in conflict. Diversity of thought strengthens our discipline by challenging us to discuss, disagree, reconcile, and rethink what we (as individuals) value. Working in design teams and with communities of people who similarly have diverse and conflicting values amplifies the importance and richness of knowing what we value. Neither design education nor design practice should prescribe which values and ethical perspectives are permissible or appropriate.

We, as a collective pronoun, implies a false unity.

Ethical decision-making is based on tacit value systems and thinking approaches. Most of us rarely articulate our values or thinking as we work; instead, we decide and act. Using a sustainability rating system does not require us to pause and consider the ethical values integrated into the system; we substitute the values of the system for our own. Being explicit about what we believe sometimes seems like wasted time or complicates making decisions. (And frankly, some individuals may not recognize why they do what they do or how their actions are out of tune with their values.) Stating and exploring values begins by acknowledging contexts and the consequences of that position. For many of us, we design from the Global North—with abundant resources, relative security, and comfort. Our choices and actions, for good and bad, are influenced by this context.

Ethical decision-making processes across design, engineering, and public policy typically focus on gathering information and analyzing options (e.g. if A, then B). These processes rarely include the type of innovation or problem-solving that is core to an iterative design process. Most ethical decision models do not include problem-solving as part of the process (Suarez et al., 2023). The linear approach to problem-solving contrasts the iterative, forward-backward cycle of design work. The foundational problem-seeking frameworks we use have built-in values regarding efficient use of space, resources, and funding (Peña et al., 1987; Peña & Focke, 1969). Alternative approaches require adding sustainability and community values to the process (Cherry & Petronis, 2016; Hershberger, 2000). Interior designers should be explicit about these values and question which values are and are not actively part of our problem-seeking processes.

Some ethical decision models mirror the design’s reflective and iterative process. Reflexive principlism relies on participants exploring beneficence, nonmaleficence, autonomy, and justice through repeated exploration of solutions and explicitly communicating decision reasoning (Corple et al., 2020). This approach has inherent ethical ideas (of good, bad, agency, and fairness). Some design-based processes intentionally integrate ethical decision-making and problem-solving. The liberatory design framework requires explicit work to acknowledge and reveal differences and to reflect on how decisions affect others (Anaissie et al., 2017). Equity-centered community design similarly requires decisions to be made within an ethical framework that acknowledges and disrupts power constructs (Creative Reaction Lab, n.d.). Liberatory and equity-centered design approaches clearly outline their ethical positions (how power, exclusion, and biases negatively affect design decisions). Other ethical philosophies produce different strategies or results. For example, a utilitarian ethical philosophy focuses attention on the greatest good, while accepting some level of bad for a small group of people (e.g. mining coal produces an inexpensive energy source for many but causes health problems for a few). The model of utilitarian decision-making might initially seem similar to other discussions of good, bad, and justice, but definitions for these concepts differ by value system.

Designers work with problems that have overlapping ethical levels. Personal ethical values may be in conflict with organizational or professional ethics, which may differ from societal or environmental ethical frameworks (Díaz de la Cruz et al., 2022). Can an ecologically concerned designer work with a client who wants a building that appears environmentally responsible but is not? Knowing the ethical values at each level requires asking uncomfortable questions of ourselves and others. Once we know the values, we then face the additional challenge of the designer’s agency to act. Hired to solve a problem, what is their ethical responsibility? Does a client expect the designer to adopt the client’s ethical viewpoint? Is the designer empowered to act as they believe just for broader society? What are the implications of a designer working outside societal, ethical, or environmental frameworks?

Donia and Shaw (2021) argue a normative-power-to-design-agency matrix shapes independent ethical decisions. Explicit ethical theories have strong normative power (e.g. clear purposes), whereas iterative and exploratory actions have weaker normative control and enable more nuanced, contextual decisions. The higher the design agency, the more freedom designers have to develop ethical solutions (Donia & Shaw, 2021; Gray et al., 2024). Meadows insists we challenge normative, paradigmatic power. Every paradigm, “including the one that sweetly shapes our own worldview, is a tremendously limited understanding” (Meadows, 1999, p. 19).

