Jennifer.Archer@newcastle.edu.au

Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Australian Association for Research in Education, Fremantle, Western Australia, 2 – 6 December, 2001.

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Do Australians show distinctive patterns of achievement motivation? Much cross cultural research on achievement motivation has focused on comparisons of students and school systems in Western industrialised countries, especially the United States, with students and school systems in Asian cultures, especially Japan, China (including Hong Kong), and Singapore. In these comparisons, Australia tends to be grouped with countries such as the United States and the United Kingdom. Is there anything to distinguish Australian motivation? I explore the argument that Australians are caught in a tension between the ideals of mateship and group solidarity and a capitalist system that rewards individual achievement. I suggest that this tension may emerge in educational settings when students are forced to compete with their peers. To reduce this tension, students may present public attributions for success that differ from their private attributions. In addition, students may be reluctant to endorse publicly a performance achievement goal of wanting to appear more competent than their peers.

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The last decades of the 20^th century saw increasing criticism of some of the major psychological theories such as Piaget’s cognitive development, Freud’s psycho-sexual development, Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, and Kohlberg’s moral development. These theories made claims of universality, and they tended to treat differences among cultural groups as error variance, "noise" that clouded important points. Criticism of these theories emerged from a variety of sources including postmodernism, the socio-cultural ideas of Vygotsky, and feminist rejections of a masculine, Westernised view of human behaviour.

Apart from claims of universality, there were other criticisms of psychology. Behavioural psychology and much of cognitive psychology treated the human mind as a machine that could be broken down into its parts and reassembled (Smith, 1998). The human mind was compared to a telephone exchange, and later to a computer (consider the work on artificial intelligence), with corresponding software and hardware. As Smith (1998) points out, this mechanistic view of human functioning appears in general conversation, for example, when people say things such as "I’m a bit rusty on that right now" or "I’m running out of steam." Confusing results that emerged when research moved from the laboratory to real life settings such as classrooms were attributed to an inability to isolate "significant" variables while keeping others constant. The current focus on context has been labelled social or cultural constructivism (e.g., Lave, 1988; Rogoff, 1990). This movement examines the critical impact on one’s cognition of the cultural group in which one lives. Error variance it seems has taken centre stage.

Mainstream psychology for most of the 20^th century was little interested in cultural difference, though there were some interesting exceptions. McClelland’s work on motivation is one of these. His early work in the 1950s and 1960s on the need for achievement (nAch) used imagery as a measure of motivation (e.g., McClelland, Atkinson, Clark & Lowell, 1976; McClelland, Rindlisbacher, & deCharms, 1955). When shown a picture that could be interpreted in a number of ways, McClelland and his colleagues assessed the amount of nAch in people’s interpretation of what was happening in the picture, and then linked this with their achievement related activities. People who saw achievement activities in the ambiguous pictures tended to demonstrate achievement related behaviours in their lives.

Then McClelland extended this research from individuals to cultures. He was intrigued by Weber’s argument that Protestant Christianity, with its emphasis on personal initiative, helped the rise of capitalism in Western Europe in the 16^th and 17^th centuries. Protestant parents would encourage initiative and hard work in their children who would in turn display these qualities. To test this theory, McClelland and his colleagues took various measures of industrial production (e.g., use of electrical power) in countries predominantly Protestant in religious faith and countries predominantly Catholic in religious faith. Rather surprisingly for such crude measures, the data often were in line with his argument: higher production occurred in Protestant countries. Later, to support his argument that the effect was mediated by the enculturation of children, McClelland gathered examples of popular literature in these countries, stories that parents read to their children. He showed that children’s stories in Protestant countries contained higher levels of nAch than children’s stories in Catholic countries.

While cross-cultural research may have been on the periphery of mainstream psychology, social psychologists were well known for their work on group identification, how we define "us" and "them." Social identity theory (Tajfel & Turner, 1979; Turner, 1987; Rubin & Hewstone, 1998) is used to explain prejudice, discrimination, and intergroup conflict. When people characterise themselves as members of a group, they perceive themselves in terms of the characteristics that define the group. So, for example, when people define see themselves as women, Australians, surfers, or rugby players, they will tend to perceive themselves in terms of the stereotypes that are associated with each of these social groups. Social identity theory proposes that that this type of self-stereotyping results in a change of identity so that people no longer see themselves purely in individual terms but rather as interchangeable members of a group. A relatively new approach, self-anchoring theory, sees social identification operating in the opposite direction (Cadinu & Rothbart, 1996): people stereotype the in-group on the basis of their personal characteristics, not the group characteristics. So they are like me, not I am like them. These identification processes probably operate both ways: I am like them, and they are like me.

