Nonviolent Communication - A Language of Life, Second Edition @Team LiB (10 page)

As we know, the message we send is not always the message that’s received. We generally rely on verbal cues to determine whether our message has been understood to our satisfaction. If, however, we’re uncertain that it has been received as intended, we need to be able to clearly request a response that tells us how the message was heard so as to be able to correct any misunderstanding. On some occasions, a simple question like, “Is that clear?” will suffice. At other times, we need more than “Yes, I understood you,” to feel confident that we’ve been truly understood. At such times, we might ask others to reflect back in their own words what they heard us say. We then have the opportunity to restate parts of our message to address any discrepancy or omission we might have noticed in their reflection.

To make sure the message we sent is the message that’s received, ask the listener to reflect it back.

For example, a teacher approaches a student and says, “Peter, I got concerned when I checked my record book yesterday. I want to make sure you’re aware of the homework I’m missing from you. Will you drop by my office after school?” Peter mumbles, “Okay, I know” and then turns away, leaving the teacher uneasy as to whether her message had been accurately received. She asks for a reflection—“Could you tell me what you just heard me say?”—to which Peter replies, “You said I gotta miss soccer to stay after school because you didn’t like my homework.” Confirmed in her suspicion that Peter had not heard her intended message, the teacher tries to restate it, but first she is careful of her next remark.

An assertion like “You didn’t hear me,” “That’s not what I said,” or “You’re misunderstanding me,” may easily lead Peter to think that he is being chastised. Since the teacher perceives Peter as having sincerely responded to her request for a reflection, she might say, “I’m grateful to you for telling me what you heard. I can see that I didn’t make myself as clear as I’d have liked, so let me try again.”

Express appreciation when your listener tries to meet your request for a reflection.

When we first begin asking others to reflect back what they hear us say, it may feel awkward and strange because such requests are rarely made. When I emphasize the importance of our ability to ask for reflections, people often express reservations. They are worried about reactions like, “What do you think I am—deaf?” or “Quit playing your psychological games.” To prevent such responses, we can explain to people ahead of time why we may sometimes ask them to reflect back our words. We make clear that we’re not testing their listening skills, but checking out whether we’ve expressed ourselves clearly. However, should the listener retort, “I heard what you said; I’m not stupid!”, we have the option to focus on their feelings and needs and ask—either aloud or silently, “Are you saying you’re feeling annoyed because you want respect for your ability to understand things?”

Empathize with the listener who doesn’t want to reflect back.

After we’ve openly expressed ourselves and received the understanding we want, we’re often eager to know the other person’s reaction to what we’ve said. Usually the honesty we would like to receive takes one of three directions:

• Sometimes we’d like to know the feelings that are stimulated by what we said, and the reasons for those feelings. We might request this by asking, “I would like you to tell me how you feel about what I just said, and your reasons for feeling as you do.”
  

  After we express ourselves vulnerably, we often want to know
  (a) what the listener is feeling;
  

• Sometimes we’d like to know something about our listener’s thoughts in response to what they just heard us say. At these times, it’s important to specify which thoughts we’d like them to share. For example, we might say, “I’d like you to tell me if you predict that my proposal would be successful, and if not, what you believe would prevent its success,” rather than simply saying, “I’d like you to tell me what you think about what I’ve said.” When we don’t specify which thoughts we would like to receive, the other person may respond at great length with thoughts that aren’t the ones we are seeking.
  

• Sometimes we’d like to know whether the person is willing to take certain actions that we’ve recommended. Such a request may sound like this: “I’d like you to tell me if you would be willing to postpone our meeting for one week.”
  

  (b) what the listener is thinking; or
  

  (c) whether the listener would be willing to take a particular action.
  

• The use of NVC requires that we be conscious of the specific form of honesty we would like to receive, and to make that request for honesty in concrete language.
  

