The Design in Programme Management series examines how designers navigate the institutional dynamics of programme-led organisations: the epistemological tension, the cross-cutting value proposition, the power structures and co-option risks. Throughout that series, the designer is treated - implicitly but consistently - as a separate agent entering a programme culture from outside. The designer arrives with cross-cutting vision, temporal perspective, and the capacity to surface invisible decisions; the programme culture resists, absorbs, or co-opts these capabilities according to its own institutional logic. Even the most uncomfortable parts of the analysis - the psychodynamic costs, the metaphorical fragmentation of the design role - maintain this basic framing: the designer is one thing, the programme culture is another, and the question is how the former navigates the latter.
A growing body of work in service design research challenges this framing at the ontological level. The relational turn associated with Vink, Akama, Duan and others does not offer a better strategy for navigating programme cultures; it asks whether the navigation metaphor itself reproduces the separateness that makes design integration so difficult. If the designer is always already entangled in the social structures they are trying to work with - constituted by those structures even as they seek to reshape them - then the question is not "how does the designer enter the programme culture?" but "what does the designer bring, culturally and normatively, that shapes what they can see, propose, and change?"
This post explores that question through three bodies of literature: Vink's relational reconceptualisation of service design; Akama and Tonkinwise's account of bodies, power, and culture as the materials of service; and the Nordic norm-critical tradition, which offers a specific methodology for examining the taken-for-granted structures that shape practice - including design's own.
The assumption of separateness
Vink, Hay and Duan (2025) identify what they call the "assumption of separateness" at the heart of dominant service design. Service design, they argue, grew out of a Eurocentric, capitalist market frame that reinforced individualism, universality, and profitability; the service blueprint reproduces binary market-based structures separating customer from provider; and as the profession developed, designers were "educated and encouraged to reproduce mainstream, universal values and methods in order to demonstrate their professionalism and build legitimacy" (Vink, Hay and Duan, 2025, p. 4). At the root of this pattern is a separation between the designer, their methods, and the context they are working in - a separation that enables supposedly universal approaches to be transported globally in service of local transformation efforts.
This is not an abstract philosophical objection. It describes precisely how service design typically operates in programme management contexts: the designer arrives with a toolkit (journey maps, blueprints, personas) that is assumed to be context-independent, applies it to a specific institutional setting, and is surprised when the setting resists. The series' own analysis of co-option - Bailey's discursive remodelling, von Busch and Palmås's protocol betrayal, Kimbell's institutional logics channelling design into responsive rather than strategic roles - documents what happens when this assumption meets institutional reality. But the relational critique goes a step further: the assumption of separateness is not just what makes designers vulnerable to co-option; it is itself a form of co-option, because it prevents designers from recognising that they are already part of the system they are trying to change.
Vink, Hay and Duan (2025) propose four tenets of relationality as alternatives to this assumption. Actors are constituted by their relations, not isolable individuals whose needs can be researched in abstraction. Service systems are entanglements of manifold relations, not architectures that can be decomposed and redesigned. Agency is an emergent property of interaction, not something possessed by individual designers or programme managers. And change is becoming-in-relation - non-deterministic, mutually constituted processes of non-linear transformation - rather than something that can be planned, milestoned, and delivered.
Each tenet disrupts something the Design in Programme Management series takes as given. The first challenges user research as extractive encounter with separate individuals. The second challenges the decomposition logic that the earlier post on what service design offers identifies as programme management's characteristic form of blindness - but it also challenges the designer's own decomposition of a service into journeys, touchpoints, and blueprints. The third challenges the series' implicit attribution of cross-cutting vision and temporal perspective to the designer as individual capabilities, rather than as emergent properties of particular configurations of relationships. And the fourth challenges the entire planning-and-delivery model within which both programme management and design operate.
Social structures as materials
If separateness is the assumption to be challenged, what replaces it? Vink and Koskela-Huotari (2021) offer one answer through their reconceptualisation of social structures as service design materials. Drawing on institutional theory, they identify three characteristics that make social structures material - that is, resistant, formable, and consequential in the way that physical materials are. Social structures are invisible to the people who have internalised them, operating as taken-for-granted background rather than conscious choice. They have a dual nature, simultaneously constraining and enabling practice through their instantiation in tangible carriers - symbols, artefacts, activities, and relations. And they are composed of multiple institutional pillars: regulative (rules and laws), normative (social obligations and role expectations), and cultural-cognitive (beliefs and frames that create shared meaning).
