This article isn’t for designers. I’d like to think most designers are inherently optimistic. If you don’t believe you can change the future for the better, then you’re in the wrong game.
This article is for people who don’t have the luxury of thinking like designers. It argues that applying an optimistic lens to problem-solving is not only a positive thing to do, it’s the responsible thing to do. Especially now, when optimism feels in short supply.
But before I go any further, I need to clarify what kind of optimism I mean.
The perils of blind optimism
“If you have God on your side, everything becomes clear.”
The words of three-time Formula 1 world champion (and Brazil’s unofficial national icon) Ayrton Senna.
If you get the chance to watch Asif Kapadia’s documentary (which I recommend), you’ll see how Senna’s faith gave him extraordinary focus and confidence as a driver. But you’ll also see how it affected those around him.
“Ayrton has a small problem: he thinks he can’t kill himself because he believes in God.”
The words of Senna’s great rival, Alain Prost, who wasn’t the only driver who saw Senna’s faith creating a dangerous and false sense of security. Many fellow competitors also felt it led Senna to take risks that seemed reckless or irrational. And, tragically, we know how this story ends.
Senna’s faith bears the hallmarks of blind optimism: an unwavering belief that things will work out positively, even in the face of evidence to the contrary. This is a mindset that takes hold when someone’s conviction in an idea is so strong, its broader implications are conveniently overlooked.
But this isn’t the kind of optimism I want to talk about. Blind optimism is ultimately just wishful thinking. And while there is some evidence that belief alone can bring measurable benefits, it’s far too fragile a foundation to make decisions upon.
Optimism as a default setting
The kind of optimism I do want to talk about (and value) is the one that gives people the confidence to tackle a problem, even when the chances of finding a solution are in doubt.
For some, this is pure folly. Naive. Impractical. Even wasteful. People like Lord Kelvin, one of the most eminent scientists of the 19th century, who in the 1890s declared “heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible.” Yet, less than a decade later, the Wright brothers had proved otherwise.
Kelvin’s statement overlooked a fundamental truth: we don’t know what the future holds and it will always contain possibilities beyond our current understanding.
Worse, it also suggests there’s no point in even looking. It shuts down enquiry before it begins.
But perhaps most significantly, it ignores humankind’s unique ability to shape our own futures. Time and time again we’ve broken through perceived limits through questioning, imagination, experimentation and invention.
To be fair to Lord Kelvin, he wasn’t simply the naysayer as I’ve unfairly portrayed him here. In fact, his scepticism about flight was vastly overshadowed by his contributions to physics, thermodynamics and practical engineering. Forgive me William.
But my point remains! Switching your optimism setting on isn’t as whimsical as it might sound. When paired with more analytical approaches like critical thinking and hypothesis-driven design, you’re not ignoring reality; you’re staying open to the idea that better futures are possible and creating space to explore opportunities that might otherwise be overlooked.
The power of reframing through questions
But how do we apply this in practice?
In our experience, one of the most potent starting points is a question.
Thomas Heatherwick’s Making is a beautiful illustration of this idea. The book, an anthology of some of his studio’s most celebrated works, introduces each project with a provocative question: Can a floor become a roof? How can a building communicate what is happening in a town? Can a monument be made from the ground?
Heatherwick’s approach shows that questions don’t just provoke curiosity, they open the door to new ways of thinking.
Let’s take a made-up example to illustrate the point:
What if a building could generate more energy than it consumes?
The power of this question comes from its simplicity. In just a few words, it:
- Challenges the assumption that buildings are solely energy consumers
- Reframes the problem as an opportunity
- Encourages novel thinking beyond the current paradigm
- Invites others to contribute ideas
Not so long ago, even the architecture world may have dismissed this question, in the same manner that Kelvin dismissed human flight. Yet today, we have several examples of energy-positive buildings like Snøhetta’s Powerhouse Brattørkaia. A building that was intentionally designed to produce more energy than it consumes over its entire lifespan (including construction, demolition and the embodied energy in its materials). And it’s beautiful!
My point here is that this breakthrough wasn’t inevitable. It happened because people dared to optimistically ask a question that others before them hadn’t.
And these questions needn’t be profound or world-changing. In fact, I’d argue they work best when a solution feels just out of reach but still close enough to lure us towards considering it.
Here are some examples of simple questions we’ve asked ourselves on recent projects, each leading to a small breakthrough we may have otherwise missed:
- What if the primary way to engage with our app is not through touch but voice?
- What if analytics were used to predict future behaviours rather than model the past?
- What if customers could engage with their finances through the heart and not just their head?
- What if we delegate the onboarding experience entirely to AI?
An antidote to pessimism
So, allowing ourselves to think optimistically gives us permission to challenge the status quo and reveal ideas that would have otherwise been ignored. And this is why I’d argue it’s more important now than ever.
The world’s problems feel bigger than at any point in recent history. Climate change, economic instability, political division. Take your pick. It’s no wonder pessimism is on the rise.
But this is doubly dangerous. Pessimism (and its far more sinister cousin, cynicism) creates a kind of doom loop. When we assume problems are too big to solve, we stop trying. When we stop trying, problems get worse. And when problems get worse, our belief in solutions weakens even further.
Yet one way to break this cycle is to invoke your optimistic mindset. Do this in full confidence that you’re not ignoring risks or pretending problems don’t exist. Instead, you're acknowledging them and inviting the notion that there may be a better way.
After all, the best way to criticise something is to make it better.