- “It’s like I’ve got a complete stranger staying in my house.”
- “Don’t use this NVC thing on me.”
- “What happened to you? Can’t you speak normal?”
- “You sound so clinical.”
- “Why can’t you just be honest with me and tell me what’s really going on with you?”
Aiming for Integration
Two factors combine to create this gap. One is the awkwardness of using a new and unfamiliar form of speech. Trying out something new, especially if there is any tension with another person, is highly likely to bring about self-consciousness and discomfort. Having such discomfort and then hiding it, as we are not to do, immediately shows up as inauthenticity whereas any hiding of visible discomfort does.
The other aspect of the gap derives more directly from the difference between our words and our thoughts. If we use empathic words while judging another person, or make something look like a request when it’s really a demand, we create inner tension. The empathic words or our request is likely to carry the tension in our body’s movements and posture and in our tone of voice. Add to this our habitual preoccupation with “doing it right”, and the possibility of connection diminishes even as we are trying to forge a more satisfying level of connection that we have seen work.
Integration addresses both of these at once. As we become fluid with the language itself, it’s less likely to sound clunky. We can speak poetically and creatively even while using the language of needs, provided we have mastery and ease, and provided we genuinely care about the other person’s well-being even in conflict, and have capacity to let go of attachment to outcome while engaging in dialogue.
Practice and Life
Honoring Others’ Choice
I am always happy when I see couples or work teams come together to a training. This is because the relationship they are in provides a natural context for mutual consent to practice together. Unless we have a designated practice setting, or an explicit agreement from another person to accept our own fledgling efforts to learn a new way to connect and communicate, we are, effectively, practicing on another person instead of with them. This doesn’t mean to me that we never use NVC except when we have fully integrated it, or in a practice setting. We can also get someone’s agreement on the fly, especially if we express our desire in terms of the benefit to both of us. If we say something like, “I am so aware of how many times we’ve had this same conversation with painful results. I’d like to try something different. I’m pretty new to this and so it may sound clunky or stilted. I still believe it may give us new avenues for resolving this sticky situation. Are you open to me trying it out?,” there is much more of a chance that the other person will have goodwill towards what we are doing rather than annoyance.
Adapting to Context
Bringing NVC to a workplace setting is not the same as using NVC in a personal relationship or in a therapeutic relationship. Because I have used NVC in these and other contexts, I have a deep appreciation for how much clarity, resilience, and creativity are required to navigate these differences.
Most people learn NVC in a workshop context, in which they focus most often on personal relationships or on their own healing. A healing context operates on a high level of trust and tends to have an implicit agreement to engage at a level of vulnerability and depth. Extrapolating from this context to other environments which may be operating at arms length and where people are accustomed to protecting their vulnerability presents specific challenges.
For example, when someone at work expresses frustration or gossips about another person, an empathic response modeled after what happens at a workshop, in addition to sounding clunky if not fully integrated, also runs the risk of inviting the person speaking to a level of vulnerability they simply didn’t sign up for. They do want to be heard and understood for what they said, we all do, or we wouldn’t speak. However, being heard and understood is not the same as having our deepest needs or feelings invited to the surface. In different contexts, how we convey to another person that they are being heard will vary. For this, we need flexibility and heart to focus rather than an anxious effort to remember the “right” words
The Paradox of a Language-Based Practice
Ultimately, I hope that people who learn NVC will adopt a paradoxical relationship with the specific word choices that are part of the practice. My own commitment to bringing NVC to the world is based on wanting to transform how we view and relate to ourselves, each other, and the natural world of which we are a part. I am hoping to support a morality that doesn’t depend on harsh notions of what’s “right” and what’s “wrong,” and that does support social structures and institutions focused on attending to human needs as a primary focus. I don’t have any commitment to, nor do I want to see, a world where everyone speaks in the same way and uses the same words. I imagine many shifts could happen just from adopting the question: “What would support an outcome that would work for everyone in this situation?” without anyone changing how they speak.
At the same time, I passionately believe in practice as a reliable path to change, mastery, and freedom. The genius of what Marshall Rosenberg brought to the world, as I see it, is a practice that uses very specific forms of speech in a specific sequence in a way that supports a consciousness shift. Use the language, and over time you gain a deeper knowledge of yourself and more freedom of choice. Practice role-plays in a practice group, and over time you gain ease in remembering both people’s needs when you are in conflict with others. I hope to be joined by others who treasure the practice and its transformative possibilities while at the same time recognizing that life is not a practice group. Outside of a practice setting, I hope we can all remember the core principles that move us, and focus only on how to align our actions and words with our deepest heart’s desires and core values.
Dear Miki Kashtan,
Until I had the good sense to use your link to Marshall Rosenberg, I did not know that NVC means Non-Violent Communication. Does it say anything about NVC that you wrote an entire blog post without spelling it out even once?
thank you, mr seliger, for pointing this out. especially since it also symbolizes what i believe is the weakest characteristic of nvc (‘nonviolent communication’ as a patented methodology), namely that it creates a closed circle of those ‘in the know’ who inevitably separate themselves from the general (uninitiated) public by dogmatizing the language, the terms and the process method, and stick to it religiously.
without meaning to, so many beautiful ideas and gifts for humanity, including nvc, become institutionalized and dogmatized, despite their original intentions otherwise. something happens that begins excluding those who are uninitiated (or less so) and created hierarchies of power, even if only mental-psychological power over the novices. so many get lost on their way ………not able to penetrate the wall of power that doesn’t even recognize its own behavior.
at the risk of losing some calculated influence, at the risk of ‘perhaps not succeeding in saving humanity in time’, i deeply wish the teachers would truly step down off their pedistals and stay in direct relationships with their students…………….i wish they’d let go of self expectations to function on a ‘higher plane’ than the others,…….stop being obsessed with saving mankind almost single-handedly……………..
but all of history and psychology haven’t succeeded in fiinding the way to such human development, so who am i to ask or expect……….i only wish……………
Dear Ralph and Shira,
What a painful irony you both pointed out. Made even more so by the fact that this may well be the very first time I forgot to do the unpacking of the acronym. This is my third year of blogging, and it may well be the very first time that I have forgotten, just when it’s particularly important…
I totally know how alienating such unconscious use of “in the know” language can be. I mourn the frequency with which it happens, the way in which something created for the sake of enhancing connection can so easily stand in the way of connection.
This is a challenging moment for me, because I have such a deep personal commitment to do all I can to prevent and transcend this dynamic, and it’s so sad to see myself, inadvertently, contribute to it instead.
What Shira talks about – the attachment to a particular language – is precisely what I was trying to support people in transforming, so the gift can be of service without creating barriers. I plan on continuing to do that to the best of my ability, and hope for understanding and acceptance of my human fallibility. It was an unusually stressful day when I wrote this post, and I was more tired than the usual. So I didn’t notice it.
Thank you so much for the feedback, which I experience, despite the discomfort, as supportive and useful for me.
With care,
Miki