Bringing Balance to UX Design: What Ancient Philosophy Reveals About Modern Design

One of the most well-known ideas from Confucius is Ren (仁)—often translated as benevolence or humaneness. But Ren does not exist on its own. We practice it through Li (礼), which means structure, norms, and appropriate conduct. Confucius once wrote:

“Guide them with virtue, keep them in line with rites, and they will develop a sense of self-regulation.”—Analects 2:3

In UX terms, this viewpoint challenges a common assumption that good experiences come from giving users complete freedom or satisfying user needs and removing as much structure as possible. Many UX designers—myself included earlier in my career—assume that satisfying users’ needs means maximizing control, minimizing constraints, and optimizing for speed and convenience.

However, this assumption often breaks down when designing high-risk systems. In the identity and security space, good UX design does not simply enable action; it also guides users’ behavior. Without clearly defined structure and norms, users can move faster, but they are also more likely to make costly mistakes.

When a UX designer thoughtfully designs a system to guide users toward better decisions, most people will naturally follow the flow. This guidance shows up in different ways. A design system, for example, establishes consistent patterns for how buttons behave, how animations transition, and how a system delivers feedback. Over time, users build an understanding of the system, enabling them to navigate it with confidence and minimal effort.

Beyond visual and interaction consistency, the behavior system that also exists includes intentionally designed exit paths, recovery flows, and fallback options. When users need to pause, leave, or recover from an error, the system should support them rather than leave them stranded. For example:

• If a user exits an identity-verification flow, what alternative paths might help the user resolve the issue?
• If a user cannot receive a one-time passcode, what other secure options let the user regain access?

Such moments are not edge cases; they are core parts of the user experience. Designing for these moments requires a clear behavioral structure, not just well-crafted screens.

Importantly, such system design is never the responsibility of UX designers alone. Content designers play a critical role in shaping clear, respectful guidance. Product managers and engineers contribute by defining constraints, measuring outcomes, and using data to understand where users struggle. Thus, strong UX design systems emerge from collaboration across disciplines, not from isolated decisions.

Thus, Confucius’s insight remains relevant today: thoughtful structure does not restrict people, it helps them act with confidence. The same is true in UX design. Well-designed systems don’t control users; they support them in making better decisions, especially when the stakes are high.

Another Confucian idea I often return is Zhong Yong, which is commonly translated as the Doctrine of the Mean. Confucius warned against extremes, arguing that virtue lies in balance. As Confucius wrote:

“Excess is just as wrong as deficiency.”—Analects 11:15

In simple terms, too much is as harmful as too little. This idea resonates deeply with me in UX design, where balance is often the key to success. That balance can take many forms, including system balance, visual balance, tonal balance, and behavioral balance.

For example, a UX designer might spend significant effort in designing a visually compelling component, only to realize that, when placing it within the system, it disrupts the overall flow. Similarly, product teams might carefully craft explanatory content to help users understand what to do, but inadvertently overload them with too much information, making the experience harder to read and process.

Nowhere is this tension more evident than in system design. Too little friction can expose users to real harm, while too much friction erodes users’ trust and usability. In identity-verification experiences, UX designers are constantly searching for the right balance: deciding when the user needs to complete an ID scan, when a face scan is necessary, how these steps fit naturally into the overall workflow, and under what circumstances it is appropriate to ask the user for sensitive information. Good system design lives in this middle ground. It slows users down at the right moments, while helping them to move forward with confidence.

Confucianism reminds me that human-centered design is not about giving users everything they ask for. It is about taking responsibility for the consequences of what we design even when those consequences are invisible to the user.

At the same time, defining rules, guidance, and balance is only part of this process. A good design must also feel smooth and effortless in use. As Steve Jobs once said, “Design is not just what it looks like and feels like. Design is how it works.” When structure and effortlessness coexist, we can achieve true balance in UX design.

2. Daoism: Designing for Flow and Alignment

Daoism is another foundational philosophical tradition in China. Although people often discuss it in parallel to Confucianism, it is rooted in a very different view of how systems should work. Confucianism focuses on social responsibility, moral guidance, and intentional structure, while Daoism concerns alignment, simplicity, and allowing things to unfold without unnecessary force.

Daoist thought is traditionally attributed to Laozi, a philosopher who lived around the 6th century BCE and the author of the Dao De Jing. Rather than prescribing rules or codes of conduct, Laozi explored how natural, social, or human-made systems function best when they interfere as little as possible with natural patterns of behavior.

At the center of Daoist philosophy is Wu Wei (无为), effortless action acting in accordance with a natural flow rather than forcing outcomes. Laozi repeatedly emphasized that the most effective systems are those that do not draw attention to themselves. In the Dao De Jing, Laozi wrote:

“The Dao never acts, yet nothing is left undone.”—Dao De Jing, Chapter 37

In UX design practice, this idea resonates strongly with the goal of creating user interactions that feel natural and unobtrusive and are aligned with users’ expectations. The best-designed systems often recede into the background, allowing users to complete their tasks without consciously thinking about the user interface. In these moments, the system does the work while the user feels fully in control.

