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.

It turns out, though, that it’s not just low-context Westerners misreading high-context Chinese. Chinese and English also differ fundamentally in how they structure information.

Linda W.L. Young’s fascinating book, Crosstalk and Culture in Sino-American Communication takes a deep dive into these differences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994). She conducted several studies, recording and transcribing spoken language, to arrive at her conclusions. The main conclusion is that when presenting a case, Chinese move from the general to the specific, while Americans move from the specific to the general. For instance, where an American might say, “I think we should hire the guy. He’s right for the job,” (“the point” first, backup later) a Chinese person in a similar position might say, “I think the person is right for the job. I think we should hire him” (backup first, “the point” later). No problem for such a simple case, but in complex cases, when the reasoning can get intricate, Americans often get impatient, and wonder: will he ever get to the point? The American will ascribe evasiveness or indecisiveness to the speaker, leading to even more impatience, and impugning the character of the speaker in the eyes of the American. Little good will result.

It’s a familiar pattern. And once again, it’s brought about by the human tendency to imagine (usually incorrectly) the intentions behind a behavior, when all we really have to go on is the behavior itself. If the American listener were aware of the information pattern Young discovered, it would go a long way to taking the charge out of the conversation, and to keeping everyone’s eyes where they should be: on making the right decision for the organization.

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 caller said he had a “mechanical moral dilemma” with a neighbor. The caller, a doctor, had an agreement with his mechanic neighbor to barter services: health care for car care. Except the caller had noticed that his neighbor had been going about oil-changing in a needlessly cumbersome, even somewhat unsafe, way. He asked hosts Tom and Ray if he should tell his neighbor about a much easier way to change the oil.

My American mind expected a quick “yes” from Tom and Ray, especially given that the mechanic had burned himself twice doing it the hard way. Surely the learning to be gained, as well as the safety concerns, would outweigh considerations of ego.

I was wrong. They both gave a quick and unqualified “no.” They said the mechanic would eventually learn some other way, but in the meantime it would be an “affront” for the doctor to tell the mechanic directly. At the end of the call Tom and Ray praised the caller for his “sensitivity.”

Westerners often pride ourselves in our directness, and see matters of “face” as secondary, or even non-existent. The Car Talk example, though, shows that face can be as real a concern in the West as it is anywhere, given the right circumstances and the right individuals.

Today I met with the “ayi” who used to take care of our children when we were living in Beijing from 2004–2007. I hadn’t seen her since we’d left. I was eager to “get caught up” — a very American thing to do — and so I had invited her to a Starbucks not far from where she lives. I also wanted to give her some photos and artistic creations of my girls, though I didn’t mention that.

The conversation was wonderful. At one point, however, she asked, seemingly out of the blue, “Are you all moving back to Beijing?” I answered no. “Oh. I thought that might be why you wanted to meet.” No problem ensued, because we have a strong, and open, relationship that we developed over the years, but I still felt a bit of a heel for my blunder.

What’s the blunder? Edward T. Hall, anthropologist and giant in the field of intercultural communication, in his 1976 classic Beyond Culture, described what he called “low-context” and “high-context” cultures. People from low-context cultures spell everything out, say things directly and explicitly; high context cultures rely more on background information – context – and “reading signs.” I had told her that I wanted to see her and talk, which is exactly what I had intended. She, however, with her high-context background, thought there must be some underlying reason for my invitation that I hadn’t stated. Her best guess was that we were moving back to Beijing.

Now, even in a low-context culture, people “read signs” and infer; it’s just done with much greater frequency and consistency in high-context cultures. The difference, as always, is a matter of degree, not of kind.

This makes your life quite a bit more complicated than it might otherwise be as you navigate your way through your relationships with your Chinese partners and counterparts. Before you can begin to guess how someone might respond to something you say or don’t say, you have to have some way of knowing, or at least guessing, what the background context is. This requires a resourcefulness, alertness, and agility, as well as a vast knowledge base, which few possess. You’ll need to rely on many others to fill in the blanks for you.

But doing this difficult thinking before you blunder will reward you profoundly. You will be viewed as someone who “understands China,” and will generate the “good feeling” that is so crucial to successful partnerships in China — more on this in future posts.