The battle was fought on October 4, 1777. The British win, ensuring control of Philadelphia, the self-proclaimed capital of the United States of America. Control. At least through the harsh winter of 1777-78. The Philadelphia Campaign had begun badly for the Americans. Washington and the Continental Army had suffered defeats at Brandywine and Paoli, leaving Philadelphia defenseless. Cornwallis seized it on September 26, 1777. Howe left some 3,500 men to defend it and moved 9,500 up to Germantown in order to pursue and destroy the American forces.

With Howe‘s forces divided, Washington saw an opportunity to attack. He aimed at the British garrison in Germantown before the winter would set in. The plan was to attack at night, surprising the British and Hessian (German) troops in much the same way he had surprised the Hessians at the Battle of Trenton. But, the Americans were defeated. Washington had overestimated his troops‘ ability to launch a complicated attack. A heavy fog had made matters worse by impeding coordination. And the British had outnumbered the scrappy Americans.

However, had Washington’s plan been executed successfully, it very well might have brought the war to a sudden end. The British historian Trevelyan wrote that although the Battle of Germantown was a defeat, it was of “great and enduring service to the American cause“ in persuading the French to weigh in on behalf of the United States against Britain.

„That the battle had been fought unsuccessfully was of small importance when weighed against the fact that it been fought at all. Eminent generals, and statesmen of sagacity, in every European Court were profoundly impressed by learning that a new army, raised within the year, and undaunted by a series of recent disasters, had assailed a victorious enemy in his own quarters, and had only been repulsed after a sharp and dubious conflict.“

John Fiske, in The American Revolution (1891), wrote „The genius and audacity shown by Washington, in thus planning and so nearly accomplishing the ruin of the British army only three weeks after the defeat at the Brandywine, produced a profound impression upon military critics in Europe. Frederick the Great of Prussia saw that presently, when American soldiers should come to be disciplined veterans, they would become a very formidable instrument in the hands of their great commander.“

Germantown, established in 1681. German farmers, craftsmen, recruited by William Penn, to bring diligence, discipline, technical knowledge and piety. A handful of German Mennonites from Krefeld. 1688 the very first in the colonies to condemn slavery. The Quakers banning it within their Society of Friends in 1776, and all of Pennsylvania banning slavery by 1780.

Germantown in October of 2010. Remnants of a great industrial city. Black, poor, run down. Struggling, like so many neighborhoods in Philadelphia. Like so many American cities. Will they ever be revived? What will they look like in fifty, one hundred, one hundred and fifty years? I read yesterday of the spread of hunger in Philadelphia during these very difficult economic times.

But, the authenticity of the reenactment takes my mind back to another age. The cloth and color of the uniforms. Bright red, deep blue, white, tan. Replicas of British government issue, and of American homespun. Various looks depending on the type of forces. And the muskets. Long, loud, cracking sharply, throwing off billows of white clouds, the piercing smell. Volley after volley for well over an hour. Troops of ten, twenty moving up, down and around Germantown Avenue and the Clivenden House, all within a space no larger than half the size of a football field.

An Historian, teacher at nearby Malvern Prep, provides a fascinating narration, a kind of play-by-play analysis. The rifles were accurate only within fifty yards. Thus column upon column firing at almost point blank range. To soften up the enemy in order to engage in bayonet-attacks. Hand-to-hand combat. Nahkampf as the Germans would say. Small cannon fire would rip through the ranks intermittently, tearing of legs, arms, heads.

We weren‘t a particularly large crowd. A few hundred. There was plenty of room to watch. But the weather was ideal. Folks head out to high school football games, work in their yards, drive out into the country. Parking in Germantown isn‘t easy. And I suspect that white folks probably feel queasy about going into Germantown.

And history is not as relevant for Americans as it is for Germans. Two decades in Germany I‘ve lived, studied, worked. History is ever-present, almost on every corner, and certainly in the minds and hearts of the Germans. They understand and explain the present via its history. The future is an extension of who and what has gone before. A glance in the Saturday General Anzeiger, Bonn‘s daily, would have offered a dozen events, activities, exhibitions taking participants back into the past.

There is a wine growing region just south of Bonn, on the Ahr River. It‘s Autumn. Time to harvest the grapes, press them down, in the past with feet and wooden device alike. The towns have their festivals, celebrating in ways typical during the Middle Ages. Garb, speech, food, decorations taking us back five hundred and more years. A kind of living museum, on those few days each October.

