From Round to Square (and back)

For The Emperor's Teacher, scroll down (↓) to "Topics." It's the management book that will rock the world (and break the vase, as you will see). Click or paste the following link for a recent profile of the project: http://magazine.beloit.edu/?story_id=240813&issue_id=240610

A new post appears every day at 12:05* (CDT). There's more, though. Take a look at the right-hand side of the page for over four years of material (2,000 posts and growing) from Seinfeld and country music to every single day of the Chinese lunar calendar...translated. Look here ↓ and explore a little. It will take you all the way down the page...from round to square (and back again).
*Occasionally I will leave a long post up for thirty-six hours, and post a shorter entry at noon the next day.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Asian Miscellany (2)—Education in Modern China

[a] Develop Physical Education in Farming Villages RF
My second post in "Asian Miscellany" is driven by deadline—and many of them will follow in the coming weeks and months, since I have signed contracts to deliver a whole passel of encyclopedic material to various publishers before a self-imposed deadline of December 20th. As I explained in the introduction, this series of posts allows me to try out a few ideas that I plan eventually to include in various encyclopedias or on-line sites that have asked for my input. They are not the same as the pieces that will eventually be published, but constitute more of a "long draft," meant to work through a few ideas as I work on brief essays that often mandate strict "word counts" of 250, 500, 1,000, or 2,000 words. 

For today's post, I have been asked to write about education in modern China...in the space of only 1,000 words. I "spend" a little more verbiage than that here, but not much. If you want to read more on the subject, I have an entire chapter on education and acculturation in China in China (2010), from the publisher's "Asia in Focus" series. It should be available at your local library.

Feel free to peruse the other Modern China posts in Asian Miscellany. 
1 One-Child              2 Education             3 Food/Drink          4 House           5 Work          
6 Entertainment       7 Sports/Games       8 Urban/Rural        9 Family Life    10 Children
 Education in Modern China
Some Reflections


[b] Teacher RF
“Education” in every society—no matter how formal or relaxed the standards—requires children to move beyond the confines of the family units in which they were raised and acquire skills valued by adults in the larger society. In a land as vast as China, with its multiple dialects and starkly varying geography, this is a formidable task. Add to that the fact that China today has some 400 million students. This is a number that far surpasses the total population of the United States, and it hints at the sheer magnitude of the challenge faced by families, localities, and governments (both regional and national) in educating the population in the twenty-first century. The greatest challenges are structural, linguistic, and, or course, curricular.

Educational Structure

Nine years of education are compulsory in China today. That is followed by competitive examinations for advanced secondary (what Americans call “high school” and university educations. The 2000 census figures showed a literacy rate in China of just over 85 percent, but literacy is defined at such a modest level (1,500 Chinese characters in rural areas and 2,000) in urban ones) as to be unhelpful in gauging functional literacy. Because of the sheer size of China’s population, that still means that well over 100 million people fall below these minimal rates. Some government forecasts show the literacy rate climbing toward 99 percent by 2015, but the task remains challenging. Chinese education has taken enormous steps in the last few decades, and since the educational chaos of the Cultural Revolution, yet the system still faces formidable challenges, as we will see below.


Language and Region

The language of education in China is Mandarin, and this is also true of education in Taiwan and most Chinese instruction in Southeast Asia and abroad. Nationwide Mandarin instruction was perhaps the most important step taken by various Chinese governments in the twentieth century toward creating an integrated educational experience for citizens in China. Mandarin is a dialect of northeastern China, especially of China’s capital (with one brief break) since the late-thirteenth century. In traditional China, scholars from all over the territory would speak Mandarin in official business, and the practice (no small feat) was extended in the twentieth century to the entire population.


China is made up of several distinctive regions, each with its own geographical, historical, and linguistic, and cultural peculiarities. Language patterns vary enormously from area to area, and in earlier eras even people from adjacent market towns sometimes had trouble understanding one another. An old saying in China goes something like this: “Walk 10 miles, and speech becomes fuzzy; travel 50 miles, and nothing can be understood.”


When China’s twentieth century government planners set to work, this was their greatest challenge. How to create a nation of people, all of whom could speak and understand a single dialect (Mandarin), even while acknowledging that the language of “home” would always figure in daily life—this was the problem. Although it cannot be said to be solved, the Chinese education system has made enormous strides in creating a single, shared Mandarin dialect, spoken from Xinjiang province in the northwest to Fujian province in the southeast. From first grade until schooling is completed, classes are taught in Mandarin. Movies, television shows, and most “national media” use Mandarin, as well. Today, almost everyone educated in schools since 1950 has had a passable education in Mandarin, and virtually everyone educated since 1980 has acquired solid fluency in the dialect. Through educational reforms, it has become the standard language of China.


