Eastside B-Boys Dazzle Kona

Gotta give our Hilo/Puna b-boys their props. They just got back from the “Kailua Kona Block party 6-on-6 B-boy Battle”. Grady (a.k.a. “Philosophy”) tells me it’s an annual event, but that this was the first year they staged a dance battle.

To make it fun they had the crowd pick the winners. You’ll see that our local kids did us proud! All the dancers were very entertaining, really fun stuff to watch. Enjoy!

And for the Michael Jackson fans, a “tribute battle”:

When Japan Meets Pele

Authenticity

I have the best job in the world: connecting cultures. And together with our partners at the UHH Conference Center we have the resources to deliver an amazing array of authentic Hawaiian “educational adventures” to our guests.

Well, we just wrapped up a beautiful, inspirational program and are basking in the warm afterglow of success. We’ll cruise through the next couple days totally full of ourselves–then on Monday get to the humbling task of reflecting on ways to improve. But what a great way to kick off the holiday weekend!

This gig was a blast. We hosted a group of 24 lovely hula instructors from Japan. Our guests made the trek all the way to Hilo to study traditional “Hilo-style” Kahiko. Special thanks to Kumu Hula Kiwala’o, the staff at UHH and Samurai Wife for all their hard work. Our guests went home smiling, vowing to return next year. We will continue to nurture this relationship so we can (hopefully) keep them coming back every year.

To keep things pono with our community and promote sustainability, we partnered with quality local vendors and service providers including:

UHH Conference Center
Kumu Hula Kiwala’o and her assistant
An interpreter
A band (a big mahalo to Chino, Kahele and Darren of Island Notes)
Four hip-hop dancers
A photographer
A hotel in Hilo
Restaurants in Hilo
Transportation services (the bus driver thought he died and went to heaven )
A catering service
Local craftsmen (ipu heke and hala)

Our guests inspired us. They were sensitive, respectful, and relentless in their efforts to learn the proper chants, steps and protocol required to dance at hula pa. Their training culminated in a dance performance and offering to Pele at the crater’s edge. For those of you with mystical leanings, it’s worth noting that an earthquake occurred right around the time of their offering. Coincidence? I’ll let you be the judge.

And of course we threw a big bash at our house afterwards to celebrate our guests’ hard work and dedication. We hired a great band and our hula dancer guests performed for us. To spice up the party even more, we hired a local b-boy group to perform.

Pictures tell the story better than words. I’ll add more after we consolidate and organize all our photos, but this will get us started. Enjoy!

Day One

Practice

Learning to play ipu heke

Kalapana

Kumu Hula Kiwala'o getting her students ready for the performance

Before the offering

The offering

Respect

Passion

Celebration

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

All pictures and written material are the intellectual property of Tim Sullivan

Colonels and Kings Through the Pono Prism: What Do You Think About the Pahoa Woodland Center Development?

Doesn’t matter to me what your position is on the Woodland Center development. My feelings and opinions are conflicted anyway. At this juncture not much will surprise or offend me.

When I decided to write about this I cleared my mind then furiously made a list of every angle I wanted to cover. Then I had an epiphany and asked a fundamental question: Who the hell cares about my opinion anyway?

Then another epiphany: collectively our opinions matter. Sort of. Most of the time. Hopefully…

I’m not one to simply bash something then move on without any ideas on how to improve. My intent in covering this topic is to strike a balance between critical analysis and productive optimism. With that in mind, I thought that a more productive approach would be to encourage others to look at the Colonel and King through the “Pono Prism” and (hopefully) tell me what you come up with–other than mediocre food.

I have some opinions that I’m happy to share at a future date, but for now I’m interested in hearing how others see it.

To the multitudes who are too shy to post, I only ask that you be honest with yourself.

To those who are kind enough to play the game and post here: same request.

So here’s a chance for my readers–all two of you–to tell me how the Woodland Center development looks through the Pono Prism. The 5 key pono questions are:

1) How does the activity make Hawaii a better place?

2) How does the activity create opportunities for prosperity for all segments of the community?

3) How does the activity help connect the community’s past to its future?

4) How does the activity bring dignity to the community and the people who live around it?

5) How does the activity insure that the people who live in and around it can continue to live there?

I look forward to hearing your opinions.

Final comment: in the future it would behoove all of us to start asking these questions well in advance of any developments planned in our communities. Consider this our practice run.

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

How Do We Get More Tourists to the East Side of Hawaii?

It’s the wrong question.

Better question: How do we make our local economy and lifestyle sustainable?

Blogger Damon Tucker is driving the social-media bandwagon to attract tourists to Puna, so thought I’d jump on and talk story.

But first a confession–I’ve been resisting writing about this. For a couple reasons: one, it’s not really a cross-cultural topic, although in a very general sense it is about culture. (Or so I rationalized.) So here we are, kicking it around in the Intercultural Twilight Zone.

The second reason is that the more I thought about Damon’s question the more I realized how complex the issue is. To further muddy the waters, we’re in the midst of desperate times with fear and emotion clouding our better judgment. I’m still digesting the current situation, but some things are very clear to me.

I’m convinced that if we are coming from a place of desperation, if we act without a foundation of shared values, if we say yes to every opportunity even if it means unsustainable wages paid by unsustainable companies that don’t invest in our communities, then we’re just mortgaging our children’s future.

The smarter way to meet the challenge of making our communities more sustainable is to create a practical strategy based on a philosophical foundation that includes, but is not dependent on, tourism.

A “philosophy” by definition is grounded in values and assumptions. Until someone convinces me otherwise these are mine:

1) It’s never good to put all your eggs in one basket, especially tourism. Diversification is the only long-term way to make our communities sustainable and healthy.

2) Planning for long-term success is a higher quality approach than grasping for short-term benefits.

3) Our community will benefit long-term if our economy is stable and sustainable (with an emphasis on sustainability)

4) We all benefit by supporting quality companies with a stake in, and desire to contribute to our communities

5) The East Side’s “sense of place” is the essence of its value. Hence the East Side must distinguish itself from other vacation destinations by tapping into this intrinsic value.

Good Development, Bad Development

Damon says the answer is increasing tourism while reducing the number of people moving here.

I respectfully disagree. Unless we secede from the Union, there’s nothing we can do to stop people from moving to Hawaii–or to anywhere in the U.S. for that matter. The best we can hope for is controlled growth, ideally using quality or “goodness” as our guiding principle.

And this begs for a distinction between good development and bad development. The desperate person makes no distinction, and simply grabs for whatever straw is available with no forethought on the long-term consequences.

Ponder this scenario: what if we focus on increasing tourism willy-nilly but fail to control residential development? It’d be the proverbial “double-whammy”, one that would almost certainly destroy our sense of place.

Our community benefits most by striking a balance between local residential development, business (including tourism), and diversified ways to create sustainable communities.