The earlier post's argument about making invisible decisions visible gestures toward this territory. But Vink and Koskela-Huotari's framework theorises what the series leaves implicit: why these decisions are invisible in the first place (they are institutionalised social structures that have lost their social origins and taken on law-like status in people's thoughts), and what it would mean to work with them rather than merely surfacing them. The iceberg analogy they develop - a small visible tip of symbols and activities above the waterline, with regulative, normative, and cultural-cognitive structures submerged below - provides a way of understanding why programme management cultures are so resistant to design interventions that operate only at the visible surface. Journey maps and blueprints engage with the tip of the iceberg; the structures that actually determine how services work sit below the waterline, in the norms, roles, beliefs, and rules that programme governance instantiates and reproduces.
The duality property is particularly important for the programme management context. The series tends to frame programme management structures as constraints that designers must work within or around - accountability frameworks, stage gates, RAG ratings, highlight reports. Vink and Koskela-Huotari's framework reframes these as materials: structures that both constrain and enable, that can be worked with rather than merely navigated. This is not a semantic distinction. A designer who treats a governance structure as a constraint looks for ways around it; a designer who treats it as a material asks how it might be reshaped through practice. The former reproduces the separateness between designer and institution; the latter engages with the institution as something the designer is already entangled in and can work from within.
Bodies, power, and the designer's positionality
Akama and Tonkinwise (2023) ground this relational perspective in something more visceral than institutional theory, returning to terrain explored in the Service Aesthetics series' discussion of the corporeal turn and the paradox of embodied experience in immaterial design practice. Their chapter in The Materials of Service Design insists that the materiality of service lies with bodies - the bodies that perform services, experience services, and design services. Services are "experienced through bodies, from the fingers and eyes that trace lines around screens to the weary legs that have hurried along train station platforms" (Akama and Tonkinwise, 2023, p. 2). Drawing on Bourdieu, they argue that bodies carry cultural capital that is continuously read and classified in service interactions: posture, movement, dress, voice, and body language all signal status, competence, and belonging. This reading is what makes aesthetic labour possible - the hiring and disciplining of bodies to fit a service's brand and atmosphere - and it is what makes the power dynamics of service interactions felt rather than merely structural.
The implications for design in programme management cultures are direct. The series analyses power through institutional mechanisms: governance structures, accountability asymmetries, co-option dynamics. Akama and Tonkinwise are pointing to the micro-political dimension that institutional analysis cannot reach. When a designer presents to a programme board, the power dynamics are not only structural (who has decision authority, what the governance framework permits) but embodied - the designer's cultural capital, their way of carrying themselves, their fluency with the programme's language and registers, their capacity to perform confidence or deference appropriately. These are not peripheral to the design encounter; they materially shape what the designer can achieve.
The critical edge of their argument lies in their treatment of the designer's own positionality. "The service designer's positionality is frequently scrubbed out of service design research reporting, in an attempt to achieve universality, neutrality and purity", they write (Akama and Tonkinwise, 2023, p. 3). They argue for the opposite: designers must build critical awareness of their own positionality - "what habits, values and expectations about being of service materially structure their own ways of working?" This question is absent from the Design in Programme Management series. The series asks what programme cultures do to designers, and what designers can offer programme cultures; it does not ask what the designer's own cultural formation - their assumptions about what good service looks like, what counts as evidence, what modes of inquiry are legitimate, what aesthetic registers are appropriate - contributes to the encounter. The designer is not a neutral instrument being deployed into a political environment; they are a culturally specific actor whose own norms shape what they can see and propose.
Akama's (2016) study of emergency management in Australia extends this into practice. Working with communities over five years using participatory visual methodologies, they document what happens when design attends to the continuous reconfiguring of invisible social structures - the informal networks, trust relationships, and power dynamics that determine how communities actually function in crisis. The methodological lesson is that these structures cannot be surfaced through conventional design research methods (interviews, workshops, journey maps) because those methods reproduce the designer's assumption that social structures are stable objects to be documented rather than ongoing processes to be participated in.
