Becoming Intercultural

An Integrative Theory of Communication and Cross-Cultural Adaptation

Young Yun Kim

• Publisher: SAGE Publications, Inc
• Year: 2000
• Print ISBN: 9780803944886, 9780803944879
• eBook ISBN: 9781506319988
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Languages & Linguistics
• Subtopic: Communication Studies
• Index: Languages & Linguistics

This book looks at the movements of immigrants and refugees and the challenges they face as they cross cultural boundaries and strive to build a new life in an unfamiliar place. It focuses on the psychological dynamic underpinning of their adaptation process, how their internal conditions change over time, the role of their ethnic and personal backgrounds, and of the conditions of the host environment affecting the process. Addressing these and related issues, the author presents a comprehensive theory, or a "big picture," of the cross-cultural adaptation phenomenon.

Part I

The Background

Introduction

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You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you.

Heracleitus, On the Universe

We live in a world of “simultaneous events and overall awareness” (McLuhan, 1962, p. 40). In the dizzying interface of national, cultural, linguistic, and religious traditions, the once-clear definitions of “us” and “them” are being blurred. We are challenged to face one another’s numerous cultural differences and search for profound human similarities. The business-as-usual ways of doing things are fast losing their relevance. The swirling global transformation spins off problems that necessitate new learning and new solutions to new problems, compelling us to stretch the limits of our customary imagination and creativity.

At the forefront of this new reality are numerous people who are on the move across cultural boundaries. Think of the millions of immigrants and refugees who change homes each year. Finding themselves driven by natural disasters, political oppression, economic need, or hopes of social and economic betterment, people uproot themselves from their familiar homes and embark on journeys of building new lives in alien and possibly even hostile milieus. Among the 249 million Americans recorded by the 1990 census, about 21 million, or 1 in 12, were foreign-born (Roberts, 1993, p. 64). About one-fourth of the populations of New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles is made up of immigrants and their children. Some native-born Americans have moved elsewhere: About a third of those who once migrated to the United States have returned to their countries of origin, primarily Canada and Mexico, but also European countries such as the United Kingdom and West Germany. Settlements of immigrants and refugees have been also on the rise in many other Western countries, notably in Australia, Canada, Germany, England, France, and Sweden (see Castles, 1986; Foster & Stockley, 1988; Meznaric, 1984; Penninx, 1986; Phizacklea, 1984; Warren & Kraly, 1985).

In addition, millions of people cross cultural boundaries under various arrangements on a temporary basis. Workers—from artists, musicians, and writers to construction workers and nurses—leave home for employment in other countries. More than 120,000 Peace Corps volunteers have worked in nearly 100 nations since President John F. Kennedy initiated the program in 1960. They have lived and worked in countries in Africa, Latin America, the South Pacific, and Eastern Europe (Bryce, 1995). Also crossing cultures are diplomats and other government agency employees; researchers working in cultures other than their own; professors and students visiting, working, and studying at foreign academic institutions; military personnel on foreign duty; missionaries carrying out their religious service; and journalists on prolonged overseas assignments. Unlike immigrants, most short-term sojourners tend to limit their contacts with their host cultures to peripheral areas—they have crossed cultures primarily to pursue a vocation, obtain a degree, or enhance their prestige in the eyes of the folks at home. Their reasons for sojourning are specific and narrowly defined, requiring less commitment to the host environment (Ady, 1995; Taft, 1977).¹

Common Experiences of Crossing Cultures

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Despite the variations described above, and related circumstantial differences, all individuals crossing cultures face some common challenges as they pioneer lives of uprootedness and gradually establish working relationships with their new milieus. The gap between the familiar and comfortable surroundings of home and the unfamiliarity of the host environment limits their ability to function effectively. Many of the behavioral modes useful in the old setting may prove maladaptive in the new setting. Recognition of verbal and nonverbal codes and interpretation of the hidden assumptions underlying them are likely to be difficult. As Schuetz (1944/1963) notes, “The cultural pattern of the approached group is to the stranger not a shelter but a field of adventure, not a matter of course but a questionable topic of investigation, not an instrument for disentangling problematic situations but a problematic situation itself and one hard to master” (p. 108).

To a degree, the same cross-cultural predicaments are repeated when sojourners return home. A course of readaptation takes place as they find themselves strangers in their home environments. Marcia Miller (1988), an American woman who taught for a year in the isolated town of Daqing in northeast China and later returned to New York, has written about her homecoming experience:

I felt different in my own home. It all seemed so strange.… Walking on Broadway, I thought I was walking through a corridor in an insane asylum.… In north China, people stared at me wherever I went. Here, at home, my role was reversed. Now, I was the one who did the staring.… I had been isolated in Daqing, but I felt just as isolated here with the additional component of depression. (pp. 13-14)

In a way, individuals crossing cultures can be described as experiencing a degree of existential alertness. Many people struggle to cope with feelings of inadequacy and frustration in their changed environments: Some resist change and fight for their old ways, whereas others desperately try to “go native” and live with an acute sense of failure and despair. The degree to which people undergo such cross-cultural challenges varies widely, depending on their situations involving international migration and their motives for relocating in another culture. Different reasons for crossing cultures accompany different degrees of commitment that individuals feel toward their new environments. Refugees, for instance, typically experience abrupt and involuntary moves. Owing to the sudden nature of their departure from their home countries, most refugees have little chance to prepare themselves for life in their host countries. At least during the initial phase of the change, they tend to suffer from severe psychological dislocation and sense of loss (Chan & Lam, 1987b; David, 1969).

