Westerners who think they are being prepared by making arrangements far in advance are wasting their time with the Chinese, who prefer an impromptu approach, writes ZHANG LIFEN.
A CHINESE FRIEND of mine told me about a European trade delegation she escorted to a prosperous city in China last year, just before the Olympics, to promote inward investment. The hosts were waiting at the airport to greet them but apologised that they couldn’t look after them because they were too busy preparing for the Olympics, at the time, their highest priority.
Perhaps, they said, the delegation would like to return later in the year. The visit was aborted.
For all the transformation of the past 30 years, certain everyday customs in China remain little changed. The way people schedule meetings, whether personal or business, seldom fails to perplex the unprepared western visitor.
Whereas in the West it is normal to make appointments well in advance, in China the reverse may be true. Safer to make an appointment for next week than next month, and for tomorrow rather than next week.
If a couple of months before a trip to China, I contact colleagues to set up lunches or dinners, most of them consider a meeting a month away as something that won’t happen for years.
Close friends say to me in an embarrassed tone: “You’re not coming for another month. How can we settle on a date now? Just call when you land, and we’ll fix a time . . . ”
Chinese businesspeople often bring this approach with them on their increasingly common trips to the West. Once, on arrival in London, a Chinese media colleague called to ask if I could get him, in the next two days, an interview with a senior British politician and a top European Union official.
In the three decades since Deng Xiaoping’s reform era began, the breakneck pace of change in big cities such as Beijing, Shanghai or Chongqing means road maps have to be updated twice a year. One month could indeed be regarded as a long time in the future, and this perhaps explains the Chinese view of time and place in everyday life. As Mao Zedong once said: “Ten thousand years are too long. Seize the day, seize the hour.”
The root of the issue lies not with individuals but with Chinese business culture. In companies, government agencies and universities, impromptu meetings are so common that last-minute decision-making has almost become the norm. A member of staff is careful not to fill his diary for fear that his boss might, at any moment, send him to a meeting or on a business trip.
In the upper echelons of the state, department chiefs, ministers, state-councillors, vice premiers, the premier and the president together form a “meeting chain”, in which higher-ranking officials have complete control over the time of lower-ranking officials, and junior staff stand ready to attend any meetings suddenly convened by their superiors.
This practice is endemic in all public and private organisations, with the result that the earlier an appointment is set up, the more likely it is to never take place.
Bosses of state-owned and private enterprises are also fond of holding important discussions at unsocial hours. It is not uncommon for them to pick public holidays to hash out company strategy. Sometimes, urgent matters require immediate attention, but impromptu meetings are often held merely to test loyalty. Even in modern China, the exercise of control over other people’s time is still an important indicator of personal authority. One is reminded of the 1970s when Mao often chose to meet foreign politicians late at night, so that the visitors – travel weary and jet-lagged – had to enter the Forbidden City in the dead of night.
A few weeks into my last trip to China I found myself adopting the local way of arranging meetings. Acting on impulse began to feel refreshing. I also grew to enjoy negotiations over the telephone that went: “Let’s meet tonight, then . . . What time? Why don’t we play it by ear. I’ll call you in an hour.”
Meetings in China can be a matter of chance. As the saying goes: “If you bump into me, hang on tight.”– (Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2009)
Lucy Kellaway’s column returns on April 20th