The discordance between individual ethical values, societal and cultural values, and our agency to act should not be easily resolved. “The ethical design complexity felt by practitioners involves the mediation of many forces which cannot always be considered in advance” (Gray et al., 2024, p. 4). Designers must struggle with this conflict because the complex and wicked problems we address are not finite (Orthel & Day, 2023). Navigating ethical challenges requires repeated reframing and contextual reconsideration—a process strikingly familiar to design iteration. We design because these difficult issues exist, not because easy answers are available for selection.

We Should Challenge Normative Sustainability

As a meta-level ethical framework, sustainability is often an unstated, unquestioned aspect of a design problem. For example, designers make decisions about finishes, building systems, and energy use—often with the intention to reduce the impact of construction on global resources. Jumbled reasoning explains these decisions: energy efficiency reduces client costs; embodied energy/carbon has long-term implications; using this product avoids using another dangerous product. Each reason may be logical as separate, constrained decisions, but collectively they are not a coherent set of ethical values. When constrained by normative labels, designer agency is weakly aligned with ethics.

What do we actually value in sustainable design? Rating systems and environmental product declarations may help quantify impact, but they do not answer the ethical question of why we choose one solution over another. Too often, we fall back on vague platitudes—“nature is good”—without understanding what that really means. Further complicating things is the long chain of communication from designer to client, from client to occupants, from building operators to occupants, and so on. If design decisions were made with the intent to protect people or the environment, was that intention ever clearly communicated? Even with the best of design intentions, people override or abandon sustainable features—not out of malice, but because they do not understand, were not informed, or they simply do not care (Day & O’Brien, 2017).

There are well-defined ethical frameworks for sustainability. Guy and Farmer (2001) position the competing logics of sustainable design as a breadth of reasons and values driving ethically sustainable decisions (from technical to biological to aesthetic to cultural to health). Deep ecology argues for providing the same type of existential rights to all animate and inanimate objects (Næss, 1973; Stone, 1972). If a mountain or a tree has a right to exist without hindrance from humanity (in the same way any one of us has a right to exist without another person controlling our life), then how should an interior designer decide what materials and resources can be used to create a new space? The long-standing Brundtland approach to sustainability frames specific ethical values: meeting “the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” (World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987, p. 24). This approach positions present and future generations as (a) equivalent and (b) only owed their needs. The equivalency of people who currently have their needs met and people whose needs are not met is often ignored in how designers interpret the Brundtland ethical approach. Alternatively, the transition design ethos argues for a widely scoped understanding of our environment that requires designers to make decisions based on long-term implications beyond our own experience (Cole & Hamilton, 2024; Irwin et al., 2015). These approaches (among others) differ from the haphazard nature is good approach, from utilitarian ethics focused on the greatest good, and from pure capitalistic use of resources for the greatest profit (other consequences be damned).

If we value stuff and not people, we cannot be good leaders. If we are too distracted by a digital, consumeristic world, we will not recognize the holistic issues that create a sustainable world.

If we value stuff and not people, we cannot be good leaders.

As designers increasingly work at the intersection of climate change mitigation and interiors, our ethical lenses must scale accordingly. The systems we design are not isolated—they connect to global energy grids, embodied carbon footprints, community resilience, and, most importantly, life. Seemingly small design decisions (e.g. control system defaults, material choices) translate to potentially large impacts on people and the plant and animal life around us (Orthel & Day, 2024). Designers must be aware of the ethical consequences of decisions.

Interior designers need to understand their own ethical values and how those values differ from their clients, users, and other people around the globe. It is not sufficient to mean well. Well-meaning “sustainable” design choices fall flat when they do not align with user values or behaviors (Day & Gunderson, 2015). Understanding ethical values is essential, but so is grasping how solutions play out in reality. Once we understand our values, and the bigger context, we must continue to learn, reflect, and incorporate other ideas, values, and ethics to make decisions.

