In The Politics of Design, Pater explores the idea of “cultural thievery,” which occurs when design elements are taken from a particular community and appropriated by another, often more powerful culture, without proper attribution or compensation. This process strips away important historical, social, and cultural contexts, and repackages the borrowed elements as purely aesthetic commodities. In many instances, the originating community does not profit at all and is left with the frustration of seeing its heritage reduced to decorative trends. The result is that vital aspects of cultural identity, tradition, and artistry become mere marketing tools in a global marketplace that seldom values or recognizes the full significance of these designs.
A fairly recent example occurred in 2021, when Zara and the ironically named Anthropologie were accused by Mexico’s Ministry of Culture of copying Indigenous Mexican designs for a new clothing collection. Specifically, these pieces featured striking similarities to traditional Mixteca and Zapotec embroidery patterns, which have been transmitted through generations and carry deep historical meaning. The brand allegedly failed to acknowledge any connection to these Indigenous cultures or to share profits with the original artisans. Critics pointed out that these designs, which might take local craftspeople considerable time and skill to create, were suddenly adapted for mass production and sold at higher prices on the international market. This not only raised questions about profits and ownership but also about control over intangible cultural heritage.
What makes this case telling is the imbalance in power and resources. These brands are backed by a global supply chain and extensive marketing, having the capacity to reach millions of consumers. By contrast, artisans in Mixteca or Zapotec communities often rely on localized markets, tourism, and traditional production methods. When global retailers adopt “exotic” or “authentic” designs, they reap the financial benefits of worldwide visibility. Meanwhile, local artisans may see a dip in their own sales, especially if consumers decide to purchase a cheaper “inspired” version from a well-known store rather than an original hand-embroidered garment. This dynamic directly showcases the concept of cultural thievery as described in The Politics of Design: a dominant commercial entity uses another culture’s aesthetic heritage without participating in a genuine form of cultural exchange.
Beyond the question of profit, there is also a broader concern about heritage preservation. Many Indigenous communities consider their designs to be living traditions and symbols that reflect spiritual beliefs, community histories, and collective identities. When these patterns are lifted out of their contexts, mass-produced, and globally distributed, they risk losing the stories and cultural nuances that give them meaning. In turn, the local curators of these traditions might struggle to retain ownership and feel a sense of violation or marginalization.
Ultimately, Pater’s discussion of cultural thievery encourages designers, brands, and consumers to scrutinize their choices. If a design or product references a particular people’s art, there should be an ethical framework that includes transparent credit, fair compensation, and a willingness to collaborate. By respecting the social and historical contexts behind these aesthetics, designers and companies can foster a more equitable process, moving away from exploitative cultural thievery and toward respectful cultural engagement.