Achieving this sense of effortlessness is not easy. For example, when designing a new system of buttons, the designer must ensure that it works consistently across the entire user interface—in both light mode and dark mode, across different screen sizes, and according to accessibility requirements. For a system to feel truly seamless, we must carefully consider every detail, even if most of our work remains invisible to the user.

Effortless Action Is Designed, Not Accidental

People often mistake an effortless user experience for simplicity. But it is the result of deep understanding and intentional restraint. The real question is not whether effortlessness matters, but how we achieve it.

In my experience, the answer is through user research. Thus, user research is the foundation of an effortless user experience. Paradoxically, creating experiences that feel effortless requires significant effort behind the scenes. In fast-paced product-development environments, skipping or compressing research to meet tight timelines and delivery expectations has become increasingly common. While doing this might feel efficient in the short term, it rarely leads to truly effortless experiences.

After working on many products and shipping numerous deliverables, I’ve learned that designing an experience that feels simple and natural almost always requires more user research and data than teams expect—especially in complex domains such as digital security and identity. In this space, effective UX design consistently relies on the following:

• Qualitative research to understand user anxiety, confusion, and trust thresholds
• Quantitative analysis to identify friction points, hesitation patterns, and dropoffs
• Iterative usability testing to reduce the user’s cognitive load and decision fatigue

At PayPal, we rely heavily on UX research and data analysis to understand where users hesitate, feel confused, or experience anxiety. Rather than layering more instructions or explanations onto the user interface, we look for ways to make the experience feel more natural. This often means doing the following:

• Designing smarter interactions and content that adapt to different contexts and flows
• Using progressive disclosure to reveal complexity only when it’s necessary
• Leveraging automation to support users without taking away their sense of control

When users complete an identity flow smoothly and they feel reassured rather than stressed, the system has succeeded in embodying Wu Wei. The interaction feels natural not because it is simple, but because it is well aligned with human behavior.

When Design Disappears, Trust Emerges

In the following statement, Laozi perfectly captures the goal of effortless action in UX design:

“When the work is done, the people say, ‘We did it ourselves’.”—Dao De Jing, Chapter 17

In security flows, users should feel neither managed nor lectured, but supported. When a user completes an identity flow smoothly, without stress or second-guessing, the design has succeeded—not by being invisible, but by being in harmony with human behavior. The system does the heavy lifting in the background, while the user retains a sense of control and confidence.

Daoism reminds us that responsible design does not have to feel heavy or restrictive. While Confucianism grounds UX design in structure, guidance, and moral responsibility, Daoism ensures that the UX designer carries this responsibility with restraint. Effortless action is not accidental; it must be carefully designed through user research, iteration, and an understanding of human behavior. When structure is necessary, Daoism teaches us how to apply it without burdening users by allowing systems to guide users quietly rather than directing them forcefully.

In UX design, the two perspectives of Confucianism and Daoism must work together. Confucianism defines when users need guidance and protection. Daoism shapes how we deliver that guidance through flows that feel natural and calm and are aligned with users’ expectations. The result is a user experience that protects users without making them feel controlled and supports them without demanding their attention.

Mohism: Designing for Usefulness, Inclusion, and Fairness

However, responsibility and effortlessness together are not enough. A system can be well structured and beautifully invisible, yet still fail if it does not work for everyone. Thus, a third perspective becomes essential—one that asks not only how an experience feels, but who it serves. To fully understand UX design as a social and ethical practice, we must also turn to Mohism, with its emphasis on usefulness, inclusion, and fairness.

Mohism is a major philosophical tradition that emerged in ancient China and was developed by Mozi, a thinker and social critic who lived during the 5th century BCE. Unlike Confucius or Laozi, Mozi was less concerned with personal virtue or harmony with nature and was more focused on how systems function in practice and whether they create real benefit for society.

While Confucianism emphasizes moral responsibility, social order, and the role of guidance within systems and Daoism values natural flow, effortlessness, restraint, and noninterference, Mohism takes a distinctly pragmatic stance. It asks whether actions, structures, or systems are actually useful, fair, and broadly beneficial.

Among the major schools of ancient Chinese philosophy, Mohism may feel especially familiar to modern UX design professionals because it starts with three very practical questions:

1. Does this system actually work?
2. Who does it work for?
3. Who is left out?

This outcome-driven way of thinking closely mirrors the core concerns of UX design today, where we measure success not only by a system’s elegance or intention, but by real-world usability, inclusion, and impact.