In the last decades of the 20^th century educational tests (particularly mathematics and science tests) administered across countries produced some noteworthy results. The poor performance by students of the United States compared with superior performance by students in some Asian countries sparked American interest in their respective educational systems and attempts to pinpoint what it was that led to the superior performance of the Asian students (e.g., Stevenson, Azuma et al., 1986; Stevenson & Stigler, 1992; Watkins & Biggs, 2001). For example, how were the cultural norms and values of Japan reflected in Japanese schools and which of these attitudes and values produced superior performance? Many aspects of schools in Japan and the United States were compared. For example, there appeared to be differences in attributional patterns. Asian students were more likely to attribute failure on a mathematics test to lack of effort or lack of effective study strategies, while American students were more likely to attribute failure to a lack of innate mathematical ability. Since effort is seen as more under personal control than ability, Japanese students would be more likely than American students to spend more effort preparing for the next test and hence getting better marks.

Much of this cross cultural research was based on the assumption of a fixed national culture that was stable across time and homogenous across sub-groups within the culture. More recent analyses (e.g., Dimaggio & Powell, 1991; LeTendre, Baker, Akiba, Goesling & Wiseman, 2001) see cultures as more dynamic and significantly influenced by the spread of Western-style institutions. Most cultural/national groups in the world have adopted Western institutions such as formal schools, hospitals, and government agencies. With these institutions come Western ways of thinking, for example, the valuing of rationality and scientific enquiry. The institutions adopted by these cultures would not be exact replicas of those in the United States or Great Britain. For example, there may be problems with female teachers in charge of male students, but there will be many similarities in timetabling, textbooks, teaching strategies, examinations, and so on.

LeTendre et al. (2001) examined the working conditions and beliefs of teachers in Japan, Germany, and the United States. They were struck by the similarities not by the differences among these groups, particularly similarities in teachers’ beliefs about what led to success in school. McInerney, Roche, McInerney & Marsh (1997) used a questionnaire to examine the achievement goals, self concept, and sense of competence in students from diverse cultural backgrounds (Australian students from Anglo backgrounds, Aboriginal Australian students, immigrant Australian students from non-Anglo backgrounds, Navajo students in the United States, and Montagnais Betsiamite Indian students from Canada). The researchers also gathered data about students’ academic achievement, days absent from school, and desired occupation. Like the LeTendre et al. (2001) study, the results were striking for their similarities across the cultural groups rather than for their differences. As McInerney et al. (1997, p. 232) point out, "the findings clearly indicate that some children from the indigenous minority groups are effectively socialized into what it means to be a student in Western schools with all that that implies in terms of the nature of the tasks, valuing of individualistic or cooperative work, setting of goals, and acquiring attitudes to school work and rewards."

There are many stories of cultural mismatch. The writer V. S. Naipaul has described his schooling in Trinidad in the West Indies during the 1940s and 1950s. He and his fellow students worked their way through an English curriculum designed for an English school, preparing to sit for examinations devised, they thought, by a Mr Oxford and a Mr Cambridge. Martin Krygier who was raised by Polish-Jewish parents who came to Australia during the second world war describes himself as a contented congenital hybrid (1997, p.5). At times, he says, he envied people whose lives did not cut across cultures: life for them seemed so uncomplicated, with one obvious "right" way to think and to behave. Hybrids, however, have the advantage of being able to make comparisons, to see other possibilities. "Hybrids have a specific resource available to them: a range of values, experiences, traditions, which are different from others that circulate in their heads and in the heads of those with whom they mix" (1997, p. 5).

This sense of cultures in flux, pressured by Western-style institutions and ways of thinking, is not one most of us like to contemplate. We rely on myths of a self-contained national culture that define us, that separate us from other cultures, and that legitimises our existence. Stereotypes (and prejudices) are exaggerated to distinguish us from them: so Americans are brash, English are reserved and aloof, Italians are volatile, Jews are clever, Asians are inscrutable, and Australians are friendly and down to earth.

Cultural myths may be exaggerations, perhaps not true at all, but people are shaped by their culture. The cultural press that shapes them is dynamic and fluid, and may not reflect the attitudes and values they think it reflects. In his discussion of decision theory, why people choose to act as they do, Mook (1996) emphasises cognitive availability. People can only choose among options they see as available: if they don’t think of an option they cannot choose it. In an American study (Radke-Yarrow, Zahn-Waxler & Chapman, 1983), children from a strict religious sect, the Mennonites, were asked about behaviour they should and should not do. Compared with the responses of non-Mennonite children living close to the religious community, the Mennonite children rarely mentioned behaviours such as stealing or lying as types of "bad" behaviour. It appears that these children had encountered so little stealing or lying that they did not think of them when asked to think of "bad" behaviour. Obviously, cultures will differ in their range of cognitively available options, though the spread of Western institutions like schools may broaden the range of options for people who come into contact with them.

