Who Owns the Outcome?

What does ethics mean in a creative process?

Ethics in creativity is often seen as limiting — as something that restricts freedom. But maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe ethics isn’t a brake, but a compass. A way to consciously choose what you make, for whom, and with what effect. In a creative process, it’s not just about expression or innovation, but about impact. Creative decisions are never value-free. The style you choose, the message you amplify, the technology you use — these are all decisions that shape how people think, feel, and act. Ethics in creation is not optional. It is part of the process itself.

What does this mean for education?

Ethics is gaining more attention within creative education. Students are encouraged to reflect on the choices they make — technically, aesthetically, and morally. Not as a separate subject, but as a part of their creative practice. By asking questions like: ‘Why am I choosing this?’ and ‘How might this affect others?’, their awareness grows alongside what they create.

Here’s an example: imagine a student enters a single powerful prompt into an AI tool, which then generates an entire visual identity for a social campaign. The student merely activated the system — but who, then, is the maker? Who carries the creative responsibility? And if the design sparks ethical questions, who investigates why?

This is where technology meets ethics and research. At first glance, prompting seems like a Google search — but it’s fundamentally different. A search delivers information; a prompt initiates a creative process. Prompting gives direction, makes choices, defines context. Prompting is design. And if prompting is used for research: is the researcher still the human, or the AI as well? Perhaps the answer lies in the interplay between the two. But first, we need to acknowledge that such an interplay exists. This is why ethics works best as a kind of explorer’s compass: you may not know exactly where you’re going, but you feel where it flows, where it chafes, and where it matters. And that makes the process richer.

So who is the maker, really?

In an age where AI generates images, algorithms steer behavior, and technology shapes what becomes visible, responsibility becomes diffuse. Who is accountable for an image generated by a machine but selected by a human? What if the creator’s contribution was just a single prompt — and the rest emerged from a black box of probabilistic outputs? How much authorship remains? Can you still credit the result to the maker, or has the technology become the dominant author?

And what about the fact that most AI systems are trained on global averages — on thought patterns, aesthetics, and assumptions from others?

The temptation is to shift responsibility — to the technology, the client, or the user. But in hybrid processes, shared responsibility is the only workable model. That means makers are not only accountable for their output, but also for the context in which that output takes shape.

What is research in the age of AI?

Can we even call these processes ‘research’? And if so, who is the researcher? The machine that exposes patterns? Or the human who formulates the questions, sets the direction, and interprets the outcomes?

It demands awareness of how systems work, insight into power dynamics, and the courage to take responsibility — even when outcomes can’t be fully traced. Perhaps the answer doesn’t lie in control, but in the willingness to position ourselves within a shared, complex authorship.

How do we deal with ethical ambiguity?

Real ethics doesn’t begin with rules, but with uncertainty. Wherever something feels off, meaning is about to emerge. In creative processes, ambiguity isn’t the exception — it’s the norm. You work with stories, images, intuition — always in interpretation, never in black and white.

Maybe we don’t need to solve ethics, but to explore it. Not as a checklist at the end, but as a flexible guide throughout. A quiet dialogue that walks alongside every decision you make. Like a slightly dissonant note in music that adds tension — and meaning — to the harmony around it.

The question is not always ‘what is right?’, but rather: ‘what does this mean, and for whom?’ Maybe that’s the true value of ethical thinking: the awareness that an outcome is rarely final. That the conversation around it matters as much as the result. Like with artworks, where meaning arises through interaction, interpretation, and context. Perhaps making can once again be elevated to an art — not to find perfect answers, but to open space for meaningful questions.

Maarten Meijer — imaginologist. Een conceptueel denker die beweegt tussen creativiteit, systemen en strategie. Ik ontwerp visies, kaders en toekomsten die het verwachtingen uitdagen en nieuwe mogelijkheden zichtbaar maken.

Mijn missie is eenvoudig: creatie in gang zetten.
Door vaste patronen te doorbreken help ik mensen anders te denken — om te verbeelden wat mogelijk is, en het werkelijkheid te maken.

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