No doubt the influx of Hawaii’s East Side residents in recent years has stretched our infrastructure. We absolutely need to get a handle on this. But let’s not delude ourselves into believing we can stop the flow of people coming. (And has anyone considered the possibility that a boon in tourism might attract even more residents to our island?)

It’s an insult to human creativity to limit ourselves to the two extreme choices of “unbridled development” or “total rejection of development”.

More than ever we need out-of-the-box thinking. We need an alternative perspective, one that assumes a respect for local culture and by extension, the a’ina, based on the values of authenticity and sustainability.

The Pono Prism

Some very wise, forward-thinking folks have been preaching sustainability and authenticity long before I got here.

About five years ago I had the opportunity to hear Peter Apo speak at a conference in Honolulu. A native Hawaiian with a view that espouses sustainability and maintaining our “sense of place”, Peter’s vision was the answer to my Japanese clients’ quest for the authentic Hawaiian experience. The value of Peter’s view is that it’s rooted in Hawaiian tradition. Here’s his take on development in an article titled Balanced Economic Growth (originally published in Hawaiian Hospitality Magazine, May 2007):

“Development, like any other economic activity, is a neutral activity–until the specific business model begins to unfold. Only then does it become clear how the development will affect the community’s sense of place and whether it will result in a quality of life step forward or backward for those who have to live in and around it.”

For a big picture perspective, Peter asks us to envision a triangle:

“At one corner write Economic Activity (in this case you can say Development). At the second corner write Place. And the third corner should say Host Community. The challenge I see is that most business models are so economic activity-centric with narrowly defined measures of success that they often succeed at the expense of the Place and the Host Community. For instance, our visitor industry business model was very lineal in its maturation process. Visitor Industry. Visitor. The model rushes to accommodate all the creature comforts of the visitor and in the process begins to change the place into looking like the place the visitor was trying to escape from. Changes to the place are in some cases so profound that entire communities undergo a dramatic “sense of place” conversion. One chilling effect is that people who work there can no longer afford to live there.”

What I admire about Peter’s take on the issue is his focus on maintaining a harmonious balance of man, place and commerce. He points out that tourism too often takes the rap for problems related to public policy–that is, any policy that would allow inappropriate development to occur.

But here’s my favorite quote from the article: “Planning and permitting processes that ask the wrong questions makes it worse not better.”

Indeed viable solutions to curbing “bad” development will continue to evade us until we start asking the right questions.

What are the right questions? Peter says to consider the “Pono Prism”. It posits five simple questions to guide decisions on determining what is “appropriate development” in Hawaii’s communities:

1) How does the activity make Hawaii a better place?
2) How does the activity create opportunities for prosperity for all segments of the community?
3) How does the activity help connect the community’s past to its future?
4) How does the activity bring dignity to the community and the people who live around it?
5) How does the activity insure that the people who live in and around it can continue to live there?

It Sounds Good in Theory, But…

Yeah it looks good on paper, but what about the real world?

We can only speak from experience. Our business operates on nearly identical guidelines and, in the midst of a serious recession, we are thriving. (And we’re proud to report that quality service providers in our community are benefiting from our good fortune as well.)

It’s worth noting that our business ethics have a strong Japanese/Confucian flavor. And that’s really what’s makes this so interesting: we share with a wise Hawaiian man, an appreciation for social harmony and the belief that businesses have a moral responsibility to contribute to the communities they serve.

Now before you accuse us of practicing selfless altruism consider our more practical business motivation: we acknowledge that, without a healthy community, our business is absolutely unsustainable. We are all connected.

Does our business model pass the Pono Prism test? You be the judge:

• We choose Quality customers over sheer numbers.

• We offer authentic experiences and educational programs through local educational institutions.

• We focus on finding customers who want to stay in Hawaii longer, and participate in educational activities.

• We encourage Japanese visitors to consider retiring here, and coach them on responsible ways to behave while they’re living in our communities.

• We seek out visitors who want to contribute to our communities.

• We source work to local service providers who provide high quality services, and keep money in our communities.

• We offer programs that add quality to the visitor/retiree experience while involving and enriching the host community.

Our products vary but our values do not. Our motives transcend tourism, indeed profits. We choose not to be dependent on tourism: we are committed to diversification. We are also committed to extending to visitors and fellow residents alike, warm hospitality with a human touch, while maintaining our community’s sense of place, and the dignity of the people who live here.

What’s the Answer?

At the risk of sounding Japanese–What’s the question?

Quality answers come to those who ask the right questions. And since everyone’s got a different situation, cookie-cutter answers just don’t cut it anyway.

What’s the answer? I think that it’s not relying on government, the HTA, or anyone else to bring business to Puna. It’s best driven by local people and businesses, stakeholders who care about the community. It’s our gig, our community, our sense of place, and I admire anyone who takes the bull by the horns and makes good things happen. (Yeah I’m talking to you, Damon.) Just understand that no good can come if we act out of desperation.

Nor can we rely on the government to regulate business in a way that reflects the values of our community, including the Pono Prism. They’d no doubt find a way to take the pono out of the prism.

No, the onus is on private businesses to look beyond the bottom line and commit to doing good things for the community; in turn, the community can do its part by supporting local, ethical businesses that practice Pono-Prism thinking.

Is tourism the magic bullet? Einstein said the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over expecting a different result. It’s time we stop the insanity. If we continue our over-reliance on tourism, the vicious cycle of boom-or-bust will continue to haunt us, and we’ll find ourselves back in the very same pickle we’re in today.

It’s a cliché but it’s true: change begins from within. As individuals we have little say in defining public policy. But we can establish and abide by personal guidelines that reflect the spirit of the Pono Prism. We can choose to spend our money at quality, local businesses rather than businesses that send profits off our island. We can choose to make smart decisions on an individual level–beginning with the choice not to put all our eggs in the tourism basket. We can choose to give opportunities to quality people in our communities in need of work. And we can gear our activities both as individuals and collectively, toward preserving the sense of place that brings value to our communities.

For more information on Peter Apo and the great work he does, check out his site at www.peterapocompany.com

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

The Automotive Bailouts: Back to the Future

I’m not in the business of prognostication, the reason why I don’t bet on sports or hang out at the race track. But once in a while a future outcome strikes me as so obvious that I “go out on a limb” and make a prediction. Don’t mean to gloat here–I’m actually bummed about all this and wish I had been wrong–but GM and Chrysler, as predicted (yes they hung on a little longer than I thought) have both filed for bankruptcy. There you go, our “bailout” tax dollars, now officially wasted on incompetence. It’s mind-boggling how government can screw up even the simplest of decisions.

With that in mind, I thought this might be an appropriate time to revisit an article I posted last December, Can American Executives Manage Without Their Corporate Jets?

