The husband of one of my cousin‘s was in Germany for business. His name is Bert. We hadn’t seen each other in several years. He is a good guy, intelligent, open, hard working, and a good husband and father. 

Bert had meetings in Düsseldorf and he asked me to come up on the train and meet him for dinner. I take the train up from Bonn. It is a quick, comfortable, efficient ride. From the central train station in Düsseldorf it was only twenty minutes with the Strassenbahn, the tram. It was enjoyable winding through the tree-lined streets.

I enter the restaurant, turn left, go up a few steps and see Bert at a table with two men. They are his German business partners, or at least partners in this particular investment project Bert is working on. I sit down, we order food and talk. Bert does most of the talking. 

The two German guys aren’t terribly talkative. After about ten minutes I realize that they’d prefer to be somewhere else. At home with their families. At the gym getting a workout. Or even at their desk working. They made a very professional and focused impression.

Bert doesn’t really notice that they might rather be somewhere else. They’re polite, nodding to what Bert says, asking a question or two. They discreetly glance at their watches. I feel bad for Bert. He isn’t aware. I also become angry at the Germans for not putting a little more effort into the conversation.

Americans like to do business with people they like and who like them. They do not distinguish as clearly as Germans do between business and personal. Getting to know each other on a personal level is important. What could be better than enjoying a dinner together?

Arrogant Germans, I thought. They were being mean to my cousin, who was unknowing and perhaps a bit naive. My anger didn’t last long, though. From their perspective, perhaps it was selfish of Bert to invite them to dinner. 

They were supporting him with their legal expertise, thus not in a position to say no to dinner. Maybe they had a sick child at home or an important report to prepare for the next day. They most likely were good guys, also. Intelligent, open, hard working, good husbands and fathers.

Words. We use them to communicate. They are all that we have. When working across cultures we use English. American English. British English. And so on. But also the English spoken by non-native English speakers. In fact, that English is spoken by more people than those who speak native English.

1998. Federal elections in Germany. Chancellor Kohl recommended to a young Member of the Bundestag in his party to invite Father Kelly (name changed) to Bonn in order to talk about educational reform in the American university system.

Chancellor Kohl and Father Kelly had become acquaintances. Kelly, President of a major American and Catholic university located in Washington D.C., had done his Ph.D. in Theology in Germany. He was fluent in German. The Chancellor, also a Catholic, was very well-versed in both church history and theology. He was also quite well-connected with Rome.

University reform had become an important issue in German domestic politics. Federal elections were just around the corner. Father Kelly’s office gets a phone call. “Would the university president be willing to participate in a hearing in the Bundestag?”

The Bundestag is the German Parliament. And Parliament is analogous to Congress. Father Kelly’s chief of staff made the connection: a hearing in the Bundestag is like a hearing in the House or in the Senate. The Chancellor is inviting via the parliamentary group? “Yes, certainly. Father Kelly would be honored.”

Documents are sent back and forth per email. In English. It all seems to match up, but with a few question marks. A week before his scheduled flight to Bonn, it begins to occur to Father Kelly that the “hearing” he has been invited to as a very high-level subject area expert does not quite sound like one he would participate in across town in a Senate office building.

Words aren’t words

A phone call is made from Father Kelly’s office to the Bundestag seeking clarification without success. Father Kelly makes the flight from Washington to Bonn. The “hearing” in the Bundestag turns out to be a half-day meeting with a handful of young members of the Chancellor’s party who are focused on the issue and seeking expert input from across the Atlantic.

The “hearing” did not take place in the Bundestag. There was no large committee room. No panel of Bundestag Members from the various parties asking Father Kelly well-researched questions about how American universities approach the educational challenges of the future.

Nor did Kohl’s party schedule any other meetings for Father Kelly, neither with the press, nor with the presidents of nearby universities such as Bonn and Cologne, nor with German Secretary of Education or at least with his Undersecretary. Nothing.

Father Kelly flew from Washington to Bonn to speak with very junior members of the Bundestag for no more than half a day, then flew back to Washington. A terrible waste of time, and money, for Father Kelly and the university he is the president of.

Hearing isn’t hearing. Words aren’t words.

What would be the effects in the U.S. if over a three month period of time – a business quarter – all follow up was reduced by 50%? Ask any American colleagues, suppliers or customers you might have.

