The Ethics Gods Have Spoken

NEWS | PŪRĀKAU / MYTHOLOGY

Written by Mila Van Der Plas (she/her) | @mila.vdp | News Editor

Forbidden knowledge is most powerful in mythology. Pandora was told not to open the box, Prometheus was punished for stealing fire, and Orpheus was warned not to glance back. Every story speaks of what occurs when rules collide with curiosity. Today, in the underworld of New Zealand's design schools, a similar dilemma faces students: certain topics like mental illness, immigration, disability, consent are brought up as if they are modern-day taboos.

One of our design students described at a recent hui how much it would mean to do her final project on her immigration story. Her research idea was discreetly steered elsewhere, and she quickly discovered there were certain things off limits. At other universities similar restrictions have been imposed on capstone projects. Mental illness, disability, and even social housing were labeled as  "too sensitive." 

The boundaries are also specified in the Year 3 capstone brief. In the Ethical Research section, it states: “AUT is committed to conducting research according to the highest ethical standards and ethics approval will not be given for any undergraduate projects that involve vulnerable groups. There are topics that are case sensitive and cannot be addressed due to the AUT ethics committee (AUTEC) and these topics are prohibited: Mental illness, Disabilities, anything that involves children (under 18s), and Immigration.” In the interest of protecting both participants and students from damage, limited leeway is provided by the language. Instead of guiding students through the exercise of how to ethically and respectfully study such subjects, the statement frames entire communities and lived experiences as off-limits. To those students who are members of those communities, the prohibition is intimate: it reads less as a safeguard and more like a silencing.

This raises an easy question: if design is there to solve problems and deal with real communities, why are students dissuaded from some of the most serious ones?

Capstone projects are typically marked by panels of lecturers and occasionally industry professionals. Because of this visibility, universities tread carefully around risks. On paper, the prohibitions are related to ethics. Any research that comes into contact with participants, vulnerable groups, or sensitive topics is meant to go through a research ethics committee. These committees exist for a good reason: to protect people from harm, to verify consent, and to ensure data is handled responsibly.

But in practice, these systems do not work within the constrained timescales of an undergraduate design course. An application of ethics can take a month or so, and students only have a single semester to complete their end-of-course projects. Instead of supporting students through the process, some courses simply discourage certain topics outright. What develops is a quiet, but powerful culture of evasion. Students learn what words they can tiptoe around, what ideas will derail a project at the very beginning, and which stories to leave unsaid.

These boundaries are infuriating to many students. It's like we’re told not to open Pandora’s box. But what if the solutions we need are inside?” For those whose own identities are tied to these topics, the restrictions sting even more deeply. Immigrant students wonder why an exploration of their own communities is considered too risky. Disabled students hear the irony that disability itself is off-limits in a field that makes access its priority.

As one student recalled, "If my life experience is too sensitive to explore, what does that say about how the university values my voice?" Lecturers are often caught in the middle. Many enjoy the benefit of engaging students with difficult subjects, but they are also subject to pressure from institutional processes and forms of assessment. If a student misjudges a sensitive subject, this can look bad for the entire programme. Restrictions are for safety, some lecturers assert. "I don't want to set a student up to fail by letting them tackle a project that's going to be too emotionally taxing or too complex within the time frame," one said. In their view, shepherding students onto greener pastures will allow them to leave with success in their portfolio that they can support when selling themselves to employers. Others believe that the avoidance strategy does more damage than good.

The irony is that design is rarely safe. By its nature, it involves entering messy problems, listening to diverse perspectives, and experimenting with possible solutions. Industry designers handle problematic topics every day: mental health in worklife apps, immigration in government-official messages, disability in product development. By shielding students from these topics entirely, universities risk creating a myth of safety; a belief that design can and should exist apart from society’s most complex challenges. Students graduate well-trained in aesthetics and prototyping, but less confident in navigating the ethical responsibilities of real-world practice.

So what might a healthier approach look like? Instead of leaving students to guess which topics are taboo, universities could clearly explain the boundaries and why they exist. Ethics approval processes could be streamlined for undergraduate research, or students could be given mentors to help them navigate difficult areas responsibly. Universities could accept that for some, those "sensitive" areas are lived realities, rather than merely research categories. Involving students in shaping the guidelines would make the rules feel less like prohibitions and more like protections. Rather than banning complex themes, programs could allow space for students to practice ethical design skills. 

Rules are never strict in mythology. Stories of Orpheus looking back, Prometheus defying Zeus, or Pandora opening her jar suggest that courage and curiosity frequently cause chaos but can also be clarifying and redemptive. For design students, the message is the same: engaging with sensitive themes requires care and empathy, but it also requires trust. Students must be allowed to explore challenging questions responsibly, and not taught to avoid them in the first place. The intention isn't to encourage disregard to ethics, it's to emphasise that understanding, empathy, and courage are central to design practice.

If design education closes the box before it has been opened, students are left susceptible to being taught to prioritise safety over insight, avoidance over problem-solving, and silence over storytelling. The real lesson should be learning how to navigate sensitive topics: how to research thoughtfully, how to listen without bias, how to design solutions that respect lived experience. By giving students guidelines rather than limitations, universities can turn potential "chaos" into hope by allowing students to tackle meaningful problems in society, learn from them, and leave their own mark responsibly. 

Ultimately, students should graduate having discovered that ethics and creativity are not opposing forces. The most authentic work of design is a product of curiosity, courage, and careful reflection. When students are trusted in universities to engage with complexity instead of evading it, the myths we tell in the classroom can turn into stories of possibility instead of silence.