Tell us about a time when you had to adapt by accepting/understanding the perspective of people different from yourself.

Sample One

Living and working internationally, I routinely confront widely divergent perspectives at the workplace and in general day-to-day life. These differences are across cultural, religious, language, national, and gender boundaries and, in some cases, several boundaries simultaneously. One such case was in 2008 while I was working on a project in Guyana aimed at identifying the best remaining forest patches for biodiversity conservation in the country. I was supervising a project across South Caribbean nations but had a local counterpart in Guyana who was helping coordinate work on the ground, engaging local Guyanian conservationists, and mobilizing stakeholders to buy into the process and support the our project. We had been working on the project for nearly a year and we planned a final review workshop toward the end of the project. During this workshop, the specialists in Guyana were to review the data we had compiled, provide recommendations, validate the work we had performed and ultimately use the sites we targeted as the basis for conservation action across the county. My local counterpart was a West Indian woman who was responsible for coordinating and planning this final validation workshop. We had considerable disagreement over the structure, duration and format of this workshop. In my opinion, I felt we had a lot of data to get through, plenty of numbers to crunch and many eager biologists waiting to contribute their ideas and thoughts to the yearlong process with which they had been involved. I wanted the workshop to take place over two days with the majority of the participants spending time in groups working through the data, supplementing our findings with additional data and providing recommendations on the sites we were proposing. However, my colleague wanted the workshop to be completed in one day with the entire morning dedicated to a lengthy speech from a representative from the local Forestry Division followed by a plenary presentation from a local researcher from the University of Guyana. We had an enormous amount of work to get through and I was focused on getting the outstanding data collected and validated. Given the workload, I felt it would be best to minimize unproductive time spent on the speeches and simply focus on the explicit goals of the workshop. My colleague tried to convey to me the importance of getting the local Forestry Division representative’s perspective during the meeting. She also explained that this person was very important within Guyana and that he should be given the latitude to discuss some of this work and the importance of the workshop. I still tried to limit the duration of his talk, as I didn’t see how it was contributing to the overall goals. However, then she finally told me a bit more about Guyanian culture which truly helped me to understand the importance of the cultural context on implementing policy and why it was imperative for this gentleman to speak. Guyana is an extremely hierarchical society, consisting of ten regions, where each region has a majority tribe, with the Asimomee comprising the largest tribe in Guyana. The tribal chiefs and others within the clan leadership have an enormous influence over all facets of society. In Asimomee culture, the chief rarely speaks directly to the people but rather does so through his Okyeame with nearly all formal communication with the chief passing via his Okyeame. The ‘Okyeame’ or ‘interpreter’ is thus allowed to speak directly with the chief, a task reserved for very few. Thus, the Okyeame’s role as an interpreter is far understated as this individual wields enormous power given that they convey the chief’s message directly to the people. When I was informed that the representative from the Forestry Division was an Okyeame, I now fully understood why it was important to allow him ample time at the meeting to welcome the participants, convey the importance of the workshop and invite all of the attendees to give their utmost attention to the process. In the end, it could not have been more successful. The ‘Okyeame’ from the forestry division gave a lengthy speech, requesting that everyone actively participate in the process and contribute their data. The presentation from the university went ahead as planned, which the workshop participants also enjoyed. Clearly, the message coming directly from the local chief’s interpreter made getting key ‘buy-in’ from the stakeholders very easy and the afternoon portion of the workshop went smoothly. The data were reviewed and validated, the stakeholders and local conservationists used the sites for planning their conservation actions and some of the new sites have already begun to show positive results in terms of additional protected land in Guyana. Through the convincing testimony of my colleague, I adapted my viewpoint to understand not only where she was coming from but also the cultural factors at play in Guyana. In this case, the process underlying the work was nearly as important as the products of the work. If I had not adapted my perspective, it is clear that we would not have had a very successful workshop. However, by listening to and incorporating the local perspective, we were able to have a productive workshop, with excellent local participation and buy-in which captured all of the products we envisioned.

Sample Two

In 2008, I deployed to Afghanistan as the commander of an embedded training team. The mission of my 10-man team was to mentor the 156-strong Afghan National Civil Order Police (ANCOP). To succeed in this mission—establishing trust and effecting lasting change in the village —I had to learn to see the world through Afghan eyes and adapt to our individual and cultural differences.