And here’s another take: Japanese Automakers More Patriotic than the Big Three?

A Shameless Plug for My Favorite School

Full Disclosure: No objectivity in this post as I’m an unabashed fan of Hawaii Academy of Arts and Sciences in Pahoa.

I’m a fan of HAAS because I’ve seen with my own eyes kids on the wrong path turn around their lives–thanks to the influence of dedicated teachers, a hard-working staff and the accepting environment they’ve created.

I’m a fan because my son transferred to HAAS when he was sixteen, one of the toughest ages to transition to another school/life, and immediately found acceptance and support from students, parents and teachers. They not only embraced my son, they embraced our whole family.

I’m a fan because HAAS focuses on developing quality kids who contribute to the community, with an emphasis on “goodness” over pure academics.

I’m a fan of HAAS because students learn lessons that can’t be taught from books–like respect, appreciation for parents, family and friends, and compassion for those less fortunate than themselves.

I’m a fan of HAAS because academically motivated students can choose to go as far as they want by taking advanced classes offered, even college courses.

I’m a fan of HAAS because academically unmotivated students are respected, nurtured and encouraged to find their undeveloped talents in areas that include agriculture, the trades, community service, technology, theater, music and dance.

I’m a fan of HAAS because fiscally the staff runs the school like a business (I know because I sat on HAAS’s local school board for two years).

I’m a fan of HAAS because teachers and administrators think out of the box in seeking improved methods to provide top quality education.

I’m a fan of HAAS because it encourages sustainable lifestyles and self-sufficiency by respecting the aina and teaching students to grow their own food. (HAAS has its own vegetable garden where students get hands-on instruction.)

I’m a fan of HAAS because it’s a hub that connects our community.

I’m a fan of HAAS because it’s a school that encourages cross-cultural activities and foreign language study to broaden the horizons of its students.

I’m a fan of all the nice kids, dedicated teachers, and innovative programs that HAAS offers in developing productive members of our community.

I could go on and on, but you get the point.

So now that we all know where my heart’s at…let’s move on to the meat of this post: for the 3rd year in a row we attended HAAS’s graduation ceremony. It never fails to move me. Here’s the basic format: each student chooses someone to introduce him or her–a teacher, mentor, parent or staff member–so all students get a personal introduction. Then each student gives a speech. Some are long, some short, some funny, some emotional. This year I noticed that all graduates expressed gratitude to parents, family and the school. They talked about what they learned at HAAS, and the value of the HAAS experience in preparing them for things to come. And they were all delightful, every one of them…got a little teary-eyed so had to keep the shades on to maintain my normally cool detached demeanor.

One special graduate this year is a good friend of my son Grady (also a member of the same dance crew Cataclysm). His name is Tunji Johnson. Tunji has become the 3rd son that I never had, even has his own bedroom at my house when he chooses to spend the night. Some tidbits about Tunji:

His defining trait is a beautiful smile that can light up a room; when our paths cross he never fails to lift my spirits.

He is a natural performer with a stage presence and charisma that just can’t be taught.

He is an entertaining, high-energy dancer.

He is a gifted public speaker (as he demonstrated at the graduation with a smooth and witty extemporaneous speech).

But most important, Tunji is a good person. As a parent it’s heartening to know that my son knows how to pick his friends.

And we know where Tunji’s great character comes from: we’ve grown to love his family–all five siblings and lovely mom Teni. If you ever have the pleasure to meet the Johnson family, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Tunji–along with all his dance crewmates–is destined for the big time. He will attend UHH for a couple years then decide what to do next. We look forward to watching him grow.

We’re so proud of Tunji, Grady, and the quality kids they dance with. We’re proud of all the kids at HAAS. They are living proof that (contrary to popular myth) there are good kids in Puna.

Just a few pictures to commemorate the 2009 graduating class of HAAS. Sure would like to post pictures of the entire graduating class…but to avoid potential privacy issues we’ll stick to “family” for now:

Tunji and Grady goofing off for the camera

Tunji "the ladies' man" and Samurai Wife

Tunji and Teni (his lovely mom)

Tunji and legendary gangsta rapper "punafish"

Congratulations to the entire class at HAAS!

The Hunter and the Fisherman Part II: A Zen Master’s Guide to Problem Solving

This article is the 2nd in a two-part series.
It’ll make a lot more sense if you read this first.

“Watch it the way you watch a line when fishing and before long, as sure as you live, you’ll get a little nibble, a little fact asking in a timid, humble way if you’re interested in it. That’s the way the world keeps on happening. Be interested in it.”

Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

The first thing my old Japanese Zen-Master boss would have done had we found any defect is drag us all out to the factory where the problem occurred, and together we would quietly “clear our minds.” Then as a group we’d stare at that damn molding press until the cows came home. Then when Zen-Master boss got tired of staring, he’d assign a junior disciple–probably me–to continue the line-side Zen meditation (with notebook in hand). He would instruct me to stare at the molding press until it “spoke to me”.

Did you ever imagine problem-solving could be so exciting?

And while I was waiting for the machine to speak to me, with my mind cleared of intellectual clutter and unfounded assumptions, I would adhere to the implicit rule not to even think about offering an opinion on the solution; for how can one hope to find an answer, Grasshopper, without first defining what the question is? And since everything and everyone in the organization are connected, how could one sufficiently define the question or “current situation” without consulting with affected departments?

In the Japanese mind it’s all about process: follow the right process–focus on the process of thoroughly defining the question–and the right answer will naturally reveal itself. The modern secular Japanese businessman is oblivious that his process-oriented behavior is a legacy of Japan’s Buddhist tradition.

Don’t Shoot the Fish!

“During the process that precedes the decision, no mention is made of what the answer might be. This is done so that people will not be forced to take sides; once they have taken sides, a decision would be a victory for one side and a defeat for the other. Thus the whole process is focused on finding out what the decision is really about, not what the decision should be. Its result is a meeting of the minds that there is (or is not) a need for a change in behavior…All this takes a long time, of course, The Westerner dealing with the Japanese is thoroughly frustrated during the process. He does not understand what is going on. He has the feeling that he is being given the runaround.”

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities, Practices

When Americans are faced with problems to solve we don’t go fishing–we get our guns and start shootin’! Hey look over there, that must be the problem–BAM! Oops…that wasn’t it…How about over there? BAM! Nope, that wasn’t it either…

And we keep shooting until we get the result we desire. Sometimes we even get lucky and “fix” the problem without knowing why. Nobody touch the machine, it’s working!

No surprise that the risk-averse, process-oriented Japanese don’t put a lot of stock in luck. Nor do they understand why anyone would use a gun to catch a fish.

