Nonviolent Communication

Nonviolent Communication Plot Summary

Introduction

Have you ever found yourself in the middle of a heated argument, wondering how things escalated so quickly? Or perhaps you've experienced that sinking feeling when a simple conversation with a loved one suddenly turns into a wall of silence or explosive anger. Communication breakdowns happen to all of us, often leaving us feeling misunderstood, disconnected, and sometimes even hopeless about our relationships. The good news is that there's a powerful approach to communication that can transform these challenging moments into opportunities for deeper connection. By learning to express ourselves honestly while listening to others with empathy, we can create relationships built on mutual understanding and respect. This approach isn't about winning arguments or manipulating others to get what we want—it's about creating a flow between ourselves and others based on compassionate giving from the heart. As we journey through these principles and practices, you'll discover how to identify the barriers that block compassionate communication and develop the skills needed to express your needs clearly while empathically connecting with others.

Chapter 1: Separate Observations from Evaluations

At the heart of compassionate communication is the ability to separate what we observe from how we evaluate it. When we mix observations with evaluations, people are likely to hear criticism and resist what we're saying. The first step to transforming our relationships is learning to describe situations factually without adding our judgments. Marshall Rosenberg, while working with elementary school teachers who were experiencing communication difficulties with their principal, witnessed this challenge firsthand. When he asked the teachers what the principal was doing that conflicted with their needs, one immediately responded, "He has a big mouth!" This wasn't an observation but an evaluation. Another teacher offered, "He talks too much," which was still an evaluation rather than a clear observation. After several attempts, Rosenberg helped the teachers create a list of specific behaviors that bothered them—such as the principal telling stories during faculty meetings that caused the meetings to run twenty minutes overtime. This shift from vague judgments to specific observations created a foundation for productive dialogue. When the teachers and principal finally met together, Rosenberg observed the principal doing exactly what the teachers had described—interjecting personal stories that derailed discussions. However, instead of expressing their concerns directly, the teachers responded with nonverbal disapproval: eye-rolling, pointed yawning, and watch-checking. When Rosenberg asked if anyone was going to speak up, one teacher finally looked directly at the principal and said, "Ed, you have a big mouth." This judgment, rather than a clear observation, made it difficult for the principal to hear the underlying concern. To practice separating observations from evaluations, focus on describing specific behaviors and situations that can be captured by a video camera. Instead of saying "He's a poor soccer player," say "He hasn't scored a goal in twenty games." Rather than labeling someone as "irresponsible," describe the specific action: "When I see company documents left on the conference room floor..." When we communicate our observations clearly without mixing in evaluations, others can hear us more readily, even when the subject matter is difficult. The key is to avoid words like "always," "never," "frequently," or "seldom" when they're used as exaggerations. These terms often provoke defensiveness rather than compassion. By training ourselves to observe without evaluating, we create space for genuine understanding and connection. This doesn't mean we can't evaluate—it simply means we maintain a clear separation between our observations and our evaluations, allowing others to hear what we're saying without feeling judged. Remember that the ability to observe without evaluating is a skill that requires practice. As you begin implementing this approach, you might find it helpful to pause before speaking and ask yourself: "Am I describing what actually happened, or am I adding my interpretation to it?" This simple check can dramatically improve how your message is received.