What do Australians see as their defining characteristics? Broad-brush questions like these tend to be answered by sociologists not psychologists. Carroll (2001) follows Nietzsches’s argument that all cultures need a body of myths or archetypal stories to define themselves, and that these stories must be retold by each new generation. Carroll identifies the Australian story of the hero beginning with the ANZACs of World War One. The hero gains dignity through suffering, shows valour even in defeat. Dignity through suffering emerges again in the Japanese prisoner of war camps of World War Two. The story of the ANZACs and the prisoners of war also spoke of mateship and a refusal to bow readily to authority. There may be people with greater status and wealth (the British aristocracy or British officers in the First World War, for example), but that does not make them any better than the ordinary working man or soldier. From this hero myth flows a complex attitude to competition, to proclaiming oneself to be better than one’s peers. In cricket, Sir Donald Bradman embodied the Australian ideal in many ways: a masterful sportsman who was modest and reticent in victory. Australian sports stars are expected not to take themselves or their sport too seriously. They should not behave as though they are superior to those around them.

This mix of individual striving while remaining "just one of the blokes" has long been held up as distinctively Australian (e.g., Encel, 1970; Feather, 1986a, 1986b). Australia tends to be grouped with other industrialised, westernised countries in its emphasis on individual striving for achievement. In contrast, Asian cultures such as Japan and China are seen as collectivist in attitude, valuing group cohesions and harmony above individual achievement. As Feather points out (1994, p. 37), this mixture of values creates "tension between an ideology that values mateship, group solidarity, and equality and a system that rewards individual achievement and personal advancement."

In a series of studies, Feather and his colleagues (described in Feather, 1994) investigated people’s attitudes to high achievers (tall poppies) who experience a fall in status, for example, a politician caught in a scandal or a movie star whose film flops at the box office. There was a cross- cultural element in some of the studies. Part of the defining Australian story of mateship is that of equality, of humility, of not forgetting one’s mates. Given these values, Australians should express more pleasure (malicious joy or schandenfreude) than other nationalities when a tall poppy is cut down to size. To test the strength of this Australian myth, Feather and McKee constructed a series of hypothetical scenarios involving a student or a golfer who is achieving at a high level or at an average level. They presented these scenarios to Japanese and Australian university students. The students read one of these scenarios and then were asked to provide a personality description for the person described in the scenario (rating twelve bi-polar adjectives presented to them) and rating, among other things, how much they would like this person and how much they would envy this person.

After completing this section of the study, the students were given further information about the hypothetical person after a lapse of ten years. The person either maintained his status or suffered a fall. Students rated the person on the same set of adjectives and the like and envy items on the basis of how they would feel now about the person. A tall poppy effect would be evident if the students reported that they were less unhappy (or more pleased) when the high achiever suffered a fall in status than when the average achiever suffered a fall in status. The results support Feather’s general contention that people’s reaction to the fall of a tall poppy involves a complex weighing up of multiple factors: the extent of the fall; perceptions of good tall poppies who had earned their high status versus bad tall poppies who had done nothing to deserve their status; the achievement level, self-esteem, and attitude towards achievement of the person responding to the scenarios; and the domain of achievement described in the scenario (sport, education, politics, etc). In terms of cross cultural differences, the results showed that the Japanese students were happier about the fall of a tall poppy than the Australian students. Feather encourages psychologists within different cultures to do what he has done, to examine the attitudes and beliefs that are held to characterise their cultures.

Do Australians show distinctive patterns of achievement motivation? As discussed, much cross cultural research in achievement motivation has involved comparisons of individualistically focused Western industrialised cultures, especially the United States, with collectivist group-focused cultures of Asia such as Japan, Singapore, and China. Biggs and his colleagues (e.g., Biggs, 1994; Watkins & Biggs, 2001) have compared approaches to study of Australian students with those of students from Asian countries, particularly countries that espouse Confucian values. Volet and her colleagues (e.g., Renshaw & Volet, 1995; Volet & Ang, 1998; Volet, Renshaw & Tietzel, 1994) have investigated the experiences of Asian students who study in Australia (both Asian students brought up in Asia and students of Asian parents who were raised in Australia). McInerney has investigated the motivational orientations of various sub-groups of Australian students, particularly Aboriginal Australians (McInerney et al., 1994). But is it possible to make distinctions among the achievement motivation of Westernised, industrialised, English speaking cultures, like the United States, the United Kingdom, and New Zealand?

