The Double Edge of Majime

Majime, the Japanese idea of being serious and diligent, can be a real strength, but too much of it can turn into hesitation and dependence on approval. In creative work, people often grow more when they are trusted to use their own judgement. Sometimes the best way to support someone is to give direction, then get out of the way.

Majime, the Japanese idea of being serious and diligent, can be a real strength, but too much of it can turn into hesitation and dependence on approval. In creative work, people often grow more when they are trusted to use their own judgement. Sometimes the best way to support someone is to give direction, then get out of the way.

At another gig in another universe, I had the fortune of working with an extremely talented designer.

Very serious. Very dedicated. Always wanted to do their absolute best, whatever the project.

There’s a Japanese word for this: majime (真面目). It’s usually translated as “serious” or “diligent,” but neither quite captures it. Someone who’s majime takes things seriously, does things properly and doesn’t cut corners.

This person was the epitome of majime.
And majime can be a double-edged sword.

In reasonable doses, it’s brilliant. It gives you drive and the desire to make the work better. Too much of it, though, and the same quality can turn into stiffness. You become stubborn, reluctant to change, and sometimes so fixated on doing things “properly” that you stop moving altogether.

That’s where I think majime gets misunderstood. What looks like dedication can sometimes be anxiety in a very respectable-looking suit.

Every decision becomes something that needs approval. Every direction needs reassurance. You become so concerned about doing the right thing that you stop trusting yourself at all.

I’ve noticed this quite a bit in Japanese working environments. What looks like extreme dedication on the surface can sometimes be masking a lack of confidence.

And that’s such a waste when the person is genuinely talented.

This designer had brilliant ideas and the technique to pull them off. They didn’t need someone standing behind them pointing left or right. They needed to trust themselves a little more.

My advice eventually became pretty simple: you’re way better than you think you are. Loosen up. You’ll become a better designer anyway.

Design is like sport in that sense. Tense yourself up and good luck getting faster, higher or further.

The same goes for how people manage creative work.

I’ve worked in environments where direction is expected to come from the top. Define the task, give the instructions, check the progress, approve the result.

I find too much of that stifling.

My preferred approach has always been closer to “ask for forgiveness, not permission.”

Obviously that doesn’t mean doing whatever the hell you want. It only works when there’s trust, a reasonably clear goal and people who’ll take responsibility when something goes wrong.

But give me the general scope and let me run with it. Heck, let me help define the scope.

I might check in along the way. I might not. But if you’ve hired me for my judgement, I’d much rather you let me use it than wait for approval at every turn.

And that’s something I try to give other designers too. Direction is useful. Creating dependence on direction isn’t.

Sometimes nurturing someone means giving them feedback. Sometimes it means building their confidence. And sometimes it means resisting the urge to interfere and simply letting them have a go.

If it goes wrong, we’ll fix it.
If it goes right, the answer belongs to them.

*Illustration by Nigel Hoare on Unsplash

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