This challenge extends to the formal apparatus developed elsewhere in this series. The service grammar proposes a vocabulary of actors, promises, states, and transitions; the state-space framework constructs enumerable configurations; the knowledge graph work models service domains as entity-relation-entity triples. Each of these moves stabilises social structures into representable categories - which is precisely the assumption Akama's work calls into question. The series' existing self-critique acknowledges that the choice of formalism is political and that formalisation risks reification when governance converts provisional models into fixed institutional categories. But Akama's argument operates at a more fundamental level: it is not that the wrong formalism has been chosen, or that governance might misuse it, but that the act of formalising continuous social processes into discrete, representable states may itself reproduce the separateness between representer and represented that the relational perspective identifies as the core problem. A knowledge graph that makes its ontological commitments explicit and inspectable is more transparent than a journey map that hides them; but transparency about what has been stabilised is not the same as attending to what has been frozen in the act of stabilising it. The formal work needs to hold this tension rather than resolve it - to treat its own categories as provisional interventions in ongoing processes rather than as descriptions of a domain that sits still long enough to be described.
Soiling service design
Duan (2024), in a doctoral thesis supervised by Vink, takes this line of argument to its methodological conclusion. "Soiling Service Design" uses material semiotics to problematise the way service design knowledge travels: tools and methods developed in one context are cleaned, purified, and transported to others as if they were context-independent. Drawing on Strathern's theory of partial connections, Duan argues that "the designer's systemic thinking can still only function within specific proximate relations and materials" (Duan, 2024, p. 223). The aspiration to holistic, systemic change - which the Design in Programme Management series identifies as one of service design's distinctive contributions - is itself a form of the separateness assumption, because it positions the designer as someone who can see the whole system from outside rather than as someone whose vision is always partial, situated, and shaped by the relations they are embedded in.
The verb "soiling" is deliberate: it connotes the opposite of the clean, purified knowledge that service design typically aspires to produce. Duan's conclusion reframes soiling as "sticking - indicating things being attracted and attaching themselves to others in proximity" (Duan, 2024, p. 147). Design practice, in this view, does not apply methods to contexts; it gets stuck to contexts, changed by them, made partial by them. This is uncomfortable for a profession that builds its legitimacy on the transportability of its methods - which, as Fayard, Stigliani and Bechky (2016) showed and the earlier post explored, is precisely how service design constructs its occupational mandate.
Norm-critical awareness as methodology
If the relational turn asks designers to examine their own entanglement in the structures they seek to change, and the embodied turn asks them to examine what their own bodies and cultural formations bring to service encounters, the norm-critical tradition offers a specific methodology for doing this examination. Norm-kritik - norm-critical pedagogy - emerged from Swedish queer pedagogy in the late 2000s, drawing on feminist theory, intersectional analysis, and Foucauldian attention to how power operates through what is taken to be normal (Henriksson, 2020). Its core move is shifting attention from "the Other" - the excluded, the marginalised, the user whose needs are not being met - to the norms that produce othering. Rather than asking "how can we include more diverse users?", norm-critical practice asks "what assumptions about normal users are built into our methods, our tools, and our own professional formation?"
Wikberg Nilsson and Jahnke (2018) operationalise this as a two-step process: first norm-critical (analysing the social norms, mental models, and power structures that contribute to exclusion), then norm-creative (developing design solutions that counteract those norms). Their twelve tactics, developed through a Vinnova-funded initiative combining gender equality and diversity with design and innovation, range from the confrontational (the "Sledgehammer" - performing user experiences of marginalisation) to the integrative (the "Adjustable Wrench" - creating flexible solutions that users can reconfigure themselves). The critical contribution is that norm-creative innovation is not a separate kind of design; it is an analytical orientation that can be applied within any design approach, including the collaborative and service-oriented approaches typical of programme management contexts.
Tengelin et al. (2019) provide a measurement framework - the Norm-Critical Awareness Scale - that identifies five dimensions of the construct: function (understanding how norms operate), consequences (recognising the effects of norms on different groups), identity (examining one's own relationship to norms), resistance (willingness to challenge norms), and learning (ongoing development of critical awareness). Developed for nursing education, the scale is directly relevant to healthcare design contexts; it provides a structured way of assessing what Akama and Tonkinwise call the designer's positionality, and what Vink's relational perspective identifies as the cultural-cognitive pillar of social structures.