Chapter 2: Identify and Express Your Feelings Authentically

Many of us have been taught to suppress our feelings or to express them in ways that actually obscure what we're truly feeling. Identifying and expressing our authentic feelings is crucial for creating meaningful connections with others. Unfortunately, our vocabulary for calling people names is often larger than our vocabulary for clearly describing our emotional states. A college student in one of Rosenberg's workshops demonstrated this difficulty when asked to express his feelings about a roommate who played loud music late at night. The student replied, "I feel that it isn't right to play music so loud at night." Rosenberg pointed out that when we follow the word "feel" with "that," we're expressing an opinion rather than a feeling. When encouraged to try again, the student declared, "I have no feelings about it whatsoever!" This response revealed how disconnected many of us are from our emotional lives. This disconnection from feelings can take a heavy toll on relationships. One woman complained to Rosenberg, "I feel like I'm married to a wall," referring to her husband who sat mute and immobile during conflicts. When Rosenberg suggested that she might be feeling lonely and wanting more emotional connection with her husband, she agreed. He then showed her how statements like "I feel like I'm living with a wall" are more likely to be heard as criticism than as invitations to connect, often creating self-fulfilling prophecies where the husband, feeling criticized, withdraws further. To express feelings clearly, we need to distinguish between actual feelings and thoughts, interpretations, or assessments. For example, saying "I feel inadequate as a guitar player" describes what you think about yourself rather than what you feel. A clearer expression might be "I feel disappointed in myself as a guitar player" or "I feel frustrated with myself as a guitar player." Similarly, statements like "I feel ignored" or "I feel misunderstood" are interpretations of others' actions rather than expressions of our feelings. Developing a rich feelings vocabulary helps us connect more authentically. When expressing feelings, use specific emotion words rather than vague terms like "good" or "bad." For instance, instead of saying "I feel good about that," specify whether you feel "happy," "excited," "relieved," or another emotion. This precision helps others understand your experience more clearly. The benefits of expressing feelings extend beyond personal relationships into professional settings. A group of hospital administrators who were anxious about an upcoming meeting with physicians discovered the power of vulnerability when one administrator departed from his usual logical, unemotional approach and expressed his feelings along with his reasons for wanting the physicians to change their position. The physicians, who had previously voted 17 to 1 against the administrators' project, reversed their position with the same 17 to 1 margin in favor after experiencing this authentic communication.

Chapter 3: Connect Feelings with Universal Human Needs

The third component of compassionate communication involves connecting our feelings to the needs that generate them. Our feelings are not caused by others' actions but arise from our own needs being either met or unmet in a given situation. When we can identify and express these needs, we create opportunities for deeper understanding and resolution. Rosenberg was once invited to mediate between landowners and migrant farm workers in Southern California whose conflicts had grown increasingly hostile and violent. He began by asking both groups, "What is it that you are each needing? And what would you like to request of the other in relation to these needs?" Instead of answering directly, a farm worker shouted, "The problem is that these people are racist!" A landowner responded even more loudly, "The problem is that these people don't respect law and order!" Both sides were more skilled in analyzing the perceived wrongness of others than in clearly expressing their own needs. This pattern repeats in many conflicts. In a meeting between Israelis and Palestinians working for peace, Rosenberg asked the same questions about needs and requests. A Palestinian mukhtar (village mayor) responded, "You people are acting like a bunch of Nazis." An Israeli woman immediately jumped up and countered, "Mukhtar, that was a totally insensitive thing for you to say!" Instead of connecting with each other's needs, they became entangled in judgments that only worsened the conflict. When we express judgments, criticisms, or interpretations, we obscure our needs. If a wife says to her husband, "You've been working late every night this week; you love your work more than you love me," she's indirectly expressing her unmet need for intimacy. However, when we express our needs indirectly through evaluations or interpretations, others are likely to hear criticism and respond defensively. All human beings share the same fundamental needs—for autonomy, celebration, integrity, interdependence, play, spiritual communion, and physical nurturance. These needs are universal, though the strategies we use to meet them vary widely. By focusing on these shared needs rather than on our conflicting strategies, we discover our common humanity and open pathways to mutual understanding. Connecting feelings with needs requires practice, especially since many of us have been taught to deny or suppress our needs. Women in particular may have been socialized to view the caretaking of others as their highest duty while ignoring their own needs. Rosenberg's mother once realized after 36 years of marriage that she had never once clearly told his father what she needed, though she had been angry with him for not meeting her needs all that time. As we develop emotional literacy, we move through stages toward emotional liberation. First, we might experience "emotional slavery," believing ourselves responsible for others' feelings. Then we might enter an "obnoxious stage," refusing to consider others' feelings. Finally, we reach "emotional liberation," responding to others out of compassion rather than fear, guilt, or shame, while taking responsibility for our own feelings and actions.

