“These are the facts of the case, and they are undisputed.”
The immensely talented, but criminally under-appreciated Kevin Bacon uttered those words in A Few Good Men. He, as many times before and since, took something that was average, and made it effortlessly impactful.
So here’s the fact: Good design is good for business.
And if personal opinions (and quotable lines from movies) seem too flaky, data backs this up as well. Design-led companies see higher revenue growth, higher customer loyalty, higher returns for shareholders. And they outperformed the S&P 500 by more than 200% over a decade.
And yet, design has never felt this disenfranchised. Design teams are slowly shrinking, their strategic influence all but absent at the table, and more and more designers are choosing – or being asked – to step out in the wild as hired guns.
Design spent years making everything around it better. It’s loved by everyone, because it makes everyone look great. It took the average, and turned it into something impactful. And yet, it has never got its flowers.
Design has, well and truly, been Kevin Baconed.
Because what design can do, and what design is being asked to do, is the difference between average and impactful. Between good and great.
So why did design lose its seat at the table? And when did we become alright with it?
Chapter 1: No One Hears The People In The Back
Every time a role is reduced to its most visible and basic function, we not only diminish its true potential, we also strip down the collective impact of the entire project. Copywriters write. Strategists think. Project managers schedule. And suddenly the briefs begin to arrive with directives instead of suggestions, the problem already solved. And designers become the people who make things look good, rather than being seen as the unconventional problem solvers they are. This system-wide gap has been present for a while, and is largely accepted without resistance or rationalisation.
But this wasn’t an overnight shift. It happened gradually, and it happened because companies were forced to measure success by numbers and tangible outputs. Assets, screens and files, measured in days, hours and minutes. We accepted those metrics and played by those rules, because there are no timesheets for incubation.
The wider industry played its part as well. Competitive pitches were the only ways to acquire new business, and whether you won the job or not, you were already 20% of the budget in. The resulting financial pressure didn’t just affect margins – it changed how design was perceived internally. Faster turnarounds meant design became more about execution and less about thinking.
Project by project, the playing field completely changed. And design suffered for being a team-player.
I have been in that position more times than I would like to admit – being brought in at the eleventh hour, only because there was a last minute request to make a few slides look good. My skillset reduced to colouring by numbers, whilst the impact I made was a big fat zero.
But if you want to be heard in a crowded room, whispering won’t cut it. So I started pushing myself in early, which led to me getting involved when things were being planned, rather than executed – a slight adjustment that opened up new approaches, broader solutions, and work that was evidently better – contextually and conceptually.
Work that won pitches, upped the metrics, and kept the budget on track.
Because design, by nature, thinks laterally. It finds gaps that data and strategy might miss. It asks questions the brief didn’t think to ask. It believes in making things better, and it does so collaboratively, and inclusively. But that capability is only available when it’s at the table, in the room, early enough to matter.
Except design willingly went to the back of the room and stayed there. Inclusively. Collaboratively. Making room for others to own the conversation.
And just like back-benchers, we even developed our own vocabulary that the rest of the room couldn’t speak. Design-thinking, journey mapping, mood boards and design-systems – phrases that signalled expertise, but gently pushed the others to stay on the periphery, unable to join the conversation when we need their inclusion the most.
The self-expulsion was entirely self-inflicted, even if it was fuelled by good intentions.
But the industry is quickly shifting, and rules are being rewritten once again. The room is about to change, and staying at the back might be the worst decision we make.
Chapter 2: Second Chances And Half-Full Glasses
Design has always been a combination of two things – concept and craft.
Sure, we worked hard to tame the tools at our disposal, honing our craft by learning every nuance and mastering every trick in the book. And whilst this created a strong technical base, it was merely a scaffolding for our imagination to take shape.
The real magic came when we used uninhibited creative thinking combined with strategic frameworks to conceptualise ideas that were both functionally relevant and emotionally resonant.
That’s when a gorilla banged on drums dreaming about chocolate. That’s when we created moments that caught lightning in a bottle.
Understanding the tool was just a way for us to breathe life into our vision, and to channel our creativity through a tangible conduit. It’s a simple formula, and it still holds.
But then AI came – and we forgot about the formula. Our natural reaction was to push back, and immediately resist. But that’s just us making the same mistake again – willingly stepping back, instead of spotting the gap and exposing lateral pathways.
Because what AI actually threatens is the execution layer – the craft. The spit and polish, the colouring by numbers. The role we were reduced to. Is that really the role we want to protect? Or should we instead use this opportunity to fight for the things we were always meant to be doing?
Defining the problem, lateral thinking, human-centred judgement. The real job was always to find solutions by understanding the questions AI could never ask. Because whilst it is intelligent without doubt, it is also artificial. And asking uncomfortable questions has always been a human responsibility.
Nobody remembers the tool. They remember the work. CorelDraw. Photoshop. Sketch. Figma. ChatGPT. Claude. Just tools that followed other tools. Just means to an end. Each one adopted naturally, as the one before was immediately forgotten.
And it never felt like a struggle, because we always upskilled willingly. Every update was studied with excitement. Every new software was immediately pressure-tested with rigour. It was never a choice, and we never saw it as one. We knew staying ahead wasn’t just a competitive advantage – it was how we validated the concept, solved the ask, and won the room.
The risk was never the tool. It was the designer who stopped learning how to harness its potential. If all you knew was Microsoft Paint you couldn’t walk through the doors of a design agency expecting to get hired. That was true then. It hasn’t changed now.
So what do we do if the tool changes once again, and automates craft at a pace that we cannot possibly match? Do we only focus on half the picture, and resist the tool? Or do we harness its potential to combine concept and craft in a whole new way?
Because although craft separates design from everyone else in the room, owning the concept is how you earn your seat at the table in the first place.
The wrap-up
The wheel didn’t move humanity forward. It was just a circular slab of stone that rolled when it was pushed. The person who looked at that shape and saw a tool – a cart, a mill, a gear – did. The tool only gave us the capability. Our imagination defined the possibility.
Screen printing was its own wheel, as was design software. And now AI is the wheel. And it needs designers who understand problems, think laterally, ask uncomfortable questions, because they’re the ones who will build what comes next.
Design stepped to the back of the room because someone changed the job description, and we accepted it. AI is changing that job once again, which means the room is about to reset, and so is our role.
We need to pick a side now, because the tool we consider our biggest threat might be the best way for us to reclaim our true potential.
So don’t keep sitting on the fence. All that leads to is a sore bottom, and bitter regret the next day.