 'Is coaching too dominated by a Western cultural paradigm? What could we do to make coaching more sensitive and appropriate to different cultures?' Nick Wright (UK) and Dr Smita Singh (India) offer their own reflections here: I (Nick) first began to ask myself these questions when I was invited to coach three women from different countries in South East Asia: Singapore, Myanmar and Indonesia. I noticed that, when I asked them questions that implied personal autonomy in decision-making, they often looked at me quizzically as if there were something strange in the questions. I was puzzled and didn’t understand what this meant until, later, when coaching a woman from the Philippines, she explained that the questions didn’t really make sense in their cultural contexts, where individual decisions are often subject to wider family and community decisions. She helped me to understand that personal autonomy is a Western cultural construct and assumption – a key difference between individual and collective cultures. This was a profound revelation to me. Since then, I’ve noticed other differences too when coaching cross-culturally with people in and from different parts of the world. The next most striking and recurring theme has been that of perceived authority in a relationship, and the implications of cultural authority in wider systems. In Western cultures like the UK, we tend to frame the coaching relationship as essentially egalitarian and, as coaches, we typically relate to those we are coaching with that stance. I’ve noticed through experience, however, that this approach can sometimes create discomfort, awkwardness or confusion when working with people from cultures in which higher power-distance relationships are the norm. I’ve learned, for instance, to accept that people in the Philippines will call me ‘Sir Nick’ – a sign of respect – in spite of how alien that feels for me. A third area, and the one I still struggle to get right, is direct (low context) vs indirect (high context) communication. Western coaches are often trained to ask short, incisive questions and to feed back concise, challenging reflections or responses. In some cultures, however, this style of relating can come across as blunt, disrespectful or rude. As I continue to think through and practice greater cross-cultural curiosity, awareness and competence in these areas, therefore, I’m learning to reframe, e.g. ‘What do you want to achieve?’ as, say, ‘What goals are important to you and the people who matter most in your life?’; ‘We are equals in this process’ as, ‘I’m here to support you in a way that best aligns with your values and traditions’; ‘What is holding you back?’ as, ‘What challenges do we need to address together as we move forward?’ I (Smita) agree that, as coaches, a contextual understanding is absolutely essential. Without it, it’s possible that we may fall prey to our default settings, or to our routine preferences in dealing with coachees. When working cross-culturally, I find it’s a good idea to do some homework beforehand, in exactly the way that consultants do before they engage in the first meeting with a client. This may give us some insight and understanding of cultural dimensions like those Nick has mentioned above, such as power distance and/or individuality versus collectivism. If we discover and use metaphors from the client’s culture or reflect the metaphors a client uses in their own language, it can also accelerate the relational rapport-, credibility- and trust-building processes. This will make it easier for the coach and client to work together smoothly. As an illustration, I noticed that, when I was writing my book on ‘Accelerated Action Learning’ with Nick and other UK specialists as contributors, I had to adopt a very straight forward and, what felt to me like formal, way of communicating. By contrast, when I talked with coaches in India or other Asian countries it was very different. Asian coaches preferred rapport-building and general chatting before starting with the coaching conversation itself. There are some similarities in the time management of coaching conversations too. Western coaches and coachees are often and ordinarily monochronic in their approach, for example with strict scheduling and punctuality as important values and behaviours whereas, by contract, coaches and coachees in and from Eastern cultures are typically polychronic in their approach, for example viewing interpersonal relationship and being present in the moment as important. At the bottom line, any winning coaching conversation will be client-centric. I find that, if we start from an appreciation of the coachee’s own cultural frame of reference, we will often achieve better outcomes. Social media and Artificial Intelligence (AI) can provide useful research resources in this area. I’ve created my own simple ‘DFS’ framework that proves useful when working with coachees. D is for Dive into the coachee’s culture and background before the first conversation; F is for Float with that insight and information when you meet, greet and work with the client; S is for Swim to help the client navigate through the labyrinth of their own thoughts, feelings and experiences as swiftly and effectively as possible. In my experience, this culturally-sensitive approach can build and sustain great relationships and outcomes. What do you think? We’d love to hear about your experiences, insights and ideas of working cross-culturally too! (Dr Smita Singh is a faculty member at IMT Nagpur Business School in India and is also a management consultant, coach and author.)
