Double edged power of collectivism

My tour guide in Copenhagen mentioned that the Little Mermaid statue is almost always crowded with Chinese tourists, each waiting to take a photo from the exact same spot. He wondered why. A Chinese–Danish friend of mine had noticed the same thing and suggested it seemed less about enjoying the moment and more about “checking the box.” She recalled visiting Tibet and seeing long lines of Chinese travelers queuing to photograph themselves in front of a particular stone, all striking the exact same pose, likely popularized by a famous blogger. It seemed as though everyone felt compelled to do it simply because everyone else was doing the same.

This is a small, playful example of group-based thinking. In my own career, I have seen how this same instinct, when directed toward a shared purpose, can produce remarkable results.

At Samsung, “nothing is impossible” was not just a slogan; it was an operating principle. I still remember hearing a senior leader declare that the company would overtake the global market share in five different product markets or achieve a semiconductor process technology 30 percent thinner, even in areas where we were already the market leader. No one laughed. No one said it could not be done. In that moment, I saw something powerful: when the collective believes in the mission and trusts the authority behind it, even the impossible is treated as inevitable.

That mindset did not just transform Samsung from a second tier brand into a world leader in televisions, mobile phones, and memory chips. Together with other major conglomerates, it also helped drive South Korea’s remarkable rise from a war-torn nation in the 1950s and 60s — when its national ambition was simply to “become like the Philippines” — to the thirteenth largest economy in the world today. One of the engines behind that transformation is a deeply rooted group-first thinking that unites people behind shared goals and demands the best of them in pursuit of those goals.

Most societies, especially those with agricultural economies in their early history, were strongly group-based in their thinking. Cooperative farming, extended kinship systems, shared defense, and religious or philosophical traditions all reinforced loyalty, harmony, and collective obligation. This pattern was nearly universal. But over centuries, many countries in Western Europe and North America shifted toward individualism. They began with collectivist structures and gradually moved away as clan systems weakened (often through religious and legal reforms), urbanization accelerated, markets expanded, the Protestant Reformation emphasized personal moral responsibility, and democratic institutions enshrined individual rights. Over time, autonomy, dissent, and self-expression became the prevailing cultural orientation.

By contrast, in East Asia, South America, and Africa, although these societies are far more individualized than they were historically, many still rank much lower on Hofstede’s individualism index* compared to Europe or North America. In East Asia in particular, collectivism has been reinforced by centuries of Confucian teaching, which emphasizes fulfilling one’s role and obligations to family, workplace, and society over pursuing personal individuality. In the early and mid-twentieth century, political upheaval, foreign occupation, and war further entrenched the belief that unity and harmony were essential for survival. After World War II, the rapid economic growth of Japan, South Korea, and other nations relied on large scale mobilization, coordinated effort, and social discipline — all of which drew heavily on collectivist norms. Limited welfare systems, ongoing geopolitical tensions, and the family’s central role as a safety net continue to sustain these values today.

*Hofstede’s individualism index is part of a global cultural framework developed by social psychologist Geert Hofstede. It measures the extent to which people in a society see themselves as independent individuals versus members of a group. Higher scores indicate more individualistic cultures that value personal freedom, self-expression, and autonomy, while lower scores indicate more collectivist cultures that emphasize group loyalty, harmony, and shared responsibility.

I experienced this firsthand during my years at Samsung. I heard legendary stories of how the company moved from having virtually no sophisticated technologies in TV, semiconductor, or mobile phone to surpassing the most advanced global competitors. Impossible targets for new technology adoption, growth, and profitability were treated as non-negotiable marching orders from the top. And remarkably often, people found a way to meet them.

Inside the Samsung corporate finance team I was part of, this collective drive shaped even small personal decisions. October was the annual budget development season. The task was so important and demanding that people “voluntarily” avoided getting married that month, despite it being prime wedding season. Many of my managers took pride in the personal sacrifices they made, sharing anecdotes in after-work gatherings about never attending their children’s graduations, as if it were a badge of honor for serving a higher cause.

But the same force that makes the impossible possible can also carry a cost.

