Speaking Frankly in Japan
出る釘は 打たれる *
* Deru kugi wa, utareru.
* The nail that sticks up, gets hammered down.
Japanese children used to hear this famous proverb from their parents, and again in school and business, as a caution against seeking individual attention or speaking out. If they did dare to speak out, they should expect criticism — or even exclusion from the group.
I had also heard this proverb. And I understood that Japanese culture emphasized consensus and conformity … especially in formal situations such as business meetings. But I really began to understand how this works, during my first business trip to Japan.
In the mid-1980s, I worked for the US marketing subsidiary of a large Japanese manufacturer of computer products. I was planning the US launch of a new, smaller hard-disk drive. It featured faster performance than the pre-announced products from the usual competitors, and it would be the first such product available for shipment to US computer makers. So the Japanese engineering team was expecting great success in the US market.
Meanwhile, a US-based start-up had just announced its very first product: an even-smaller disk drive that promised twice the speed, and half the power consumption. Our engineers in Japan seemed certain that the competing design was technically impossible, and anyway it would be late to the market. So they were confident that their own design would win coveted next-generation contracts with large US computer companies. They invited me to make a presentation on the US market opportunity, during a two-day meeting of the engineering and marketing teams.
On the first day, a dozen senior engineering managers sat around the large rectangular conference table, each dressed in a dark suit and tie. The younger engineers — about 40 men in blue lab coats — crowded into chairs along the walls. Since I was scheduled to speak on the second day, I spent the first day watching as my English-speaking colleagues made their presentations to that room full of Japanese engineers.
Each presenter stood at the front, placing plastic slides on an overhead projector. The slides contained computer-printed bullet points in large black capital letters, full of facts and figures. I figured that the Japanese engineers could all read the English words, but I knew that many of them would find it difficult to understand the spoken commentary.
I also noticed several senior managers sitting with their eyes closed during important presentations. I had read that Japanese managers often close their eyes “to listen more attentively.” And I saw that this behavior did not raise any eyebrows in the room. Business meetings were not expected to contain controversies or surprises, and the younger engineers had their eyes open and were diligently taking notes. So the senior managers were not seen as rude … they had simply earned the right to doze during meetings!
On the other hand, I had traveled to Japan to deliver a message. So I found myself wondering how I could make sure that my message was heard.
After the first day of meetings, our Japanese hosts arranged for us to join them for drinks, snacks, conversation and karaoke. I knew that such evening events were essential in Japanese business, as they allowed informal discussion of thoughts and feelings — and even disagreements — that could not be expressed during the formal, sober workday. I had read about this aspect of Japanese culture. But that evening I experienced it directly.
A senior engineering director engaged me in a short conversation, and then gave me his advice on my upcoming presentation: “Keishi-san, I believe our engineers are complacent. Please speak frankly.”
A few minutes later, another senior director approached and offered a proverb: “In Japan we have a saying: The clever hawk hides its claws.”
After considering that for a moment, I replied: “In America we also have a saying: If you have a light, don’t hide it under a basket!”
The next day, while my US colleagues presented their slides — and the senior managers dozed — I dug out my colored marking pens and added red, blue and green highlights to my prepared slides. But I realized that would not be enough. So I pulled out a blank sheet of plastic and began sketching.
My colorful sketch showed two racetracks. On the first track, the Japanese company’s racecar was leading the pack — well in front of several competing entries. On the second track, the US start-up’s racecar was just being pushed to the starting line — and there were no other cars on the track.
Then I added spectators, representing the big disk-drive customers in the US computer market. Nearly all of them were placing their bets on the race that was expected to start a little later — the one with the faster, cooler drive. And the customers were not paying much attention to the race that the Japanese engineers believed they were about to win.
That one picture was worth more than a thousand English words! As I presented this graphic illustration with its hand-drawn race cars, the younger engineers sat up and began murmuring to each other. Hearing the commotion, the dozing managers opened their eyes and leaned forward. I did not imagine that they were all pleased to hear that wake-up call. But at least they were paying attention!
After the meeting, the first engineering director greeted me again: “Thank you for speaking frankly. It was a little … sharp. But they needed to hear it.”
And I realized that this wise old manager could not “speak frankly” to his own colleagues in Japan, without damaging his working relationships. He could not afford to become an outsider, by openly challenging their beliefs. Like a clever hawk, he chose to hide his own sharp claws.
In contrast, as a gaijin, I was already — and would always be — an outsider. The kanji characters for gai-jin — 外人 — literally signify outside-person!
Yes, the engineering director served his own interests when he encouraged me to proclaim an inconvenient truth that challenged the strongly-held opinions of his team. But it also suited my own purposes and temperament to “speak frankly” — playing my assigned role as a rude foreigner — with some hope that the message would be clearly understood.
That first visit to Japan remains one of my most memorable business trips. It taught me that my outsider status — which sometimes seemed so frustrating — also conferred some benefits.
When necessary — as a 外人 — I could “speak frankly” in Japan.
2021年 7月31日