We‘re Americans and Germans first, engineers, marketers, account managers, supply management specialists, manufacturers, finance folks second. How we think and work is based on who we are, where we come from, our national culture, our inclinations, habits, traditions, ways of thinking, methods, approaches, our national cultural hard wiring. „Hard“ not in the sense of unmovable or unchangeable. But certainly „hard“ in the sense of not easily moved, changed, modified, altered. „Hard“ as in heart-felt, deep-seated, strongly believed. Belief system. Not measurable, not quantifiable. Complex.

I wonder what the Americans of German descent in Germantown thought when firing on the Hessians. I wonder what many of the Hessian soldiers thought when they decided to settle in the mid-Atlantic colonies after the end of the many battles. How often Germans and Americans have shot at each other, only then afterward to become allies, friends, and family. I often wonder what German and American colleagues today, within global companies, think of each other. Friend, foe, colleague, competitor.

A common theme thusfar has been that I need to „americanize“ myself, in the sense of how I communicate, present my experience, expertise and services, in the end how I help clients address the overarching theme of the influence of culture on business. A few examples.

Language. About as basic as you can get. Americans use first names. Introduce themselves, greet each other, refer to themselves with their first name. It‘s personal, not distanced, seeks to be familiar, to get to know. It‘s a sign of openness, of transparency, of sincerity. For the most part. Germans take a different approach. More formal. Very rarely do they offer their first name. Even colleagues who have worked together for years will remain on a last name basis only, using the formal Sie instead of the informal Du. Communicating on a first-name basis and using the Du signals a level of friendship, a degree of proximity with many kinds of implications. „Americanize, John“ means for me move from „Magee“ to „John“.

Intensity. The Germans are an intense people. Intelligent. Focused. Analytical. They get to the point quickly, want to address the heart of the matter early, zero in on things that are problematic, separate the personal from the professional. This can come across to Americans as overbearing, overly intense, a bit self-important, cramped, unfriendly, reducing everything to the purely rational.

Americans are equally capable of rational thought, of solving problems, of recognizing the essence of a situation. However, we‘re a bit indirect, sometimes circuitous, depending on the situation careful, perhaps politically correct. Americans do not separate sharply between personal and professional. For us every human interaction has a human component. „Americanize, John“ means for me to reduce the intensity level a few notches (or more).

Listening. Germans are excellent listeners. They‘re raised to listen, not to interrupt, to take in, then to respond. If you observe them live, on radio or tv talk shows, in meetings, during any kind of debate, you‘ll be astounded at how long they talk without interruption, before the next person responds. They are a detail-oriented people, so they take more time. Sometimes they‘re downright long-winded. But, if you understand German and listen carefully, you‘ll realize how much content they can pack into so few words. So when they talk at length, there is truly much said.

We Americans do it differently. We like short bursts of communication, highly interactive, give and take, moving from point to point, changing topics. We get impatient with folks who talk too long. We‘re also trained to communicate the message up front, then to supply supporting arguments, information, facts, context. The flow of the communication is determined by those involved, not exclusively by the sender of the message. „Americanize, John“ means for me to get terse, and to listen more.

„Wir werden amerikanisiert!“ translates into „We‘re being americanized!“ I‘ve come across this sentiment many times over the last few years, and in major German companies. Not a clash of civilizations, but certainly a reservation, a reluctance, for some a fear, of being forced to do things (thus think things) which are non-native. Many of us know the powerful ripple effects of globalization. We work across borders, across cultures, have to adapt, do things a bit differently, be open to folks with different approaches. And because decisions have to be made, structures set up, work processes defined, often we‘re asked to operate in ways foreign to us. For many, not all, this is uncomfortable, challenging, disconcerting.

How do we react? How do I react? Spending more time in the U.S. will demand of me to re-adapt, to americanize. I‘m looking forward to it. America is my home culture. But wait, have I not learned some things over the last two decades here in Germany? Have I not taken on some of their attributes, their ways of thinking and doing things? And if the Germans are a capable people (and they are), aren‘t these attributes positive?

Like the many Germans and Americans among my clients, there is rarely a day when I am operating exclusively in one of the two cultures. When do I take the American approach, when the German? Is the answer „When in Rome, do as the Romans“? Perhaps. But, what about when I‘m dealing with both at the same time? Whose logic has the say?

Maybe both logics, but carefully integrated, with a high degree of sensitivity to the understandable reluctance of Germans to be „americanized“ and to Americans to be „germanized.“

Seldom in German politics, dozens of Germany’s corporate leaders, including the heads of BASF, Bertelsmann, Deutsche Bank, Metro, Siemens, ThyssenKrupp signed an open letter to Chancellor Merkel’s government, warning that new energy taxes threaten the German economy.