Inclusive Care: Moving Beyond the Ideal User

Mohism is grounded in the principle of Jian Ai (兼爱), which we often translate as inclusive care. Unlike moral frameworks that emphasize hierarchy, closeness, or status, Jian Ai argues that systems should not benefit some people while excluding others. Mozi expressed this idea simply:

“Care for all, and benefit all.”—On Inclusive Care

In UX design terms, this challenges a common tendency to design primarily for confident, capable, or tech-savvy users. Inclusive care asks us to look beyond personas that represent the majority of users and consider the people who are most likely to struggle.

In my day-to-day design work, thinking about inclusivity and accessibility is embedded throughout the entire product-design process. Accessibility is not an add-on or a special consideration; it is the design. At PayPal, we hold a simple belief: technology should work for everyone. Therefore, when designing new user interfaces, we regularly ask questions such as the following:

• Can someone using a screen reader complete this flow without losing context?
• Does the experience still work for users who are unfamiliar with financial or technical language?
• What happens when a user is stressed, distracted, or operating under real-world constraints?

These questions become especially important when working within the context of digital-security experiences. When we ask users to verify their identity or recover an account after a takeover, they are often already feeling anxious, overwhelmed, or frustrated. Designing for such moments requires empathy, clarity, and flexibility, not assumptions that reflect ideal conditions or ideal users.

From a Mohist perspective, a system that works only for a narrow group of users is ethically incomplete. Mohism does not treat accommodation as generosity; it frames inclusion as a requirement for legitimacy. A system that excludes people cannot reasonably claim to be just.

This way of thinking aligns closely with modern accessibility standards such as the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG), but it goes beyond mere compliance. Accessibility becomes a measure of a system’s fairness and resilience. Looking through a Mohist lens, a product that works only under ideal circumstances is fragile. A truly reliable system must remain usable across different human abilities, environments, and emotional states. Thus, Mohism ultimately reminds us that good UX design is not a matter of how polished an experience feels for some users, but by how well it holds up for everyone.

Valuing Use: When Completion Matters More Than Expression

Another core idea in Mohist thinking is Shang Yong (尚用), which places usefulness above form. Mozi was direct in his criticism of work that consumed effort without creating real value. Therefore, Mozi wrote:

“Do not pursue what is useless; do not expend effort without benefit.”—On Frugality

This principle shows up constantly in making everyday UX design decisions. Valuing use means being careful about design choices that look refined or impressive or cool, but quietly make it harder for users to complete what they came to do.

In practice, it’s easy to focus on visual polish or engaging interactions, adding motion, transitions, or expressive elements to capture attention. While visual and interaction design absolutely matter, they shouldn’t exist for their own sake. What matters more is how these elements fit into a system as a whole. Therefore, in making design decisions, I’ve learned to pause and ask the following questions:

• Does this interaction actually make the experience more useful?
• Does it help users understand where they are and what to do next?
• Are we adding steps that clarify the task or just adding complexity?

These questions become even more important in designing identity and security experiences, where usefulness almost always outweighs elegance. Users’ goal is not to admire the user interface, but to complete an important task safely, confidently, and with as little uncertainty as possible.

From a Mohist point of view, a design succeeds only when it helps users reach their goal under real-world conditions, not ideal ones. Mohism provides the ethical anchor that completes the design framework that Confucian responsibility and Daoist flow together form. Mohism reminds us that we cannot define the quality of a UX design simply by how smooth or polished an experience feels, but by who is actually able to use it.

When we bring inclusive care and valuing usefulness into our UX design practice, our work moves beyond optimization toward fairness, helping to ensure that digital systems are not only usable, but equitable and worthy of users’ trust.

Design in Balance

As this article shows, no single philosophy is sufficient on its own. A Confucian approach without Daoist restraint could easily become over-controlling—prioritizing protection at the cost of agency. A Daoist pursuit of effortless flow, without Confucian responsibility, risks ignoring harm, accountability, and long-term consequences. A purely Mohist focus on utility and universality, without the others, could result in user experiences that function well but lack emotional resonance and moral clarity.

Taken together, however, these traditions form a balanced design lens. Confucianism anchors UX design in responsibility and ethical boundaries, reminding us that some friction exists to protect, not to obstruct. Daoism guides UX design toward flow and restraint, teaching us that the best interactions often feel natural rather than imposed. Mohism grounds our work in usefulness and inclusion, ensuring that systems remain practical, accessible, and fair.

This balance matters most in high-risk domains such as identity and security-system design, where users’ trust is fragile and mistakes carry real consequences. In these systems, UX design is not simply about reducing effort or increasing efficiency, but about deciding when to guide, when to step back, and whom the system must truly serve.

Designing with balance means accepting that good UX design is rarely extreme. It lives in the tension between protection and freedom, simplicity and rigor, and individuality and universality. It is within this tension that we can build truly trustworthy systems.