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.

I’ve quoted from the book before: it was Lin Yutang who referred to China as “a nation of individualists” in this book, published in 1935. Lin addresses what he calls Chinese “indifference,” which, he argues, is a function of the world’s unpredictability, especially with regard to (lack of) legal institutions to protect citizens:

Chinese youths are as public-spirited as foreign youths, and Chinese hot-heads show as much desire to “meddle with public affairs” as those in any other country. But somewhere between their twenty-fifth and their thirtieth years, they all become wise, and acquire this indifference, which contributes a lot to their mellowness and culture. Some learn it by native intelligence, some by getting their fingers burned once or twice. All old people play safe because all old rogues have learned the benefits of indifference in a society where personal rights are not guaranteed and where getting one’s fingers burned once is bad enough. (pp. 48-9)

This connects directly to what Americans sometimes perceive as an indifference to the “letter of the law”:

In one word, we recognize the necessity of human effort but we also admit the futility of it. This general attitude of mind has a tendency to develop passive defense tactics. “Great things can be reduced into small things, and small things can be reduced into nothing.” On this general principle, all Chinese disputes are patched up, all Chinese schemes are readjusted, and all reform programs are discounted until there are peace and rice for everybody. (p. 56)

No wonder Americans, laser-focused as we are on “honoring our word,” sometimes get up in arms. Contracts are about “honoring our word”; hétong are about reducing differences and working together to create “peace and rice for everybody.”

A caricature, to be sure, but one to bear in mind — and really think through — as you continue to develop your relationships in China.

To a “typical” American a contract serves two purposes. First, it helps ensure that something gets done, regardless of who the parties are and what feelings they might have. Second, the contract ensures that my organization’s interests are protected: should any dispute arise threatening my organization’s well-being, the contract can stave off damage.

A key assumption, far off in the background, underlies this: the deep-seated belief in the ability of human beings to mold the world as we see fit. This is central to the founding myths of the United States: a new land waiting to be created, intentionally, by human beings. Bending the world to our will requires planning, and a key part of the planning process, designed to maximize the probability of success, is the contract.

Given these beliefs, the contract is a way of saying:

“We all know what there is to be done. It’s up to us to do it. And we need a plan to get there. Here is a breakdown of who’s responsible for what in order to get the job done. We know we may want to change things, but we know we can’t, because this is what has to be done, and since we’re all strangers here we’re not really sure we can trust the other guys, and we need a guarantee that they’ll uphold their end of the bargain and not put our organization at risk.”

The Chinese cultural mindset operates from different basic assumptions. If the key unit in the American mindset is the “project,” or “getting something done,” in the Chinese mindset the key unit is the relationship. And if the world is at the whim of humans in the American mindset, in the Chinese mindset humans are at the whim of the world. These two aspects are related: what gets people through hard times is relationships. Things might be going well today, but tomorrow could hold disaster. It’s best, then, to maintain equanimity and keep relationships solid.

These beliefs create a fundamentally different frame of reference for hétong than for contracts. In an inherently harsh and unpredictable world, we must be ready to change our approach on the fly, and to maintain alliances, possibly at the expense of short-term “self-interest,” for the sake of mutual support, even survival, through difficult times. We might “translate” the above statement as:

“We all know what there is to be done. Here is a breakdown of who’s responsible for what. We also know that this is an agreement among people, and as we get things done together we want to be sure we don’t ruin any relationships, because we may need each other later. We also know that circumstances are always changing, and we must adapt. So if we run into trouble we may have to reconsider what we write down here. These are guidelines; what’s more important is that we work together when there are problems, adapting appropriately to changing circumstances, and making sure that relationships stay intact.”

One crucial thing to see about this is that it has nothing to do with what we call “honesty.” Nothing whatsoever. Both views of the contract/hétong are perfectly “honest” in their own ways. But because of all the cultural baggage Americans bring along with our views of contracts, it’s very easy to go from “my Chinese counterpart wants to rework the contract” to “the Chinese are dishonest.”

Will your organization have to deal with cultural differences when it comes to contracts/hétong and their enforcement? Most likely. But it doesn’t have to go down the familiar and unproductive road of finger-pointing and crying foul. Know what you’re dealing with. Expect it and understand it. If you do you’ve got a leg way up on your competition. While they’re busy complaining, you’re working things out and moving forward, solidifying your partnerships, and laying a foundation for a productive and successful future.

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.

True as that is, we still often miss out on how much is to be gained by laying bare our “naked truths” in all their ugliness. Robert Louis Stevenson once said that everyone has “thoughts that would shame hell.” Some are more tuned in to these thoughts than are others, but they are there nonetheless. What I find most unnerving about this is what it means for what human beings do, since our thoughts, conscious and unconscious, guide our actions. I believe a great deal about the current state of the world is attributable to our automatic, sometimes hell-inspired thought mechanisms ruling the roost and running amok, steering us along destructive paths of action, all unbeknownst to us.

It also follows logically that one of the ways intercultural consultants can best serve our clients is by creating ways for them to safely access, express, and reflect on their underlying thinking in all its beauty and ugliness. For yourself, right now: What are some of your stereotypes of China and of Chinese people? Take a few minutes to write them down. Give yourself freedom to get as ugly as you need to get to be true to your thinking.

Try to avoid the temptation of thinking that you’re a horrible person: your ugly thoughts are nothing more than an expression of your deepest humanity. In that ugliness we are truly united across all cultures.

Now, what to do with all that thinking? I’ll take that up in future posts.

I am caricaturing a bit here. Still, the point is central to everything having to do with intercultural understanding: if we don’t understand our own, deep-seated, culturally-conditioned automatic reactions to difference, we cut off all chance of meaningful connection with those whom we perceive as different from us.

One of the few absolute certainties I have found in life is that people will react strongly to difference. Everyone. It’s in the deepest core of our animal being. And thank goodness we do: it’s the ability to make snap judgments that, as we evolved, allowed us to survive a host of dangers in a nasty, competitive world. Now we find ourselves in an ever-more interdependent world, and those reactions, while always present, may not always serve us in our pursuits. The question is: How will you handle it when you react?

The key to the whole thing is seeing that you’re reacting, so that you know what you’re dealing with. Only then are you able to choose how much to listen to your reaction, and how much to listen to the inner voices that reflect your higher nature.

How will you react to your Chinese partners’ and counterparts’ behavior? How strong will your reactions be? What about those of your team? Will you have the fleetness of mind to shift on the fly, so that you can get back to business and make something amazing happen with your Chinese colleagues?

This is a fundamental human struggle. Doing business in China will have you on the front lines every day. A challenge worth relishing.