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Japan
On-Line: The Internet as a Gaijin Community
By Richard Thieme
Learning to do business
on the Internet is not simply an opportunity to learn a new set of
skills. It is a journey into another culture, forcing us to see ourselves
and our habits in a new light. Because the Internet is a distinct
community different from each of our native cultures, we all bring
strengths and weaknesses to the opportunities it presents.
The processes
of informatization (johoka) and internationalization (kokusaika)
have been inseparable and ubiquitous in Japanese thinking and behavior
for several decades. They are simultaneous processes. The transformation
of the boundaries of nation states into more permeable, transparent
membranes calls into question for all of us the difficulties of
being truly local and global in our thinking and behaviors.
Americans have
a conceptual framework that sees everything we encounter -- every
culture, concept, people -- as available for incorporation into
our "universal" schema. Our egalitarian inclusiveness is implicitly
imperialistic; we experience our culture as a kind of divine elixir
into which everything else dissolves. The price of the encounter
with American culture is the price of the encounter with modernity:
that which is distinctive about each culture is turned into a simulation
of itself and reconstructed through the filter of our understanding.
Japanese culture,
on the other hand, is so tightly bound by homogeneity and common
history that other cultural practices are included and integrated
into the Japanese experience in a different way. Everything is welcome,
everything is used, but not in a way that compromises the original
culture. Everything is somehow turned into another aspect of being
... Japanese.
Sometimes misunderstood
as a lack of principle, this capacity to include and exploit other
cultural practices without compromising the core Japanese culture
is really a way to preserve that unique identity while at the same
time excluding nothing that might be useful.
Japan will
interact with the unique culture of the Internet as Japan has interacted
with all other cultures. The Internet will affect Japanese culture
in subtle ways, but Japan will not lose its core identity in cyberspace
because Japan can not lose it. The essence of Japan identity is
a deep commitment NOT to lose itself through interaction with other
cultures.
Americans believe
that everyone is somehow a potential American. Japanese believe
that no-one could ever be a potential Japanese. The progressive
interaction of large numbers of Japanese citizens with netizens
all over the world will reveal what is unique and distinctive about
the Japanese contribution to global cyberculture. Cyberspace will
become one more outer sphere surrounding the concentric spheres
of other cultures at the core of which nevertheless remains an inviolable
Japanese sensibility.
What are the
unique strengths of Japanese culture and character in relationship
to doing business on the Internet? How will some specific Japanese
modalities -- such as the high priority on nuance, innuendo, indirect
communication -- translate into the typographic world of e-mail?
How will the deep subtext of "haragei" or nonverbal communication
work on mailing lists and in newsgroups and chat rooms?
I once worked
in an organizational structure that required consultation with the
Japanese patriarch of the community before important decisions were
made. I always called to arrange a meeting, but while we visited,
I never mentioned my reason for being there, nor did he. But when
I left, I knew his position, and he knew that I knew.
During an e-mail
exchange, I have often been confused because the context is unclear.
Doing business on the Internet is more like networking than direct
selling. I had to build a context that spoke more loudly than our
few typed words. This was accomplished over time through the deliberate
construction of a virtual relationship. Once that had happened,
we could begin to do business.
When e-mail
is used for simple communication between English speakers, it is
exchanged in a context of shared presuppositions. Non-native English
speakers may not share those assumptions. The construction of an
explicit context for meaningful exchange will be necessary. Because
it is axiomatic to the Japanese way of doing business, Japanese
will come to excel at the painstaking construction of a comprehensive
non-verbal context as the presupposition of meaningful electronic
conversation.
The entrepreneurial
spirit, the headlong rush for a new frontier, has characterized
the American surge into the virtual world. The current dominance
of the Internet by Americans raises the question, how can it be
true that Japanese culture is particularly well-suited for success
on the Internet when the American style, which is so different,
works so well?
The answer
tells us something about cyberspace itself.
Cyberspace
is a "space" -- sheer potential that becomes actual only when individuals
and organizations project their psychic contents and organizational
structures into it. Then cyberspace looks to every netizen like
an image of himself or his culture.