Chapter 4: Make Clear, Positive Action Requests

Once we've observed without evaluating, identified our feelings, and connected them to our needs, the fourth component of compassionate communication involves making clear requests for actions that might fulfill our needs. The key is to express what we are requesting rather than what we are not requesting, using positive action language. A woman at a workshop described how her request to her husband had backfired: "I asked him not to spend so much time at work. Three weeks later, he responded by announcing he'd signed up for a golf tournament!" She had successfully communicated what she didn't want—his spending so much time at work—but had failed to request what she did want. When encouraged to reword her request, she said, "I wish I had told him that I would like him to spend at least one evening a week at home with the children and me." Rosenberg himself experienced the limitations of focusing on what he didn't want to do rather than what he did want to do after a television debate during the Vietnam War. Unhappy with how he had communicated, he kept telling himself before a follow-up debate, "I'm not going to be defensive. I'm not going to let them make a fool of me." Yet as soon as the program started and his opponent began speaking, Rosenberg found himself responding in exactly the ways he had been determined to avoid. Making requests in clear, positive action language reveals what we really want. Vague or abstract language can mask our true desires and create confusion. For example, when a woman told her husband, "I want you to let me be me," he responded defensively. When asked to clarify what she actually wanted, she realized she was asking him to "smile and say that anything I do is okay"—a request that, once clarified, revealed how little freedom it would leave him. Requests differ from demands in a crucial way: when we make demands, others see only two options—submission or rebellion. The test of whether we're making a request or a demand is how we react when someone says no. If we respond with blame or punishment, we were making a demand. If we empathize with what prevents the person from saying yes, we were making a genuine request. Jack, feeling lonely, asked his friend Jane to spend the evening with him. When she declined because she was tired, Jack responded, "How typical of you to be so selfish!" His supposed request was actually a demand. In contrast, a genuine request would have been followed by empathy for Jane's need for rest, rather than blame or guilt-tripping. To ensure that others understand we're requesting rather than demanding, we can use phrases like "Would you be willing to..." and show empathy when they decline. Our objective should be to establish relationships based on honesty and empathy, not to manipulate others into doing what we want. This distinction is particularly important for parents, teachers, managers, and others whose work involves influencing people. When making requests in a group setting, it's especially important to be clear about the kind of response we want. Otherwise, unproductive conversations can ensue. In one community meeting about racism, Rosenberg observed how one person's comment about a newspaper article led to twenty minutes of unfocused discussion because the speaker wasn't clear about what response they wanted from the group. Being specific about the response we're seeking saves valuable time and leads to more productive exchanges.

Chapter 5: Receive Empathically Before Problem-Solving

Empathy—the respectful understanding of what others are experiencing—is essential to compassionate communication. It requires us to be fully present with others, emptying our minds of preconceived ideas and judgments. Unfortunately, instead of offering empathy, we often give advice, reassurance, or explanations of our own position or feelings. Rosenberg learned the importance of asking before offering advice or reassurance when his daughter looked in the mirror one day and said, "I'm as ugly as a pig." He immediately responded, "You're the most gorgeous creature God ever put on the face of the earth." His daughter shot him an exasperated look, exclaimed "Oh, Daddy!" and slammed the door as she left the room. Later, he discovered that she had wanted empathy for her feelings, not reassurance. Common behaviors that prevent empathic connection include advising ("I think you should..."), one-upping ("That's nothing; wait'll you hear what happened to me"), educating ("This could turn into a positive experience if you just..."), consoling ("It wasn't your fault"), story-telling ("That reminds me of..."), shutting down ("Cheer up"), sympathizing ("Oh, you poor thing"), interrogating ("When did this begin?"), explaining ("I would have called but..."), and correcting ("That's not how it happened"). In his book "When Bad Things Happen to Good People," Rabbi Harold Kushner describes how painful it was for him, when his son was dying, to hear the words people offered that were intended to make him feel better. Even more painful was his recognition that for twenty years he had been saying the same things to other people in similar situations. The key to empathic listening is to focus on the other person's feelings and needs rather than thinking about how their words connect to our theories or analyses. When we listen empathically, we don't need insights into psychological dynamics or training in psychotherapy—we simply need to be present to what's really going on within the other person in that moment. A volunteer at a hospital demonstrated the power of empathy when she visited an elderly patient who kept repeating, "I want to die." While nurses had tried to reassure the woman that she wasn't that sick and would get better if she took her medicine, the volunteer simply reflected back, "So you would like to die." Surprised, the woman stopped her chant and began to talk about how no one understood how terrible she was feeling. By the end of their conversation, they were sitting with their arms locked around each other, and later that day, the woman began to eat and take her medicine. Empathic connection can defuse potential violence. A teacher in St. Louis who stayed after school to help a student found herself confronted by a young man who entered her classroom and demanded she take off her clothes. Instead of panicking, she responded empathically: "I'm sensing this is very scary for you." As he continued to threaten her, she kept connecting with his feelings and needs: "I'm sensing you're really pissed off right now and you want me to do what you're telling me." Eventually, he settled for taking her purse rather than assaulting her. The teacher later described how each time she empathized with him, she could sense him becoming less adamant in his intention to follow through with the rape.