German energy prices, Fuhrmans writes, „higher than the European Union average, are a sensitive issue to corporate interests, whose domestic manufacturing sites and offices are responsible for some 50% of the country’s electricity consumption. BASF, which operates the world’s largest chemical manufacturing site at its Ludwigshafen headquarters, alone comprises more than 1% of Germany’s total energy consumption.“

The open letter is unusual for several reasons. For one, it‘s public. Lobbying in Germany is done discreetly by trade groups, away from the media. Second, CEOs of major companies are out in front. Third, their unanimity. Merkel’s spokesman on Friday went into spin mode: “The chancellor regards this as a completely legitimate contribution to the discussion; there’s no objection to that.“

For those of you who have experience working with Germans you might be a bit surprised to read that an open letter is considered untypical for how German industry communicates with Berlin. For the Germans are known for being rather direct in their communication, especially about things they either don‘t like or don‘t agree with. They separate far more than we Americans between what is personal and what is business, „getting in your face“ about issue x or y, only then at the end of a contentious day of debating to invite you and your U.S. colleagues out for dinner and beers in the local Biergarten. And when they‘re in the Biergarten it‘s all relaxing, laughing, enjoying, and not about business. „Geschaeft ist Geschaeft. Schnapps ist Schnapps“ translates loosely into „Business is business. Fun is fun.“

The intercultural question is, when do Germans get direct, when indirect? When do Americans get direct, when indirect? Most of you have experienced, or can imagine, the dangers involved when this issue is misunderstood or misanticipated. Germans „getting in your face“ when diplomacy, tact, discretion are essential to handling a complex situation. Americans going hyper-political correct, indirect, almost evasive, when a situation demands straight-shooting honesty, transparency and accountability.

I‘ll never forget an instance. 1997. I was back then a staffer for the Christian Democrats in the Bundestag, helping the leadership establish, maintain and deepen relations to Washington. The Congressional Study Group on Germany had sent a small delegation of highly influential House members – Democrats and Republicans – to Germany. Relationship-building. A yearly thing. This year in Germany. Next year in the U.S. No intense talks about policy. More about general trends. An overview of how Germans and Americans see the challenges in both countries and in the world. Asking questions. Listening. Understanding the other perspective. Low-key. Friendly. We‘re allies, friends, our economies deeply intertwined.

One evening, after meetings, talks, a long stroll through the lovely German town of Bad Muenstereifel, a member of the German Bundestag felt it her duty to address a political bone of contention between the U.S. and Germany. The Helms-Burton Act, which extended the territorial application of the initial embargo of Cuba to apply to foreign companies trading with Cuba. All had finished dinner. Coffee and dessert were being served. The atmosphere was just right. The time when relationships take on real contours. She stood up, asked for everyone‘s attention, then launched into her speech. „The Helms-Burton Act was absolutely unacceptable to Germany.“ You get the message.

To say the least, the Americans, including our embassy‘s second in command, were taken aback. Faces, gestures frozen. Stillness. The German parliamentarian paused briefly, perhaps taken aback herself, but continued on. (We all know what it‘s like to begin digging a hole, notice that it‘s not a good idea, only then to continue on in single-minded bull-headedness.) Well, this well-intentioned woman simply kept digging.

Digging down to the point where our American diplomat, very experienced and highly-respected in Germany, felt obliged to reply, in carefully formulated sentences, that the United States, as a sovereign nation, continues to reserve the right to pass laws which it feels may serve the interests of the American people.

Now for the German readers of this blogpost, that is about as strong a reply as can possibly be made by an American. He did it quietly, with a sober, serious expression, his body language signaling modesty, almost meekness. His eyes, however, focused and steeled. A few words. He then sat down. The German parliamentarian had sensed the catastrophe, but, I suspect, had no clue about the cultural differences between Americans and Germans. When, where, with whom and how controversial issues should be addressed.

Now, for those Americans among us who are now gloating about how Germans don‘t really understand Americans, America, American business culture: Stop. Don‘t. Get small, get humble. And fast. For every misinterpretation, misunderstanding, misreading the Germans have of us, we have at least one, if not two, of the same of the Germans. John Magee included.

A dilemma. Yes, learning a foreign language is critical to understanding another part of the world. As a country with great influence, and great responsibilities, we need to understand other cultures, what, how they think, therefore react, to us, to events around the world.

Now, it‘s not as if we Americans don‘t know anything about other cultures. That‘s a cliché, a cheap one. First, we have just about every culture represented within the U.S. We‘re an immigrant nation. And our 235 year experiment is still working, still ongoing and we‘ll continue to make it work. Secondly, when we address the complexity of other cultures, we do it via three groups: home-grown regional experts; foreign-born experts who have come to America and are contributing to the experiment that is America; experts native to those foreign lands where we are active.