And no surprise either that American employees’ trigger-happy approach of taking action without consulting with others would upset Japanese teammates. In Japanese society such behavior is so blatantly disrespectful to the collective interests of the group that it leaves no ambiguity to even fake harmony (at least on the surface), a bare minimum condition for smooth Japanese team dynamics. Individually initiated trial-and-error behavior would also result in a tremendous loss of face for the perpetrator, a situation that would only worsen as errors mounted.

Such an approach is way too risky for Japanese conservative sensibilities. It’s so much safer to “go fishing” instead, which means gathering reams of data to minimize risk, then enlisting others to accept collective responsibility for your cause so you’re not on your own. In the very worst case of abject failure, you can take comfort in the knowledge that you’re not alone: everyone goes down with the ship together.

The Art of Nemawashi or “Digging Around the Roots”

When Japanese leaders set out to introduce change into their organizations–whether it be a single decision or a series of decisions directed at solving a problem–they meet informally with numerous people in the organization to ask for help in defining the problem. Indeed many of these meetings happen one-on-one, sometimes outside the organization at social functions. This is the Japanese way of laying the groundwork for change, a process they call “nemawashi”.

For some background, the word nemawashi is a gardening term that roughly translates to, “digging around the roots”. The actual nemawashi process happens when a Japanese gardener undertakes the delicate task of transplanting a tree or plant from one part of the garden to another. If the gardener simply rips out the plant and buries it in a new location, it dies of shock. To avoid this he instead “digs around the roots”, keeping the surrounding soil loosened up for the appropriate period of time. It’s the gardener’s way of giving the plant a “heads-up” that change is coming.

Similarly when change becomes necessary in the workplace, nemawashi is analogous to pre-selling a decision or initiative through consultations with affected departments. And the act of moving the tree to its new location in the garden would be analogous to implementing any given decision in the workplace. Nemawashi is a useful analogy to describe how Japanese take time upfront to lay the groundwork, so quick and effective implementation is possible.

It makes sense that harmony-loving Japanese would avoid making decisions at public meetings since the risk for contentious debate and loss of face is so high. Hence, one important function of the meeting in a Japanese company is to formally announce a decision that’s already been made. Unfortunately many Americans don’t understand this. Thinking they actually have a say in the matter, they show up for meetings raring to debate, only to get their feelings hurt when, at the end of the meeting, their skillful rhetoric is all but ignored. The decision was already made!

Nothing is more demoralizing than offering input with good intentions, only to have it disregarded.

On the flipside, lack of nemawashi–of inter-departmental communication and cooperation in American workplaces–is a pet peeve of Japanese managers assigned to U.S. subsidiaries. Forgetting that they themselves are guilty of taking action without consulting with American counterparts (an issue we cover extensively in our “reflection sessions”), Japanese managers wonder how anyone could, in good conscience, make a decision without consulting with affected departments. The risk of “going it alone” is too high in a Japanese organization. And cross-functional cooperation simply doesn’t happen without communication anyway. It’s difficult to implement anything in Japanese organizations without first securing buy-in from key associates in all affected departments.

Meanwhile Back At the Hydraulic Press: Slow Draw, Fast Bullet

“The Japanese…need to spend absolutely no time on selling a decision. Everyone has been pre-sold. Also, their process makes it clear where in the organization a certain answer to a question will be welcomed and where it will be resisted. Therefore, there is plenty of time to work on persuading the dissenters or on making small concessions to them which will win them over without destroying the integrity of the decision…Every Westerner who has done business with the Japanese has learned that the apparent inertia of the negotiating stage, with its endless delays and endless discussion of the same points, is followed by a speed of action that leaves him hanging on the ropes.”

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities Practices

So while I’m hypothetically fishing for facts about the short-shot problem next to a hydraulic press, Zen-Master boss is (hypothetically) chatting with living, breathing people in departments throughout the organization, to obtain information that might provide insights on what might have caused the short-shot phenomenon. Helpful resources might include molding technicians, machine operators, maintenance personnel, toolmakers, raw material suppliers, and quality-control technicians.

Zen-Master boss would also be pouring over whatever data was available, while sending people out to collect vital data that didn’t yet exist.

In digging for the root cause, a lot of time would be spent not only talking to people, but also monitoring the machine and its digital readouts. Monitoring would be done using instrumentation tied directly into the press, as well as external measurement equipment to verify proper functioning of the press’s internal controls. Variation from cycle to cycle would also be monitored and recorded. Every part coming off the press would be inspected. And when more short-shots appeared, data would be collected and mined for possible correlations with variations detected in the process parameter readouts, specific cavities, or other tendencies. No one would stop collecting and “staring” at the data until the root cause was identified and verified. Only after reaching consensus on problem definition would anyone even think about taking corrective action.

Why Conduct Nemawashi in the First Place?

Why go through such drastic social contortions over a mere quality defect? And why bother talking to everyone and their brother to define the problem when you’ve got “experts” on staff to do it for you?

It helps to understand that most employees in most Japanese organizations are trained as generalists. So compared to corporate America, for example, Japanese companies have relatively few specialists on staff. But even if they were staffed to the hilt with specialists, our example above demonstrates the danger of relying on “expert” advice. Hence, the most logical reason to do nemawashi is best summed up in the sentiment, “one of us is not as smart as all of us”.

An important function of nemawashi in Japanese society is maintaining harmony–or at least surface harmony– through the refined Japanese art of confrontation avoidance. While Americans are comfortable aggressively debating in a public setting (the pursuit of truth via the dialectic–compliments of the ancient Greek philosophers), this is exactly what the harmony-loving Japanese want to avoid. Nemawashi is the perfect mechanism to avoid public confrontation and discord.

Another key function of nemawashi is that it allows a broad range of employees, even low-ranking associates, to contribute to determining what change, if any, is required in the organization, and how to implement. The beauty of this system in a collectivist culture is that since employee fingerprints are all over the impending change, responsibility can be divvied up among team members in safe doses. This means that when the team succeeds, each member gets a little piece of the glory. Conversely when the team fails, each member accepts a piece of responsibility. Blame is a bit easier to swallow when it’s diluted by collective responsibility.

Of course Western culture doesn’t work this way. Our management systems are based on a military model designed to respond quickly and efficiently in times of emergency, the perfect organizational structure for fighting a war. And since we’re all a bunch of rugged individualists anyway, we give everyone individual job descriptions and (in theory) hold them fully accountable to their narrowly defined commitments. Such a system makes nemawashi style negotiation unnecessary. In the ideal American organization, each employee knows exactly what to do. But in the event a course of action isn’t clear-cut, American managers tend to debate more than negotiate.

Since the American organizational structure puts authority at the top of the hierarchy where directives can be quickly issued top-down, it’s a viable system for responding to emergencies, a cultural strength that, in my opinion, came to the fore in the aftermath of 9-11.

The truth is both Japanese and American approaches have their place–it really depends on the situation. Before we go there, let’s first debunk a few popular myths about Japanese decision-making.