Norm-critical design in healthcare practice
Höjerström, Vink and Szeles (2019) bridge the gap between these theoretical frameworks and healthcare practice. Their "Provocations in Care" project at Karlstad Hospital created a norm-critical exhibit on "respectful meetings" - using artistic and experimental approaches to explore how healthcare professionals' taken-for-granted assumptions about what constitutes a respectful encounter shape (and limit) the care they provide. The project revealed something significant: "conducting such a norm-critical project within healthcare was inherently provocative. Initially there was resistance from top management about the exhibit and it was put on hold" (Höjerström, Vink and Szeles, 2019, p. 4). The resistance itself is evidence of the norms at work; the structures that determine what counts as appropriate professional behaviour in a healthcare setting are precisely the kind of invisible, institutionalised social structures that Vink and Koskela-Huotari's framework describes.
The exhibit created two extreme meeting environments that visitors could experience physically - and "many visitors could relate their own healthcare experiences to both of the extreme worlds" (Höjerström, Vink and Szeles, 2019, p. 4). The method worked not through analysis or argument but through embodied experience - which returns us to Akama and Tonkinwise's insistence that the materiality of service lies with bodies. The norms governing healthcare encounters are not just cognitive beliefs that can be surfaced through discussion; they are embodied practices, carried in posture, voice, spatial arrangement, and the thousand micro-decisions that constitute a "respectful meeting". Making these norms visible requires methods that engage bodies, not just minds.
The institutionalisation problem
Henriksson (2020) introduces a necessary complication. Analysing two Swedish policy documents, he shows that as norm-critical approaches have been taken up by institutions, they have undergone a significant transformation. The emotional, embodied, politically charged character of queer resistance - the anger, solidarity, vulnerability, and collective identification that gave it its transformative force - has been replaced by a rational, competent, emotionally managed norm-critical subject. "This influence comes at a cost", Henriksson writes, "namely, the concomitant normative embrace of the rational, emotionally flexible and competent subject" (Henriksson, 2020, p. 14). Norm-critical practice, absorbed into governance frameworks, becomes another professional competency to be acquired rather than a lived orientation to power and exclusion.
This parallels the co-option dynamic that the earlier post documents at length through Bailey, Kimbell, and von Busch and Palmås. The mechanism is structurally identical: an approach with transformative potential enters an institutional setting; the institution strips the approach of its confrontational elements and retains the form while discarding the substance; what remains is a performance of criticality that poses no threat to existing arrangements. In a programme-led NHS context, the risk is that norm-critical design becomes another box to tick - a "diversity and inclusion" overlay on existing processes that examines the norms of the service being designed but never the norms of the programme that commissions the design work, the governance structures that constrain it, or the professional formation that shapes the designer's own practice.
Henriksson's argument suggests that maintaining the transformative potential of norm-critical approaches requires preserving their connection to emotion, embodiment, and lived experience - precisely the dimensions that Akama and Tonkinwise insist are central to the materiality of service, and that institutional settings systematically manage away. The Provocations in Care project succeeded not because it presented a rational argument about norms in healthcare but because it created an embodied, provocative encounter that made people feel the norms they were operating within. The management resistance it initially provoked is, paradoxically, evidence that it was working.
The otherness that is not only assumed
There is a necessary caveat to the relational argument as I have presented it so far. The claim that separateness is an assumption the designer brings is true at the ontological level; but it risks dismissing the phenomenological reality that designers in programme cultures are genuinely othered - and that this othering is not only a product of the designer's own assumptions.
Tonkinwise (2020) argues that design proceeds through what he calls creative alienation: "the backgrounded inertia of the everyday must be creatively alienated into view so that alternative ways of being become possible" (Tonkinwise, 2020, p. 7). Designers work, he suggests, as ethnomethodologists undertaking breaching experiments - exposing how normality is constructed and actively sustained. In a later piece, he frames this as constitutive of design identity: "making a habit of being alienated" is not an accident of the designer's institutional positioning but a structural requirement of a practice whose purpose is to question what everyone else takes for granted (Tonkinwise, 2017). Design is, inherently, about destabilising existing arrangements - proposing that things could be otherwise, that the current configuration is not natural or inevitable but designed and therefore redesignable.