Second, How Do We Make Decisions with Our Values?

Many design decisions are not ethically clear. For example, an interior designer specifies flooring for an office: the users of the space may never know or comprehend the ecological implications of one brand of nylon carpet tile over a different brand of nylon carpet tile (or a non-petroleum-based flooring option). What is the ethical decision for the designer?

The authors argue the designer’s decision should be framed by its implications for the users (and every other life form on the planet who may be affected by systemic implications across time). This approach is influenced by ecological systems and follows capability ethics, which require us to support the capability of fellow humans to act and achieve their own successful lives without coercion or false choice (Nussbaum, 2003, 2011; Sen, 1993, 1997). Because the choice of flooring material has repercussions for how the material is sourced, manufactured, and ultimately discarded, the designer’s decision affects thousands of people, unknown (and unseen) to the designer and the flooring users. If we follow this logic far enough, we are required to reshape fundamental and long-standing aspects of design practice and human existence. Others reach similar conclusions from different directions, such as transition design (Chan, 2018; Cole & Hamilton, 2024; Fry, 2020/1999; Irwin et al., 2015; Mau, 2004). These authors, although from diverse disciplines, agree design decisions (even the smallest of choices such as flooring) are consequential for people, the planet, and our future. Each of us must choose our own values and follow them to their consequences.

While a user may never consider the ecological implications of flooring material choice, such a decision is intertwined with designer, client, and owner-based ethical beliefs. People often struggle to recognize the conflict between their decisions and the experiences of others. If, in the client’s perspective, their comfort (happiness) is of more importance than another individual’s happiness/health/well-being, how should the interior designer make a decision?

When a designer’s values conflict with solutions to a problem, the challenge may seem existential. Should the designer hold true to their values and walk away from the problem? Or, should the designer only apply the ethical values of their client? While both are options, neither is required. Interior designers are well positioned to understand conflicting value systems. Designers are also prepared to navigate a creative process of developing different solutions that fulfill the ethical needs of many stakeholders.

Design problem-solving entangles ambiguity, perceived problem parameters, and communal and cultural judgment (Chivukula & Gray, 2025; Stoycheva & Lubart, 2001). When done well, this entanglement simultaneously compares normative social values with possibilities and ideal outcomes (and when not done well, the process replicates rote, contextless solutions). The abductive process surfaces ethical issues through iterative questioning of the entangled values, problem, and potential solutions. Repeated abductive failure continues until a solution is ethically and practically satisficing. If the designer knows their own values and the values of others, they should prompt themselves to keep searching with the systemic awareness of complex implications. In other words, the way a problem is framed shapes what we see as the issue, which solutions we consider, and the ethical trade-offs involved. A clash of ethical values may be the result of an incompletely understood problem, rather than an unsolvable problem.

Third, How Do We Lead with Our Values?

Making ethical decisions requires analysis, decision, and action. Díaz de la Cruz et al. (2022) and Chivukula and Gray (2025) provide useful, grounded discussions regarding ethical decision-making and strategies for guiding design decisions. Analysis—like the design process—is a stage of defining the problem, exploring the boundaries to know what is (and is not) at issue. Exploration across systems and levels (personal, organizational, societal, etc.) is essential. Also, like a design process, decision-making necessitates evaluating the consequences of potential actions. Within some ethical frameworks, the consequences may be more easily determined. A utilitarian analysis that measures ethical decisions by the net good will differ from a capability ethics approach that prohibits harm to anyone.

…decision-making necessitates evaluating the consequences of potential actions.