Are Japanese Organizations Really “Bottom-Up”?

The Japanese organization is infinitely more autocratic than anything that can be found in the West, outside of the military. The deference accorded the superior, beginning with the language used toward him, goes far beyond the most deferential of Western traditions. And yet authority from the top down is always matched by responsibility from the bottom up.

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities Practices

Thanks to its Confucian tradition, modern Japanese society is still “ranked” in a structured hierarchy. But as rank conscious as the Japanese are, it’s ironic that Japanese organizations tend to be more participative and “amoeba-like” than American companies–think small village, collectivist mentality.

And while most management experts would characterize Japanese decision-making as “bottom-up”, the reality isn’t so simple. In Japan’s best companies you can take it to the bank that policies are dictated top-down. Guided by these general policies, senior and middle managers then quantify operational goals, which in turn are “deployed” to the lower levels of the organization. The “bottom-up” part happens when lower ranking employees propose concrete actions designed to achieve the goals of the organization deployed from above. The business term for this process is policy deployment.

In a collectivist culture like Japan’s, it makes sense that decision-making would require so much investment in time and employee interaction. Conversely, in the individualistic-technocrat-top-down culture of corporate America, it also makes sense that American leaders, unconstrained by cultural protocol to muster support across the organization, would be quick to issue directives to subordinates who, in turn, would initiate action.

The Myth of Consensus Decision Making

It is not true that the Japanese make decisions by consensus. This would clearly result in the wrong decisions. Above all, it would inevitably lead to compromise. If there is one thing that is typical of Japanese decisions, it is that they are not compromises. The typical Japanese decision is a radical departure–the system is so complex and cumbersome that small decisions cannot be taken.

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities Practices

An American CEO who knew nothing about Japanese management once said to me, “Japanese consensus decision-making is a crock of shit.”

I smiled.

To bolster his uninformed opinion, he added, “most employees would rather be led than make decisions–and it’s impossible to get every team member to agree on a single course of action anyway–so why waste your time?”

I nodded. There was truth in what he said.

But the CEO’s remarks betrayed a common misconception in America of what “Japanese consensus decision-making” really means. Consensus doesn’t mean “democratic”. For in true Total-Quality organizations decisions are based on what’s deemed “good”, not on what’s popular. (Although I once witnessed a staff of American teachers in an educational institution take votes on a course of action, under the banner of practicing “Total Quality Management”.) Trust me–the Hondas and Toyotas of the world don’t have the time or inclination to run their organizations democratically. They’d be out of business if they did.

The true meaning of Japanese “consensus decision-making” is getting everyone to agree on the question not the answer.

And yes, even with the consensus-minded, harmony-loving Japanese, you could never in a million years get a large group of them all to agree on the same answer to any problem. The appeal of consensus–when used in the Japanese sense of the word–is that all employees feel invested in solving the problem because their input in defining the question was duly considered. But no Japanese employee harbors the illusion that everyone will agree on the best course of action.

Logic Versus “Implementational Feasibility”

Western culture exalts truth, logic and the dialectic, thanks again to the ancient Greeks.

And whether or not American employees realize it, the ghost of Socrates drives how they make decisions and solve problems in the workplace. If not, they wouldn’t gather in conference rooms to debate an issue before making decisions.

In contrast, on the other side of the cultural divide the ghost of Confucius continues to push his harmony agenda.

For clarification, understand it’s not that the Japanese don’t value the truth. The truth has its place in Japanese society as long as it doesn’t run afoul of harmony. Just know that when truth and harmony collide, the truth often gets swept under the rug to maintain group harmony, or even help a team member save face.

Japanese decisions are not always logical as seen through Western eyes. But because Japanese spend so much time pre-selling change, implementation tends to be timely, thorough and effective.

In general, the Japanese are more concerned than Americans about appeasing cliques (remnants of their Feudal past) and departments throughout the organization–often sacrificing little pieces of truth and logic along the way, while giving up small concessions to garner support.

So why bother trying to make everyone happy? Because without companywide support or “consensus”, there is no cooperation; and without cooperation, you’re hard pressed to get anything implemented with a Japanese team.

Positives of Japanese Decision Making

There are some things I love about the Japanese approach. For one, I enjoy the process of consulting with others, as it broadens my perspective with each point of view I learn about. It also makes sense logically to ask affected parties for their points of view before taking action. Such an approach has two benefits: it gives you a much clearer picture of the problem, and invites enthusiastic cooperation across the organization.

What other good could possibly come of the Japanese approach? Well, it makes a lot of sense to reach consensus on the problem before discussing possible solutions. This guideline applies not only across cultures, but also within each respective culture.

What I don’t love about the Japanese approach is that it takes so damn long. I’m living proof that a Westerner can master the Japanese approach to defining and reaching consensus on problems. But damn it’s hard to resist the temptation to start “turning knobs”. We Americans almost can’t help it!

The other big downside to Japanese decision-making is that small decisions just aren’t worth the aggravation. When faced with small-scale decisions in a Japanese company, “renegade foreigners” like myself have been known to break from protocol, pull the trigger then beg for forgiveness later. “Big John sat on the copy machine and broke it: I ordered a new one. Please forgive my reckless behavior honorable boss!”

If you choose the beg-for-forgiveness technique be forewarned: pick your transgressions carefully, maintain strong personal relationships with Japanese coworkers, and learn to bow very deeply.

Are Americans Chopped Liver?

Nah, the Japanese could learn a thing or two from Americans. To wit: sometimes you’re faced with a no-brainer decision that needs to be made right now. The sprinkler head just broke and water is spouting everywhere–no time for consultations, consensus building and second-guessing yourself. Just do it!

Americans are known to do great things when given the freedom to wing it. If a faulty sprinkler head breaks in the plant–or a terrorist attack stuns New York–no one’s better equipped culturally than an American team to quickly get things under control.

And yet as a culture we sometimes lack the finesse required to avoid the emergency in the first place. Yeah we can rightfully brag that we got the New York Stock Exchange up and running a week after 9-11. But we couldn’t get out of the way of a category-5 hurricane with several days’ notice either!

Both examples provide a telling snapshot of our national character. Is it possible that no one’s better than Americans at responding efficiently and effectively to disasters and emergencies? All we need is strong leadership, a clear goal, and the motivation to get the job done.

But when it comes to planning for the prevention of the fire in the first place–or getting out of the way of a monster hurricane–America, as a culture, has much room for improvement.

The Hunter-Fisherman Hybrid

Sometimes the American way is pure genius and sometimes it’s idiotic. Ditto for the Japanese. Each approach has value in its own right depending on the skill and luck of the decision-maker. (Luck would naturally play a bigger role when the trial-and-error approach is employed.) But the ideal decision-maker has the wherewithal to employ the right tool for the needs of the situation; someone who won’t try catching a fish with a gun–or killing a bear with a fishing pole.