It is especially important when we are addressing a group to be clear about the kind of understanding or honesty we want back from them after we’ve expressed ourselves. When we are not clear about the response we’d like, we may initiate unproductive conversations that end up satisfying no one’s needs.

I’ve been invited from time to time to work with groups of citizens concerned about racism in their communities. One issue that frequently arises among these groups is that their meetings are tedious and fruitless. This lack of productivity is very costly for the members, who often expend limited resources to arrange for transportation and childcare in order to attend meetings. Frustrated by prolonged discussions that yield little direction, many members quit the groups, declaring meetings a waste of time. Furthermore, the institutional changes they are striving to make are not usually ones that occur quickly or easily. For all these reasons, when such groups do meet, it’s important that they make good use of their time together.

I knew members of one such group that had been organized to effect change in the local school system. It was their belief that various elements in the school system discriminated against students on the basis of race. Because their meetings were unproductive and the group was losing members, they invited me to observe their discussions. I suggested that they conduct their meeting as usual, and that I would let them know if I saw any ways NVC might help.

One man began the meeting by calling the group’s attention to a recent newspaper article in which a minority mother had raised complaints and concerns regarding the principal’s treatment of her daughter. A woman responded by sharing a situation that had occurred to her when she was a student at the same school. One by one, each member then related a similar personal experience. After twenty minutes I asked the group if their needs were being met by the current discussion. Not one person said “yes.” “This is what happens all the time in these meetings!” huffed one man, “I have better things to do with my time than sit around listening to the same old bullshit.”

I then addressed the man who had initiated the discussion: “Can you tell me, when you brought up the newspaper article, what response you were wanting from the group?” “I thought it was interesting,” he replied. I explained that I was asking what response he wanted from the group, rather than what he thought about the article. He pondered awhile and then conceded, “I’m not sure what I wanted.”

In a group, much time is wasted when speakers aren’t certain what response they’re wanting back.

And that’s why, I believe, twenty minutes of the group’s valuable time had been squandered on fruitless discourse. When we address a group without being clear what we are wanting back, unproductive discussions will often follow. However, if even one member of a group is conscious of the importance of clearly requesting the response that is desired, he or she can extend this consciousness to the group. For example, when this particular man didn’t define what response he wanted, a member of the group might have said, “I’m confused about how you’d like us to respond to your story. Would you be willing to say what response you’d like from us?” Such interventions can prevent the waste of precious group time.

Conversations often drag on and on, fulfilling no one’s needs, because it is unclear whether the initiator of the conversation has gotten what she or he wanted. In India, when people have received the response they want in conversations they have initiated, they say “bas” (pronounced bus). This means, “You need not say more. I feel satisfied and am now ready to move on to something else.”

Though we lack such a word in our own language, we can benefit from developing and promoting “bas-consciousness” in all our interactions.

Requests are received as demands when others believe they will be blamed or punished if they do not comply. When people hear us make a demand, they see only two options: submission or rebellion. Either way, the person requesting is perceived as coercive, and the listener’s capacity to respond compassionately to the request is diminished.

When the other person hears a demand from us, they see two options: submit or rebel.

The more we have in the past blamed, punished, or “laid guilt trips” on others when they haven’t responded to our requests, the higher the likelihood that our requests will now be heard as demands. We also pay for the use of such tactics by others. To the degree that people in our lives have been blamed, punished, or urged to feel guilty for not doing what others have requested, the more likely they are to carry this baggage to every subsequent relationship and hear a demand in any request.

How to tell if it’s a demand or a request: Observe what the speaker does if the request is not complied with.

Let’s look at two variations of a situation. Jack says to his friend Jane, “I’m lonely and would like you to spend the evening with me.” Is that a request or a demand? The answer is that we don’t know until we observe how Jack treats Jane if she doesn’t comply. Suppose she replies, “Jack, I’m really tired. If you’d like some company, how about finding someone else to be with you this evening?” If Jack then remarks, “How typical of you to be so selfish!” his request was in fact a demand. Instead of empathizing with her need to rest, he has blamed her.