Curriculum
Regional dialects figure in social life and local business culture, but they have little role to play in the educational system. The curriculum is standardized. The books students read during their academic years are determined by the Ministry of Education. They are produced based on general requirements—down to the actual Chinese characters to be taught at each grade level—throughout China. The system today has more room for local interpretation of the Ministry’s requirements than in the past, but there is still a high degree of standardization. This is best explained as follows. In Hunan (south), Shandong (east), and Shanxi (Midwest), the first story in , for example, the language arts readers used during the first semester of second grade will all be different. The local educational authorities will choose from an array of textbooks that companies have created. The characters used, and required for memorization and composition, are exactly the same throughout the country, however.

Everyone will learn the same “words,” even though the stories they read will be different.

[c] Students RF
The current Chinese educational system provides six years of primary school and six years of secondary school, taking a student through the equivalent of “elementary school,” “junior high school,” and “senior high school.” There is also a state-organized university system, with key campuses (and extremely competitive admissions) at Beijing University, Qinghua University in Beijing, Fudan University in Shanghai, Nankai University in Tianjin, and Zhongshan University in Guangdong. There are tens of other elite universities, hundreds of regional ones, and thousands of educational institutions that—public and private—combine technical skills and post-secondary education. There are many parallels to the higher education systems found in the United States, but it would be a mistake to carry the analogy too far.

Two subjects—language/culture (语文; yuwen) and mathematics (数学; shuxue)—dominate the educational landscape from first grade through high school graduation. To be certain, other subjects are integrated into the curriculum and comprise dominant strands of instruction. These include English, science, and social studies at the primary level, and philosophy, history, geography, chemistry, and physics at the higher levels. There are only two subjects, however, for which an anxious parent can buy a complete review of important primary school themes in preparation for the fateful exams that will send the best scorers to elite schools: language arts and mathematics. The first day of school begins with them and the last day of school, many years later, will end with them.


Mathematical education in China is focused and workmanlike. There is an assumption built into the curriculum that everyone can “do math,” and that the skills can be acquired by any educated person. It is often remarked that Chinese (and other countries’) students advance far more quickly in mathematics than American students. It is a fact almost beyond dispute, and the reason lies in relentless focus and persistence.

The same focus and persistence can be seen in language/culture study. After learning the pinyin system of “Romanizing” Chinese sounds (文=wen), students begin a process of learning to read and write Chinese characters at a rate that will have them reading at formidable levels by the sixth grade. Students begin by learning to recognize 400 Chinese characters in the first semester of first grade, and to write 100 of them. This variable pace continues well into one’s education, and it is only quite late in the process that people are able to write almost everything they can read or say. This is a very far cry from education in Western languages, and the point needs to be emphasized. Knowing how to say something in (Mandarin) Chinese is only loosely connected to know how to write it. Only in the roughest manner can a character be “sounded out.”

***  ***

The educational process in China, from first grade forward, is a delicate balancing act between reading and writing, “home” language and “national” language. As we have seen throughout this essay, even the formidable problems of “content” in Chinese educational materials (how to treat the Cultural Revolution or World War II?) pales in comparison to the enormity of the challenge of learning to read and write in a vast country with an enormously complex language.

Again, for a full chapter on this topic, please see my book China (ABC-Clio, 2010). Parts of it can be accessed (click on the link, above) on Google Books. It should also be available in your local library (or have them order it).  RL for RSQ.

Feel free to peruse the other Modern China posts in Asian Miscellany. 
1 One-Child              2 Education             3 Food/Drink          4 House           5 Work          
6 Entertainment       7 Sports/Games       8 Urban/Rural        9 Family Life    10 Children 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Spring and Autumn Roles (4)—Learned Lines

Click here to go to section one of "Spring and Autumn Roles."
Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
During the autumn months I will be posting new segments of The Emperor's Teacher (the big business book that will rock the world). Chapter three is (provisionally) called "Spring and Autumn Roles" and forms (along with three more chapters that will follow) the "middle" of my management book—part two of three.
If you have read The Art of War, you have arrived at the doorstep. Still, no one ever managed anything in China having just read Sunzi (Sun-tzu), but don't despair. You are now ready for what comes next in leadership. Compiled nine-hundred years ago, it is the greatest management book ever written, and there are only two problems: (1) it is in "medieval" Chinese; (2) it is 10,000 pages long. No worries, though. That's what I am here for. I have been studying this stuff for thirty years, and I have been waiting for you. Welcome. 歡迎. Let's begin to study real Chinese management together.
[a] Plumage RF
After reading chapter one, "Breaking the Vessel," you will have some acquaintance with Sima Guang and the Comprehensive Mirror (資治通鑒). If you have completed chapter two, "Living and Learning," you know a good deal about various "learning strategies" in ancient China, and some of the ways that they were employed in later times. You are now ready to tackle the big themes at the heart of the greatest management text of all time. It is time to consider how managers managed in Chinese history, and how you might use these lessons to think more clearly about managing yourself, your family, and all under heaven. 

Don't worry too much about the order at this point (these are blog entries and not a book...yet).  If you want to start here and loop back to part one (Chapter One: Breaking the Vessel and Chapter Two: Living and Learning) in due time, that is fine.  This chapter should stand on its own as a way of thinking about the multiple roles that shape life and work at any time and in any place.

