When a person encounters a problem, he naturally tries to solve it as quickly as possible. Often, he approaches it too hastily and ends up killing it. A man of short temper, a type often seen among able managers, is especially likely to kill his problem instead of dealing carefully with it. Like a cowboy in an American movie, his solution is to shoot down his enemy on the spot without negotiating. One shot, "Bang!" is quite enough to straighten out the problem—he thinks. However, this kind of combat does not solve his problem. Any problem disposed of by ruthless efficiency simply creates another problem in its wake. For instance, if you kill a tax problem by using false figures, another problem, a bigger one this time, will certainly come your way lifer from the tax office. As long as the problem is there, you can't kill it completely. The ghost of the problem will resurrect from the dead and knock on your door. You will be in deeper trouble.
Even more important, you will make enemies if you try to kill the problem and fail. Dishonest dealings with problems inevitably invite hostility. How many people, sections, or companies despise each other because one (or both) was lied to or cheated on? Human beings are sensitive animals. In the on-tract society, people are burdened with the weights of giri (social duty) and on (social debt). Damaging someone's kao (pride) by killing the problem is enough to crystallize his hostility. It is virtually essential to be diplomatic in solving a problem within and outside the organization. Threats may be good weapons for killing a problem, but they don't solve it to your heart's content.
If you caused a problem in the first place, or helped to cause it, you should have the power to correct it. A successful organization man always removes the reason for his involvement in a problem. He treats the problem tactfully and meets the requirements for solution with a smile. If he is patient and acts sensibly, he will win.
Japanese Leadership
From among the successful organization men a brilliant leader emerges, and the leader is living testimony to the power and dignity of the organization. He sheds his rays on his subordinates, so the light of the organizational philosophy illuminates their productive path and steers the company's social and political institutions. Very frequently his leadership is unuttered and unwritten, possessing all the more power to organize people toward a common goal.
Historians and writers have described a number of general qualities required for leadership. Here, I will take up only the unique qualities of Japanese leadership, inherited from earliest times. It is a flower no less indigenous to the soil of Japan.
The first proviso of a Japanese leader is the ability to appear to be unaware of what's going on while actually being in complete command of the situation. This is an unusual quality in a leader, but there was one man who fit the description exactly. It was the artillery officer Yasuke Oyama (later known as General Iwao Oyama), who developed the Yasuke artillery gun during the Meiji era (1868-1913). When Oyama became supreme commander of the army in the Russo-Japanese War (1904), the main weapons that were defeating the Russian troops were those Yasuke guns. But Oyama did not talk about guns or soldiers and never asked his officers what was going on. He simply created a climate that encouraged his officers to use their abilities and to get the maximum performance from their men.
This quality is extremely valuable in Japan. The leaders of Japan's vertical society have come up from the bottom, and have climbed up with much effort. They have wide experience and expertise in several fields. However, even though a leader knows a great deal about many things, he is careful not to instruct his followers in how to do every little task. If he did, his followers would lose their sense of responsibility and refuse to take action on their own or to cooperate fully with his injunctions. Although Japan is often said to be a non-individualistic society, a leader who ignores individual ability and tries to suppress individual initiative cannot succeed. Acting as if one is not aware of what is going on is one way to encourage subordinates to rely on their own abilities and to demonstrate their loyalty. The successful leader in Japan's group-oriented society is the one who can activate the group's energies to the fullest, reserving only the final decision making power for himself.
What a sharp contrast this is to the self-expression expected of both leaders and followers in the West. The leader in the West wishes to demonstrate his own "personal style" to his followers, telling them, in effect, "I'm not just the ordinary sort of boss." He tries to show that he does things with flair, in his own way, and produces distinctive results. As everyone knows, when the American presidency changes hands, all the important government posts change hands too. In order to carry out his own policies, the new President chooses people for the cabinet and advisory posts from the worlds of government, business, journalism, and so forth. He assembles talents that can assist him in producing the results he desires, and in reaching the goals he has set for his administration. In contrast, when the Japanese Prime Minister forms a new cabinet, he searches for consensus on matters, rather than trying to impose his will on the group. The secret of remaining in power for a long time in Japan is to subjugate one's individuality to the group. A good leader never pretends to be a capable talent.
The second proviso for leadership in Japan is the ability to assist one's subordinates in their upward climb to success. Those who have the means and ability to help their followers up the ladder are the ones who come to power, and once there, stay in power.
Among a group of, say, 100 workers who entered the organization in the same year, only ten or so will move up to the position of department head; a few will eventually succeed to the director's level; and after 30 years or so, only one will finally reach the top—the position of company president. This competition for rank transcends distinctions in types of work and is particularly fierce between white-collar workers with similar educational backgrounds. One reason is that employment in Japan is centered around a particular company rather than around a profession or a specific line of work. The usual practice is to have an employee move from one sort of job to another within the company throughout his career. This weakens the "horizontal" concept—specialization of job—and strengthens the "vertical" concept—rank. The leader who can extend his hand down to his subordinates and give them a hike up the ladder gathers the most followers and, with their support, finally reaches the seat of power himself.
Japan is a "give and take" society in which giving and returning gifts are of central importance. People are always receiving gifts, having things done for them, and then doing something in return. This "something in return" is known as okaeshi. The person who ignores okaeshi will be judged in violation of the rules of giri and ninjo and will find himself excluded from the group.
The truth of this is evident from the lives of Japan's medieval samurai leaders, and from the plays and dramas set in Japan's Turbulent Age (1467-1575). In those times, leaders who were able to distribute generous rewards for service rendered increased their followership and extended their power. This spirit is still very much alive in contemporary Japan.
Those who are able to hold the doors open to advancement for their followers receive wholehearted support and advance themselves to the heights. Protection invites support, and generosity is supported by the virtue of loyalty. Both flourish together. As a result of this practice, an elderly man with little ability, or greatly weakened faculties, who would never be chosen as a leader in the merit-based system often finds himself in a glorious public role with an impressive title. This is not really because of the traditional Japanese respect for the aged; rather, it derives from the social power the elderly leader has acquired through the close relationships he has established with numerous subordinates during his long career. With the support of these now powerful subordinates, he is pushed up to the top of the heap. This pattern is true not only in the industrial world, but also in the government bureaucracy, in the underworld, and even in fishermen's guilds.