Regardless of resettlement circumstances, all newcomers are compelled to make adjustments in their habitual ways of carrying out their life activities. Those who fail to do so may have to return home prematurely or find themselves staying on yet experiencing emotional and social isolation from the new environment. Most people, however, learn to detect similarities and differences between their new surroundings and their home cultures, and they become increasingly proficient in handling situations they encounter. Each adaptive challenge, in turn, offers them an opportunity to grow beyond the perimeters of the original culture. With physical and psychological distance from familiar milieus, strangers are awakened from their taken-for-granted assumptions with a heightened sense of self. Such adaptive change can be seen in the following excerpts from the diary of Vicki Holmsten (1978), a Peace Corps volunteer. Holmsten graduated from Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, in the spring of 1975. Upon completion of her Peace Corps training, she was assigned with 55 other trainees to teach in secondary schools and universities in Liberia. She was sent to the small town of Foequellie, where for 2 years she taught language arts and some math to elementary and junior high school students. During her stay in Liberia, she kept a diary in which she reflected on her cross-cultural experiences; many of the entries reveal the human adaptability that enabled her to overcome the challenges of cultural differences and intergroup posturing. Holmsten’s diary also demonstrates that, after a relatively short period of cross-cultural adaptation, she returned home a changed person.

December 12, 1975—I am visiting the town that I have been assigned to—it’s in the bush! A small town called Foequellie, it’s about 27 miles and an hour of dirt roads out of Gbarnga, the Bong County capital. Here I am to spend the next two years. To be honest, I have a bad case of culture shock. Not much English spoken in town—the language is Kpelle, the people here mostly of the tribe of the same name. No electricity. Kerosene lamps and battery-run radios seem to be modern touches. The running water is provided by the houseboy who brings the buckets from the well.

December 14, 1975—I am still positive. I want to succeed and will do whatever I can to do my best. This is perhaps the most determined I have ever been. I feel that I am testing myself to the utmost—pushing my limits. Everything is reduced to a matter of survival. Can I do it?

January 5, 1976—Why am I doing this? Why, why, why? We stayed in Monrovia long enough to shop for household necessities, then the members of our group took off for various parts of the country.… I move into a house in Foequellie and wait for school to begin. We are objects of great curiosity in the town, and are visited almost constantly during these first few weeks. It is not easy to feel as if we are on permanent display.

February 19, 1976—Rice, rice, rice. If I see another bowl of rice.… We eat rice every day. Our houseboy cooks a big pot along with a pot of “soup” to pour over it. More like a stew, soup can be any kind of greens, vegetables, sometimes even peanut paste, cooked with fish or meat, onions, hot peppers, and various flavorings to taste. It’s usually quite good, it’s just this day-in, day-out routine that is getting to me.

March 17, 1976—When you’re sick you want to go home because there’s nothing worse than being in a steamy jungle clearing when your entire body is hurting—your head pounding, sweat pouring down, your insides gushing out of both ends until you think there must be nothing left. But still it comes, and you lie there waiting for death or some form of relief from this wretched torture. So you travel to the hospital where you will be shuffled through lines with crying babies, weary-eyed children, and puffy-faced old ladies. Hours of waiting, waiting in lines that couldn’t possibly make sense or lead to anything.

April 6, 1976—School is going well. The students are trying hard even though some are far below grade level. No books, no paper, not much of anything. On good days it is challenging, on bad days it is impossible.

May 11, 1976—What is it all for? I don’t know. One of my students is dying. Life and death, the essence here. It’s getting enough food to keep going and watching people die because there’s no way to prevent it. I’m hurting very badly. Am I doing the right thing by being here? I know I’m not doing my best, I’m not even sure what that is anymore.

August 26, 1976—Malaria, slight case of anemia. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll be fine. Got all the right medicine, be just like new in no time. No big deal—who, in Liberia, doesn’t already suffer both ailments?

October 17, 1976—I think I am only just now coming to terms with Africa. It is a very alive place. Life-giving and deadly at the same time. Life and death all out in the open, nothing muted or subtle. I am excited to be a part of it. I will never be African, but I am a part of it because I am investing myself in the future of the continent. One small part of Africa is mine, I am in one small part African.

January 16, 1977—Eleven months to go. I’m sure now that I can do it. Positive feelings about being here. Good ideas about what to do in my teaching, the ability and self-confidence to implement them that are gradually coming with experience.