Chapter 6: Transform Anger into Life-Serving Energy

Anger is often misunderstood as something to be suppressed or unleashed uncontrollably. In compassionate communication, we see anger as a valuable signal that our needs aren't being met, but we transform it from a destructive force into life-serving energy. John, a Swedish prisoner who had behaved violently, participated in a workshop where Rosenberg was teaching inmates how to express anger without resorting to violence. When asked about the cause of his anger, John immediately pointed to prison officials who hadn't responded to his request after three weeks. Rosenberg helped him see that the cause of his anger wasn't the officials' behavior but his own thoughts about them: "They have no respect for human beings; they are a bunch of cold, faceless bureaucrats who don't give a damn about anybody but themselves!" The cause of anger lies in our thinking—in thoughts of blame and judgment. When we choose to judge others as wrong or deserving punishment, we generate anger. The key to transforming anger is to redirect our attention from blaming others to connecting with our own needs. When John shifted his focus from condemning the prison officials to recognizing his need for training that would help him avoid returning to prison, his anger gave way to fear. This shift from anger to awareness of his underlying need created an opening for resolution. Rosenberg outlined four steps to expressing anger fully: First, stop and breathe, refraining from any move to blame or punish the other person. Second, identify the judgmental thoughts that are triggering your anger. Third, connect with the needs behind those thoughts. Fourth, express your feelings and unmet needs. For example, if you judge someone to be racist, the need might be for inclusion or respect. Instead of saying, "That was a racist thing to do!" you might say, "When you entered the room and started talking to others but not to me, I felt really sick to my stomach and scared; it triggered my need to be treated equally." Before expressing our anger, however, it's often necessary to offer empathy to the other person. A young woman working at a drug detoxification center in Toronto demonstrated this approach when confronted by a man who knocked her to the ground and held a knife to her throat. Instead of arguing with him when he accused her of lying about having no rooms available, she focused on his feelings and needs: "Are you feeling frustrated? It appears that you might want to be given a room." As he continued to express his anger, she kept empathizing: "Are you fed up, not getting the respect that you want?" After about thirty-five minutes of this empathic exchange, the man put away his knife, and she helped him find a room at another center. The more we hear the feelings and needs behind others' messages, the more we recognize our common humanity. When we focus on needs rather than judgments, we see people not as monsters but as human beings whose needs aren't being met. This shift in perception creates possibilities for connection even in the most challenging situations. Taking time is essential when learning to transform anger. Sam Williams, a friend of Rosenberg's, kept a card with the basic components of compassionate communication in his pocket and would consult it whenever his boss confronted him or when conflicts arose at home. His four-year-old son Scottie recognized the value of this practice—during an argument about television, Scottie urgently said, "Daddy, get the card!" By practicing these steps consistently, we can learn to use anger as a wake-up call that alerts us to unmet needs rather than as a weapon that damages our relationships. This transformation doesn't happen overnight—it requires patience and commitment, especially for those of us raised in environments where judging and blaming were the norm.