For some it would be a relief. Agreements would be entered into more carefully. The details would be discussed and settled more specifically. Individuals and organizations would find better, less intrusive, ways to remind themselves of their obligations. Especially those people who rely heavily on follow up – the worrisome ones – would develop better nerves.

For others it would be unimaginable. Why? Because they are among the worrisome, nervous, neurotic? Or because the very nature of their work involves many factors which can influence or alter an agreement at any time, factors which they can neither anticipate, predict nor manage?

The frequency, form, tone of follow up is much dependent on the very nature of the work. To understand this we need only to pose the What if question to a military commander in the field of battle, to the staff of a hospital‘s emergency room, to a trader on the floor of a stock exchange, to the head chef in a four-star restaurant, to the parent of young children on any given day of the week.

Maybe a 25% reduction would be more realistic.

Management training. In Germany’s. Thirty or so Germans in the room. We discuss the topic of agreements. They ask: “But Herr Magee, how do we know when an American ‘yes’ is a commitment?” My response: “Ask the famous w-questions: what, when, why, who, and of course, the how. The more specific the responses are, the higher the level of commitment.”

“Stop by next time you’re in town” is not an invitation, but a polite way of saying “It was nice meeting you. It would be nice if we ran into each other again.” Closer to a commitment would be: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address and work phone number.” 

Even more committed would be: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address, work and cell phone number.” And the next level of commitment sounds like this: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my email address, work and cell phone number. When will you be coming through? Any chance you’ll be in the area in June?” And so on.

The more explicit (detailed) the information, the greater the commitment: “Stop by next time you’re in town. Here is my address and home phone number. When will you be coming through? Any chance you’ll be in the area in June? If so, how about the weekend of June 12-13? We’re having a summer party at our place. We’d love to have you come by.”

“No!” So direct, hard, determined.

Aha! The German training participants get it. Many of them have been disappointed before. They thought Americans had broken commitments. Now they understand. Not Americans breaking their words. Not Americans as superficial. But, Americans who signal different levels of commitment. 

Now they’re not as difficult to read. Simply ask questions which gain definition: “Sure. Love to come by and talk again. When were you thinking? I’ll be back in town at the end of next month. Should we check our calendars now or do you want to get back to me?”

Valuable. I helped them understand. But, what about me. An American, often unsure about how to react to the German no. It can come so fast, so hard, so definitive. It throws us off balance. Leaves a bad taste in our mouth. Sometimes we wish we had never asked. 

A hand goes up. A big smile. He stands up. Six foot eight inches tall. Lean, fit, friendly. “Oh, that’s easy, Herr Magee. Just as we need to ask Americans the w-questions, Americans need to ask us Germans similar questions.” My eyes get big. Of course!

He continues. “See the German ‘no’ as a first response, but not firm. Identify its component parts, the reasons, for the ‘no’, then counter them one at a time. Give your counterpart good, logical reasons why his reluctance is unfounded.” All in the group nod as if so obvious, so self-stated.

Very valuable. He, they, helped me. It had never occurred to me. How blind I was.

When it comes to minor decisions Germans rely on estimation. With major decisions they do in-depth research, gathering much information, analyzing it carefully. Like a detective who seeks out all possible pros and cons, especially indications of risk. To ferret out: search and discover through persistent investigation.

Anecdote: Independent of the topic or the purpose for the conversation, I have often had the impression that Germans are happy to let me talk at length, rarely interrupting. Perhaps while I am open and talkative. Perhaps because German politeness forbids interruption.

But, what if they simply want to get as much information out of me as possible without sharing any of theirs? Is it a game, a kind of sport? The German word preisgeben – Preis is price, award, prize. Geben to give – in other words divulge, reveal, surrender.

Anecdote: Interest unclear. Another train ride. Another major German company. This time just south of Frankfurt. I meet with a guy high up in corporate communications. He does not have much international experience. I’m not sure if he’ll understand what I am talking about, but he says that he is interested. We meet in the executive restaurant. Impressive. Excellent food. Excellent service.

We talk at length. His questions are short, my responses long, too long. His body language, especially his facial expressions, reveal little to nothing. Question after question, then my responses, but little indication whether he sees a need in the company.

Weeks go by. No response. I follow up. We meet again. The second lunch is like the first, but with more depth. Again, no concrete interest signaled. I don‘t request a third meeting. Perhaps a mistake on my part.