IV
Learned Lines

[b] Of Philosophy RF
As you have clearly seen by now, roles and hierarchy are intertwined to the point that they are entangled in the same ball of yarn. The titles of chapters three and four of The Emperor's Teacher invoke them separately, for analytical purposes, but you have seen that this chapter on "roles" discusses hierarchy and the hierarchy chapter will discuss roles.

One of my favorite examples of how roles and hierarchy cohere and persist comes from my own profession. Students, parents, grandparents, and friends often wonder at terms such as "instructor," "assistant professor," "associate professor," "professor" (or "full professor"), and, finally, endowed chairs that have titles such as the "George and Barbara Ingold Chair of Cognitive Sciences."[1] What does it all mean, and who—pray, tell—could possibly care?

I am always amused to hear most professors tell me how little it all matters, at least beyond the practicalities of salary and tenure (bottom lines, both, in their own ways). Nonetheless, professorial conduct betrays more than a little attentiveness to nuances of rank. Why anthropologists have not studied this a little more thoroughly, I have no idea. The strange tribe called "Professor" has secrets and rituals that most of society cannot fathom. It might be because most of the rest of society understands the meaning of one of my favorite jokes about academia. "Why are faculty meetings so contentious?" asks one wide-eyed outsider who chanced upon the monthly gathering of academics found in almost any university or college. "Oh, that," replies the interpreter. "It's because the stakes are so small."

If you doubt the power of hierarchical "role-holds" on faculty members, you might want to try a little experiment. Just call a long-serving, quite "senior" professor instructor. Conflicting synapses will fire behind what should be a calm, practiced exterior as the professor decides how best to respond to your (certainly unintentional) faux pas.
[c] Robed RF
[d] Lined RF
[e] Disrobed RF

Anyone who has ever been to a college graduation ceremony knows about these ranks from at least one multicolored perspective. The peacock-style procession of faculty members is one of the more noticeable events on the program. For several minutes, even at the smallest of institutions, faculty members march in the varied colors of their doctoral institutions—a light crimson bordering on pink for Harvard, deep burgundy for Chicago, vibrant purple for Northwestern, and chalky blue for Columbia, not to mention the orange-and-black tiger likeness of Princeton's robes.

We might look at the spectacle as a vibrant ritual moment, and leave it at that—a charming little peek into an academic-cultural form that has been frozen in place, not unlike a luau reenactment at the Polynesian Cultural Center outside of Honolulu. Or Austin Powers. Make no mistake, though. Much more is going on, at least within the sheltered world of faculty life. The procession unfurls in a snaking line of hierarchical humanity. Full professors go first, and even they are ranked by seniority. Even the youngest full professor (usually a mathematician or economist who raced through graduate school in a few years) will have to wait until she is much older to walk in the front of the line and sit in the first row at commencement with all of the other silver (and thinning) hair.

This is where it gets interesting. Many professors will tell you that it doesn't matter; it is just silly custom. Some will make their protests against the system. At small colleges it is common enough to see academic processions in which full professors walk "back" in the line, communing with instructors and assistant professors—seemingly thumbing their noses at tradition. Just watch when you go to Suzy's graduation from Cozy College next spring. You'll see.

The thing about it is that such a "protest" isn't very difficult. The stakes are even smaller than they are at faculty meetings. Let's consider something subversive that—despite the "openness" and "laid back" nature of small college life—rarely happens (I have never seen it). Let's imagine an assistant professor, preferably one who is just about to "come up for tenure," as the jargon has it. It's the spring before the big decision, and during the summer she will prepare her file for a series of examiners and administrators from within and beyond the college. Let's say that she wants to make a statement that is bigger than Professor Senior, who is walking "back" with the instructors. She decides that "hierarchy doesn't matter," and chants this to herself as she walks to the front of the line. She does not quite take first place, leaving that for the professors who arrived in 1957 and 1959, respectively. But she's at the front, walking confidently alongside creaky, balding intellectuals.
 

Nope. Ain't gonna happen, as we (are said to) say back home. Nada.

Even the "flattest" counter-culture college is unlikely to have someone in that position (read: role) march with her, or his, seniors. Why not? What could be the consequences of such an action in the land of the free and the home of brave tradition-breakers? What's the big deal? For all of the talk of such things as being silly little traditions, I cannot get over the fact that the hierarchical line of professorial peacocks in full display has persisted for almost a millennium—from its medieval European roots into the twenty-first century. And, yes, even in "America."

***  ***
[f] Vertical RF
Something is going on here, and Americans need to take notice. Hierarchies exist, and (I like to say) Americans ignore them at their peril. Perhaps the worst misinterpretation comes from too emotional a reaction to the "flat organization" idea. Think of the garage workers picture from the previous post, which implies "flatness is good; hierarchy is bad." Far from advocating an "old school" approach that is rigorously top-down (something that less-than-careful readers may have assumed I have been doing up to this point), I will be arguing for a complete rethinking of roles and hierarchy, and what they mean in the American workplace (and beyond).

