Critique #1: (a) This abstract mindset stuff can’t possibly account for the dirty details of everyday business — (b) which makes it useless.

On (1a), absolutely. Mindset is one piece of a huge set of puzzles and challenges that have to be addressed in running a successful business anywhere in the world. Three brief blog posts are simply by necessity going to be somewhat abstract and vague. (And woe to the company that hires a consultant to write blog posts and do nothing else!) Any serious consulting engagement has to go way beyond mindset and into the organizational and operational nitty-gritty that real businesspeople face every day.

As for (1b), for the best chance at success you need both the abstract and the specific. To the extent that the day-to-day work of running a company can be informed by high-level principles like mindset, it is likely to be more effective. Unless one thinks the findings themselves are inaccurate, which is a separate conversation.

Critique #2: (a) Current political and social circumstances can explain all the relevant mindset differences. (b) Societies change over time (a form of evidence for (2a)).

I can’t do justice here to the volumes of statistically validated social science research that demonstrate the surprising stability of mindsets over time. For cultural issues generally, I’ll refer you to the work of Geert Hofstede and his team. For U.S. and China, pick up any of the 19th-Century works by U.S. missionaries in China (my favorite is Smith’s Chinese Characteristics. Or, better yet, read Lin Yutang’s 1935 classic My Country and My People, and see how well it’s held up over time.

Critique #3: Stereotypes may have some business use.

There’s a terminological distinction in the field of intercultural communication between stereotyping and generalizing. Generalizing is the act of making statements about a group of people, realizing that there is variation within any population. Stereotyping is taking a perceived characteristic of an individual and claiming, on the basis of this, that all people “like this person” share this characteristic (and probably other negative characteristics too). I simply don’t see the business value in this latter act. Generalizing, yes; stereotyping, no.

Critique #4: Don’t be too easy on the Chinese: they could in fact be out to mess you up.

True. No businessperson should act without a duly critical stance toward people with possibly competing interests. What I find disheartening is the certainty with which Westerners often attribute certain behaviors to this or that “Chinese characteristic,” which then often leads to broader, more negative generalizations, and ultimately to an unproductive, and ill-deserved, distrust.

There is no one best window through which to view the Chinese, or anyone. But the more possible windows we allow ourselves, the richer our set of cognitive tools for solving complex problems — intercultural and other.

In China you will be dealing with your own stereotypes of Chinese people. You could either pretend they’re not there and have them sink your business, or you can acknowledge them and re-frame them into more positive ways of thinking. It’s up to you.

Here are 9 common stereotypes you’re likely to have in whole or in part, and ways to re-frame them:

1. The Chinese are out to cheat me.

China has been through a lot of tough history, over thousands of years and even up to very recent times. Chinese people have had to make tough choices in a world of scarcity. This mentality has been passed down through the generations. No Chinese does anything a Westerner wouldn’t do if fighting for survival.

The upshot: Cross your T’s and dot your I’s. Be prudent, not paranoid.

2. The Chinese think they’re superior.

The Chinese are legitimately proud of their amazing cultural accomplishments. Think of the food, the monuments, the language, and on and on. Chinese give respect where it’s due: to Westerners for their advanced technology and social institutions, and to themselves for what they’ve done.

The upshot: Allow yourself to admire what there is to admire, while keeping your cool.

3. The Chinese lie.

People from every culture lie. What Westerners call “lying” in China is often just a more subtle form of communication than we’re used to. China is what’s known as a “high context” culture: information is assumed to be in the background — the context. The more you learn about the assumed context, the better you’ll get at seeing the meaning behind the words.

The upshot: Get trained on Chinese communication style. Learn as much as you can about the Chinese mindset, so that you know what background assumptions people bring to the conversation.

4. The Chinese go back on their word.

Shaped for millennia by a fickle, resource-poor environment rife with natural disasters, the Chinese see the world as constantly in flux. Circumstances change, and it’s foolish to set a plan in stone now for an imagined future, when it might not be a fit for the actual future. It’s best to remain adaptable and flexible.