Secondly, mastering a foreign language is no guarantee that one is truly listening to that other culture, authentically interested in its point of view. There are untold non-Americans who have learned English in school and at university who do not understand us Americans, our country, our society, what and how we think. They simply have learned English as a foreign language. I think of Germans. Twenty-two years I have lived, studied and worked here. Do Germans really understand America and Americans? Some. But not nearly as many as the Germans think.

Nonetheless, we Americans need to put more effort into learning foreign languages. Language is the key to understanding a foreign viewpoint, a foreign approach. Why should we care? First, out of economic self-interest. We‘re imbedded in a global economy. How can you solve someone‘s problems, sell them a valuable product or service, if you don‘t understand them, if you don‘t understand how they see their problem? How can you compete against another company, against another culture‘s economy, if you don‘t know how they think, how they work, why their products and services are they way they are? It‘s like preparing for a basketball game against an opponent you have never seen before, who might play a brand of basketball different than your own. You‘re going into the game blind. And if that opponent has taken the time to observe, analyze, understand your style of ball, you‘re at a disadvantage. A big one.

The second reason why we should care is national security. Are we being attacked from all sides? No. Do most cultures and peoples want to get along with us? Most certainly. Should we be defensive and continually play the scare-card „national security“? Not if we want to maintain our liberty at home and peaceful relations with our neighbors and friends. At the same time, there is no shortage of conflict in the world. And although I would be for reducing dramatically our military presence in foreign lands, reducing the size of our economy and national focus on building weapons and employing (literally) armies of people on the government payroll, there is conflict in the world, and we want to be involved in resolving it. But again, you can‘t resolve what you don‘t understand.

Imagine our influence in the world if we cut out a handful of weapons systems and invested those tax dollars into developing Americans with regional expertise? Deep, penetrating, insightful, pragmatic expertise on China, India, the Arab world, Persia (Iran), Africa, Germany, South Korea, Japan. Pick a region. Imagine scores of Americans from all walks of American life who can walk the streets of any city, any town, any village in any country on any continent and understand those people, in their language. Listening, understanding, conversing, debating, persuading, being persuaded, collaborating and cooperating. I‘m not talking one-world government, touchy-feely, „You‘re ok, I‘m ok“, therapeutic, multi-cultural sentamentalism, folks. I mean just good, solid, pragmatic thinking about our future as Americans. Listening to another culture, getting into their heads, is not a sign of weakness. Since when is provincialism a strength?

You‘re probably asking yourself: „Wait a minute, John. Ok. We need to learn foreign languages. We need to develop regional expertise. But, what language? What region?“ And it‘s true that the outside world has it easier. English is the language of business, politics, academics since 1945. The first foreign language most folks learn is English. They learn English, they have the ability to get into our culture, our history, our heads. They get access into the gym during our practice sessions. So, does an American choose Chinese, Japanese, German, Spanish, Arabic, Hindi? What if a young American opts for Japanese then finds they really don‘t like the Japanese? Or the Arabic-speaking peoples? Or the Germans? If you‘re from one of those countries or regions and you learn English, well, you don‘t have to like Americans, your English as a Foreign Language skills allow you to communicate with all of the other cultures. The risk is much lower.

So, what do we Americans do? Which language? Pick one! You don‘t have to love the other people. You don‘t even have to like them. At a minimum you will have understood the complexities of nation-to-nation, culture-to-culture relations. You will have learned to think, act, work internationally. You‘ll know what questions to ask, how to draw on needed expertise. Perhaps the greatest value is you will learn to reflect on what it is to be an American. Through the contrast with another culture, you‘ll understand yourself, ourselves better. You can‘t improve what you don‘t understand. I have an uncle who once said „Only animals are damned to speak only one language.“

This needs to be a national effort, a national priority. We Americans need to get out of our skins, literally to get out of America, for a time, for some time, to sink into other cultures. It sounds silly. Americans choosing babysitters who speak a foreign language with their toddlers. It‘s not. Far from it. I recall my father in the early 1970s returning home from business trips abroad. Canada (not very abroad), Germany, Venezuela. At the dinner table he would say our names in German, French, Spanish. He wasn‘t fluent in any of those languages, had had some German in college. He turned to me, an twelve year-old. John. Johann. Jean. Juan. He showed us coins from those countries. The Canadian beaver, the maple leaf. The German Deutschmark. A bit exotic for a typical suburban Philadelphia family of six. Roman Catholics of German and Irish descent.