I have another idea in mind, and I call it "The New Hierarchy." Yes, I imagine a Time magazine cover story on the topic in a few months. The New Hierarchy provides a way to understand the inevitable mountains slopes of knowledge, power, and even status in the fluid and nuanced ways articulated by Confucius, Sima Guang (the author of The Comprehensive Mirror), and other thinkers through East Asian history. It is also something that the most successful Western businesses have understood, even if they have been more careful not to use the dreaded term "hierarchy."

A common interpretation in the West is that China, Japan, and Korea are rigidly hierarchical and unimaginative with regard to organizations. They don't seem to have "garage teams" like the one in our picture ("flat good; tall bad"). This all-too-easy perspective is flawed from core to peel. Sure, there are unimaginative organizations all over Asia—all over the world, in fact. That's no news flash. But when organizations worked well in East Asian history, they articulated an elaborate dance of hierarchy capable of integrating the thoughts and opinions of a wide range of people all of the way up and down various hierarchical ladders.

Music and ritual elements played a profound role in this (as they do in the West, if we would only think about it the way Plato did), and they can show us ways to break through the stifling problems of unimaginative equality or inequality. Boredom and lack of imagination are far greater threats to any kind of organization (from "flat" to "tall") than anything horizontal or vertical could ever be. In short, this book—The Emperor's Teacher—represents a call for attunement that Western readers must understand if they hope to succeed in a global marketplace, and at home.
[g] Dancing hierarchy RF
[1] A fictional example that follows the pattern of much endowed chair naming practice.


Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
NEXT
Getting the (Mirror) Ball Rolling
Sima Guang begins the Comprehensive Mirror—yup, "page one"—with a discussion of roles and hierarchy. This is an excellent place to begin our journey into the lessons that will shape your thinking about managing yourself, your family...and all under heaven.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Hurtin', Leavin' and Longin' (23)—Here in the Real World

Click here to read the introduction to the Round and Square series "Hurtin', Leavin', and Longin'..."
[a] "Reel" worlds RF
Alan Jackson has been hanging around the top of the Billboard country charts for two decades now, but this was one of his first hits. In fact, Country America magazine listed it among the top hundred country songs of all time—not bad for someone who was then a new artist. Jackson and Mark Irwin wrote the song together, and clearly play upon the idea of imagination (and celluloid) coupled with stark reality.

I have always been intrigued by the relation between "ideal" and "real" in our discourse. In 2005-2006, as a reader or two might remember, I taught a three-semester seminar investigating this very relation. You may (or may not) be surprised by the title of that almost fifty-week seminar—Round and Square. Alan Jackson explores at least a few dimensions of "ideality" crushed by stark "reality" in the lyrics below. Take a listen. Again, the video is not half-bad, but please read the lyrics first. Let them soak in as lyrics before watching the video. Please read the "advice" below if you aren't sure how to avoid the video on the first "read."


      Here in the Real World
          Artist: Alan Jackson
          Songwriters: Alan Jackson, Mark Irwin

          Cowboys don’t cry, and heroes don’t die
          Good always wins, again and again
          And love is a sweet dream that always comes true
          Oh, if life were like the movies, I'd never be blue

          Chorus

          But here in the real world
          It's not that easy at all
          'cause when hearts get broken
           It's real tears that fall
          And darling it's sad but true
          But the one thing I’ve learned from you
          Is how the boy don’t always get the girl
          Here in the real world

          I gave you my love, but that wasn’t enough

          To hold your heart when times got rough
          And tonight on that silver screen
          It’ll end like it should
          Two lovers will make it through
          Like I hoped we would 

          Repeat Chorus


          No, the boy don’t always get the girl

          Here in the real world

The song does not exactly push very hard against traditional gender boundaries, but that is hardly unusual in the genre. What it does do is play upon a motif that was very common in an earlier era. "Successful" movie stars were said (in the 1940s and 1950s, especially) to "get the girl." Yes, I know. Nonetheless, try to understand an earlier era, even if you are troubled by its language (and remind yourself that, even then, these matters were not monolithic—people railed against them, even "then"). If we can't hold our own views of the world while still engaging a rich historical imagination, we won't get very far. The cultural assumptions about a male star and female "goal" should be obvious enough. If you watch the video all of the way to the end, though, you might get at least a hint of irony from Jackson and the video makers.

Some of these gendered images persisted, sometimes long after popular culture called them into question. An example of this can be found from back when a certain Ronald Wilson Reagan was running for the Republican presidential nomination in 1976. When his rather mediocre acting career was noted, he would jovially reply that, although he made a lot of "B" movies, he "always got the girl." Hmmm. I am not sure whether to engage the embarrassing triumphalism of his gender imagery or just to point out that, at least once, he got a monkey.

***  ***
[b] World RF
How, then, can we proceed from real and imagined (not to mention male and female) to East Asian lyrics? This is not difficult. As was the case during the last few weeks, the "problem" lies in avoiding texts that too obviously "echo" the country song. Usually. This week I just can't help but pick a poem that, while speaking to issues of grief and longing, actually does echo the first line of Jackson's song. I can't help it. The poem is a brief, beautiful glimpse into longing, and might as well start with "Cowboys don't cry, and heroes don't die." In the world of the poem, the endless examination system took away the very vibrancy of love and life. The Pan Yue (P'an Yüeh) referred to in the last line was a poet of the third century known for his lyrics of lamentation.


