Long before contemporary design theory formalised the term “human-centred design”, many cultures had already developed sophisticated ways of shaping buildings, objects, and environments around human life. What differs across traditions is not whether humans were central, but how humans were understood: as individuals, as embodied beings in specific contexts, or as members of a living community.
In Indian traditions such as Śilpa Śāstra and Vāstu Śāstra, design was deeply rooted in everyday human existence. Buildings, tools, sculptures, and settlements were conceived in relation to the human body, daily rituals, climate, geography, and social organisation. Proportions were not abstract measurements but were derived from bodily units such as the hasta (hand), angula (finger), and tāla. These bodily measures were linked to a broader cosmic order, where human life was seen as part of a larger rhythm connecting nature, time, and the universe.
Designers and craftsmen did not conduct surveys or usability studies in the modern sense. Instead, they lived within the same social and cultural worlds as the people they designed for. Apprenticeship and community practices handed over the knowledge . A temple, a house, or a tool was not designed for an abstract “user” but for a specific way of living, worshipping, working, and coexisting with the environment. Human-centredness in this context was embedded, experiential, and ethical, rather than analytical.
In Europe, the idea of human-centred design developed along a different historical path. During the Renaissance period, humanism placed the human figure at the centre of knowledge and representation. Artists such as Leonardo da Vinci explored proportion, anatomy, and geometry to understand the human body as a harmonious system. The famous idea of the human body as the “measure of all things” reflected a shift away from purely theological explanations towards human reason and observation. This emphasis on the human form later influenced modern design movements.
In the early twentieth century, institutions such as the Bauhaus translated human-centred thinking into principles of functionality, ergonomics, and efficiency. Design aimed to serve human needs, particularly in the context of mass production and industrial society. Furniture, housing, and everyday objects were designed to be functional, affordable, and suitable for large populations on a standardised assembly line production. This approach relied on the idea of a universal human being and the differences of culture, class, climate, and social practice were often simplified or ignored in favour of standardisation.
While this model was effective for industrial production, it sometimes reduced human experience to measurable functions and averages, rather than lived reality.
Traditional knowledge systems offer a distinct understanding of human-centred design, one that does not treat people as isolated or independent users. Instead, human life is understood as deeply interconnected, shaped by family, community, environment, and time. Design decisions in these traditions emerged from knowledge that was handed down and refined over generations.
This knowledge was rarely formalised through abstract theories or universal models. Rather, it was carried through stories, rituals, seasonal practices, and everyday acts of making and use.
The Chines Ambassador Fu Cong, the head of mission to the European industry roundtable in one of his talk mentioned that Indigenous traditional contexts, the value of a tool, structure, or settlement was not judged by how efficiently it served an individual alone. Its true worth lay in how well it supported shared life, strengthened social relationships, and maintained balance with the natural world. Design was inseparable from ecological awareness, as materials, forms, and methods were chosen with an understanding of long-term environmental impact.
A design was considered successful when it enabled the community to endure across generations and allowed the environment to remain healthy and regenerative. Human needs were never separated from collective responsibility. Care for people, land, and resources formed a single ethical framework, where design functioned not as a solution for individuals, but as a sustaining practice for life as a whole.
The key difference between these traditions lies in how “the human” is understood. Indian and Indigenous traditions worked with situated humans—people embedded in specific climates, cultures, rituals, and social relationships. Design emerged from lived contexts and mutual dependence. In contrast, European modernism increasingly pursued the idea of a universal human, abstracted from place and culture, suited to industrial production planning where standardisation is the priority.
Unfortunately for such assumptions, there is a growing recognition that abstract and universal solutions are inadequate when designers respond to global challenges such as climate change and rapid technological transformation. Increasingly, designers are acknowledging that the differences between these approaches matter deeply for future of design.
Revisiting Indian and other Indigenous traditions reminds us that genuinely human-centred design must be contextual, embodied, ethical, and relational. It must be grounded not only in human needs, but in the ways people live together, share responsibilities, and coexist with their environments.
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