How can we create things in the world without causing harm, and instead, create with healing in mind?
This question is at the heart of Assembling Tomorrow (Penguin Random House, 2024), the new book by Carissa Carter and Scott Doorley, directors at Stanford University’s d.school.
With the rapid growth of AI and other emerging technologies, how we create and what we create profoundly influence our lives. The challenge is to use our creativity and ingenuity to make everything from products to policies in a way that unites rather than divides.
By examining the intangibles that influence our creations and exploring actionable tools, Carter and Doorley offer a new vision for designing a better world.
Why did you write Assembling Tomorrow?
We are in a special moment, one that completely upends the relationship between humans and technology. AI takes on cognitive tasks, challenging what it means to be human, while synthetic biology enables artificial evolution and is redefining our relationship with nature. We wrote the book to explore the hidden forces shaping this moment and to apply a designer’s perspective on building a better future. As our creations transform us, we must change to meet them. A design mindset – focused on noticing, planning, and acting resourcefully – is more essential than ever, and this is what we explore in the book.
This is an era of “runaway design.” In previous technological ages, humans decided what we wanted technology to do and manipulated the materials of that technology to make it happen. Now, technologies have a level of autonomy that allows them to make their own decisions, produce their own products, and learn and replicate on their own. We need to understand the risks we are currently facing, but also the unique opportunities.
Can you describe “runaway design” in greater depth?
Picture a speeding runaway train – only it’s invisible, we forgot to lay the tracks, and we can’t see the destruction until it’s too late. Oh, and the train makes more invisible trains, setting them off on their own invisible tracks. Also, the train is its own conductor and can change as it sees fit.
Runaway design is an unpredictable tangle of technologies, environments, and emotions. Hard-to-pin-down technologies like algorithms or CRISPR gene editing, which we call “mischievous materials,” have immense potential – to cure diseases, build entirely new businesses and industries, and improve human lives in countless ways – but also carry great risks. Because we don’t fully understand or control these mischievous materials, we may be unable to fix things when they break or even be aware when something goes wrong.
Our emotions also play a significant role in runaway design. AI makes some tasks too easy, which can lead to a lack of appreciation and affect our mental health. While runaway design poses serious risks, our book is hopeful. By highlighting these risks and breakage points, we can work to mitigate them.
The design you describe in the book isn’t solely about designing things, right?
Correct. Everything made by humans is designed. Design is products and widgets but also policy, relationships, and vaccines. We describe it this way in the book: “To be a maker in this moment – to be a human today – is to collaborate with the world. It is to create and be created, to work and be worked on, to make and be made. To be human is to tinker, create, fix, care, and bring new things into the world. It is to design. You – yes, you! – might design products or policies, services or sermons, production lines, or preschool programs. You might run a business, make art, or participate in passing out meals to the poor. You may write code or pour concrete, lobby for endangered species legislation, or craft cocktails. Wherever you fit in, you are part of shaping the world. This is design work.”
How can design reduce the risks of these new technologies?
Nearly everyone designs with good intentions, but eventually, everything breaks. While we can’t prevent all breakages, we can use design techniques to spot gaps and find opportunities if and when things break down. We may not anticipate exactly what will break, but by anticipating breakage, we can ensure smarter designs that build in speed bumps, sharp curves, and mandatory pauses to slow the speeding train and stave off catastrophe. We call this “design for healing.”
You write, “If necessity is the mother of invention, feelings are the father.” What is the role of emotions in innovation and design?
While businesses often prioritize data and objectivity, feelings drive design and innovation. Feelings are useful and dangerous, they shift our attention and guide our inspiration. They are also the midwives of culture and invention. In the book, we tell a story about C.L. Peckham, a California insurance adjustor, whose frustration over parking led to the creation of America’s first “drive-in market,” or strip mall.
Mom-and-pop stores flourished in strip malls, but they also created an incredible urban sprawl with higher demand for gas-guzzling cars. Peckham’s emotional spawn had social and environmental consequences.
Today, technologies like social media spread feelings much more quickly than in the past. Emotions can be warning flags or opportunity beacons, so we really need to force ourselves to slow down when we have that rush of emotion before we send it into the world.
What are three ways thinking and acting like a designer can help us tackle the climate crisis?
Embrace limits: Accepting limits can lead to better design. For example, old warehouses with large windows were designed to capture natural light because gas lighting was expensive and dangerous. These constraints led to desirable real estate features today.
Anticipate breakage: Recognize that everything eventually breaks and use these breaks as opportunities to improve. Seek out cracks and fill them. When you take breaking into account, it gives you the best shot at creating lasting work you can be proud of.
Acknowledge impact: Everything is a climate problem, and the climate problem is everything. From the materials we use to the people we work with, our actions have environmental consequences. By considering these impacts, we can avoid creating unintended problems.
“Stanford University, officially Leland Stanford Junior University, is a private research university in Stanford, California. The campus occupies 8,180 acres, among the largest in the United States, and enrols over 17,000 students.”
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