Early 1970s. We were in Vietnam then. Imagine how that war would have gone had we known that the North Vietnamese under the leadership of Ho Chi Minh were first and foremostly Vietnamese nationalists, and communists only secondly (if that). Think about it. After 1975 the dominoes never fell. Where were the weapons of mass destruction a few years back? What do we actually know about Afghanistan? What do we know about Iran? What do these people know about us? How are we helping them understand us? How can we help them understand us, if we don‘t know how to talk with them, in their categories of thinking? Imagine if we were to merge their basketball team with ours? We‘d have to spend time in their gym, they in ours. Watching, observing. Then playing a bit together. Certainly beats guns, tanks, ships, weapons of mass destruction, a huge national security apparatus, and the bodies of our youth.

Baby-sitters. It‘s a start. Once we Americans recognize a weakness, something which we can improve, we get to work. So, let‘s get to work!

But, it also has to do with the fact that Germans are rather nosy people. MerriamWebster defines nosy/nosey as: of prying or inquisitive disposition or quality. It lists as a synonym: intrusive. Germans are particularly nosy about other Germans. The best-selling publication in Germany is the Bild Zeitung, which is more or less what the Germans call Klatsch und Tratsch. Gossip and Chatter. Germans are less wary of Canadians, Indonesians, Portugese or Ghanians leering at images of their town square as they are of the nosy neighbor down the street peeking into their windows.

But wait. Germany is an export economy. In fact, much of their self-understanding, identity, pride as a people, since 1945 is based on their ability to make products which sell abroad. Count the number of German products expressly marketed with the mantra „Made in Germany.“ And exporting successfuly means knowing the countries and peoples to whom you are exporting. Germans spend as much time on Google as any other of the most advanced economies. So we have a contradiction here. As Thomas de Maizière, Germany‘s Minister of Interior, said in a Handelsblatt-interview: „Yes, this is a question of privacy and the Internet. But not when it comes to areas which are clearly public, such as streets and building facades.“

Let‘s keep in mind, also, that it is August. And that means for the German media Sommerloch (literally: summer hole). Not much happening. Folks are on vacation. But, the beast needs to be fed. So, let‘s get the public all riled up about photos taken of their streets, mailboxes and the flower pots stuffed with colorful geraniums. And if you haven‘t noticed, over recent years the media (but not only they) have taken to being rather shrill, loud, panic-inducing.

Why should you care as an American working with Germans cross-Atlantically? For one, this has to do with information sharing. A critical and complex topic in any organization, but especially those operating across borders. What info to share, with which colleagues, when and in what form? And why? If you‘re American you may have noticed how quick you are to share information. In fact, hoarding or being political with information invites rapid punishment from your superior. American organizations – our society, for that matter – cannot function without a very high level of information flow. It‘s a part of our lifeblood. Not so in Germany, where Herrschaftswissen is the high art form of using information for personal tactical advantage. For Americans, key is not so much possessing information, as it is acting on it. In Germany, possessing to the exclusion of others is in and of itself of value. You can score points. Especially when others make mistakes based on inaccurate or inadequate information.

Secondly, you have in German companies the Works Council, a kind of white-collar union, not so much for management, but for all of those employees with desk jobs. Among other things, the Works Council maintains a thick firewall between the company (read: public) and the employee (read: private) spheres. Years ago Wal-Mart headquarters rolled out a directive worldwide, in reaction to misbehavior of an American senior-level manager and an American female employee of lower rank. Aufruhr at Wal-Mart Germany. The Works Council rejected it out of hand. It put a huge dent in Wal-Mart‘s image in Germany. This and other avoidable cultural missteps led to Wal-Mart losing loads of money, closing up shop, damaging its reputation. Analysts began to ask if the Wal-Mart model can be exported to other countries? Suggesting that its growth is limited to continental U.S.

Google Street view in Germany. Aufruhr. The Germans have a choice. Information can’t be a one-way street.

First. Maintaining team-cohesion. McChrystal was a member of a team, including Secretary of Defense Gates, Secretary of State Clinton, National Security Advisor Jones, Ambassador Eikenberry, and Special Envoy Holbrooke, and more than a handful of next-level experts.

Second. The relationship between civililan-run government and the military. The United States is a republic. A democracy. Those holding the weapons are clearly and distinctly under the strict command of the people. We Americans respond immediately to the slightest hint questioning that bottom-line premise. We fought against tyranny. We don‘t want its return.

Thirdly. The relationship between a general and a commander-in-chief. That is a working relationship. Its basis is trust. When trust is breached, the relationship is broken.