One of my close friends is considering leaving Korea to find more flexibility, diversity, and humane education for their children. Many others are doing the same, moving to countries like the United States. Our family made that choice 20 years ago. Despite Korea’s economic development, its fertility rate is now the lowest in the world — just 0.72 births per woman in 2023, according to Statistics Korea. Younger generations increasingly delay marriage, abandon it entirely, or choose not to have children at all. This has become a serious concern for the Korean government, which has formed task forces and introduced welfare benefits in an effort to reverse the trend. I believe this is not something that can be solved with economic incentives alone. A major factor is the narrow definition of success and the intense social pressure to conform, which leaves little room for honoring individual talents and values. As I learned during my time at Samsung, I was not well suited for corporate finance based on my strengths. And it is unsettling to imagine grinding away at it for life, as many do. Underneath this pressure are deeply ingrained collectivist norms and deference to hierarchy. In many workplaces, people are disconnected from their talents, cannot express themselves freely, and feel guilty about attending family events.

During the 2014 Sewol ferry disaster, where 304 people died (and many of them were young students), passengers were repeatedly instructed over the intercom to remain in place, even as the ship began to capsize. Many students complied with these orders and tragically died as a result while those who disobeyed survived (only 75 survived). Some analysts interpret this as an extreme case of cultural deference to authority, reflecting collective instincts. Some critics, however, caution that such interpretations risk oversimplifying a complex tragedy shaped by structural, communication, and accountability failures.

If you look at the cultural quadrant below (plotting individualism vs. collectivism on one axis and hierarchy vs. egalitarianism on the other) most of the countries with the highest happiness scores and strong productivity per worker fall into the individualist–egalitarian quadrant. These include Denmark, Finland, the Netherlands, and Australia, where high personal freedom is paired with strong institutional trust. Countries in the collectivist–hierarchical quadrant generally show lower happiness and, often, lower productivity.

How to read the graph:

• The x-axis shows where countries fall on the spectrum from individualism to collectivism.

• The y-axis shows where countries fall on the spectrum from hierarchy to egalitarianism (based on Power Distance, inverted so higher means more egalitarian).

• Circle size represents productivity per worker — larger circles mean higher productivity.

• Color shading shows happiness scores — lighter/brighter colors mean higher average happiness.

Sources:

• Cultural dimensions come from Hofstede Insights (Individualism and Power Distance scores; original 1980 research updated in 2010).

• Productivity per worker is based on GDP per employed person, from OECD data and The Conference Board Total Economy Database.

• Happiness score comes from the United Nations World Happiness Report 2024, which is based on survey responses about life satisfaction.

But there are exceptions: Singapore, Japan, and South Korea are in the collectivist–hierarchical quadrant yet rank high in productivity per worker. However, their happiness scores are much lower than those of more individualist, egalitarian societies — and their fertility rates are among the lowest in the world.

It raises a challenge: Can we combine the positive force of collectivism with the strengths of individualism? Can we create a culture as Amazon has attempted with its “disagree and commit” principle - where dissent is welcomed, personal purpose is valued, and the team still unites with the same energy and resolve that makes the impossible possible?

This question is at the heart of the book I’m writing, which offers a different perspective on Asian Americans and leadership. At its core, the book explores how self-authoring, a concept from Robert Kegan’s Adult Development Theory, is essential to effective and sustainable leadership. I connect this to the ways in which deeply rooted Asian cultural forces, such as filial piety, group-based thinking, and deference to hierarchy, can stand in the way of becoming self-authoring.

Group-based thinking, in particular, can prevent leaders and employees from aligning their own values, talents, and purposes with their work. As a leader, I would ask: do you believe it is possible to align individual talents and values while still moving forward efficiently as a group? In many Asian companies, this remains a radical idea. Yet it is in that blend, the balance of “I” and “we”, where I believe the next level of leadership maturity lies.

So what?

When I was in college, traveling through Europe, I often found myself doing exactly what other tourists were doing — taking the same photos at the same landmarks, feeling oddly satisfied just by “checking the box.” It is easy, as both individuals and leaders, to fall into the same pattern at work: following the script, hitting the visible targets, but never really engaging the deeper purpose.

The real question is: how do you help yourself, and those you lead, break out of that reflex? How do you create an environment where people can dissent without fear, align their talents with the work, and commit to a shared mission not because they have to, but because they want to? That is where commitment becomes sustainable — and where the impossible starts to feel inevitable.