Figures of speech: Wer suchet, der findet. He who seeks will find. Wer es nicht im Kopf hat, hat es in den Beinen. Literally, those who don’t have it in their head, have it in their legs, meaning they will search until they find it.

Once Germans have made a commitment they begin immediately doing their part. And because they work independently, including little communication with the other parties to the agreement, it is essential that they have as much information upfront as possible.

Anecdote: Friendly interrogation. I take the train to Bavaria. A meeting with one of Germany’s largest multinational companies. Thusfar they are satisfied with my work. A new contact, high-level engineer, perhaps a new client.

We meet in his office, sit at a round table, drink tea. We talk. His questions are direct, precise, bordering on penetrating. The tone, however, is friendly, probing. Before I realize it an hour has gone by. 

The questions keep coming, one after the other. About my background, methodology, how I execute seminars and specialized workshops. Then about my content, my research approach. What? How? Why?

Question after question, almost like an interrogation. He wants to understand. I become a bit fatigued, but remain fully focused, maintain eye contact, respond as precisely as my German language skills will allow. The meeting is tiring, he keeps me on my toes. At the same time the atmosphere is friendly, respectful, at a high level.

The German manager is above average in height, slender, his eyes sensitive, curious, listening. Not distrustful, skeptical but careful. In the weeks thereafter we would meet several times more. Each talk of lesser intensity. Then the decision. Positive. I went on to serve him and his organization for several years without interruption. Front loading.

We returned last week, August 2013 (this an old anecdote), from the United States. My son, Daniel (15), and I had done our annual Father-Son USA trip. We stay at my mother‘s home in suburban Philadelphia and traveled throughout the region visiting relatives, taking trips to New York City, the Jersey Shore, to Washington DC, and on to Virginia.

It is a special time for us each year. And it involves a lot of travel: airports, train stations, car driving, subways and buses. And it involves a lot of activities: visiting relatives and friends, sight-seeing, museums, eating at restaurants, and many other things folks do during their vacation.

What I notice time and again, however, is how different Germans and Americans are in public. Germans are very quiet in public spaces. Whether in a bus, a streetcar, a subway, long-distance train, or in an airplane, they are reserved.

When they do converse with each other it is done in most cases discreetly and quietly. It is true that German train stations can be loud due to constant public announcements of arriving and departing trains. But the passengers themselves are discreet, both on the platform waiting for their connection, and especially in the train.

Whenever I travel by public transportation in Germany with my son, whose mother is German and who we have raised in Germany, he gets impatient with me when I talk to him at what I consider to be a normal and acceptable volume level.

The greatest contrast for me is when I fly from Philadelphia to Frankfurt. American airports are loud. There seems to be a television hanging from the ceiling ever twenty-five feet with either CNN, Fox or some other channel blaring away. And because network television in the U.S. is fighting so hard to hold viewers (from going to the Internet), they have become rather shrill, almost screaming, as if everything they have to say is breaking news of the utmost importance for the future of humankind.

If the television noise isn’t enough, you have stores, bars, and restaurants located between the gates. American airports have become shopping malls. This is nice. Who would want to go back to the old days when airports were like bus terminals? Impersonal, bland, boring. But notice the noise level at airports in the U.S.

Americans are simply extroverted compared to Germans, at least in public spaces. We Americans are friendly, outgoing. We like to talk, be active, be social. It’s just the way we are. And why not? It’s fun. Of course, if we’re honest with each other, many Americans simply do not know how to behave in public.

But I like the Frankfurt Airport, too. Well organized. Quiet. Especially after one arrives from the U.S. early in the morning after a flight where sleep is next to impossible. It‘s almost like a museum. Passengers move quietly and purposely from flight to baggage pick-up, place their things on those heavy, stable carts, move through customs often without having anything checked, then off to either a taxi, a train, or a waiting car. Yes, there are now many stores in the Frankfurt Airport. Yes, it too is a shopping mall, but a German shopping mall. Quiet, reserved, discreet.

Germans are simply introverted compared to the Americans, at least in public spaces.  Germans are friendly, outgoing. They like to talk, be active, be social. But not so much in public space. That‘s just the way they are. And why not, it’s respectful.

November 2001 in the U.S.. I am running a three day management workshop with Germans and Americans from a major global German company. All of the colleagues are very capable people, mechanical engineers who have formed a transatlantic team. They work very closely together. Our topic for the three days is processes. Germans say Prozessverständnis. Americans say process philosophy.