It’s not hard to imagine where one approach might have an advantage over the other. When it comes to kaizen–or “continuous improvement”–in a factory, it’s tough to beat the Zen approach, for data collection, rigorous analysis, and plant-wide support are all critical conditions for effective root-cause analysis and implementation.

But if you’re trying to program a robot, nemawashi and consensus-building don’t make much sense. A dear old friend who used to program robots in our plant once told me that he loved his job because it was just him, the PLC and the robot–no boss getting in his way to muck things up. Punching in coordinates and seeing the robot move gave him a rush of “instant gratification”. His job process might best be described as a series of rapid-fire, trial-and-error decisions on the keyboard. Imagine if it were a team effort that required consultations before any button on the keyboard could be pushed? The work would never get done

The glaring weakness of Japanese decision-making is further magnified in the fast-moving high-tech industries. Japanese are cutting edge when it comes to developing hardware. But with the exception of the computer-gaming world, Japan is generally weak in the area of software development. You have to wonder if their clunky approach to decision-making is handicapping them. (The gaming-world phenomenon is a different story, perhaps a topic for a future post.)

But for most situations, the notion of combining the strengths of both cultures holds great promise. Imagine if you could combine the Japanese knack for defining the problem with the power of American creativity and intuitiveness. You’d have a thing of beauty!

Employing a hybrid approach is not such a crazy notion. While it’s true that many Japanese-owned subsidiaries in the U.S. are struggling to harmonize their cultures, the elite Japanese companies in the U.S. are indeed evolving into hybrid organizations. In these companies Americans are chucking their quick-fix, trial-and-error mentality, and learning instead to focus on defining problems before taking action (just how American guru Deming taught the Japanese to do it). Meanwhile Japanese expats are opening their minds to the intuitiveness and creativity of American coworkers.

I can’t think of a greater testament to the power and promise of cross-cultural collaboration.

There’s indeed more to say on this topic, but I’m pau for now. Perhaps we’ll pick it up again in a future post. Right now the sun is shining…looks like a nice day to go fishing…

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

The Hunter and the Fisherman Part I: Glimpses of Culture Through Decision-Making

“The Westerner and the Japanese mean something different when they talk of ‘making a decision.’ In the West, all the emphasis is on the answer to the question. Indeed, our books on decision-making try to develop systematic approaches to giving an answer. To the Japanese, however, the important element in decision-making is defining the question. The important and crucial steps are to decide whether there is a need for a decision and what the decision is about. And it is in this step that the Japanese aim at attaining consensus. Indeed, it is this step that, to the Japanese, is the essence of the decision. The answer to the question (what the West considers the decision) follows from its definition.”

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities, Practices

After years of working with Japanese subsidiaries in the U.S., I’ve seen hidden cultural differences undermine cross-cultural relationships too many times.

In most Japanese subsidiaries in the U.S., leaders grapple on a daily basis with cross-cultural friction, most of it caused by silly, innocent misunderstandings. The analogy that comes to mind is walking through a minefield blindfolded. Not understanding the other party’s good intentions, both sides feel their way across the cultural divide with confusion, trepidation and a daunting language barrier; when faced with this set of circumstances, humans tend to assume the worst and assign bad intentions to the other party. Once this mindset takes hold it’s just a matter of time before someone innocently pushes a hot button and ka-BOOM! After that first blow-up it’s tough to stop the escalation.

The “road to hell” cliché applies. Even with the best of intentions, in an atmosphere of ignorance, uncertainty and helplessness, feelings can quickly escalate to contempt. And it’s a damn shame because, in many cases, the newly created “enemies” had the potential to develop a mutually enriching relationship.

No surprise then that a large part of my job is mending broken relationships caused, in many cases, by misunderstandings of intent. The ideal situation is to prevent such misunderstandings before they occur, through education and counseling. Unfortunately reality isn’t always so cooperative. Helping mend relationships is tougher than the preventive educational approach, probably why it’s so rewarding.

But when it comes to preventing friction in the mixed Japanese-American workplace, one of the toughest nuts to crack is reconciling the two cultures’ starkly different approaches to decision-making. Consider what happens on a human level when Japanese and American decision-making styles collide in the workplace.

American Gripes About Japanese Decision Making

In our cross-cultural seminars aimed at Americans, we kick off sessions with small group activities, at which time we ask each group to collectively make a list of what they like and don’t like about working with Japanese counterparts. The comments are as interesting as they are enlightening. Common American gripes include:

It takes forever for Japanese to make decisions

Japanese want too much data, “analysis paralysis”

Japanese have “secret meetings” that exclude Americans

We (Americans) go to meetings to debate an issue to make the best possible decision, but the Japanese always make the decision prior to the meeting

Japanese don’t involve Americans in the decision-making process

Japanese don’t like risk

Japanese Gripes About American Decision Making

To complete the cross-cultural picture, consider what Japanese managers say about American counterparts:

Americans take action without understanding the problem. (One Japanese executive mentioned the Iraq War as an example.) And consequently (Americans) repeatedly make the same mistakes

Americans don’t gather enough data, don’t conduct root-cause analysis, don’t practice plan-do-check-adjust (PDCA); Americans are not data driven, they prefer to act on their feelings

Americans are confrontational and lack empathy toward others

Americans don’t take time to properly define a problem; instead they take shortcuts through trial-error method without proper follow-up, a risky approach that often creates unintended consequences

Americans are specialists; they take action without consulting with other departments and don’t try to view problems from various perspectives

Americans do not cooperate/communicate well across departments

Americans take risks lightly then don’t accept responsibility when failures occur (resulting in excuses and finger-pointing)

With one foot in each culture it’s no surprise I have mixed feelings about the issue. Having refereed countless decision-making bouts between Japanese and American managers over the years, I see the pros and cons of each culture’s approach better than anyone–which means I can praise and bash with the best of ‘em. Today you’ll get a little of both.

So without further ado, let’s look at a concrete case study to shed light on the dramatically different ways Japanese and Americans make decisions.

The Short-Shot Heard Around the Factory

“The Japanese process is focused on understanding the problem…It does not permit commitment until management has decided what the decision is all about. Japanese managers may come up with the wrong answer to the problem, but they rarely come up with the right answer to the wrong problem.”

Peter Drucker
Management: Tasks, Responsibilities, Practices

Back in a previous life I managed the operational side of an American injection molding plant. It was the culmination of a decade of training in Japanese factories run by Samurai engineers obsessed with continuous improvement. All serious, stern-looking men, they brainwashed me from early on to embrace certain tenets of Japanese shop-floor control. One of the sacred, uncompromising rules was that reams of data and rigorous analysis were mandatory before any changes could be introduced into a process.