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 ‘For every complex problem there is an answer that is clear, simple and wrong.’ (H.L. Mencken) Steve walked along a dry mud path between two fields in rural Uganda. To his left, the field was dry and sun-baked with a few wizened banana plants dotted around. To his right, the field was filled with lush, green banana crops. His Ugandan colleague invited Steve to reflect on: ‘Why is there a difference between the two fields, and what’s the solution for the field on the left?’ Steve wondered, ‘Perhaps the farmer who owns the field on the left isn’t thinking about or seeing his neighbour’s field, or perhaps he's too poor to make a sufficient investment to improve it.’ As I listened to Steve, I found myself wondering if the difference could have been, perhaps, a consequence of different irrigation systems, fertilisation methods or seed quality. A proposed solution: what if the farmer on the left could learn from and replicate whatever the farmer on the right is doing? In effect, I was seeing the issue as primarily technological. Without realising it, I was looking at the question through my own cultural lens and considering solutions that emerge naturally from my own cultural paradigm. And I was missing the point completely. Steve’s Ugandan colleague explained. ‘The farmer on the right lives far away in Kampala. The farmer on the left lives here, on his own land. In this context, if the farmer on the left were to copy the farmer on the right, and if his crop were suddenly to improve, the first thing that could happen is that he would be accused of witchcraft. After all, according to local belief systems, what else could explain such a seemingly miraculous change in his fortunes? This would be both devastating and dangerous for the farmer and his family and could, potentially, put their lives at risk. Assuming that didn’t happen, what certainly would happen is that his extended family, friends and community would see his betterment and expect or demand that he share his new-found prosperity with them. If he refused to do so, he and his family would be accused of being selfish, and ostracized. If he did share his new-found wealth with them all, he would be back to square one again – meaning all the extra hard work he would have to put in to improve his own lot wouldn’t be worth it. The farmer on the right, living in a city, is not subject to those pressures.’ This was a powerful illustration of the complex relationship between culture and development and helps to explain why, alongside other factors such as conflict, corruption, climate change (and sometimes sheer craziness), well-intentioned efforts and investments may be rejected, ineffective or fall apart over time. The key lays in relationship – to work alongside local people in a spirit of humility, curiosity and collaboration to understand: why are things as they are, what their hopes and aspirations are; and what would need to happen if they were to be fulfilled.  ‘Well-behaved women rarely make history.’ (Laurel Thatcher Ulrich) International Women’s Day. A day to recognise and celebrate the extraordinary contribution of women all over this world and throughout all history. There are so many amazing women who have inspired, stretched and enriched my life: those I’ve known, those I’ve heard or read about and those I’ve only encountered indirectly through the personal-cultural legacy they’ve left behind. This is a shout-out, a thank you, to all women – especially to those who are and feel invisible and unseen; those who live on the frayed and torn edges of societies; those who persevere in the face of poverty, vulnerability and other threats; those who live and love in a way that goes unnoticed and unknown. You humble and challenge me. The world is a better place because you're here.  ‘Our reality is narrow, confined, and fleeting. Whatever we think is important right now, in our mundane lives, will no longer be important against a grander sense of time and place.’ (Liu Cixin) I think you could say we’re a family with an international outlook. My parents travelled extensively around the world and have touched most continents. My older brother lived in Brunei, married a Malaysian woman and has visited almost every country in Asia. My sister lived in Germany, mixes with friends from different countries and travels frequently to Spain to do salsa dancing. My younger brother ran a charity for and in Romania, did a medical mission in remote areas of the Amazon jungle and works in Dubai. I’ve been interested in different languages and cultures from childhood, have worked in 15 countries and have visited, have friends in and have worked with people from a lot more. I watch almost exclusively international news, pay special attention to South-East Asia and my home is adorned with globes and colourful maps. Much of my life has been preoccupied with the Nazis and how to use my own life to help avoid anything like such horrific atrocities ever happening again. Against this backdrop, my own coach, Sue, posed two interesting challenges recently: ‘What’s it like to spend so much of your life – mentally, emotionally and spiritually – overseas with the poor and vulnerable in far-flung places yet to be, physically, here in the UK?’ and, ‘What’s it like to spend so much of your life – mentally, emotionally and spiritually – in World War 2 yet to be, physically, here and now?’ What great questions. They resonate profoundly, for me, with what it is to be a follower of Jesus – a deep dissonance that arises from being in this world, yet in some mysterious way being not of this world. Existentially, it’s a kind of dislocation that, a bit like for Third Culture Kids (TCK), creates a sense of being a child of everywhere yet, somehow, not a child of anywhere – at least in this lifetime. I often feel more at home when I’m away from home, a paradoxical dynamic that both draws and propels me into different times and places and to seek out God, diversity and change. It means being a traveller, not a settler, and has influenced every facet of my entire life, work and relationships.  ‘Sometimes a language does exactly what we think it should; sometimes it goes places we don't like and thrives there in spite of all our worrying.’ (Kory Stamper) I taught English recently at a Montessori school in Germany. I was struck by the amazing level of conversational English of some of the students, and asked how it was possible that they could understand and speak so confidently and fluently at such a young age. Almost all replied that they have learned spoken English via online computer games, where they interact informally and socially with other young people from all over the world. English, for them, isn’t just another foreign language. It’s a form of linguistic currency that enables international communication, relationships, learning and fun. I find myself wondering what the impact will be over, say, 30 years of so many young people 'rubbing shoulders' with international English in this way. I won’t be around then to know the answer to the question, but I suspect that German, currently with 16 different ways to say, for instance, the English word ‘the’, will become simplified in common usage, so that speakers will start to use just one form of definite article in their own language too. We may also see conventions in other increasingly-international languages, such as Mandarin Chinese, influencing how other languages are used. What do you think?  ‘You always have two worlds. The one you are in now right now and the one beyond your world.’ (Mehmet Murat Ildan) This was such a heart-warming experience. I met with a class of 10 year-olds at a Montessori school in Germany this morning. They had invited me to share some of my experiences in the Philippines. I wondered how I could help to bridge the cultural and contextual gaps for them, to enable them to sense a feeling of connection with children of a similar age in a different world, rather than seeing children from a jungle village as totally alien. I opened by posing questions to the class about their own experiences of visiting different places, different countries with different languages etc. I asked who, if any, can speak a second language and was amazed by the diversity of second languages in the group. I showed them a world map, then a map of the Philippines, then taught them some simple phrases I had learned there. They loved practising these words in a different language. I showed them photos and short video clips from the Philippines – school children, motorbikes with sidecars, wooden houses, travelling on a boat through the jungle, children playing games, village children teaching me their local dialect (with lots of laughter), children performing the most amazing dance routines etc. I invited the class to practise one of the fun games they saw the jungle children playing on video. They leapt at the chance. At the close of the class, they asked me excitedly to take them with me, if I were ever to return to the Philippines. I was heartened by their ability to imagine themselves, and people, in a different world, so easily and so vividly. One child handed me a hand-written note, and a small group came forward to ask if they could give me a hug before I left. I feel humbled and inspired by these children – and by the Filipino jungle children who made this possible. I spent last week in Ethiopia, facilitating a vision-casting, relationship-building and insights-sharing event for an inspiring group of committed human rights activists from countries and contexts as diverse as: Australia, Bangladesh, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, China, Denmark, Egypt, Ethiopia, France, Germany, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Iran, Italy, Kenya, Myanmar, Nepal, Netherlands, Nigeria, Norway, Pakistan, Philippines, Poland, Russia, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Sweden, United Kingdom and United States. Listening to their accounts of lived experience, alongside the oft-harrowing accounts of other people and communities too, was a deeply-sobering and yet, at times, life-giving experience. These activists are followers of Jesus from diverse backgrounds who commit their lives and expertise to help ensure, where possible, protection and support for people and groups facing unspeakable persecution. They often take considerable personal risks in the course of their own work too. One day, I went into a local town for a short break. A very poor, elderly man walked up and called out from behind me, a stranger. He grasped my hand, looked earnestly into my eyes and said, emphatically, “Whatever you need, reach out to God. He has the power to heal you.” Then, pointing upwards, as if to God, “He will give you whatever you need.” I felt completely entranced by this man’s presence. I asked his name. “ጥላሁን (Tilahun)”, he replied. I learned later it means: ‘shadow, guide, protector...’ This felt far more profound and spiritually-significant than a chance encounter. I returned to the work in a reflective mood, reminded of the mental and emotional burnout I had faced as a young human rights activist during the brutal civil war in El Salvador. At that time, my efforts had felt painfully impotent in the face of such overwhelming suffering. This mysterious figure reminded me to look upward as well as outward, and there beyond the heartbreak to discover transcendent hope. |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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