Let‘s not debate the issues here. More relevant for Germans and Americans in their daily cooperation is that very issue, the nature of trust between team-lead and team-member. I think of the German term kritische Loyalität, literally translated critical loyalty.

I have discussed this term often with Germans. How to walk that fine line between voicing legitimate concern and criticism about the team-lead‘s strategy and questioning that team-lead‘s authority?

Surely it will depend on timing, forum and language. When critique is voiced. In what forum. The words chosen. It seems that questions two and three were not handled well.

How do Germans and Americans define kritische Loyalität ? If it is important that team members voice their concerns, provide expert input, when is it constructive, helpful, acceptable? When does it threaten the legitimacy of the team‘s leader, thus the cohesion of the entire team?

What are your thoughts? Have you experienced this in the cross-Atlantic context? How did it play out?

A woman, late twenties, possibly a graduate student, sitting across from me is reading a rather thick book. Enjoying it. She smiles time and again. Not far off an elderly woman with headsets on is listening to Beethoven. She hums. She‘s left alone. I can‘t see her, but the hum is not youthful, but joyful.

A guy walks over, early thirties, knows exactly which book to pull from the shelf. He begins leafing through it, then glances at the cover of the book read by the woman across from me. He starts a conversation about JK Rowling and her Harry Potter series. His selection, her book too, must be of that genre. They begin debating about authors. Who‘s better. Who steals material from whom.

I listen and think. German. So many years I‘ve been here. Twenty-one. So many times I‘ve observed, been in such interactions. Commonplace. So easy to forget that it is foreign to me. Foreign to Americans. Different.

Direct. Argumentative. Bordering on rude. Know-it-alls. The interaction lasted no longer than five minutes. It was impersonal. No introductions. No smiles. Statements. Differences of opinion. Each holds their ground. Argument. Counter argument. Not unfriendly. Not attacking. Neutral. He walked away. She looked at me for a split second. Neither irritated, nor insulted. As if: “Oh, well. He sees it his way. I see it my way. No big deal.”

What would that kind of interaction look like between two Americans, in a university town, in America?

The guy: „Oh, hi, excuse me. You‘re reading Jack Jones. I haven‘t read his stuff. Is he good?“ The woman looks up, smiles a bit. „Yeah, I really like him. A lot like Rowling but a little more history to it.“ The guy returns the smile. Nods. „JK is great. But, sometimes I get the feeling that maybe she gathers material from other authors.“

Woman: „Do you think? What authors?“ Guy: „Well, perhaps Smith. Maybe Richards.“ The woman: „Could be. Not sure. Smith is good. I haven‘t read Richards yet. Don‘t they all read each other and get inspired?“ The guy: „Hmm, I suppose you‘re right about that. But, my sense is that Richards might be a bit more original. By the way, I‘m Tom.“ He offers his hand. She hers, smiles warmly. „I‘m Rita. You sound like you‘ve read quite a bit in this genre.“ Tom: „Love this stuff. Ever since I was a kid. And you?“ Rita: „Me, too.“

The conversation could have stopped at that point, could have continued, perhaps led to a cup of coffee together in the café across the street. Many possibilities.

Let‘s change the scenario once more. Rita is sitting across from me. A Fulbright Scholar in Bonn, for a year, studying German literature. Working on her Ph.D. Her German is excellent. She‘s been to Germany many times, but never for longer than three months.

The German guy sees that Rita is reading Jack Jones in English. Based on that and on her clothing, he thinks that she might be American. His English is good, has travelled extensively throughout the U.S., feels in many ways close to America and to Americans.

„You are reading Jack Jones. I read his first two books. He steals from Smith and Richards. But, they‘re all better than Rowling. She‘s over-rated.“ Rita is taken aback, thinks to herself: „Who is this guy? Doesn‘t even know me. Strikes up a conversation and gives an unsolicited opinion?“

She smiles half-sincerely. „Uh, excuse me? Oh, the book I am reading? Uh, well I happen to like Jones.“ The guy: „He‘s not bad. But not very demanding of the reader. Kind of simple his story lines.“ Rita is thrown further off balance and thinks „Oh, ok. I‘m stupid for reading Jones. Is that the message? I wish this person would disappear.“ Her smile disappears in an instant, she closes the book, looks him in the eye, says in a quiet, cool way: „Well, you seem to really know your stuff. Are you a professor of English literature here at the university?“

The German misreads that as a compliment. „No, no. I work in city hall here, public finance, just an avid reader of anything which combines history and science fiction.“ Excited to have met someone to engage with him on the topic, and an American!, he plants himself down in the chair next to her, intending to deepen the discussion.