Chapter 7: Use Protective Force Without Punishment

There are situations where dialogue isn't possible and force becomes necessary to protect life or rights. The key distinction in compassionate communication is between protective force and punitive force. Understanding this difference transforms how we respond to dangerous or harmful behaviors. When we grab a child who is running into the street to prevent injury, we're using protective force. Our intention is solely to protect the child from danger, not to make them suffer for their behavior. We're not blaming or condemning the child; we're focused entirely on preserving their safety. The assumption behind protective force is that people behave in harmful ways due to some form of ignorance—lack of awareness of consequences, inability to see how needs can be met without harming others, belief in the right to punish others, or delusional thinking. Punitive force, by contrast, is based on the assumption that people do wrong because they're bad or evil and need to be made to suffer enough to see the error of their ways, repent, and change. This approach often backfires, generating resentment and hostility rather than learning. When we submit to demands solely to avoid punishment, our attention shifts from the value of the action itself to fear of consequences. This undermines both morale and self-esteem. Rosenberg witnessed a school principal demonstrating this problem when he grabbed and swatted a larger child who had been hitting a smaller one, saying, "I'll teach you not to hit smaller people!" The principal was inadvertently reinforcing the very behavior he wanted to stop by modeling that the way to get what you want is to use physical force against those who are smaller or less powerful. To understand the limitations of punishment, we need to ask two questions: First, what do I want this person to do differently? Second, what do I want this person's reasons to be for doing what I'm asking? While punishment may influence behavior in the short term, it interferes with people's ability to act for the reasons we'd like them to have. If we want children to clean their rooms out of a desire for order or to contribute to their parents' enjoyment, punishment will not achieve this goal. Children might clean their rooms to avoid punishment, but not from the intrinsic motivation we hope to foster. Rosenberg demonstrated an alternative approach when working with troubled students at an alternative school. Rather than using punishment to address disruptive behavior, he engaged directly with the students who had contributed most to the turbulence. When he asked what problems they were experiencing, one student complained that teachers did nothing when students misbehaved: "No matter what anybody do they just stand there smilin' like fools." Instead of imposing punitive measures, Rosenberg worked with the students to develop a solution. When one student suggested creating a "do-nothing room" where students who didn't want to study could go until they felt ready to learn, Rosenberg supported this idea. The room would serve not as punishment but as a resource—a place for students who weren't ready to study and simultaneously a way to protect the learning environment for those who wanted to study. This approach respected everyone's needs and resulted in significantly improved order in the school. The protective use of force maintains awareness that we are responsible for our own actions and that our well-being and that of others are one and the same. It fosters a level of moral development based on autonomy and interdependence rather than obedience to authority. By distinguishing between protection and punishment, we can respond effectively to dangerous situations while still honoring the humanity of all involved.

Summary

Compassionate communication offers a transformative approach to human connection that can revolutionize our relationships at every level—from intimate partnerships to global conflicts. By learning to observe without evaluating, express feelings authentically, connect with universal human needs, make clear requests, listen empathically, transform anger, and use force protectively rather than punitively, we create pathways to mutual understanding and respect. As Marshall Rosenberg reminds us, "When we are conscious of the life-enriching purpose behind an action we take, when the sole energy that motivates us is simply to make life wonderful for others and ourselves, then even hard work has an element of play in it." This perspective invites us to approach all our interactions with a spirit of compassion and curiosity rather than judgment and demand. The journey of compassionate communication isn't always easy—it requires courage to express vulnerability, patience to listen deeply, and willingness to take responsibility for our feelings and needs. But the rewards are profound: deeper connections, more authentic self-expression, and the joy that comes from contributing to others' well-being from the heart. Begin today by choosing just one conversation where you'll practice observing without evaluating, expressing a feeling connected to a need, or listening empathically without offering advice or solutions. This single step can open the door to a new way of being in relationship with yourself and others.

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Marshall B. Rosenberg

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