       Replying to a Poem by a New Graduate 
       Lamenting the Loss of His Wife
          Yu Xuanji (c. 843-868)

          Immortals don't stay long in the world of men;
          You've passed another fall, already ten.

          Pairs of ducks on a curtain, beneath, her fragrance lingers;

          In the parrot's cage her words are not yet stilled.

          Morning dew pastes the flowers in a sad face;

          Evening wind bends the willows like dropping eyebrows.

          Colored clouds come once, then go away;

          P'an Yüeh, wistful, is going gray.[1]
                                                                —Translated by Geoffry R. Waters


[1]  Wu-chi Liu and Irving Yucheng Lo, Sunflower Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry (Bloomington IN: Indiana University Press, 1974),287.

Bibliography
Liu Wu-chi and Irving Yucheng Lo. Sunflower Splendor: Three Thousand Years of Chinese Poetry. Bloomington IN: Indiana University Press, 1974.


NEXT
Sunday, October 16th 
Don't Come Home A-Drinkin'
...with lovin' on your mind. We'll have a brief respite from pain as Loretta Lynn belts out her warning in no uncertain terms—next week on Hurtin' Leavin' and Longin'. 

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Spring and Autumn Roles (3)—Flatness in America

Click here to go to section one of "Spring and Autumn Roles."
Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
During the autumn months I will be posting new segments of The Emperor's Teacher (the big business book that will rock the world). Chapter three is (provisionally) called "Spring and Autumn Roles" and forms (along with three more chapters that will follow) the "middle" of my management book—part two of three.

If you have read The Art of War, you have arrived at the doorstep. Still, no one ever managed anything in China having just read Sunzi (Sun-tzu), but don't despair. You are now ready for what comes next in leadership. Compiled nine-hundred years ago, it is the greatest management book ever written, and there are only two problems: (1) it is in "medieval" Chinese; (2) it is 10,000 pages long. No worries, though. That's what I am here for. I have been studying this stuff for thirty years, and I have been waiting for you. Welcome. 歡迎. Let's begin to study real Chinese management together.
[a] Flatness RF
After reading chapter one, "Breaking the Vessel," you will have some acquaintance with Sima Guang and the Comprehensive Mirror (資治通鑒). If you have completed chapter two, "Living and Learning," you know a good deal about various "learning strategies" in ancient China, and some of the ways that they were employed in later times. You are now ready to tackle the big themes at the heart of the greatest management text of all time. It is time to consider how managers managed in Chinese history, and how you might use these lessons to think more clearly about managing yourself, your family, and all under heaven. 

Don't worry too much about the order at this point (these are blog entries and not a book...yet).  If you want to start here and loop back to part one (Chapter One: Breaking the Vessel and Chapter Two: Living and Learning) in due time, that is fine.  This chapter should stand on its own as a way of thinking about the multiple roles that shape life and work at any time and in any place.

III
Flatness in America
One U.S. president with rather modest oratorical skills happened to utter one of the most quoted lines in the history of American politics—it was Calvin Coolidge who stated that "The business of America is business." This may or may not be a useful guide to politics in our own day, but it certainly is in the air. Alexis de Tocqueville certainly would have concurred, had he heard those words, spoken some ninety-five years after his own trip to the American states. Instead of contending with Coolidge's assertion, I would like to twist his words into a reckoning with today's American business culture. If Coolidge were writing a management text today, he might very well have said something along the lines of "America's business is flatness."

Let me explain.

[b] Small hill RF
As we discussed in the last post, Americans often wish to see "flat" social terrain, even where many other people might see rolling hills. It is a little like perceptions many people have of Iowa. If you have never been there, you are as likely as not to call it "flat." Have you ever ridden a bike across Iowa? You had better get rid of that 42-tooth small chain ring that powers you across the rail trails of your hometown. You had better have your bike mechanic outfit you with 39 or fewer "teeth." Trust me.

The cycling analogy is actually just about perfect for this discussion. Perhaps you have ridden across Iowa, started racing, and are ready (this is fiction, so bear with me) for something a little tougher—like the Tour de France. Let's just say that you get your chance. Do you want to win a stage in Le Tour? Well, you had better get over your tendency to think of landscapes as flat. If you persist in thinking of flatness the only thing deflated will be your hopes of victory. You don't stand a chance.

[c] Tour RF
You see, every great cyclist—from Jacques Anquetil to Eddy Merckx—understands "false flats." It is a common term in the cycling community, and someone who expresses beffudlement with the concept is likely be regarded as something of a dolt. The stretches of road to the finish line (the difference between first and, not uncommonly, forty-seventh place) either go up or down—sometimes almost imperceptibly.