We are not addressing specific processes, but how Germans and Americans fundamentally understand and live processes. This is no simple topic. There is lots of potential for misunderstanding, disagreement, internal political battles.

We head to dinner after the first day and sit at a big, long table. Hardly have I begun to eat my salad when the senior-level manager of the team, Martin, brings up the recent invasion of American-led forces into Afghanistan. I am sitting across from Martin. We know each other fairly well, have had several conversations in Essen, in the famous German industrial area, the Ruhrgebiet. Martin is smart, professional, high integrity. He knows me and my work. I know him and his reputation.

It gets intense

U.S. forces were attacking the Taliban in Afghanistan as a reaction to the attacks on the World Trade Center in New York on September 11. Or supposedly that was the reason. Who knows? I don’t. I follow politics, but not intensively. I, as an American, certainly do not raise controversial topics with business customers, and never in such a situation.

But this time I decide to respond. For American eyes and ears the brief discussion Martin and I had was an argument. John arguing with the customer. For German eyes and ears we debated. Martin has strong arguments. He provokes. I counter with questions. It gets intense. For Martin. For me.

At one point I need to go to the men‘s room. I get up from the table and head over. An American pops up and joins me walking down the hall: “Are you crazy, arguing with the customer like that? Just let him make his statements and nod. The workshop is great. You want to continue doing work for us, don‘t you?“

I smile. There is no time to explain. He wouldn’t believe me anyway. We head back to the table a few minutes later. Folks have moved on to other topics. Days two and three of the workshop go very well. Martin is very happy with my work. I go on to serve him, his organization and his colleagues for several years.

Martin enjoyed our brief discussion about American foreign policy very much. It did not hurt our business relationship, it helped it. Let‘s not forget. True friends speak their mind, especially when they fear that the other friend is making a mistake which could damage themselves. Martin was concerned about America‘s invasion of Afghanistan. He wanted to know how we Americans viewed it.

Americans are, indeed, a young and often impatient people. But not all that young, for they are descendents primarily of Europeans. And the Americans of German descent are the largest ethnic group in the U.S., when separating out the British, Scottish and Irish.

In other words, an American, especially an American of German descent, who plays the piano well, including the most difficult works of German composers such as Beethoven (the child of Dutch immigrants to Germany), is just as much, if not more, an heir and descendent of that famous citizen of Bonn as those living in Bonn today who aren’t interested in classical music, who have never visited the house Beethoven’s was born and raised in, who prefer listening to heavy metal music on the MP3-players while sitting on the #61 tram from Dottendorf into the center of town. Americans and Germans are cousins, sharing to a large part the same history.

Here’s a story I heard a while back from a German woman I knew during my graduate studies in Berlin. She was on a flight to North Africa. Morocco or Tunesia. Sitting next to an American: jeans, sweatshirt, baseball cap on his head. One of those seemingly naive, carefree, smiling, overly-friendly Americans who Germans identify immediately.

She wondered what a guy like that – provincial, unsophisticated – was doing on an airplane to North Africa. Did he get on the wrong plane in Frankfurt? After a few minutes of small talk she realized that the “country bumpkin” was a tenured professor at an elite university on the East Coast of the U.S., spoke fluent Arabic, had high-level contacts in Egyptian politics, academics and culture. “Never judge a book by its cover.”

Another story. Similar. November 1995. In Washington, D.C. Watergate Hotel. Evening. We’re sitting in the lounge drinking a beer, after more than a handful of meetings in the American capital. The Majority Leader, his wife, his Chief of Staff, the Head of the Konrad Adenauer Foundation in Washington. I had been asked by the Majority Leader to accompany him to the U.S. To advise him, and to play “fly on the wall”, to observe, then provide him with my analysis afterwards, on what my Americans eyes see, and American ears hear.

No Cologne Cathedral, but not country hicks.

Before the trip I rewrote his speeches. They had been translated from German into English by the language experts in the Bundestag. A bit wooden, overly structured, not how he speaks. I was also able to arrange for him to give a major foreign policy speech at Georgetown University, my alma mater. Pure coincidence. My uncle was, and is still, a Jesuit and professor of Theology at Georgetown. The university president – a close friend of my uncle – had done his Ph.D. in Theology in the late 1960s in Münster, on the great German theologian, Karl Rahner.