This is threatening. Organisations build what Bain (2005) calls social defences - collectively constructed responses to the anxiety that carrying out primary tasks provokes - and these defences are "operating for the most part unconsciously, deeply ingrained in the system and very difficult to change" (Bain, 2005, p. 3). Programme management cultures, as the earlier post describes, are structured around certainty, predictability, and the ability to report upward with confidence. A designer who arrives and begins questioning the taken-for-granted - who surfaces decisions that were not recognised as decisions, who asks uncomfortable questions about what happens after the programme closes, who makes visible the gap between what was promised and what is being delivered - is not merely introducing a different epistemology. They are activating the organisation's defensive structures. The response is predictable: the designer is marginalised, their input acknowledged and filed, their questions reframed as obstructive or naive. This is what I described in the silent pivot - the quiet redefinition of success that renders the designer's observations irrelevant without anyone having to disagree with them.
In practice, the alienation takes specific, grinding forms. The designer gives feedback that is gathered, acknowledged, and not actioned - deflected through mechanisms that never explicitly refuse but never respond: deferred to future testing, absorbed into meetings that may or may not happen, accepted verbally and then ignored. The designer sits between the commissioning organisation and the delivery team, belonging to neither, providing design legitimacy while exercising no design authority over what gets built. The feedback loop that constitutes design practice - observe, propose, test, refine - is structurally broken; what remains is documentary work, recording problems rather than solving them. The designer's presence in the room ticks a box; it does not confer influence over what the room decides. And concerns that would challenge the arrangement stay private, surfacing in corridor conversations rather than formal channels, because there is no obvious place where structural observations about the engagement model itself would land usefully - and because raising them requires energy that the engagement has already consumed.
Michlewski (2016) documents this dynamic from the organisational side: when designers are viewed through management's rationality - the "science quest" for predictability, control, accountability, and quantifiability - "they do not appear as predictable, controllable, accountable, quantifiable and hence are deemed inadequate" (Michlewski, 2016, p. 19). The designer's way of working is not just different from the programme culture's; it is illegible to it. Embracing uncertainty, holding problems open, insisting on ambiguity as a resource - these are not merely unfamiliar to governance structures built on certainty; they look, from within those structures, like professional incompetence or evasion. The othering is not imagined. It is a structural product of the encounter between a practice that must destabilise and an institution that must stabilise.
My own work on social defences in design explored what this does to the designer: the idealisation-splitting-blame cycle in which the designer is simultaneously recruited as a messianic figure (the one who will make things right) and positioned as the container for organisational anxiety about change. The designer who surfaces uncomfortable truths becomes the target for the discomfort those truths create. This is the emotional labour that Akama and Tonkinwise (2023) identify in service workers and that I have argued applies equally to the designer themselves - the expectation to manage others' anxieties, to absorb projection, to carry hope, to weather blame, all while maintaining a professional register that programme governance will recognise as competent.
The relational perspective does not dissolve this dynamic; but it does reframe it. The designer is not other because they come from outside; they are othered because the social structures they are entangled in include defensive mechanisms that actively produce othering as a way of managing the anxiety that questioning provokes. The separateness is not just something the designer assumes; it is also something the institution constructs and maintains. Both are true simultaneously. The designer brings assumptions about separateness rooted in design's consultancy traditions and professional formation; and the programme culture enforces separateness through defensive routines that keep the designer's questioning at a safe distance from the structures it would disturb. The norm-critical question, then, is not which of these is the "real" cause of the designer's alienation but how they reinforce each other - and whether becoming aware of both might create space for a different kind of engagement.
What this means for design in programme cultures
The relational, embodied, and norm-critical perspectives do not replace the programme management series' analysis of institutional dynamics. They operate at a different level. The series asks how designers navigate programme cultures; this literature asks what the designer brings to the encounter that is itself shaped by norms, embodied in cultural practices, and entangled with the very structures they seek to change. But the designer's experience of alienation is not merely a projection of their own assumptions - it is also a genuine institutional response to the threat that design's questioning nature poses to structures built on or striving for control or perception of certainty. The practical implications are several.
The first is that the designer's own toolkit is not neutral. The earlier analysis of how Tonkinwise traces the service blueprint's origins to early-1980s neoliberalism already points in this direction, but the relational critique extends it: every method the designer uses carries assumptions about separateness - between researcher and researched, between service provider and user, between designer and organisation. Using these methods unreflectively does not just risk co-option by the programme culture; it reproduces the separateness that prevents genuine engagement with the social structures that determine how services actually work.