There is nothing subtle about the results, though. Failing to understand the "grade" of the false flat is the difference between success and failure, and countless cyclists have seen this when smooth road seemingly turns to sticky tar as their better-attuned opponents sprint away from them. They failed to see the road veering ever-so-slightly upward, and stayed in the wrong gear. Oops. Too late. They get to watch while the victor sprays the crowd with sparkling wine. And collects the prize money.

This is what I find so odd about the American business book craze over the "flat organization."[1] To my Chinese historiography-meets-professional cycling mind, it says "I want to lose!; I want to be outsmarted and beaten to the finish by a more savvy competitor!; I want someone else to get the greatest financial rewards!"

I don't really understand it, yet to the extent that American corporations create "false flats," they fail to achieve the results (especially in the international sphere) of which they are capable. Like a Tour-winning cyclist, those who "learn to read" subtle inclines and declines will have a leg up on success. Learning to sense the hierarchies at work—seeing the real lay of the corporate landscape—allows us to click into precisely the correct gear in the final sprint to success.
***  ***
[d] Towering RF
Is this really so difficult to understand? Yes, apparently it is. As Alexis de Tocqueville once remarked, the children of 1776 are often quite touchy about issues of role, status, and hierarchy. Indeed, these otherwise quite discerning people are often dumbstruck by issues of protocol and tradition that other countries take very seriously.

In particular, Americans are often amused by the consternation wrought in more formal societies by breaches of etiquette, such as the uproar in Britain in 2009 when the American First Lady, in animated conversation with Queen Elizabeth, gently touched the small of Her Majesty's back. This is not to be done, apparently (one does not touch the queen), and the British press was filled with stories about the matter. American media could not resist, either, and commented in various ways, such as in this CNN report from that fateful day, several years ago.

Social and cultural reactions are not monolithic, of course, and the reactions covered a good deal of interpretive territory, from those who mocked British "silliness" to others who took offense at the "cluelessness" of Americans). It does not take years of anthropological fieldwork, though, to understand that Americans tend to be outliers when it comes to asserting equality in school, the workplace, the neighborhood, and the downtown sushi bar. Just call me "Rob," but don't call me late for dinner (yuk, yuk).


***  ***
[e] Equilibrium RF
I bring this up precisely because it has a very large place in business, and an even bigger one in business education. You see, business is culture, and anthropologists would do well to study the way people behave when the stakes are large—where there is, quite literally, a bottom line. American corporations have for the last decade or so spoken of the need to be "flat," and often equate the concept with greater resiliency and adaptability. American management texts are even more notorious for taking this concept to almost ridiculous extremes that have more to do with utopian vision than practical activity.

In fact, every one of us can probably conjure up an image—they are everywhere in advertising, because the idea is a powerful one—of just such a company. Ideas matter, don't get me wrong, and the advertising idea of equals working together sells products. Big time. We think of the first days of Apple® or Google®, and we usually can imagine a garage with a small pack of enterprising equals. If they had guitars, they'd be rock or punk or grunge, and probably be in Seattle...or Liverpool, depending on the decade. Got the image? Good.

Now consider an advertisement that calls upon the ideology of the "flat organization. Through a certain lens, the picture represents exactly how to get the most from one's "team." It is nimble. But now imagine the consternation such a work setting might cause if one's lens (or paradigm) shifts toward our examples from Japan (yesterday). From that angle, it is chaotic. Who's in charge? How do we "report?" How do we do international business?

[f] Flat ADV
What does it all mean? Is there a way to enhance "nimbleness" but still hold confusion at bay? This is one of the big questions in business practice all over the world, and the answers flow in cycles (good, bad, both good and bad) and are then interpreted in the workplace. Think about your own workplace. What is appealing about the picture? What isn't? Would everyone, even in your own workplace, agree?

Look a little more closely at the picture. Come on, admit it. At least if you grew up in the United States, there is a certain kind of democratic charm that most people are likely to feel. You might even notice a little tingle of liberty-mixed-with-equality in a nice, youthful Protestant-ethic-and-the-spirit-of-capitalism sort of way. But now think about the picture from the perspective of your "real world" experience. Is anything really ever completely "equal" in life? I like to look at this from the perspective of conflicts—the smaller the better, because little pangs of annoyance are often hidden gems leading to deeper understanding of larger issues. Look at the picture and ask yourself if they all make the same amount of money. Does everyone share the same risk and reward? Are there any implications that flow from the answers to those questions?

I thought so. Hierarchy crossed the ocean with the Founding (Grand)-Parents; it's "here," too. Almost every person (American and beyond) has experienced the hurt or resentment from inattention to status or the lack of care taken by others for the nature of one's position. Perhaps the most common experience comes early—"sassing." Any parent who has ever had a child talk back to her has experienced, on a tiny scale, the pain of "roles" being slightly out-of-line. The family situation is only the beginning. At work, not matter how "flat" the organization, there are undulations of power and responsibility. Salary is only part of it. Americans often spend an inordinate amount of time trying to pretend that these things do not exist, and (compared to Japan) a different kind of "dance" goes on in relationships throughout the country—a subtle "flattening" of distinctions that could be made in salary, rank, education, neighborhood, clothing, accent, and manners. In East Asia and the United States we dance around hierarchy. We just do it in profoundly different ways.



