Mending Fences In Mixed Japanese and American Workplaces
My toughest gig and most gratifying success story
The client approached me for help. Tensions were high, productivity was low, the American staff felt disrespected, and Japanese managers were viewed as arrogant and unwilling to adapt their management style to American culture.
Same old story.
This was going to be an especially tough gig. But the burden (as it always is) was on the client to make it meaningful.
My consulting philosophy is that my job is not to solve the client’s problems. Rather, it is to help them understand the root causes that created their current situation, so they can solve their own problems. If I were to map it out visually, it would look something like this:
The endgame in all my workshops is to get both sides talking to each other directly, without all the accumulated misunderstandings and accompanying emotional baggage muddying the waters. It’s kind of like marriage counseling, except without the marriage part.
Overview of my approach
On day one, I focus on un-muddying the waters by educating, in two separate sessions, Japanese and non-Japanese staff on each other’s cultures and underlying motivations, with a focus on the key invisible gaps hindering cross-cultural communication and cooperation.
On day two, both sides jointly participate in the third session, in which I bring them together where meaningful dialogue can unfold. This is when grievances are openly aired and the healing begins.
My process
At the beginning of each separate session on the first day, I ask participants to make lists of what they enjoy about working with the other culture and also what drives them nuts. With just one exception over a seventeen-year period (a great story for a future article), the “drives-‘em-nuts” lists are always longer than the “enjoy” lists, a telling statement about human nature.
I also spend a good part of these separate sessions explaining the meanings, misunderstandings, and cultural ramifications of their grievances, with a brief historical overview and culture lesson thrown in for good measure. This provides badly needed context.
Then in preparation for the final joint session, I translate both lists — Japanese and English — into the other language so each side clearly understands what the other side is saying about them.
Sounds dangerous, right? That’s what I thought the first time I launched my pilot program!
I am happy to report that, over a 17-year period, not once did I have to break up a fight. But it hasn’t been a walk in the park either! Every session has been a grind, in most cases with no single definitive turning point — much like turning a battleship around in the water.
Each workshop takes on a life of its own, so improvising is key. But the one constant is education.
I build on this foundation with face-to-face dialogue, self-reflection exercises (“hansei-kai”), and a brainstorming session at the end to solicit ideas from participants on what they can do, within their control, to improve relationships with counterparts.
If I have a “go-to” technique, it’s humor, a natural by-product of discussions that take place in the final joint session. When you can get both sides laughing together, you’ve won half the battle.
Sometimes humor happens by accident (a digression)
I once conducted a workshop in which the Americans complained — as they always do — that Japanese counterparts held “secret meetings,” implying the Japanese staff was intentionally withholding information from them.
The expression “secret meetings” completely took the Japanese managers by surprise. They assumed, as a matter of course, that behind-the-scenes negotiating was how decisions were supposed to be made, and the Japanese even have a word for it: nemawashi. (Think of it as offline/informal coordination and negotiation, what Westerners might characterize as “wheeling and dealing”, with an eye on maintaining harmony in the process.)
To put these offline meetings in context for American participants, I made sure they understood during the first day of training that these informal meetings were not intended to shut them out, and that their Japanese counterparts routinely held them even in Japan when working exclusively with fellow Japanese. This revelation went a long way in mitigating their hurt feelings.
Well, during the final joint session, one of the Japanese groups addressed the secret-meetings complaint in their closing presentation. Not knowing the proper English words to describe their offline nemawashi meetings, they defaulted to the Americans’ description.
With a straight face, the lead Japanese manager of the group faced the American audience and proclaimed in earnest,
“We are so sorry. It is true that we Japanese have many secret meetings. So our countermeasure will be to reduce the number of secret meetings!”
To the Japanese presenter’s utter surprise, the Americans burst out laughing. Thanks to the training they had received, the Americans understood from context what he was trying to say. But imagine if context had not been provided — I might’ve had to break up my first fight!
Now back to my toughest gig…
American participants in this particular engagement were a much tougher crowd than usual. In the initial Americans-only session, the tension was palpable. It would take most of the session to get the American managers’ collective heads wrapped around the underlying causes of their problems.
In contrast, the Japanese session started out completely tension-free, but only because the Japanese managers were oblivious to how they were perceived. When they learned just how resentful their American counterparts were, they grew visibly nervous.
Sometimes nervous is good.
Imagine my glee when, in the final joint session, the proverbial battleship took a sharp, unexpected U-turn. After hearing numerous complaints from frustrated American counterparts on how disrespected and unappreciated they felt, the most senior Japanese executive asked me to interpret. Here’s what he said:
“After listening to the Americans point of view, I realize now that I am guilty of offending you, and for that I want to offer my sincere apology. We Japanese come from a tiny island with no natural resources. Your town has kindly allowed us to build our factory here in the middle of this huge, wonderful market, and it has greatly benefited our parent company. We are so grateful for that. We have absolutely no intention of insulting or disrespecting you. We will do our best moving forward to change that perception, and would like very much to work together. We are on the same team, have the same goals, and want to work together as one team.”
I could almost hear the tension escaping from the room — psssssssssss.
The Americans immediately softened, it was written all over their faces. They realized that they had completely misread their Japanese counterparts’ intentions, and the rest of the session was fun, engaging, and productive.
The participants left the room that day with the agreement that they would all put more effort into communicating, cooperating, and socializing outside of work. They also agreed to hold similar joint sessions periodically to ensure proper follow up and keep the lines of communication open through direct dialogue.
Epilogue
Anyone familiar with Japan understands that a Japanese apology can often ring hollow and insincere.
This was different.
The Japanese management team was visibly shaken when they heard the unfiltered grievances directly from American counterparts. They seemed to genuinely understand the gravity of the moment and feel a sense of urgency to rectify the perceptions of American counterparts.
The Japanese executive’s emotional appeal combined with the outcome of the session and progress demonstrated in ensuing follow-up sessions are ample evidence to me that the apology was heartfelt.
I can’t overstate the importance of the senior Japanese executive’s apology in winning over American counterparts, a testament to the power of humility in building bridges.
On a personal note, these tougher engagements are especially rewarding because they are so challenging. And they never fail to remind me of my good fortune to work in a field that mends fences and connects people.
If stories about my cross-cultural triumphs and failures in Japan sound like fun, you can read all about ’em here.
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© Tim Sullivan 2022