The second is that the designer's cultural formation matters. The habits, values, and aesthetic registers that the designer brings - what counts as good research, what a compelling presentation looks like, what kinds of evidence are persuasive, what registers of speech feel professional - are themselves normative structures that shape the encounter with programme management. A designer trained in Scandinavian participatory traditions will bring different norms to an NHS programme board than one trained in British interaction design or American design thinking. These differences are not just stylistic; they determine what the designer can see and what remains invisible.
The third, drawing on Vink's four tenets, is that agency in programme management contexts is emergent rather than possessed. The series frames certain capabilities as belonging to the designer - the cross-cutting view, the temporal perspective, the ability to surface invisible decisions. The relational perspective reframes these as properties that emerge (or fail to emerge) from particular configurations of relationships. A designer who has built trust with clinical leads, who participates in governance conversations as a colleague rather than a consultant, who has been shaped by the programme's own concerns and has in turn shaped the programme's understanding of what design can do - this designer may produce the cross-cutting view that the series describes. But it is not something they brought with them; it is something that emerged from the relational work.
The fourth is that norm-critical awareness applies to design itself, not only to the services being designed. Tengelin et al.'s five dimensions provide a framework for examining the designer's own professional norms.
The relational and norm-critical literatures do not make the programme management series' practical advice - build absorptive capacity, use boundary objects, manage the accountability asymmetry, be honest about limits - wrong. They make it incomplete. The designer who follows that advice while remaining unaware of their own normative formation, their embodied cultural capital, and their entanglement in the structures they seek to change will navigate the programme culture more skilfully but will not escape the assumption of separateness that, Vink and colleagues argue, is what prevents service design from being accountable for the changes it creates in the world. Tinkering - "small, situated practical attempts to repair relations and negotiate how different 'goods' might co-exist in a specific local situation" (Vink, Hay and Duan, 2025, p. 14) - may be a more honest description of what design actually does in programme cultures than the cross-cutting, temporal, visibility-surfacing capabilities the series attributes to it. And honesty about what design actually does, rather than what it claims to do, is where the practical value lies.
References
Akama, Y. (2016). Continuous reconfiguring of invisible social structures. In Designing for Service (pp. 173-190). Bloomsbury.
Akama, Y. and Tonkinwise, C. (2023). Cultural bodies empowered to perform services: a critical perspective. In J. Blomkvist, S. Clatworthy and S. Holmlid (Eds.), The Materials of Service Design (pp. 2-3). Edward Elgar Publishing.
Bain, A. (2005). Social defenses against organizational learning. Human Relations, 58(3), 393-418.
Duan, Z. (2024). Soiling Service Design: Situating professional designing among plural practices [Doctoral dissertation, Oslo School of Architecture and Design].
Fayard, A-L., Stigliani, I. and Bechky, B.A. (2016). How nascent occupations construct a mandate: The case of service designers' ethos. Administrative Science Quarterly, 62(2), 270-303.
Henriksson, A. (2020). Norm-critical rationality: emotions and the institutional influence of queer resistance. Lambda Nordica, 25(1), 35-58.
Höjerström, O.S., Vink, J. and Szeles, A. (2019). Provocations in care: exploring the potential and limitations of norm-critical design in healthcare contexts. ServDes 2019.
Michlewski, K. (2016). Design Attitude. Routledge.
Tengelin, E., Cliffordson, C., Åkerlind, G.S. and Dahlborg, E. (2019). Constructing the Norm-critical awareness scale: An instrument to measure norm-critical awareness in healthcare students. Nurse Education Today, 83, 104194.
Tonkinwise, C. (2017). The structure of structural change: Making a habit of being alienated as a designer. In R.B. Egenhoefer (Ed.), Routledge Handbook of Sustainable Design. Routledge.
Tonkinwise, C. (2020). Everyday homeopathy in practice-changing design research. In G. Joost, K. Bredies, M. Christensen, F. Conradi and A. Unteidig (Eds.), Design as Research: Positions, Arguments, Perspectives (pp. 83-90). Birkhäuser.
Vink, J. and Koskela-Huotari, K. (2021). Social structures as service design materials. Journal of Service Research, 24(4), 559-574.
Vink, J., Hay, A.F. and Duan, Z. (2025). Reimagining service design through relational perspectives. Journal of Service Management.
Wikberg Nilsson, A. and Jahnke, M. (2018). Tactics for norm-creative innovation. She Ji: The Journal of Design, Economics, and Innovation, 4(4), 375-391.