One of the most shocking aspects of the Bastille Day attack in Nice was the weaponising of a common vehicle in an ordinary space of leisure and work. It was much as the use of passenger planes in the September 11th assault on the USA suggested a particularly evil form of hacking.

The reconfiguring of banal objects to destructive ends is nothing new of course – the Royal College of Surgeons’ exhibition on the 1916 Rising featured paint tins that had been turned into bombs. From fertiliser to hair bleach to chapati flour, everyday substances have provided ingredients for mayhem.

With objects that are intended to be weapons from the moment of their conception, such as guns, bombs and land mines, there is much to consider from a design perspective. While the ethics of arms trading is part of political discourse, the deliberate shaping of those objects designed to inflict pain and injury is less widely discussed.

Scandinavian weapon makers

When it is, covert terms are used. In her recent book Deep Violence: Military Violence, War Play, and the Social Life of Weapons historian Joanna Bourke discusses the euphemistic and abstracting language employed in the research and design of ballistics and armaments, often disguising their intentions to damage and maim, for example in terms of "bullet-body interaction".

This aspect of design is rarely considered, the term “design” too often taken to mean attractive surfaces rather than function and intent. But despite what countless coffee-table books and glossy magazines might suggest, design is not only about styling consumer products. For example, what we call “Scandinavian Design” is often celebrated for its fusion of modernism and natural materials, but among the most successful Swedish and Danish companies are the designer-makers of weapons. Put that in your mid-century teak sideboard.

The history of design is pervaded with examples of innovative forms and approaches to manufacturing that first found commercial success in armaments and spread to more innocuous everyday goods, such as Samuel Colt’s mid-19th century use of an assembly line for firearms. This influenced the mechanised production of a host of other products and the growth of the profession of designer. And the history of inventions shows just how many materials and artefacts in everyday domestic use had their origins in military surroundings –Teflon, microwaves, GPS, duct tape.

Hostile street furniture

In Ireland, design is often presented, promoted and valorised as a wholly positive activity, particularly in exhibitions and conferences. At most, a utopian paradigm is evoked – “design improves lives” – at least, individual creativity and commercial savvy is lauded, as with the annual Offset festival.

However, the new exhibition at the Science Gallery in Trinity College Dublin admits more complexity. With the theme Design and Violence, the curators take as their starting point not only the bald fact that designers are responsible for destructive and intimidating objects, but that violence is an aspect of everyday life. In this, the exhibition takes its cue from Slavoj Zizek's observations on the "systemic" violence of the contemporary, liberal West.

Originating as an online project from the Museum of Modern Art in New York and developed into a full exhibition in Dublin, Design and Violence starts with a bang – the Avtomat Kalashnikova 1947 (aka AK-47) rifle, designed by Soviet military engineer Mikhail Kalashnikov. Manufactured in the millions, it is so iconic, its silhouette is instantly recognisable – it even features on the national flag of Mozambique. It is also a design "classic" – its internal workings are so loosely put together it rarely jams, and it has probably been used to murder more people than any other gun.

The exhibition includes more weapons, for example, fléchettes, the steel darts used since the second World War, feared due to the indiscriminate and imprecise way they are fired. From the French for "little arrow", the enunciation of their name gives a sickly sense of their impact on bodies, on human flesh.

Some weapons do not physically maim but are no less threatening – the Science Gallery displays examples of “white torture”, including a cramped confinement box with graphics showing American-authorised interrogation techniques. These range from the notorious waterboarding to the more prosaic “facial slap . . . to induce shock, surprise, and/or humiliation”.

The show is particularly strong in exhibiting objects and systems of violence in use far from official battlefields – for example, against homeless people in urban environments. Termed “defensive” or “hostile” architecture, such measures include benches formed so they can’t be slept on, spikes placed in alcoves to stop anyone resting on the ground.

It also speaks to violence in more tongue-in-cheek ways by including Marijn Van der Poll’s metal box and mallet that you can use to bludgeon the metal into a piece of furniture – a project called the Do Hit Chair.

Design and Violence is at the Science Gallery Dublin until January 22nd

Dr Lisa Godson is co-director of the MA Design History and Material Culture at the National College of Art & Design