March 25, 1977—Today I ate roasted termites. Not bad.

May 17, 1977—I’m sitting under the giant cotton tree.… Next door neighbors cooking and hollering at the children. The ladies across the way are closing the house against the coming weather.… This is a feeling of fitting in, of belonging to a point in space and time and putting my own marks on it.

September 10, 1977—I’m enjoying life here now. I finally belong, I’m accepted. I am at last Vicki Holmsten to the people of Foequellie, not the “Peace Corps volunteer.” It’s almost time for me to leave. I’m not sure I really want to.

September 25, 1977—When I go to Monrovia, the first stop is always for hamburgers and ice cream. But if I’m there for more than two days, I get really hungry for my accustomed daily bowl of rice, and end up in a chop shop with an enormous serving of rice in front of me.

December 6, 1977—I’m sad to be going home but nevertheless feel that the time is ripe. The school had a going away party for me Saturday night. It was absurdly perfect. People all over the house, palm wine, tear-jerking farewell speeches, appropriate exits and entrances at calculated moments. I was presented with a beautiful African country cloth robe—it is probably the most precious thing I will ever own. It’s over now, time to pack up and go.

Holmsten’s adaptation experience has been shared by many other Peace Corps volunteers who have been changed by their experiences. In presenting some of their stories in her edited book From the Center of the Earth, Geraldine Kennedy (1991a) describes the essential change shared by her fellow Peace Corps volunteers:

We are born at the center of the earth, into the insular and complete given of an infant’s domain. All assumptions about who we are and how things work are reflections of the context of family, community, and culture which surround us. Most of the important assumptions are rarely stated and almost never questioned.… The returned Volunteers know—in some deep place in their consciousness—that there is another center, another definition of life, another way. Much like immigrants, they live with the complexity and the richness of another vision, and know they will never again see with only one. (pp. 10-11)

Testimonials such as these have been made by countless others around the world. Mostly they have discussed their experiences among their families and friends, but many have also told their stories publicly, in books, newspapers, and magazines. Japanese American Lydia Minatoya, in her book Talking to High Monks in the Snow (1992), tells about her visit to her “mother” country of Japan, where she was considered a stranger, an outsider. Leila Philip, who grew up on an apple farm in upstate New York, apprenticed at the pottery workshop of Kazu Nagayoshi in Japan between 1983 and 1985. In her book The Road Through Miyama (1989), Philip shares many of the insights she gained from her 2-year sojourn in Japan—insights into cultural differences between Americans and Japanese and into the reverence of the Japanese for uniformity and convention as well as their deep distrust of individuality. Stories such as those related by Minatoya and Philip bear witness to the fact that every traumatic experience changes us. They reveal the remarkable capacity of human beings to face challenges when estranged from home, from the familiar—to repair themselves and, in doing so, transform themselves. In Arthur Koestler’s (1967) words: “There is no sharp dividing line between self-repair and self-realization. All creative activity is a kind of do-it-yourself therapy, an attempt to come to terms with traumatising challenges” (p. 177).

Indeed, the process of crossing cultures challenges the very basis of who we are as cultural beings. It offers opportunities for new learning and growth. Being “uprooted” from our home brings us understanding not only of the people and their culture in our new environment, but of ourselves and our home culture. Although the tribulations that can arise from crossing cultures are often staggering, success stories are everywhere. Despite, or rather because of, the hardship and ambivalence we undergo when we cross cultures, we gradually find ourselves uniquely privileged to define ourselves and others anew with clarity and insight that we could not have cultivated without leaving home. Adapting to a new and unfamiliar culture, then, is more than survival. It is a life-changing journey. It is a process of “becoming”—personal reinvention, transformation, growth, reaching out beyond the boundaries of our own existence. The process does not require that we abandon our former personalities and the cultures into which we were born. Rather, it compels us to find ourselves as if for the first time, particularly those “cultural invariants” within us—facets that we hold dear and refuse to compromise (Neumann, 1992). Author Salman Rushdie has reflected on this process of self-discovery as he has experienced it in his own life as an immigrant. First as a Muslim in predominantly Hindu India, next as an Indian migrant to Pakistan, and then as an Indian-Pakistani living in Britain, Rushdie has faced firsthand some drastic and all-encompassing cross-cultural experiences. In Imaginary Homelands (1992), Rushdie writes about the tug between the old and new, the familiar comfort of home and the freedom of the unknown:

Our identity is at once plural and partial. Sometimes we fall between two stools. But however ambiguous and shifting this ground may be, it is not an infertile territory for a writer to occupy. If literature is in part the business of finding new angles at which to enter reality, then once again our distance, our long geographical perspective, may provide us with such angles. (p. 15)

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Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Dedication
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• List of Figures and Tables
• Preface
• Part I. The Background
• Part II. The Theory
• Part III. Elaboration of the Theory
• Part IV. The Theory and the Reality
• Notes
• References
• Index
• About the Author