We’ve all seen it. A big brand slaps a leaf icon on a plastic bottle, switches to an “earthy” font, and voilà—sustainability achieved. Somewhere else, a tech company launches a sleek app that tracks your carbon footprint, sends you gentle nudges to “shop greener,” and makes you feel like you’re saving the planet one click at a time. Never mind that your screen time is through the roof and your guilt is monetized.
If you’ve ever felt like something about this whole show doesn’t sit right, it’s not your recycled packaging. It’s the system itself—and the uncanny way greenwashing and unethical tech design wink at each other like co-conspirators at a branding retreat.
Greenwashing, of course, isn’t new. It’s the polished language of pretending to care. Instead of transforming how a company actually operates—like cutting emissions, reducing waste, or paying workers fairly—greenwashing focuses on aesthetics. Your shampoo is now “mindful,” because nothing says environmental justice like a beige label and a vague promise. Your airline plants trees. Your favorite oil company suddenly has a sun logo and some jazz about “innovation.” It’s all curated sincerity with a carbon shadow.
Meanwhile, in the digital world, we’re “designing for good.” We talk about empathy, clean design, and “ethical tech.” But let’s be honest—what gets shipped is often a platform that nudges people into compulsive scrolling, impulse buying, or clicking “I agree” without a clue. Consent gets blurred, choices get gamified, and we bury transparency under convenience. We call it clever UX. It’s clever alright—just not for the user.
And when tech companies decide to jump on the sustainability train? Oh, it’s a ride. Carbon tracking apps shift the spotlight onto individuals, while the companies behind them quietly dodge their own environmental impact. The interface is smooth, the microcopy is gentle, and suddenly the problem is you. Did you boil too much water today? Shame on you—how dare you jeopardize the planet with your reckless pasta habits. Meanwhile, your device flew business class from Shenzhen, wrapped in three layers of plastic.
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And then there’s the biodegradable punchline: the sustainability conference. You know the drill. It opens with a keynote on regenerative futures—and by lunchtime, you’re holding a “compostable” cup lined with plastic, a branded cotton tote bag made halfway across the world, and a laminated badge swinging from your neck like a merit token for caring. Maybe there’s even a hashtag photo wall made of AstroTurf. It’s a perfectly staged performance. The logistics? A sustainability nightmare dressed up in recycled lanyards. At this point, the spectacle of sustainability often does more heavy lifting than the practice itself.
This is where it gets personal for me. Because I care about design. And I care about the environment. I want both to do better. That’s why it’s frustrating to see these tools, which could be powerful forces for real change, get hijacked by illusion. Greenwashing and unethical UX design run on the same engine: they manipulate perception, create the illusion of progress, and deflect responsibility from where it matters most.
One sells “sustainable” products, the other “ethical” experiences—both crafted to maintain control without transformation. And in the process, they wear down people’s trust, dilute meaning, and make cynicism look like the only smart option.
But I don’t want to be cynical. I want to believe we can do better.
That means moving beyond the checkbox approach—where sustainability becomes a color palette, and ethics a content strategy. It means asking better questions: Who benefits from this design? What’s being hidden? Who’s paying the real cost?
Designers and developers aren’t powerless. We’re not just decorators. We shape systems. And systems need more than a visual refresh. They need accountability, honesty, and the courage to admit when the foundation is cracked.
We don’t need another dopamine-drip app that pats us on the back for sorting our trash while its backend quietly burns through the planet. We don’t need leafy green banners that go nowhere. And we definitely don’t need another minimalist landing page assuring us the planet is in good hands—especially when those hands are squeezing out profit at the expense of, well, everyone else.
What we do need is honesty. And a deeper look at what we’re really building—behind the interface, beyond the copy.
Because greenwashing and unethical tech aren’t just marketing tactics or bad design choices. They’re features of a system that’s lost its direction. And no, you can’t fix that with a recycled logo or a carbon-neutral font. But you can start redesigning the system that created it.
And if you care about people, and the planet, and the role design plays in both—you probably should.
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A personal note
I’ve gone back and forth about writing this. Not because I don’t believe in it—but because I know speaking up can come with a cost (especially in this tone). Let’s be honest: calling out greenwashing and unethical design might not be the smartest career move in a field where image often matters more than substance. But I can’t pretend not to see what I see. And I don’t want to spend my energy designing for brands or systems that care more about looking good than doing good.
As someone who truly believes in the power of design to help—not just sell—I often find myself struggling to make peace with the world we’re living in. A world that rewards aesthetics over accountability, and silence over critique. But I also believe that staying quiet just helps the illusion stay intact.
So here it is. It’s not perfect. But it’s honest. And if that means some doors won’t open—I’m fine with that. Because I’m not interested in walking through doors that lead straight into another greenwashed boardroom.
But hey, don’t stress about it—Google has a brand new logo...