Design as Extraction
By Shahbaz Ghafoori
Design, in its current dominant form, is no longer neutral or benign; it functions increasingly as a system of extraction. Behind each product, space, or interface lies a network of material, labor, energy, and attention that has been mobilized, often invisibly, to sustain the mechanisms of capital and control. This mode of design does not simply shape environments; it extracts from them; depleting the ecological, social, and cognitive resources upon which it relies.
At the material level, design facilitates the mining of finite resources: rare earth metals, fossil fuels, timber, and water. These materials are abstracted from the land, stripped of context and consequence, and funneled into global supply chains that prioritize speed, scale, and profit. The aesthetic smoothness or minimalism of contemporary design often conceals a violent lineage of extraction and erasure.
At the human level, design practices extract time, attention, and labor; often from vulnerable populations. The gig economy, click-based interfaces, and algorithmic architectures are optimized not for dignity or well-being but for engagement and throughput. Interfaces are designed to manipulate behavior; spaces are designed to optimize consumption; experiences are curated to sustain user dependency.
Even cultural resources are not exempt. Symbols, traditions, and identities are harvested through aesthetic appropriation and market repackaging. Local knowledge systems are often overwritten by global design standards that flatten difference in the name of efficiency or taste.
To recognize design as extraction is not to condemn design itself, but to reveal its systemic entanglement with power. It means confronting the hidden costs behind elegance, usability, and scale. It means refusing to see design as merely problem-solving and instead asking: who defines the problem, who benefits from the solution, and who pays the price?
A post-extractive design ethic must begin with re-embedding design within ecological and social systems. This includes practices that regenerate rather than deplete; that acknowledge the origin and afterlife of materials; that prioritize care over control. It means co-designing with communities, recognizing plural ways of knowing, and resisting the drive toward uniformity and speed.
Ultimately, this shift requires a different imagination; one that sees design not as a pipeline for converting inputs into outputs, but as a practice of stewardship, reciprocity, and attunement. In this imagination, the measure of good design is not only what it creates, but what it sustains, protects, and leaves untouched.