The upshot: Be ready for your counterparts to ask for changes to contracts. Understand that in China the contract is often seen as the beginning of a relationship, not a fixed definition of reality.

5. The Chinese are always stalling for time.

Like any business counterpart anywhere in the world, the Chinese have strategies for getting what they want. A common one is to use home court to their advantage. It’s easier on the Chinese if things take longer than it is on you.

Upshot: Be ready and set reasonable expectations that things probably aren’t going to happen quickly.

6. The Chinese are stingy.

The Chinese are thrifty. Again, over millennia the Chinese have often had to scrape together meager livings out of a hostile, overcrowded environment. Every resource is precious, and could disappear at a moment’s notice if not carefully guarded.

The upshot: Negotiation is not viewed as a win–win proposition. Be thrifty with your resources too, and meet the Chinese on their own zero-sum terms.

7. The Chinese don’t care about quality.

Everyone cares about quality. But when it comes to priorities, sometimes it’s more important to the Chinese to save some resources than to make something that fits Westerners’ high standards. See above about precious resources.

The upshot: Be fastidious and unrelenting in your QC. Get feet on the street and keep them there.

8. The Chinese don’t care about their environment.

The world of the average Chinese person is relatively small. People are focused — narrowly, from a prosperous Western perspective — on day-to-day concerns like having enough to eat and a roof over their heads. It might be nice to have a cleaner environment, but for many Chinese that’s a luxury.

The upshot: Instead of complaining about the awful air, imagine what it would be like if you didn’t get to leave it in a week or two.

9. The Chinese hate Westerners.

In fact Westerners are much admired in China. What Westerners perceive as “hatred” is usually more a vague sense of suspicion. Like everything else, this results from the thought habits of the past, especially the past century and a half, which saw Westerners exploit and mistreat China. All this means is that you have to earn their trust.

The upshot: Behave in a way that is worthy of trust, and trust will come. With time.

Categories can be useful. Reasoned, informed judgment can be useful. Stereotypes have zero business value. Get savvy about your own stereotypes and re-frame them. Not only will you feel better and get along better, but your business will do better.

For archival purposes, I’m putting the post here as well.

Much to share. At the moment I’m kicking myself a bit for not having my audio recorder running while out and about.

Year after year one of the running jokes among China-weary expats I’ve known has been about the decibel level everywhere you go in China, or at least urban Han China. TVs in hotel rooms, loudspeakers on buses and subways, music blasting outside beauty salons. A constant assault, and hard to get used to for Westerners. The joke goes that the noise provides comfort of a sort, like a security blanket.

Once, back in 1993, an American friend, living in Beijing, was visiting me in Guangzhou and crashing in my room. In the cluster of high-rises I was living in, one morning the noise started earlier than usual (sappy karaoke music wafting from someone’s window), and I was particularly impatient and spiteful. I dug around my tapes for NWA’s Straight Outta Compton, popped it in, and played the first (title) track, at maximum volume, with the box pointed straight out the window. I immediately felt guilty, and confessed my guilt to my friend. He joked: It’s nothing to them. Like the buzzing of a fly, or maybe even soothing. True or not, by the time the track was finished, the karaoke music had disappeared, and I went back to sleep.

The joke is rooted in cynicism and condescension. Yet even if the spirit isn’t right, I now think that in content the joke is dead on.

The first of my two weeks I spent with the YingHua-in-Beijing Summer Language and Leadership Institute, where, like last year, I was guiding 8-to-15-year-old Americans and Chinese through the bewilderment of being thrown together as roommates. Colette had already been in Beijing for three weeks, co-directing the program, while Mariette, our older daughter, age 8, participated, and Francesca, age 6, was tagging along in a pseudo-mascot role.

We spent the week in Huairou, near Beijing, at the National Mountaineering Training Center (a scene in its own right, and pictured here on the kind of clear day that was sorely lacking while we were there). Over four and a half days the Center’s “coaches” led the kids in a series of team-building exercises. In so many ways the coaches’ treatment of the kids was jarring to me (and, I suspect, to the American kids). There are many reasons for this, but I think first and foremost is the EXTREME DECIBEL LEVEL.