[1] Don't get me wrong. In the narrowest sense, the "flat organization" is appealing (give team members more say in a flexible organization and eliminate needless middle managerial levels). I get it. There are many other ways to do this, however, and, as this book argues, at least one is much better. The other problem is that the very fine organizational theories behind the flat organization mask all of the cultural issues that this post is really about. Removing needless layers of management is perfectly reasonable. If only the concept of the "flat organization" was only about that. By invoking the term "flat," much, much more becomes involved, and that is my point. "Flatness" is ideological. Want results (and not just sales of management texts to an American audience? Call it something more accurate. If you doubt what I am saying, look up "flat organization" on the web and tell me if "flat" really is the most accurate term for it. Nope. "Flat" is a loaded term that speaks to matters far beyond flow charts and corporate efficiency.

Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
NEXT
Learned Lines
The double entendre is intentional. We learn our roles, and the conditioning begins early. These roles (and accompanying statuses and hierarchies) play out in surprising ways in one of the most colorful spring rituals in American life—the college graduation. We'll spend one more day looking at role and status in American life before beginning our study of Chinese lessons with the Comprehensive Mirror.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Spring and Autumn Roles (2)—Japanese-American Characteristics

Click here to go to section one of "Spring and Autumn Roles."
Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
 During the autumn months I will be posting new segments of The Emperor's Teacher (the big business book that will rock the world). Chapter three is (provisionally) called "Spring and Autumn Roles" and forms (along with three more chapters that will follow) the "middle" of my management book—part two of three.
If you have read The Art of War, you have arrived at the doorstep. Still, no one ever managed anything in China having just read Sunzi (Sun-tzu), but don't despair. You are now ready for what comes next in leadership. Compiled nine-hundred years ago, it is the greatest management book ever written, and there are only two problems: (1) it is in "medieval" Chinese; (2) it is 10,000 pages long. No worries, though. That's what I am here for. I have been studying this stuff for thirty years, and I have been waiting for you.
Welcome. 歡迎.
Let's begin to study real Chinese management together.
[a] Character RF
After reading chapter one, "Breaking the Vessel," you will have some acquaintance with Sima Guang and the Comprehensive Mirror (資治通鑒). If you have completed chapter two, "Living and Learning," you know a good deal about various "learning strategies" in ancient China, and some of the ways that they were employed in later times. You are now ready to tackle the big themes at the heart of the greatest management text of all time. It is time to consider how managers managed in Chinese history, and how you might use these lessons to think more clearly about managing yourself, your family, and all under heaven. 

Don't worry too much about the order at this point (these are blog entries and not a book...yet).  If you want to start here and loop back to part one (Chapter One: Breaking the Vessel and Chapter Two: Living and Learning) in due time, that is fine.  This chapter should stand on its own as a way of thinking about the multiple roles that shape life and work at any time and in any place.

II
Japanese-American Character(istic)s


[b] Conflict (not theory) RF
Our roles and relationships are never perfectly “equal.”  No stretch of social ground is ever perfectly "flat." Some people seem to understand this better than others. Among those who fail to grasp this, many go by the name "American." We'll discuss this matter more thoroughly in the next post, but suffice it to say that much of the world understands social life as something of a rolling terrain, even in the reasonably smooth stretches between peaks and valleys of stratification.

It is a matter of attunement to the notes and chords of social life that play on—whether or not we are paying attention to them. The undulating tune is always there, even if it is hidden in the background, like elevator music.

But many Americans are tone-deaf when it comes to interpersonal relations with even a hint of unevenness. So ingrained is a very particular version of the democratic spirit that it is hardly unusual for, say, members of a discussion group to send subtle signals that everyone is on equal footing. If it sounds as though I dislike this feature of American life, you would be wrong. I was raised in the United States, and go out of my way (so I think to myself) always to be on an even-footing in any conversation I have. Most Americans I know act in similar fashion, and (moreover) will not go out of their way to assert their own statuses if, by chance, a member of the group cannot help but trumpet his or her "superiority." Some people do things like that, of course. I was taught to regard it simply as "bad manners," and feel sorry for the ignorance of someone so assertive as to break the bonds of decorum. I would venture to say that my "reading" of this situation is not terribly unusual in much of the United States.

Here's a big problem, though. This is not the image many people (stereotypically or otherwise) have of Americans abroad. I am not sure what to make of it. Alexis de Tocqueville did, though. Consider the following observations:


          The surface of American society is covered with a layer of democratic paint, but 
          from time to time one can see the old aristocratic colors breaking through.[1]

          Americans are so enamored of equality that they would rather be equal in slavery 
          than unequal in freedom.[2]  

Harsh? Perhaps, but read the juxtaposed quotations "against" each other. I find them striking, and can see shades of both in almost every meeting, political event, or large gathering I attend. It appears to me as something like an easy set of dance steps that have been made so intricate that no one can quite remember what to do. How can we waltz if no one leads? Echoing his time, Tocqueville might well have said that Americans are fighting their natures. I am not sure what to do with words such as "nature," but I will say that Americans make social interaction much more difficult than it needs to be.

