Grace eludes us. The world is an imperfect place. Imperfect, ignorant, and troubled. Our planet hit its hottest temperature on record in 2016, smashing the record set the year before, which broke the one set in 2014. More than 200 million people remain unemployed globally following the economic crisis of 2008. Your country elects a vulgar, illiberal demagogue to the presidency. The internet is an ocean of molten partisanship and rank disinformation. Your baby brother is felled by a rare mitochondrial disorder and dies two weeks after his 42nd birthday.
For me, Mike embodied one of the core themes of this book: the power of scale. At 4’11”, 100 lbs., my brother always demonstrated strength that far exceeded his size, and compassion that far exceeded what is common. He went on grand adventures—cruising the Alaskan waterways, heli-hiking the Bugaboo Mountains, seeing the Great Pyramids of Egypt. He understood the role of kindness as a massive force multiplier, and the value of persistence in the face of adversity. In a conversation I had with him right at the end, he said: “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”
His premature death put so many things into perspective. It was a reminder of what really matters in life, including taking on challenges of import and scale.
Build a world where ordinary people feel like they have a chance, where technology leads to our elevation rather than our degradation, where all our fellow citizens are respected and would-be tyrants resisted, where the undefended and helpless everywhere are given succor, and where the Earth that holds us is safeguarded.
As the world grows more complex and uncertain, I believe that designers have both a moral obligation and a unique ability to take on the great challenges of our time. To address real-world problems, rather than bury their heads in the pixelated sand. I’m not talking about building apps that make it easier for bros to have a good time on Saturday night. I mean helping to solve problems of consequence.
Most of the calamities that we face are systemic ones, which have been caused by an insufficient understanding of, or an utter disregard for, what is human. For how people engage with and impact each other and our world, and are impacted in kind. Most of these woes could be alleviated, even cured, by building solutions that are truly human-centered. And no one is better equipped to do that than designers.
Putting aside the fancy definitions, design to me is ultimately something fundamental and optimistic. It’s the predilection to investigate and understand. It’s the compulsion to give form to ideas and to make sense of disorder. It’s the ability to amend the imperfect. I’ve felt its pull, like a primal force, from the moment I stacked my first LEGO brick as a child. And when I see young designers at work now, I can hear it calling to them, as well.
But with this particular power, comes a particular responsibility.
Yes, the world is flawed and benighted, callous and unjust. My challenge to you is: Design better.
Build a world where ordinary people feel like they have a chance, where technology leads to our elevation rather than our degradation, where all our fellow citizens are respected and would-be tyrants resisted, where the undefended and helpless everywhere are given succor, and where the Earth that holds us is safeguarded.
I reject half measures. The Universal Traveler describes creativity as “constructive extraordinary behavior.” And that is what I ask of you—emphasis on “extraordinary.” Find creative opportunities to effect large-scale positive change. Today, you have the tools and no excuses. Put your design powers to epic use. Take dragon-scary risks, build giant-size ventures. I don’t want you to touch up society’s great afflictions with a magic wand. I want you to slay them with a sword.
If you’re holding back, then the only thing you’re fighting is yourself. If you’re waiting for someone to give the word, then consider the word given. And if you fear you’ll get lost in the woods, you’re mistaken. There is a diverse and affably weird community of designers and designer founders willing to help guide you, including me. You won’t walk alone.
These years ahead will be trying ones, but, to borrow from Clarissa Pinkola Estés: “My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times.” Take the spark that’s within you and the skills that you’ve honed, and use them to light up the whole damned planet. Build a finer, kinder, wiser, more equitable, more beautiful, more joyful world. Design better.