Rita‘s mind races. She goes through the permutations. Glance at her watch as if she had an appointment, then head for the door. Humor him for a few minutes, then head for the door. Give him a piece of her mind first, then head for the door. Or, head for the door. But, then again. He‘s not bad looking. Well dressed. Sincere eyes. Intelligent. Maybe just a bit clumsy socially.

Question to my readers: How could this scenario play out? And what’s going on interculturally?

Things have changed since then. My twelve year old son skypes with his grandmother. Today. May 24, 2010. To skype. A verb. International travel. Internet. Email. Blogging. Web 2.0. Instantaneous. Just about from anywhere, to anyone, at any time. The world has become smaller. They say. I don‘t. Trügerisch. Deceptive. Seeing a face. Hearing a voice. Reading the words. Proximity. Merriam Webster. From Middle French proximité. From Latin proximus. The quality or state of being proximate, closeness. Human proximity is understanding. Not technology.

My roomate is Jordanian. Palestinian. Spoke little English, less German. I spoke/speak zero Arabic. Nice guy. Quiet. I can‘t say more. Nor can he. The mornings fresh, cool, but sunny. The halfmile walk to the Institute envigorating. The wetness of the lawns and fields. The animated voices of the children up bright and early off to school. Then our books, pencil, eraser. Grammar, a bit of conversation, a motivated instructor. The excitement of learning. New, unknown.

German. Grundstufe III. Basic Level 3. Not terribly advanced. My son, in the sixth grade. Second year of Latin. Already at a higher level in Latin than my German back then at age twenty-two. Europeans, and not only, know more English by the ninth grade than most American university graduates know a foreign language. Germans. Americans. Integration of approaches. The influence of culture on business. The world has become larger, not smaller. More complex, not simpler. Despite, or due to, proximity.

]]> http://www.magee.de/2010/05/blog/03-culture-influences-business-proximity/feed/ 0 http://www.magee.de/2010/05/blog/03-culture-influences-business-proximity/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/mageede/~3/XOw_XYZUFb0/ http://www.magee.de/2010/05/blog/02-go-to-germany/#comments Mon, 17 May 2010 08:43:05 +0000 admin http://www.magee.de/?p=1702 May 1981. Graduation week at Georgetown. Friends heading off to medical school, law school, banks in New York. Others seemed to have some kind of a plan. I had done little thinking about it. Then my mother: „Go to Germany!“ Why not? I had studied History, mostly European. A two-semester survey course on German History my senior year had captured my imagination. German was my foreign language. The summer months were spent working as a roofer. It put cash in my pocket, was healthy physical work. Late September I board a plane from JFK to Frankfurt. A very young twenty-two year old. Adventuresome, more than a bit nervous.

Das Goethe Institut. Named after Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), Germany‘s brilliant Enlightenment-era writer, philosopher, scientist. The institute West Germany‘s premier language and cultural institution. A ten-week intensive language course. There were several locations to apply to. Munich, Berlin, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Freiburg. But also in smaller, quaint towns. Off to Blaubeuren, ten miles west of Ulm, about an hour car drive southeast from Stuttgart, nestled in the Swabian hills.

A town of ten thousand residents, Blaubeuren was established in 1085 by Benedictine monks who had begun construction of a cloister. Not far from the cloister is the Blautopf, blau blue + topf pot, a spring which feeds the river Blau. Due to its water pressure the spring is funnel shaped, at its deepest point seventy feet. The blueish color is a result of its limestone chemical properties. In the Middle Ages legend had it that each day someone would pour a vat of ink into the water.

The Swabians also had a tongue-twister associated with the Blautopf: Glei bei Blaubeira leit a Kletzle Blei . . . ´s leit a Kletzle Blei glei bei Blaubeira. Near Blaubeuren, there lies a block of lead. There lies a block of lead near Blaubeuren. Reminds me of my father who would test us. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Or. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck. Or. Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.

Frankfurt airport. Have my bags, including bicycle. Need to hit the bathroom, and ask: Wo ist das Badezimmer? Where is the bathroom. My first interaction with Germany and Germans, in my rather underdeveloped German. A bathroom in Germany is where you take a Bad, a bath, or in most cases, a shower. The woman smiled. „Sie meinen die Toilette.“ You mean the toilet. Frankfurt. Americans in and out on a constant basis for almost four decades. I wasn‘t the first, or last, to ask for a bath. „Uh, yes, a toilet.“ We Americans tend to be rather discreet when it comes to personal hygiene.