Well imagine my surprise when I discovered how my American compatriots attacked problems on the factory floor. Try this, try that, try something else then try that again–lots of trial and lots of error–without understanding what the problem was! Insane.

Granting that American decision-making has its upsides in the right circumstances, it has a dark side that not many people talk about…which is exactly what we’re going to talk about today.

Let’s kick it off with a story, an operational blunder that happened not just one fateful day in an American factory, but on many fateful days in many American factories. And you can bet it’s happening right now as you read this.

Imagine this scenario: a trained press operator paying close attention to her work, catches a defective part coming down the chute from an injection molding press. The defect category is called a “short shot”. It’s called this because not enough plastic was injected into the mold cavity to make a complete part, leaving it “short”, a condition the customer deems unacceptable. For the sake of visualization, picture in your mind a part that’s only half the size it’s supposed to be.

So what’s a conscientious production operator to do in this predicament? Standard Operating Procedure says to page a technician, one of the resident molding experts. And that’s exactly what the associate does. So far so good.

The technician who shows up happens to be a young buck still going through “technician training”. He has strong vigilante leanings that are about to get the better of him. A proud young man, he’s reluctant to consult with others prior to taking action, for in his mind, his ability to solve this problem without help from others defines his competency, which in turn creates a sense of “job security”. And although none of his assumptions are even remotely true, he believes in his heart they are and that’s all that matters. His pride and false convictions directly drive behavior that will ultimately create consequences detrimental to the organization.

So our young technician–we’ll call him “Knob Turner”–looks at the half-formed part and seizes the day. He decides that if he jacks up the pressure then the plastic material will fill the entire cavity, thereby forming a complete part. Confident his hunch will save the day, Knob Turner increases pressure and waits a few cycles for it to “kick in”. And lo and behold several cycles later he’s got himself a fully formed part. Mission accomplished! (Methinks we’ve heard that before, eh?) Technician Turner then pats himself on the back and rides off into the sunset to find another fire to fight.

It feels good to be a hero.

But hold the phone! Houston we have a problem: there are many possible causes of a “short shot” other than lack of pressure. (In spite of absolutely no technician training, even I knew that.) And had technician Turner considered this reality, he might also have considered the possibility that the problem could be an obstruction in the runner system (the “tunnel” through which liquid plastic flows to the cavity where it’s molded), or maybe insufficient injection speed, improper heat settings, malfunctioning heater bands, lot-to-lot variation in viscosity of raw material, or some funky combination of all the parameters mentioned above. But taking action without identifying the root cause(s) of the short shot was just plain dumb–especially the decision to jack up the pressure.

What’s the big deal? Besides safety concerns there’s the risk that excess pressure will “blow open” the mold, a condition that will not only produce unacceptable parts, but can also cause serious tool and equipment damage.

Fortunately we never bumbled our way into a broken tool. But boy did the technician’s actions tick off our customer. Why? Because several injection cycles after Technician Turner road off into the sunset, the jacked-up pressure found its groove and kicked up yet another notch, creating another type of defect called “flash”. (Flash is the excess/undesirable plastic created when liquid plastic under pressure seeps through the “parting line” where the two mold halves clamp together during the injection process.) In the example above, since Technician Turner unilaterally declared the problem “solved”, no one thought to follow up to see if the law of unintended consequences had reared its ugly head. Big mistake.

We found out about the unintended consequence, oh, about a week later, via an angry phone call from the customer asking why we sent flashed parts!

We dutifully consulted our records and found no documented evidence of flashed parts. “Gosh, it’s a mystery” we told our customer. “We had a record of short shots that we caught internally that day…but no idea where the flashed parts came from…”

What did the young technician do wrong? Well, he came up with the right answer to the wrong question, that’s what. Had the short-shot problem been a question of “lack of pressure” then turning up the pressure would have been the right answer, albeit a lucky guess. As it turns out, Technician Turner was answering the wrong question; assuming the best of intentions, his action proved to be a terrible, irretrievable decision that hurt the organization. And it illustrates the danger of putting too much faith in a lone “expert”.

How Would You Expect Results-Oriented Folks to Make Decisions?

A cultural pattern in American decision-making is so blatantly obvious you almost miss it: it’s our obsession with “finding the answer”–What’s the answer, what’s the answer, what’s the answer!

This is classic results-oriented thinking. Compared to the Japanese, Americans have little resistance to skimming over the process of defining the question, and are happy instead to take trial-and-error stabs at problems based on hunches, with the ultimate goal of finding a shortcut to the desired result. What’s the answer!

As you might imagine this is not how process-oriented Japanese managers go about their business, a reality that can cause hurt feelings among the Americans; for while Americans are asking themselves, what’s the answer, what’s the answer, what’s the answer, Japanese are asking what’s the question, what’s the question, what’s the question.

The twain will never meet until both sides see this gap. But the moment they do, hurt feelings immediately evaporate, and both sides gain instant knowledge on how best to adjust their approaches. In concrete terms–they will understand the importance of defining the question before talking about answers.

Who’d have thought that contrasting decision-making styles would offer such a profound glimpse at culture and humanity? Indeed there is a human story to tell here. So buckle up, for in Part II, we’re going to blast out of our results-oriented mindset, into a process-oriented place I call “the Zen mind”.

This post is continued in Part II– A Zen Master’s Guide to Problem Solving

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009

Hilo’s Amazing B-Boys

Check out this amazing youtube video. Can you feel the passion and joy?

Japan’s Corporate Misfits: Life Near the Window Ledge

“Peer pressure is much more powerful than a concept of a boss. Many, many times more powerful.”

Jim Buckley, long-time employee of GORE

Just as Japanese parents punish their children in ways unimaginable to Westerners, so it goes in the Japanese workplace.

In the previous post we looked at how values affect the way we punish our children. Remember the image of young Kurumi pounding on the door to get back in the house while her mother ignored her cries? She just wanted to belong. (Meanwhile naughty Tim was stuck at home, grounded and lonely.)

Today we’ll look at corporate Japan’s version of “locking-out the naughty child”. But to put things in perspective, let’s first consider what Japanese businessmen find strange in the U.S. workplace.

Things that Freak Out Japanese Expatriates in the U.S. Workplace

Here’s a piece of information that might surprise you: Japanese expatriates assigned to U.S. subsidiaries are overwhelmed when they learn about all the policies, rules and regulations they have to follow to stay out of trouble.

It helps to know that Japan is largely a homogenous society–about 98% of the population is Japanese. Since Japan doesn’t have near the level of diversity as the U.S., it means Japanese companies have no EEOC to deal with, no overt discrimination, etc. (Covert discrimination is another story–a topic for another day.) No surprise that HR systems in the Japanese workplace are much simpler than in America–and for good reason.

Sure wish Japanese culture were so simple.

