书城外语追踪中国-这里我是老卫
48001500000080

第80章 LaoWei does not only play football (10)

When passing review of my now more than five years in China I may tell that in the first two years, we were almost exclusively dealing with emergency rescue operations, often having to extinguish several fires at once (figurative “fires”, that is, when the situation at some customer had become really “hot”). In the third year we began to actively pursue marketing and could become more aggressive, in the last two years we have been increasingly successful in dealing with our closest competitor. We are recognised, known and respected as a stable, innovative, competent and scientifically leading supplier.

From business in China and other parts of Asia I have learnt a lot, not only how to perfectly eat with chopsticks (which I had previously known) or the more relaxed handling of appointments. I am no longer irritated by not knowing on Friday afternoon which appointments will take place next week, experience having shown that all too soon the daily schedule fills in itself, even during the weekend.

Most difficult to understand in my opinion (and I must confess: I have not understood it even now, over and over again I bounce into dead ends or against walls) is the way Chinese people will discuss and approach problems (these Chinese whom I met, that is, certainly not all Chinese). And I would like to preface that often I encounter similar problems with Germans, other Europeans and especially US-Americans, but particularly emphatically with the Chinese people (with Japanese it is again different, but discussing this will not come in here now).

Part of my problem is probably that I am pursuing a scientific way of thinking and an approach that is based on Western thinking and German university education in chemistry, at least I think this is so. In simple terms: I would like to solve a problem or to answer a question by drafting a number of alternate hypotheses, confirming or refuting them by appropriate experiments or analysis, or discussing and designing them with others. Simplified again, my hypotheses are usually structured like this:

“Either A or B or C, or A in combination with either B or C” – where A, B and C are different from each other. In this abstract example, at least B and C are so different that they cannot occur together while A can occur or “apply” with both either B or C.

The first problem which I barge into is a worldwide feature: Unless they have enjoyed a scientific education like myself, my discussion partners, whether German, European, American, Japanese or Chinese, will not understand how I may claim so many different things: “Either there’s A or B or C, why do you complicate that much? It’s quite obvious, and we see that clearly: It’s B and nothing else!” They do not understand that these are games of mind, hypotheses helping us to execute the proper tests without getting entangled in a thicket of observations, facts and opinions. Many people conclude from mere appearances (often mislead, alas) on what might happen on the nanoscopic or even the molecular level. And what they have concluded on before we made any real analysis is, unfortunately, for them often enough already equal to the final official results, and it will be hard to detract them (if at all) from that course by hard-hitting facts of analysis and by experiments. So far this is no more difficult in China than anywhere else in the world.

In China, however, matters are complicated by the notorious 阴 and阳, yīn and yáng, representing opposing principles (concisely translated as: “dark, cloudy, threatening” and “sunny, bright”). They are interconnected, interdependent and mutually conditioning each other. This principle is very deeply rooted in Chinese philosophy and probably, at least unconsciously, in any reasonably educated Chinese: opposites are not mutually exclusive, but interdependent. They are part of a greater whole, just as we indeed believe that there can be no magnetic north without magnetic south (even if latest fundamental research in physics seems to indicate that at the most profound level of temperature isolated magnetic monopoles may appear, but we will pass over this for simplicity’s sake). Without the interaction of yin and yang, there can be no development.

Thus, the female is considered Yin, the male as Yang, and we all know that nothing would go on without the two combined. “The average Chinese person” (if I may say so) will try consciously or subconsciously to interpret any kind of phenomena as effects of the contrast between two alternatives AND THEIR COHABITATION (!).

I cannot and will not discuss this in detail, I am not a philosopher, but a chemist and observer (and photographer), but we must consider this at least superficially, if we are to understand at least to some extent the Chinese way of thinking and discussing. When we say as in the above abstract example, “B is different from C, both cannot occur together, especially not in context with A”, then the majority of Chinese people will not understand at all what I’m talking about, for Yin and Yang occur jointly all the time, though not being the same thing, yet depend on each other!?

In several discussions with Chinese people who are aware of these principles, the following example has emerged to describe the differing typical patterns of thinking: We Westerners believe either the chicken or the egg must have come first – What came first? chicken or egg, this is our clearly manifest question; but the Chinese will wonder that maybe both have somehow been at the same time, maybe not necessarily as separated from each other.

What we perceive as either black or white may for a Chinese be absolutely, without inner conflicts of conscience, be both white and black or, for the sake of convenience, grey. And already we are into the principle of harmony which permeates everything somehow.

In a technical discussions we may hardly claim that “both 30 °C and 70° C or, as a compromise, 50 °C are all right” should pose a valid solution to a problem. And my Chinese counterparts are ready very fast to accurately ask: “What else then, 67 °C or 70 °C?”. Thus, the imaginary worlds are sometimes very difficult to bring into agreement with each other.