A regional train gets me to Ulm around noon. Since registration at the institute is the next day I sightsee a bit. First check into a Gaststätte. Not a hotel. Family run. Cozy, personal, a local restaurant on first (ground) floor. Tired from the almost sleepless flight, but very excited, I walk the streets of the Altstadt, alt old + stadt town. Climb the stairs up to the top of the Dom cathedral, Europe‘s highest. Take in sights and sounds at the Market Square, the narrow streets, the shops.

Back to the Gaststätte for dinner. A booth to myself. The menu is in German. What else? My second round of interactions with Germans. Gulaschsuppe, Salat and a very tall beer. Weizenbier. Strong, but sweet. I drink two, maybe three. My head is woozy, but manage to chat a bit with the locals. Not sure if I understood anything or if they understood me, but the exhiliration was enorm, enormous. I had studied their history, was curious about who they were, knew that they were different. This wasn‘t a book anymore. Finally, head hits the pillow. A long day. Conquered. Had my stuff. A couple of good meals. Saw, heard, learned.

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Me. Catholic elementary, then public high school. Average student. Played football, basketball. Summers at the country club. Swimming, golf and tennis. Not wealthy, but certainly comfortable. Freshman year at a small college. I take to learning. An opportunity is offered to me. Georgetown University. Trial semester. I do well. Enroll. Study History.

But, this isn‘t about me. It‘s about two things. First. Our background. How we were raised. Our religious beliefs. The experiences and institutions which have formed us. School, sports, friends, groups, jobs. The choices we have made, the choices made for us. All have shaped who we are. Shaped, but not defined, forever, frozen. We continue to make choices. Are active participants in who we continue to become. But for now, who we are, is based on those many situations, relationships, ideas and actions. Aware of these, reflecting on them, we can understand how we think, therefore act. Our logic, approach, methods, operating assumptions.

And knowing others is understanding.  How they think and act. This is why we are curious. About neighbors, colleagues, folks we interact with. Privately, publicly. Their background helps us understand „where they are coming from.“ Background. The ground they stood on, they operated on. Back. Going back. What is behind us. Not belonging to the past. But our personal history. Back is front and center.

If you are an American getting to know another American. In the neighborhood. At your place of worship. The parent of another student. A work colleague. A business partner. You want to know their background. Perhaps for tactical reasons. To „size them up.“ Or for non-tactical reasons. In order to get along, to cooperate, to solve problems. Or simply to become friends. Same situation on the German side of the Atlantic. Actually, in every culture. To understand another person is to know, or at least become a bit familiar with, their story.

If you are an American hearing the story of another American, chances are you are familiar with that story or that kind of story. At least with parts of it. Might be very close to your own story. If so, you only need a few details and you find yourself in that story. If it is a bit different you ask for more background information. You get to know. The German verb, tellingly, is kennenlernen, from kennen to know + lernen to learn. Literally to learn to know. Not capture. Not define. A process of getting to know. Become familiar. From family. Latin familia meaning household. Where we grew up.

But, here‘s the catch. Second point. What if the other person is not from the same culture, not from your culture? Sure, you‘re both human beings. Yet, take the few bits of information about my background from above. A story you might know quite well, assuming you are: American. White. Male. Between 45-55 years of age. Catholic. Played team sports. Grew up in the suburbs of a city. On the East Coast. Formative years the 1970s and 80s. Attended a liberal arts university.

Even if you are an American with a different story, for example: African American. Female. Between 35-45. Methodist. Played classical piano. Grew up in a Midwestern city. Small family. Studied business at a state university. Chances are we would understand each other, or at least be in a position to learn to understand each other. It might take a little time. But we have enough in common, to make a go of it.

But, wait! What if the other person is German? Male. Born 1965. Raised in Bonn with two siblings. Protestant. Father is an economics professor at the university. Mother first housewife, then practicing attorney. Both were Flüchtlinge (displaced persons) after the war. Raised in the Eifel in the 1940s and 50s. Attended college in Cologne. Raised their own family in the Südstadt section of Bonn. The son played soccer, was a Pfadfinder (boyscout). Got his Abitur at the Beethoven Gymnasium in town. Prüfungsfächer (testing subjects) Physics and Latin. Attended University of Braunschweig. Studied Engineering. Mechanical. His doctoral dissertation linked to a research project at nearby Wolfsburg. Volkswagen. Then gets a job offer. Climbs the organizational ladder.

We could go on. You get the idea. The stories. Mine, his. Yours, his. Are quite different, the key biographical data points difficult to intepret. The associations, the common background, are missing. The kennenlernen process takes longer. Requires more attention, interaction, explaining. Putting yourself in the other‘s shoes. Suspending our own background in order to enter into the other.

Background is culture. Culture influences business.

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