Whether yelling “Line up!” or shouting “Can you do it?” or counting down from 10 to get everyone to listen, the noisy episodes just kept coming. Often they’d come after a period of relative silence, making them all the more startling. There’s a harshness and an edge to the noise, which can’t help but encourage the development of a counter-harshness and counter-edge in the children — a tangible, physical manifestation of the harshness and edge of Chinese society writ large.

The week after Huairou we vacationed as a family in Qingdao — the sunny, breezy coastal city of Tsingtao beer fame. Having emerged into the blinding sunshine from the impressive depths of Underwater World, we ambled about in search of a lunch location. As we passed a stall selling fried seafood, a speaker belted out: “Fried seafood! Fried pork! Shishkabob!” Over and over again. Then, as we rounded a corner, we heard something baffling: next to a lady selling a variety of toys sat a speaker. Out of the speaker, at typical volume, issued what couldn’t have been, even to native speakers, anything more than a watery, humanish voice saying…something, over and over and over. As grating as the fried-food bit might have been, at least it had some modest informational value. But the informational value-add of this was nil. The noise was obviously and undeniably serving no purpose but to simply be noise.

I chuckled and commented to Colette, who also chuckled. In light of what had struck me at YingHua it all suddenly made perfect sense. And I recalled how our daughter Mariette, at age 3, not long after we had moved to Beijing in 2004, and having spent much time out and about on the streets of Beijing with Mom and Dad, would at odd times hold up a toilet paper roll to her mouth and start shouting quasi-verbal inanities at high volume, reminiscent of the sorts of noise I’ve been describing throughout this post.

From the perspective of my own personal growth, what had once been nothing but pure annoyance to me now fit inside of a completely coherent framework: adaptive human behavior. Being annoyed is understandable, but by itself annoyance is ultimately fruitless in our species’ quest for genuine understanding. With the distance from it that I now have it all seems quite obvious, but the bodily fact of culture makes it tough to see beyond our own immediate reactions. More on this next time.

]]> http://www.jasonpatent.com/2010/08/03/the-art-of-noise/feed/ 2 http://www.jasonpatent.com/2009/11/19/my-way/ http://www.jasonpatent.com/2009/11/19/my-way/#comments Thu, 19 Nov 2009 19:06:07 +0000 Jason Patent http://www.jasonpatent.com/?p=1037 On some level I have no right to complain about what I complained about in yesterday’s post. When I first went to China at 23, I was a roiling mess of self-righteous “concern” for China in its failure to be exactly like the U.S. It’s taken almost 20 years of learning for me to nuance my understandings to where they are today, and I’m learning more all the time.

That said, it’s worth looking at the cause of the annoyance. From a cultural standpoint, the quality in question is self-righteousness. It’s a fine line between self-righteousness and universalism, which I’ve discussed a lot on this blog. I think the link between the two stems from the conflation of two ideas: that there should be a standard worldwide, and that the standard should be our standard, where “we” are a particular cultural group: in this case the U.S. or the West.

When self-righteousness is present, it tends to take over. I become more concerned with how I’m better than you than I am with what you might actually be up to in your life. In fact, it becomes hard for me to hear about what you’re up to in your life, because in my eyes it doesn’t really matter, because you’re not really the kind of person whose actions and interests matter. After all, I’m better than you.