Relentlessly trying to level rolling terrain will do that, and it does not take a conflict theorist to see that uneven ground lies at the heart of social and economic life. To the extent that American businesses have ignored this point, they have made life (and commerce) much more difficult than it needs to be. It is just one of the reasons why, these days, Chinese business is eating America's lunch.[3]

***  ***
Can we even imagine a world—other than ridiculous caricatures of hierarchy—in which the social terrain looks different? Certainly. Just get on a plane and head toward Narita International Airport. If you are an American citizen, you won't even need a visa for the first thirty days. The world looks different, and it is not just the rice fields and large Eiffel Tower you see on the bus ride to Tokyo.

[c] Bento modesto RF
Everywhere you go, groups look (and act) differently. It starts on the street corner or in office cubicles. I have always been intrigued by the subtle “dance of hierarchy” that takes place whenever I am introduced to someone in Japan. It is almost like an elaborate form of thumb wrestling, but with respectfully clasped hands and the clear goal of “losing” and getting to show deference to someone. In many cases, the relationship is clear, as in the classroom when I am the teacher and someone much younger is the student (or, to reverse the matter, if I am talking to the chair of my department or the dean of the division). Those are simple; you just "fall into" the role that has been seemingly waiting there for you to fill. However in situations in which statuses seem relatively "equal" to an American, there are still many ways to forge order from chaos. I choose these words with care.

Roles and hierarchies are so thoroughly internalized in Japan that even two people whom outsiders might call “precise equals” (imagine people of the same age, gender, and status in their company) still will find a way to attribute seniority to one of the members and junior status to the other. It is not going too far to say that in these situations people are uncomfortable until a kind of rank order is established. Yes—discomfort and uneasiness prevails until disorder can be quelled by creating hierarchy.


Think about that—a room full of fidgety people feeling apprehensive and out of sorts because everyone is “the same.”  The Japanese terms are instructive, and they work their way into just about every relationship from the time a child carries her first bentõ box of lunch treats to school. Even if you don’t read Japanese, you will be able to see a pattern:

先輩
後輩

The second character in each phrase is identical. 輩 can be translated as “generation” or even “age-rank.” The first character in the top phrase (先) means “before”; in the bottom phrase (後) it means “after.” These two simple, little phrases form the working machinery—the well-oiled levers—of social order in Japan. It is not hard to see how this fits into yesterday’s discussion of roles. You are either a senpai (higher age-rank) or a kõhai (lesser age-rank) in every relationship in your life, all of the time—now and forever. If you doubt the ability of evenly-matched people to sort themselves out according to relative rank, just watch a community (or faculty) meeting in Japan. It is a thing of social beauty—melodic strains on a vertical scale—that brings roles and statuses into alignment in the relational orchestra that is Japanese life.
[d] Greeting RF
If you have been reading just a little bit too quickly, you are likely to have decided that I am saying something along the lines of "Japan good; America bad." I would like to make clear that no, that is not what I am saying at all. Both American and Japanese "social sortings" are rich, cultural traditions with long histories of contingencies, overlapping patterns, and ideological assertions. I am not speaking of "good" and bad." I am a child of American democracy, after all, and come from an era that still had a few "civics" class left over from an earlier, and less-contentious (pre-Vietnam War) era. I get the appeal of equality, for Jefferson's sake.

Here's the kicker, though. Roles are all about (relative) inequality. Teacher-student; mother-son; father-daughter; foreman-worker; dean-professor; secretary-undersecretary; general-colonel-private. How hard is this to see? Roles are all about unevenness of terrain. Yes, to be sure, there are also roles such as the all-important one called "teammate." Think about it, though. How important is "leadership" on teams? Uh-huh. Teams require roles, too, and "tight end" is not the same as "wide receiver," "right guard," or "quarterback." Differentiation is everywhere, and we ignore it (and the expectations that surround it) to our peril. American business and academia had better (re-)learn this, and fast. The rest of the world, which seems to "get" it, is pulling away.

Roles—They're What's for Dinner. They're the main course, and we'll start examining them in earnest from here on. Just watch out for the signs that say: Bumpy Road Ahead.


That's (social and business) life, after all.

[1]  Alexis de Tocqueville. BrainyQuote.com, Xplore Inc, 2011. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/alexisdeto164080.html, accessed October 7, 2011. 
[2] Alexis de Tocqueville. BrainyQuote.com, Xplore Inc, 2011. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/alexisdeto135753.html, accessed October 7, 2011. 
[3] I am indebted to my colleague, Professor Warren Palmer, for this memorable phrase. 

Click below for the other "Spring and Autumn Roles" posts.
1         2         3         4        to be continued
NEXT
Flatness in America
American business has been overcome by a "flatness" craze that threatens it from within.The trendy work is "the flat organization," and—although it speaks to both desires and practicalities in the workplace—it gets it just about completely wrong.