From a World Without Individual Job Descriptions…

To the chagrin of many American HR professionals, Japanese expats come to the American workplace with no individual job descriptions, which means it’s never clear what the Japanese employee’s specific job responsibilities are. (They don’t have job descriptions in Japan either.) No surprise then that individual responsibilities are fuzzy at best on a Japanese team. Just imagine the sheer inefficiency caused by duplicated efforts.

And here’s the rub: the whole teamwork concept in Japanese companies is predicated on the assumption that each employee will take initiative, because not only does the Japanese employee not have a job description, the Japanese boss provides neither explicit instructions nor meaningful feedback.

So as an employee you’re expected to figure out for yourself what to do. The most successful employees in Japan’s best companies take initiative and “think for themselves”. And while pride and commitment to quality are great motivators in Japanese culture, individual performance is driven, at least in part, by an underlying fear of performing below expectation.

So what’s a feedback-starved, self-motivated employee to do? Ere on the side of caution of course: Assume your efforts are never quite good enough; keep going the extra yard, just in case. Successful employees in Japanese companies battle this implicit fear of “not being good enough” by taking initiative with the intent of exceeding expectations. It keeps many Japanese employees scrambling their entire careers.

Fear of This, Fear of That

As strict as Japanese society can be at times it’s a bit ironic that Japanese factory managers are so shocked at America’s punitive approach to dealing with factory employees’ mistakes. A good example is the write-up system common in American factories, a technique usually tied to a “three-strikes-and-you’re-out” kind of policy. (Sometimes you get more strikes, sometimes less, but the sword always looms near the poor production operator’s neck.)

It might surprise you to know that Japanese believe these kinds of punitive systems are insane, because it encourages employees to hide mistakes, a condition that makes it impossible to improve. In the Japanese mind, such a punitive approach creates conditions counter to continuous improvement, a core management philosophy embraced by Japan’s elite companies.

Don’t misconstrue this to mean that Japanese employees don’t feel fear in the workplace. They feel it all right. But it’s not fear of losing their jobs. They feel the fear of that little girl pounding on the door to get back into the house: fear of rejection.

This is why Japanese companies don’t need all those fancy schmancy HR rules to get employees to toe the line, although my sources tell me the younger generation in Japan isn’t toeing the line so well these days. (It’s the same old tune folks were singing thirty years ago. ).

But when it comes to regulating employee behavior, American style three-strike policies can’t hold a candle to the power of Japanese-style ostracism.

The Power of Peer Pressure

The Japanese don’t have a monopoly on ostracism, of course. Anyone who has ever played team sports has seen or felt it. No one on the team wants to be the guy doggin’ it. Fear of letting down teammates keeps most team members motivated enough to contribute. And yet there’s always the bench-warmer, that guy sitting alone, quietly pulling out the splinters…

Some American companies also use the “peer-pressure-team concept” to regulate employee behavior. Some Japanese automakers have employed it with great success in their U.S. subsidiaries. Even Gore (maker of Gore-Tex™) organizes its employees into small teams for this reason. Gore’s leaders say that peer pressure is a much more powerful motivator than any punishment a middle manager could ever mete out. Guided by this organizational philosophy, the Gore organization functions effectively and efficiently with a minimal headcount of middle managers.

Peer pressure notwithstanding, it takes some major-league screw-ups and seriously disruptive behavior–not to mention a total lack of effort–before Japanese will give up on a teammate. The good news is that Japanese managers will move heaven and earth to salvage a non-performing subordinate–even move the subordinate into lateral positions to match his or her talents to the needs of the organization.

The bad news is that once the Japanese finally give up, the errant teammate soon finds himself with a newspaper–compliments of the team–and a seat near the window. Whether he realizes it or not, he is now officially at the end of the bench, a member of the infamous madogiwa-zoku or “window tribe”. This is the Japanese non-verbal way of saying, “we’ve given up on you, you’re useless, stay out of our way.”

Madogiwa-zoku in the U.S. Workplace?

Imagine employing the “window-tribe” tactic with an American. He’d likely misconstrue the gesture and think he’d gotten a promotion. (Welcome to the Intercultural Twilight Zone. )

If you think about the madogiwa-zoku phenomenon it’s really just the corporate version of Kurumi being locked out of her house. The glaring difference is that the party being punished is no longer dealing with an indulgent mom. Once you get that window seat in the workplace, the door is locked forever. Your only choices then are to live near the window in shame (or blissfully ignorant if you’re a happy idiot), leave the organization on your own accord, or jump out the window.

Indeed Japanese teammates can be a tough crowd to please. As cultures go, Japan is the mother of all pressure cookers, as it forces conformity based on the uncompromising assumption that each individual will sacrifice personal desires for the greater good. The “payoff” is acceptance by the group.

Most Americans would not consider acceptance in a group with such strict demands and commitments a “good deal”. That’s because belonging isn’t a big motivator for Americans–although there certainly are subcultures in America that yearn to belong somewhere, anywhere. But it’s safe to say that for most Americans, the value on belonging ranks well below individualism, freedom and the pursuit of individual happiness.

Most of the Japanese folks that I know–certainly the over-fifty generation–never considered the notion that they had a right to be happy. They were too busy fulfilling commitments, maintaining harmony, and trying to please the right people so they could survive. In their world the closest thing to happiness was toeing the line so they could continue to enjoy acceptance and approval by family, neighbors and coworkers.

Life in a Pressure-Cooker

No doubt peer pressure controls a lot of problems in society, or at least sweeps them under the rug. But Japanese-style peer pressure is wrought with painful ambiguity that few Americans are comfortable dealing with. You never really know where you stand with the Japanese, so you’re stuck guessing.

But when you step into the Intercultural Twilight Zone you can at least see how exquisitely simple American culture is. We don’t pussyfoot around. Just tell us what you want and we’ll do it. In return we’ll tell you what we think, and if it means decisively firing someone who doesn’t pull his load then so be it. The non-performer in America will be hard-pressed to find someone willing to put in the time and effort to “salvage” him. The truth is the American misfit has a better shot at redemption in a Japanese company.

My guess is that the days of the madogiwa-zoku “window tribe” are numbered in Japan. After all, who can afford the luxury now? But I don’t see ostracism going away anytime soon; it’s just too ingrained in Japan’s collectivist culture . As long as Japanese people continue to value belonging, ostracism will rear its ugly head at home, at school and in the workplace.

For what it’s worth, after living and working with the Japanese for over thirty years here’s my totally biased conclusion: it is really tough to be Japanese. This awareness of the pressure-cooker nature of Japanese society–the burden on Japanese people to conform and selflessly please everyone but themselves–inspires tremendous respect and compassion for my Japanese friends, family and clients. And it makes me appreciate even more, my good fortune to live in an open, free society.

Copyright © Tim Sullivan 2009