Whether or not this exercise in pop-psych is accurate, it characterizes what I see in much Western media coverage of China, and much of what China novices from the West are curious about when it comes to China. Few Western journalists and publications seem interested in the myriad, and quite concrete and difficult, actions taken by officials, businesspeople and other leaders all across China to improve the lives of the Chinese people. There is much to be learned and gained from a careful study of these efforts. And thankfully it’s not all deficit, as shown by this piece from Time. Here’s a teaser:

Could the world’s lone but weary superpower actually learn something from China? It’s a politically incorrect question, of course. China is an authoritarian nation; its ruling Communist Party deals ruthlessly with any challenge to its hegemony. It remains, relatively speaking, a poor, developing country with huge problems to confront, massive corruption and environmental degradation being Nos. 1 and 1a. Still, this is a moment of humility for the U.S., and China is doing some important things right. If the U.S. were to ask the Chinese what it could learn from their example, it might gain some insight into what it’s doing right and wrong.

Now if I wanted to I could complain about the shock the author seems to be expressing at the very possibility that the U.S. could learn from China, but I’ll refrain. Or not.

Now that I’ve written this thoroughly self-righteous post, feel free to let me have it.

Mr. Obama’s statement also pointedly noted the U.S. belief in the importance of universal human rights that should be enjoyed by “all peoples, and all ethnic and religious minorities,” and called for the Chinese government to resume dialogue with representatives of the Dalai Lama, the Tibetan spiritual leader whom Beijing considers a separatist.

Huh? I thought I was going to be reading about how Hu and Obama are working through their differences across a range of complex issues. Then, out of the blue, this. I expect this type of reporting from the New York Times, not the Wall Street Journal.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course human rights need to be respected. Nothing I write here should be taken to impugn the thinking or writing of anyone working to benefit human beings worldwide. The thing is, there’s no shortage of verbiage in Western newspapers about how China comes up short on human rights, and I expect something different from the WSJ.

I was reminded of a conference I co-hosted in Beijing in 2006. At the time I was directing Stanford University’s study abroad program at Peking University. We were welcoming Stanford students, staff and faculty from Stanford’s centers in Kyoto, Berlin and Washington to participate in a workshop on globalization. It seemed that every other question I got from our guests was something akin to: “What’s up with China and their failure to support freedom, democracy, and human rights?” Unfairly, I found myself annoyed by these questions. To me, there were so many other important topics our guests “should” be interested in. Why obsess about these old, tired questions?

I was prompted to put some thought into why I was bothered, and what this all said about key cultural differences between China and the West. I’ll take this up in the next post, and perhaps beyond.

The most common theme I witnessed was suspicion, on the part of some of the Americans, of the motives of the Chinese partners. I kept being reminded of the bugaboo of attributing intentions (usually erroneously) based solely on behavior. There was a particular kind of behavior observed by the Americans which made them uncomfortable, and it didn’t take long, as the Americans talked among themselves later, to create agreement about the (ill) intentions behind the behaviors. This is a savvy group of executives, though, and they were receptive to other interpretations of the behavior.

One thought that recurred frequently during the week was this: what about all the other organizations working in China, which either aren’t aware of intercultural issues, or which are aware but don’t want to invest in intercultural consulting? I thought of how intercultural misunderstanding grows over time, often without our noticing, until it’s too late. A former colleague once put forth the “fish poop” model of human relations: over time, a fish tank accumulates fish poop. From one day to the next, you won’t necessarily notice a difference. But over time you end up with a stinky, fetid mess of a place to try to live, let alone thrive. Human relations, like fish tanks, require constant attention to accumulating fish poop — especially in intercultural environments, where the poop is likely to come fast and furious.

My experience with this company left me with a profound appreciation for them and companies like them, who can see the importance of the intercultural piece for their future success.

Each of us is the only one with access to our intentions. In the moment we might not always know exactly why we’re doing something, but when pressed to introspect we’ve still got an infinitely clearer picture than anyone else does. When we do something that upsets someone else, we can easily take refuge in our intentions: we didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. If the people involved in this kind of upset are willing, dialog can happen, misunderstood intentions can be clarified, and relationships can deepen.

The rub is that we have no access to anyone else’s intentions. All we have to go on is behavior. We observe a behavior, and attribute an intention, whether it’s accurate or not. The result: we make a lot of mistakes, often assuming evil intent where intent was either good or, at worst, indifferent. Whether we like it or not, we are wired to judge those around us based only on their behaviors, while at the same time judging ourselves based mostly on our intentions. That’s the cold, hard logic I’m talking about: I can’t see a way around it.

