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.

Empathy is not sympathy. Sympathy, while also important, is still self-focused: “If I were in their shoes…” Empathy is deeper: getting yourself as thoroughly into the world of another person as you can, doing your best to experience the world as they do. To do this you have to quiet down your internal mental chatter and just listen. Open up your ears and your heart and let in what others are experiencing.

Sometimes people will come to you; other times you’ll notice something in other people’s behavior, and will seek them out. Either way, be ready to suspend judgment.

There are still those who think “soft skills” like empathy don’t belong in the “hard” world of business. As I discussed in an earlier post on the business of culture, though, what could be “harder” than time, money and goodwill for the success of a business — or of any organization? An environment where people feel heard and understood will unleash their energy and their creativity like nothing else. Problems will be solved faster, more will be accomplished, and people will feel empowered, with a new level of commitment to your organization’s success.

I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it: China will present you with day-to-day challenges like few other places will. Generating and sustaining empathy will be one of your greatest challenges as a culturally savvy leader — and one of your most rewarding.

By “insignificance” I don’t mean smallness or inability to affect the world. Those could be disempowering. I mean a sense that the world is a large and complex place — a rich place — and “my” way is but one way. This nourishes in the culture-savvy leader an abiding sense of abundance. While those more susceptible to arrogance tend to feel they’re being robbed when things go wrong, the culture-savvy leader’s eyes bend toward gratitude. The “strange” and “maddening” habits of “others” that are unfamiliar are transformed into a smorgasbord of options for solving problems. Problems might even cease to be “problems” in his eyes: they are, instead, opportunities to learn, and to expand his repertoire of ways of seeing and responding to the world.

Perhaps ironically, the culture-savvy leader’s sense of his own insignificance allows him to play big in the world. The voices of hubris in his mind reduced to a whisper, he is able to listen to his colleagues — those from his own culture and those from other cultures — with a genuinely open heart. Around him, people feel understood. Even if they don’t get what they want in the end, they respect his decisions, because they sense that he is serving a purpose larger than himself — a purpose which they share. The culture-savvy leader is thus able to accomplish more.

In our most difficult cross-cultural moments, when the “other” culture seems most bizarre and just plain wrong, our egos will try their hardest to inflate themselves. Westerners in China face this all the time. Western leaders in China, given their organizational reach, run the risk of creating and perpetuating a reactive mindset among a large group of people, subtly sabotaging the organization’s efforts. In this setting the importance, and power, of humility is magnified. By cultivating humility in yourself, you will cultivate it in others, and improve your chances of success in the challenging cultural environment that is China.

If you’re savvy about something, you understand it: how to recognize it, what its impact could be, and how to deal with it in ways that will move you forward. The culture-savvy leader recognizes culture, sees its potential impact, and deals with it in proactive ways.

The culture-savvy leader is first and foremost a person of profound curiosity. Why curiosity? If you’re curious about something, you see it as outside of yourself. You’re not only willing to study it; you crave knowledge about it. You want to see how it operates, how it functions.

I’ve written in this blog about how culture can feel so personal (look for instance under the category “Dealing with Ourselves”). Not many phenomena hit us where it counts in the way culture does, forcing us to question our most deeply held values. That’s why we react so strongly to cultural difference: we feel fundamentally threatened.

Curiosity is a powerful ally in overcoming the automatic reactions that stem from difference. If it’s a phenomenon outside of me, one that can be studied, then it’s something other than a threat to me.

The culture-savvy leader understands that the people of the world have found many different ways to solve humanity’s basic problems, and that no one way is inherently better than another way. Her curiosity is what enables her to think like this. She sees that cultural differences aren’t about her. They are simply facts, and she knows that one of her main jobs as a leader is to understand the facts, and to use her understanding to advance the cause of her organization. So she invests time and money for her and her people to learn about the cultures of the places where they do business. She knows this investment will yield rich returns over the long haul: in time, money and goodwill.

Curiosity enables the culture-savvy leader to be resilient and fleet of foot: never bogged down in rage or frustration, the culture-savvy leader might react at times, but bounces back fast, always eager to learn more about what caused the reaction, and to glean lessons. The confidence that results from, and also fuels, this curiosity, spreads throughout the organization as a result of the leader’s example.

While this is true of any leader in any culture, it is especially true of Western leaders in China. The degree and depth of cultural difference, and its daily impact on every aspect of work and life, forces the issue as it does in few other places.

If you’d like to explore more, take a look at the course I offer on culture-savvy leadership.

What’s to be done is simply to recognize the thoughts for what they are: automatic, survival-driven, abidingly human creations that serve a purpose in one area of human endeavor — staying alive — but not in the higher human pursuits. A respected colleague of mine once said: “Have compassion for the mechanism.” By “mechanism,” she meant the mental machinery that generates these thoughts. If we can generate compassion for that part of ourselves, and see the mechanism for what it is, then it doesn’t have to run the show anymore. Which is the punchline to this discussion: Only once you’ve become aware of the nature of your mind’s automatic mechanism, and shaken hands with it, will you be maximally free to choose what to think.

There may be times in your China dealings when you’re best served by thinking of the Chinese as utterly different from you. You may, for instance, be reminding yourself of the necessity of questioning your familiar, Western perspective on things, in order to adapt appropriately to China. There may also be times when you’re best served by thinking of the Chinese as absolutely identical to you: imagining the woman across the table from you as a wife and mother, just like you, could be the key to understanding her perspective — even if you don’t share it — thus opening the door to moving an agreement forward.

The trick to the whole thing — usually not easy, but easier with practice — is to continually ground yourself in your own freedom to choose what to think, and therefore how to act. Westerners are up against a lot of automated reactions in our encounters with China, so the task is formidable. But the work is well worth doing. I suspect you’ll find that its rewards will not stay confined to the China realm, but will spill over into other areas of your life.