He spoke fluent German and had had several conversations with Chancellor Helmut Kohl, a Catholic from Rhineland Palatinate. Kohl was known to be in close contact with Rome. The CDU (Christian Democratic Union – Kohl’s party) connection to Georgetown goes back to the days of Konrad Adenauer’s chancellorship, 1949-63. One of Adenauer’s sons had studied at Georgetown during the Second World War.

In any case, I felt very comfortable in Washington, having studied at Georgetown just around the corner from the Watergate. That evening a member of the CDU in the German Bundestag walks in, their spokesperson on economic issues, also in Washington for meetings. He pulls a chair up next to the Majority Leader and says: “Wolfgang, it’s astonishing. The Americans are totally informed about our fiscal and economic plans, ours in Germany and in the EU!” Weeks after the trip it occurred to me: “Hey, wait a minute. Why is this guy so astonished?”

It’s true. Americans don’t have a Cologne Cathedral. They don’t have a Limes. No Teutoburger Forest. No Bavarian Purity Laws for brewing beer. No Irmensul. But are Americans, therefore, country hicks? Maybe it’s a tactical advantage to be considered such.

The topic is process, or process philosophy. What role does time play? Do Germans and Americans have the same understanding of long- , mid- and short-term? A rhetorical question. No need to think long about it. The differences are obvious in so many areas.

Wasn‘t it Herr Wiedeking, the Vorstandsvorsitzender (not CEO) of Porsche, a few years back who suprised the financial world by stating that Porsche would supply their numbers just twice a year, making a clear statement about short-term thinking?

Aren‘t the two cultures of different ages in general? Back when the so-called Indians (the indigenous peoples of North America) were saving the first generations of European settlers to the „New World“ from starvation the Germans had a centuries-old history.

The speed in the U.S. is faster

In a previous story we discuss the older, deeper-seated German historical consiousness. The Germans think in longer time stretches than Americans, which can be both a strength and a weakness. The terms Permanenz and permanence have different meanings. Think about how often Americans pick up and move within the U.S., buy and sell houses. How often they identify, evaluate and engage business partners such as suppliers, only to disengage them just as quickly.

The speed at which Americans make acquaintenances and friends (meet, get to know, befriend) is much faster than in Germany. Or think of the financial world again. To make an investment, then hold or sell is not the same as in the U.S. The clocks aren‘t the same. Long-term in the U.S. is mid-term in Germany. Mid- is short-term. American short-term doesn‘t even exist in Germany.

In the American business culture it is almost always better to make a suboptimal decision quickly than to make an optimal decision late or too late. Suboptimal, but timely, decisions can be corrected or improved upon in time. Usually.

Combine inherent strengths

Not long ago I was executing a seminar at a location in Germany for a German client. It was in the Lichthof (atrium) of a beautiful building erected at the turn of the 18th to the 19th century. Big, open space. Very high ceiling made of glass. Sunlight shining in. Inspiring. During the session on decision making a German manager was walking by, one who had done a long-term (three years) in the U.S.

He stopped, listened, saw the sceptical expressions on faces of his German colleagues and walked over and stood next to me (we had worked together on a few projects), then said to the group: „It‘s really not that complicated. The Americans make decisions quickly, often too quickly. So what? The bad decisions they revise just as quickly. That doesn‘t bother anyone in the least. It‘s nothing to be embarrassed about. We should be able to do that, too.“ Some nodded in agreement. Others just shook their heads in dismay.

My goal is not to make Americans out of Germans or the other way around. It wouldn‘t work anyway. And it would be rather dumb. The world needs Germans, their way of thinking, their character traits. The world also needs Americans, their ways of thinking and their character traits. Our goal is to understand the inherent strengths of the two peoples, in order to combine them.

The first step is, however, to identify and understand them, in each of their respective national cultural contexts. Perhaps there is a step even prior to that: to accept the fact that there are such things as national cultural characteristics (yes, traits). German, American, French, Mexican, Chinese, Brasilian and so on and so forth. 

Just as there are in Bavarians, Franks, Rhinelanders, as well as Hamburgers, Brandenburgers, Saxons and Anhaltiner. And let‘s not forget the Berliners with their Berliner Schnautze. As my mother would say: „It takes all kinds of people to make the world go around“.