This finding is not my own, nor is it new. And it’s a profoundly useful finding for intercultural understanding. Think of the staggering amount of miscommunication that happens every day among members of (roughly) the same cultural group speaking the same language. Now imagine a “typical” Westerner and a “typical” Chinese person. Both behave in ways deeply conditioned by their very different cultures; neither is familiar with the other person’s cultural habits; neither speaks the other’s language. How could they not judge each other? And what hope have they got of working things out, given the cultural and linguistic barriers?

My own answer is that they’ve got plenty of hope. What it takes, though, is hard work, commitment, and the involvement of experts with the tools to build the necessary bridges. It just won’t happen reliably on its own. It may happen here or there, but for most organizations that’s hardly what you’d want to stake your future on.

The twist here is that in China the stakes are raised to a level that at times approaches the absurd. One small-seeming cultural snafu here or there can cost an enormous amount of time, money and goodwill. One particularly painful example comes to mind.

A friend once told me of an American businessman she knew who had managed to secure a meeting with two top officials of a major Chinese province, in the hope that he could get them to throw their support behind his business. Obviously savvy in important ways, this man knew enough to make it happen. That already puts him further along than probably more than 99% of Americans doing business in China.

The problem for this man was that he lacked cultural savvy, and as a result unknowingly ended up playing fast and loose with resources he might not have even been thinking about as resources: the time and money he had already spent, and the goodwill he had built as a result.

Not having received any intercultural training, the man sauntered into the meeting as if he were in charge, his bearing oozing arrogance. (He should have been politely and firmly — though not fawningly — deferential and respectful, to give them face as gracious hosts.) As the meeting progressed, talk turned to specifics. When the man’s interpreter mentioned something that made the man uneasy, the man expressed some worry. Noticing this, one of the officials said the man should fàngxīn. In this context, the obvious translation into English would be: “Don’t worry,” or “Put your mind at rest.” Instead, the interpreter translated it as “Take it easy.” Feeling pooh-poohed, the man grew more and more angry — highly inappropriate in this setting. (Someone losing his cool loses face along with it.) Things went downhill from there. The meeting ended in disaster, and the American businessman ended up having wasted untold time, money and goodwill: because he lacked some nuts-and-bolts understanding of the Chinese cultural mindset, because he didn’t hire the right interpreter, and — most importantly — because he didn’t have the cultural savvy to realize how quickly his resources could vaporize.

The culture-savvy leader understands that “cultural” issues are business issues. Cultural misunderstandings cost real dollars and hours. In China, the Western leader must always be treating time, money and goodwill as the precious resources that they are, and be mindful of how quickly they can disappear in that environment.

In this environment, equanimity is crucial. Despite cultural breakdowns all around — miscommunication, ruffled feathers, unmet expectations, and plain old prejudice — the culture-savvy leader remains above it all. She expects strong emotions, so she’s not prone to overreacting. Instead of falling back on her heels, she leads from the balls of her feet: solid, stable, grounded, balanced. Her empathy helps her in this: able to see things from many perspectives, she doesn’t take any one view too seriously — including her own. She trusts her instincts, but she’s not wedded to any single idea or way of doing things.

From the outside it might look easy, but it’s anything but. Like any human, she has internal reactions, including those based on her own prejudices. Those reactions are particularly charged. What she’s mastered, though, is the art of identifying her reactions, getting a handle on them, and moving forward toward solutions. She’s got passion and fire, but knows how to have them work for her, rather than vice versa. Her equanimity provides an anchor for her organization to do what it came to do.

Equanimity comes more naturally to some than to others. It is an absolutely essential quality of the culture-savvy leader. Thankfully it can be learned and practiced, like any skill. Do an honest assessment of your equanimity, preferably with the help of others close to you, and be sure to fill in the gaps before setting off for China. Some of the courses offered here might help.