Utilitarian thinking can veer into justifying (possibly poor) decisions for the greater good. It is important to resist the trap of acting before reflecting or doing something just because we can (paraphrasing Churchman, 1961, as cited in Chan, 2018). Further, just because a solution is possible or even sustainable, it does not mean that it is ethical. Two flooring options, for example, may offer similar sustainable features but achieve those goals in different ways (e.g. net-zero manufacturing versus carbon offsets). The ethical guidelines for the project may recognize a difference between eliminating carbon from the production process versus releasing the carbon during production and then trying to recapture it or buying someone else’s non-use of carbon. We all have ethical values that guide what we do—in the grand scheme and in our day-to-day behaviors. We may not be able to immediately identify these values, but they guide our big and small decisions. How do these ethical values affect our design decisions? What do we require of ourselves (and others)?

The fundamental question is: what are we supposed to do, but do not? How should interior designers act when values, solutions, and needs are difficult, uncomfortable, cognitively dissonant, or unfashionable? Should we ever ethically convince ourselves that it does not matter (because of science, willful disregard, or economic feasibility)? To lead with design and sustainability, what must we make ourselves do?

If we understand a situation through only one framing, we likely misunderstand the scope, complexity, and implications of any solution we might propose. Nussbaum (2011) challenged that a child’s choice between attending school to prepare for a future life and working now to afford food is a falsely tragic choice. The framing of the issue as school or food too narrowly limits the problem to the child’s concern without also exploring the myriad ways this problem has societal (and other) components. For one child, the decision is heartbreaking; for a society, this decision is a chilling moral failure stemming from multiple roots.

Designers may conform to normative societal framings of sustainability (e.g. reducing waste, recycling) without recognizing the broader, inherent ethical concepts and systemic issues. Designers are typically focused on innovation and novel solutions. We must work to understand the larger systemic and social issues surrounding sustainability. The easy answer (e.g. feeding the child; selecting an Energy Star-labeled appliance) ignores the root of the ethical issue and problem. ² The easy answer pretends to conserve resources and extend the safe habitation of humanity. The hard response requires us to transform systems and behaviors. These changes may be expensive, unpopular, inconvenient, or seemingly existential to some ways of living. Rittel and Webber (1973) tell us that such wicked problems are difficult to address and perhaps impossible to solve, but these problems are also the problems that matter.

What is the designer’s version of “first, do no harm”? Ethically leading sustainable design requires knowing our values and following them to conclusions, even if they are uncomfortable, unpopular, and consequential. Ethical leadership in this context is separated from societal framing because it intends to alter those very framings. Ethically, this approach does not excuse designer excess or neglect. Design is not implemented in a vacuum, so design leadership must work with people, rather than work for people. ³ Leading with our values, and listening to incorporate others’ values in an ethical way, means that we cannot default to the path of least resistance. We must reframe problems to widen our understanding and scope of consideration. We must not accept incomplete thinking (i.e. not stopping without trying); we must embrace uncomfortable problems and consequences. Leadership requires saying “No” when we realize a potential solution may cause harm. Leadership in design means that we must educate others.

Ethical Interior Design Leadership Requires Reframing

Our argument comes full circle in recognizing design is human (and consequently imperfect) (Stolterman, 2021), design requires ethical decisions about when to start and stop (Altman, 1975), and design appropriately addresses problems where a “single range of choice” is insufficient and the choices made are inherently values-laden (Sanoff, 1975, p. 83). Ethical interior design leadership requires us to define our values, make decisions based on these values, and lead by taking on the hard problems. Leaders actively question and reframe “the field’s implicit and explicit values, setting the metrics for ‘good design’ and by consequence, the role adopted by the designer in interacting with clients” (Cole & Hamilton, 2024, p. 17).

What we celebrate, how we present our discipline and profession, and why we advocate for people (and the planet) implicitly reveal our ethical frameworks. How we define problems exposes our values. When we choose to start and stop solving problems matters. As a discipline, we have avoided discussing ethics or openly challenging each other about what sustainability means ethically. Developing and testing ideas requires discussion, engagement with others’ ideas, and openness to listening and possibly changing our minds. We must do better.