This may be an almost impossible task. As discussed earlier, the cultural press of formal schooling is strong and may diminish the influence of values and attitudes that exist within the broader culture. More generally, a global Westernised culture, driven by technology, appears to be enveloping much of the world. Also, as Feather’s research suggests, some of our archetypal stories may exist more in myth than reality. So it is with trepidation that the following arguments are put forward.

Let us accept that Australians (at least most Australians) are caught in a tension between the ideals of mateship and group solidarity and a capitalist system that rewards individual achievement. In schools and universities, this capitalist orientation is evident in the competitive structures that are put in place, where students receive rewards and public acknowledgement for outperforming their peers. There is considerable evidence (e.g., Ames, 1992; Dweck, 1886; Harackiewicz, Barron & Elliot, 1998) that the structure of the learning environment can affect students’ motivational orientations, especially the achievement goals they adopt and their attributions for success and failure.

Students placed into highly competitive situations, such as state-wide tests at the end of high school, will tend to adopt performance goals. Those who are confident in their ability to do well want to demonstrate their competence in front of their peers and their teachers (a performance approach goal), while those who worry that they will be exposed as incompetent want to hide their perceived incompetence from their peers and teachers (a performance avoidance goal). Tied to a performance goal are attributional patterns focused on ability: so that success in a competition tends to be attributed to one’s innate or natural ability (e.g., I’ve got a natural ability in languages; I’ve always been good at ball games), while failure tends to be attributed to lack of natural ability (e.g., I’ve always been hopeless at maths; I’m just not coordinated enough for ball games) (Ames, 1992; Dweck, 1986).

Australian students may experience conflicting thoughts and emotions in competitive situations when they win. On the one hand, the situational cues are encouraging them to strive to outperform their peers. On the other hand, they run the risk of rejection by their peers if they win and thereby raise themselves above the group. One way to cope with these competing desires would be to present public attributions that mask genuine attributions. So a high performing student might attribute his success to good luck (e.g., I just happened to cover that same question / read that chapter last night) or good teaching (e.g., I was lucky to have really good teacher) even though privately he thinks that it was his ability that led to success. To remain accepted by his group of mates, he must present a public face of modesty.

In the case of failure it is difficult to predict how Australian students would react. There is no call for public modesty. Most of us, however, do not like admitting to a lack of ability, preferring to think of ourselves as quick and clever. This poses another question. In which cultures is ability prized above other attributes such as persistence and tenacity? Perhaps again in the case of failure there will be differing public and private attributions. Students in public might attribute failure to a lack of study while in private they may think they failed because of lack of ability.

This might be an interesting hypothesis to test cross culturally in the manner in which Feather considered the fall of the tall poppy. That is, a series of hypothetical scenarios describing students succeeding or failing at academic and non-academic tasks could be presented to people in different countries. People would be asked to indicate what they see as the cause of the success or the failure (or they might be told that the cause of success was high ability), and then be asked to indicate what the student’s public attribution for success might be. The hypothesis would be supported if Australian participants were to choose more self-effacing public attributions for success than non-Australian participants.

Australian students may be loathe publicly to endorse a performance-approach goal (I want to look good in front of others / I want to be the student who stands out from the others) even though the competitive cues of the situation may be encouraging adoption of a performance-approach or a performance-avoidance goal. Carroll (2001) argues that Australians shy away from "naked" competition. Competitive struggles should be treated lightly, not losing sight of the funny side of things; losing gracefully is preferable to winning boastfully. One would expect an ambivalent attitude to competition to emerge in teachers as well as in students. Teachers may not warm to students who show pleasure in outperforming their peers. How then do these teachers behave towards students when competitive structures are imposed upon their classrooms? It would be interesting to gather comparative data on this question. In work carried out by Jill Scevak and me (Archer, 1992; Archer & Scevak, 1998), when high school and university students have been asked about their perceptions of the sort of motivation (mastery oriented or performance oriented) their teachers are encouraging them to adopt in the classroom, it has been difficult to achieve a statistically robust performance goal scale. Perhaps this shows that teachers are uncomfortable endorsing a competitive system that has been imposed on them.

Finally, where do females fit in Australian cultural stories? The hero myth, generated in war, is a masculine story though women like men can gain dignity through suffering, can show valour in defeat. Do women see themselves reflected in the story of the hero? Are there other stories that sustain Australian women and to what extent are those stories reflected in women’s thoughts and behaviour?