Wednesday’s Edition: Achievement vs. Ascription
The 8 political drivers
An American sales executive named John Shipwright is sitting alone at a conference table in Shanghai. He’s got a handy booklet on Chinese business etiquette. He’s got the authority to close the deal. He’s got the data.
Across from him sit seven people, seven. He can’t figure out who’s in charge.
I’ve watched this scene play out. Different cities, different industries, same slow-motion car wreck. The American arrives prepared, confident, ready to do business. The other side arrives prepared, confident, ready to do business. Somehow, nothing happens.
Shipwright’s company sent their most capable person, someone who could actually make decisions. That’s efficiency. That’s respect. That’s how you show the Chinese side that this deal matters.
The Chinese team sees it differently. They sent a delegation structured by rank, with clear roles, where seniority determined who spoke and when. The Americans sent one guy. Either this deal wasn’t important enough for senior leadership, or Americans don’t understand how business works.
Both sides were trying to show respect. Both failed because different cultures understand status and respect differently. Not better, not worse, just differently.
Achievement cultures, the U.S., UK, Germany, and Scandinavia, assign status based on what you’ve done. Your title reflects demonstrated ability. A 32-year-old who built a successful company commands more respect than a 55-year-old who inherited one. Anyone can challenge a decision if they have better data. Send your smartest person to the meeting, regardless of age or position.
Ascription cultures, Japan, China, France, and most of Asia, assign status based on who you are. Age, education, family background, and organizational position. A junior employee with a brilliant idea waits for a senior colleague to present it. Titles matter. Credentials matter. The hierarchy exists for reasons that transcend any individual transaction.
Neither cultural perspective is wrong. That’s the part that takes the longest to accept.
Silicon Valley has built an entire mythology around achievement. The garage startup. The dropout billionaire. The young founder who disrupts industries run by older executives. Zuckerberg in a hoodie, meeting bankers in suits. The message is clear: results are more important than credentials. Americans love that story.
Japan and South Korea operate on different logic. Their innovation ecosystems integrate startups with established conglomerates, the keiretsu and chaebol structures that have driven their economies for decades. Young companies inject new ideas into older organizations. The startups work with the giants, not against them. David and Goliath collaborate.
Both approaches have produced technological and economic success. Both have built companies that changed the world. But they run on incompatible assumptions about where authority comes from.
The collision happens constantly, and it shapes more than seating charts. It determines what counts as a legitimate argument. In achievement cultures, anyone can challenge a decision with better logic. Data wins. In ascription cultures, only someone of appropriate rank can question a superior’s judgment. The American who pushes back on the senior Japanese executive isn’t being thorough. She’s being rude and derailing the entire project
Hornby mapped these patterns onto individual psychology. Achievement orientation aligns with the West Sage, who proves expertise through successful problem-solving and earns respect through demonstrated knowledge. Status is verified, not assumed. You show your work.
Ascription orientation aligns with the Blue Guardian, whose authority projects from position and role rather than individual performance. The Guardian imposes structure, maintains hierarchy, and expects deference to established order. Status flows from where you sit, not what you’ve done.
The John Shipwrights of the world keep flying to Shanghai with their booklets and their authority in their data. They keep sitting alone at conference tables, wondering why seven people can’t seem to make a decision.
The answer isn’t in the booklet. It’s an assumption that one capable person equals seven positioned people. In achievement cultures, it does. In ascription cultures, it doesn’t.
Same table. Same deal. Different cultural perspectives.