Several months into my tour, a great divide still existed between the ANCOP and my men. My team was “all business.” We were meticulous, methodical, and efficient in our planning, training, and mission-execution. In contrast, the Afghan soldiers did not embrace the same work ethic. Upon receiving a mission order, the Afghans would grab whatever weapons were on hand and then jump into whatever truck had space without any planning or preparation. After missions, they liked to sit around and talk for hours. My men didn’t trust them and vice versa. It was critical for us to come together and work as a team if the mission was going to succeed. I started by reaching out to Colonel Mirah, the ANCOP’s leader. I thought that if I could win the Colonel’s trust, our two groups would begin to follow suit.

I spent every evening with the Colonel, enjoying many cups of chai and talking late into the night. After hearing his stories, I started to see him from a new perspective; I learned how he and his comrades fought on horseback with antiquated equipment against Soviet tanks and how the tactics he employed led to the defeat of a superior Russian force. I saw how he operated and I began to develop an appreciation for the way that the ANCOP conducted business. I developed a deep admiration for Colonel Mirah as a warrior, a leader, and as an Afghan patriot. Before long, he began to mentor me. What started as mentorship grew into a productive partnership. At one point, he began to hold my hand, a sign of respect and adulation in Muslim countries. At first, it was slightly uncomfortable, and I caught a lot of grief from my soldiers because of it. However, my team’s Dari interpreters explained to my men that this was a gesture of great honor.

Our partnership established a tone of acceptance and comity. Our medics began talking more openly with the Afghan medics, offering supplies and gaining in return valuable insights into how we could aid the local medical facilities. We shared meals together, sometimes at our base and other times at theirs. I was very pleased the night I left the Colonel’s office to find my men deeply engaged in a game of volleyball with the Afghans. It was clear that they were beginning to bond with the ANCOP members. The Afghan’s are master storytellers and captivated our collective imaginations. I often found my men engaged in deep conversation while sharing rice and lamb, an Afghan staple. They discussed the day’s exploits with typical soldier bravado, making light of the gravity of our actions. The Afghans appreciated that we would stop whatever we were doing to honor the Muslim prayer times. My team and the Colonel’s battalion were becoming a truly unified force.

The benefits of a cohesive U.S.-Afghan team in the field were immediately apparent to both sides. Our next challenge was to gain the acceptance of the locals. I was surprised to discover that since the Colonel’s men were Tajik, to the Pashto villagers, they were as foreign as the Americans. At first, I did not understand this; in my mind, it was analogous to believing, for instance, that a Floridian visiting Boston is not an American. Colonel Mirah explained that Afghanistan is a nation of tribes, and its borders are artificial vestiges of the British Empire. We agreed that the best course of action was to engage the spiritual and political leaders of the town as a unified group by calling a shura, a meeting with village elders, something that the U.S. units before mine had not done in the region.

My first shura was an invaluable learning experience. The meetings were a window into the quality of life in the village and a metric of our missions’ progress. At the closure of my first shura, I recognized the power of engaging the local leaders. By not doing so, the previous units had delegitimized the elders’ authority, resulting in an antagonistic position between the local population and the U.S.-Afghan security forces. Together, Colonel Mirah, the elders, and I completely redesigned the approach to securing the local population. We had to show the Afghan people that we were completely committed to developing a safe and secure village environment. We addressed issues of critical importance to them, such as installing traffic control points in areas of Taliban activity in order to protect truckers who were constantly harassed by Taliban fighters. We also focused on providing funding for a local hospital, which was running dangerously low on supplies. By eliciting the locals’ support and blessing of our presence, we were able to collectively effect real change. The 2008 village elections, the first free and fair election in decades, were the ultimate measure of our success.

By adapting to Afghan culture we were able to overcome our immense differences in perception, work ethic, and culture. I accepted that the Afghans didn’t have to conduct business as we did in order to be effective. What I saw as a disorganized unit was in reality a network of mutual trust, respect, and teamwork. Our team, united in a common vision, was able to accomplish the mission. This enriching experience forced me well out of my comfort zone, but has broadened my global perspective and ability to understand cultures, better preparing me to contribute to my learning team and classmates at Wharton.