Debate is almost as uncommon in modern Asia as in ancient China. In fact, the whole rhetoric of argumentation that is second nature to Westerners is largely absent in Asia. North Americans begin to express opinions and justify them as early as the show-and-tell sessions of nursery school (“This is my robot; he’s fun to play with because …”). In contrast, there is not much argumentation or trafficking in opinions in Asian life. A Japanese friend has told me that the concept of a “lively discussion” does not exist in Japan—because of the risk to group harmony. It is this fact that likely undermined an attempt he once made to have an American-style dinner party in Japan, inviting only Japanese guests who expressed a fondness for the institution—from the martinis through the steak to the apple pie. The effort fell flat for want of opinions and people willing to defend them.
The absence of a tradition of debate has particularly dramatic implications for the conduct of political life. Very recently, South Korea installed its first democratic government. Prior to that, it had been illegal to discuss North Korea. Westerners find this hard to comprehend, inasmuch as South Korea has performed one of the world’s most impressive economic miracles of the past 40 years and North Korea is a failed state in every respect. But, due to the absence of a tradition of debate, Koreans have no faith that correct ideas will win in the marketplace of ideas, and previous governments “protected” their citizens by preventing discussion of Communist ideas and North Korean practices.
The tradition of debate goes hand in hand with a certain style of rhetoric in the law and in science. The rhetoric of scientific papers consists of an overview of the ideas to be considered, a description of the relevant basic theories, a specific hypothesis, a statement of the methods and justification of them, a presentation of the evidence produced by the methods, an argument as to why the evidence supports the hypothesis, a refutation of possible counterarguments, a reference back to the basic theory, and a comment on the larger territory of which the article is a part. For Americans, this rhetoric is constructed bit by bit from nursery school through college. By the time they are graduate students, it is second nature. But for the most part, the rhetoric is new to the Asian student and learning it can be a slow and painful process. It is not uncommon for American science professors to be impressed by their hard-working, highly selected Asian students and then to be disappointed by their first major paper—not because of their incomplete command of English, but because of their lack of mastery of the rhetoric common in the professor’s field. In my experience, it is also not uncommon for professors to fail to recognize that it is the lack of the Western rhetoric style they are objecting to, rather than some deeper lack of comprehension of the enterprise they’re engaged in.
The combative, rhetorical form is also absent from Asian law. In Asia the law does not consist, as it does in the West for the most part, of a contest between opponents. More typically, the disputants take their case to a middleman whose goal is not fairness but animosity reduction—by seeking a Middle Way through the claims of the opponents. There is no attempt to derive a resolution to a legal conflict from a universal principle. On the contrary, Asians are likely to consider justice in the abstract, by-the-book Western sense to be rigid and unfeeling.
Negotiation also has a different character in the high-context societies of the East than in the low-context societies of the West. Political scientist Mushakoji Kinhide characterizes the Western erabi (active, agentic) style as being grounded in the belief that “man can freely manipulate his environment for his own purposes. This view implies a behavioral sequence whereby a person sets his objective, develops a plan designed to reach that objective, and then acts to change the environment in accordance with that plan.” To a person having such a style, there’s not much point in concentrating on relationships. It’s the results that count. Proposals and decisions tend to be of the either/or variety because the Westerner knows what he wants and has a clear idea what it is appropriate to give and to take in order to have an acceptable deal. Negotiations should be short and to the point, so as not to waste time reaching the goal.
The Japanese awase (harmonious, fitting-in) style, “rejects the idea that man can manipulate the environment and assumes instead that he adjusts himself to it.” Negotiations are not thought of as “ballistic,” one-shot efforts never to be revisited, and relationships are presumed to be long-term. Either/or choices are avoided. There is a belief that “short-term wisdom may be long-term folly.” A Japanese negotiator may yield more in negotiations for a first deal than a similarly placed Westerner might, expecting that this will lay the groundwork for future trust and cooperation. Issues are presumed to be complex, subjective, and intertwined, unlike the simplicity, objectivity, and “fragmentability” that the American with the erabi style assumes.
It is this fact that likely undermined an attempt he once made to have an American-style dinner party in Japan, inviting only Japanese guests who expressed a fondness for the institution—from the martinis through the steak to the apple pie. The effort fell flat for want of opinions and people willing to defend them.
This is so funny. It reminds me of a period of time when Mao Zedong ordered the whole country to self-criticize. You had to say something embarrassing in order to to not be a traitor but it also had to be harmless enough to not get anyone into real trouble.
For Americans, this rhetoric is constructed bit by bit from nursery school through college. By the time they are graduate students, it is second nature. But for the most part, the rhetoric is new to the Asian student and learning it can be a slow and painful process.
Wow. This is is an idea that, to me, falls under “extraordinary, if true”. And…I can’t think of any evidence against it. I look forward to discussing this with my East Asian friends. It probably affects only Asians who grew up in Asia. The Asian-Americans who dominated my high school debate club seem to be unaffected.
Political scientist Mushakoji Kinhide characterizes the Western erabi (active, agentic) style as being grounded in the belief that “man can freely manipulate his environment for his own purposes. This view implies a behavioral sequence whereby a person sets his objective, develops a plan designed to reach that objective, and then acts to change the environment in accordance with that plan.”
I feel this perspective has had an outsized impact on the field of AI safety.
There is a belief that “short-term wisdom may be long-term folly.” A Japanese negotiator may yield more in negotiations for a first deal than a similarly placed Westerner might, expecting that this will lay the groundwork for future trust and cooperation.
This surprised me when I entered the world of Silicon Valley.
This reminds me of a colleague who was invited to sit on a panel at a conference in South Korea a few years ago. He (being American) had no idea how much of a faux pas it would be to ask an actual unscripted question. It’s still hard for me to understand, but this post helped.
This is so funny. It reminds me of a period of time when Mao Zedong ordered the whole country to self-criticize. You had to say something embarrassing in order to to not be a traitor but it also had to be harmless enough to not get anyone into real trouble.
Wow. This is is an idea that, to me, falls under “extraordinary, if true”. And…I can’t think of any evidence against it. I look forward to discussing this with my East Asian friends. It probably affects only Asians who grew up in Asia. The Asian-Americans who dominated my high school debate club seem to be unaffected.
I feel this perspective has had an outsized impact on the field of AI safety.
This surprised me when I entered the world of Silicon Valley.
This reminds me of a colleague who was invited to sit on a panel at a conference in South Korea a few years ago. He (being American) had no idea how much of a faux pas it would be to ask an actual unscripted question. It’s still hard for me to understand, but this post helped.