Cyberspace
is a mirror of our hive mind. It is a domain of symbols of symbols
of symbols. At the highest level of abstraction, those symbols become
reflexive, showing us our hive mind engaged in the rising spiral
of a self-conscious dialogue with itself.
In this the
Net is like the world of text which enabled us to discover and create
new "typographic selves" as we engaged with the world of printed
books.
Just as Americans
define cyberspace as a new frontier, imagining virtual space in
metaphors derived from our history, the Japanese experience of the
Internet will look Japanese ... to the Japanese.
One important
antecedent for the distribution of information through networks,
for example, evolved in Japan during the Edo period (1620-1630).
The writing of Haikai (haiku) or short poems included an activity
called Renku, a cooperative effort that brought short poems into
a single chain. As the network evolved, other kinds of information,
including commercial, were distributed.
Neither Renku
nor the Internet is about technology as much as the generation of
structures that enable people to network for a mutual advantage.
The Internet creates the "space" in which we build new opportunities
to do business, but it also generates new possibilities for creativity
and community.
Japanese culture
during the Edo period was neither fast nor slow. It was what it
was. Nor has Japan been "slow" in coming to the Internet as some
claim; Japan has been prudent, patient and deliberate as she felt
out and engaged with a new culture. If the wholesale abandonment
of the current economic system is not to happen, that pace of engagement
is essential.
I once visited
a Zen monastery for a day of meditation and instruction. The monk
greeted us with a bow, then asked if we knew why monks bow in the
monastery. Various answers came forth - bowing shows respect for
others, acknowledges the essence of the other, and so forth -- but
the monk politely waited as we exhausted our guesses, then said,
"No, we bow because it works better when we bow."
That which
works on the Internet will be incorporated into Japanese business
practices in ways consistent with the long-term development of trusting
collaborative relationships.
Organizational
and national cultures have a wisdom which no individual in the system
can approach. The system factors in variables over a long period
of time that individuals forget. That's why natural organic growth
is best for cultures intent on sustaining themselves over the long
run.
The acculturation
of Japan to the Internet will be done in a way that preserves the
root characteristics of Japanese civilization. That civilization
is permeated with the practice of on, acknowledgement and discharge
of full obligation to those who have given a benefit or gift. The
gift to Japan of participation in the virtual world will be repaid
with participation in that world in ways that subtly build new models
of cooperation, creativity, and historical continuity.
Sidebar: Hierarchy
or Web?
Everyone entering
the culture of the Internet discovers a web or network of relationships.
It seems as if hierarchical structures have completely disappeared.
On the World Wide Web, for example, we experience ourselves at the
center of the web, yet no-one is displaced: everyone else is also
at the center.
In hierarchical
structures, on the other hand, we act as if the organizational schema
-- boxes and rectangles connected by straight lines -- is the real
world. We act as if our presence in a box necessitates knocking
someone else out of that box. We experience our organizations as
win/lose games.
Power is exercised
in a hierarchy by dominating and controlling others. In a web, however,
power is exercised by participating and contributing. Efforts to
control a web are futile because our energy is dissipated throughout
the structure.
The Japanese
practice of avoiding confrontation and working by consensus is an
advantage in cyberspace. "Nemawashi" or "root-binding," the process
by which all participants are felt out and patiently included before
a decision is made, will contribute a subtle but powerful energy
to building cybercommunities. Once everyone is on board, the energy
of the aligned individuals moves with great power.
The patience
needed for the careful construction of consensus is the only way
to align the energies of every individual in a system in a single
direction.
Paradoxically
this does not mean the end of hierarchy. Our exploration of fractals
reveals that structures recreate themselves in self-similar shapes
at every level of abstraction. The devolution of vertically integrated
pre-war zaibatsu into the horizontal structures of post-war keiretsu
looks like the transformation of a hierarchy into a web, but hierarchy
never disappears. Hierarchical structures have a thousand lives
because they are useful ways to organize human enterprise. We live
always in tension between cooperative horizontal structures and
command-and-control vertical structures.
1996
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