It’s a demand if the speaker then criticizes or judges.

Consider a second scenario:

Jack:
“I’m lonely and would like you to spend the evening with me.”

Jane:
“Jack, I’m really tired. If you’d like some company, how about finding someone else to be with you tonight?”

Jack turns away wordlessly.

Jane, sensing he is upset:
“Is something bothering you?”

Jack:
“No.”

Jane:
“Come on, Jack, I can sense something’s going on.

What’s the matter?”

Jack:
“You know how lonely I’m feeling. If you really loved me, you’d spend the evening with me.”

Again, instead of empathizing, Jack now interprets Jane’s response to mean that she doesn’t love him and that she has rejected him. The more we interpret noncompliance as rejection,the more likely our requests will be heard as demands. This leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy, for the more people hear demands, the less they enjoy being around us.

It’s a demand if the speaker then lays a guilt-trip.

On the other hand, we would know that Jack’s request had been a genuine request, not a demand, if his response to Jane had expressed a respectful recognition of her feelings and needs, e.g. “So, Jane, you’re feeling worn out and needing some rest this evening?”

We can help others trust that we are requesting, not demanding, by indicating that we would only want the person to comply if he or she can do so willingly. Thus we might ask, “Would you be willing to set the table?” rather than “I would like you to set the table.” However, the most powerful way to communicate that we are making a genuine request is to empathize with people when they don’t respond to the request. We demonstrate that we are making a request rather than a demand by how we respond when others don’t comply. If we are prepared to show an empathic understanding of what prevents someone from doing as we asked, then by my definition, we have made a request, not a demand. Choosing to request rather than demand does not mean we give up when someone says “no” to our request. It does mean that we don’t engage in persuasion until we have empathized with what’s preventing the other person from saying “yes.”

It’s a request if the speaker then shows empathy toward the other person’s needs.

Expressing genuine requests also requires an awareness of our objective. If our objective is only to change people and their behavior or to get our way, then NVC is not an appropriate tool. The process is designed for those of us who would like others to change and respond, but only if they choose to do so willingly and compassionately. The objective of NVC is to establish a relationship based on honesty and empathy. When others trust that our primary commitment is to the quality of the relationship, and that we expect this process to fulfill everyone’s needs, then they can trust that our requests are true requests and not camouflaged demands.

Our objective is a relationship based on honesty and empathy.

A consciousness of this objective is difficult to maintain, especially for parents, teachers, managers, and others whose work centers around influencing people and obtaining behavioral results. A mother who once returned to a workshop after lunch break announced, “Marshall, I went home and tried it. It didn’t work.” I asked her to describe what she’d done.

“I went home and expressed my feelings and needs, just as we’d practiced. I made no criticism, no judgments of my son. I simply said, ‘Look, when I see that you haven’t done the work you said you were going to do, I feel very disappointed. I wanted to be able to come home and find the house in order and your chores completed.’ Then I made a request: I told him I wanted him to clean it up immediately.”

“It sounds like you clearly expressed all the components,” I commented, “What happened?”

“He didn’t do it.”

“Then what happened?” I asked.

“I told him he couldn’t go through life being lazy and irresponsible.”

I could see that this woman was not yet able to distinguish between expressing requests and making demands. She was still defining the process as successful only if she got compliance for her “requests.” During the initial phases of learning this process, we may find ourselves applying the components of NVC mechanically without awareness of the underlying purpose.

Sometimes, however, even when we’re conscious of our intent and express our request with care, some people may still hear a demand. This is particularly true when we occupy positions of authority and are speaking with those who have had past experiences with coercive authority figures.

Once, the administrator of a high school invited me to demonstrate to teachers how NVC might be helpful in communicating with students who weren’t cooperating as the teachers would have liked.

I was asked to meet with forty students who had been deemed “socially and emotionally maladjusted.” I was struck by the way such labels serve as self-fulfilling prophecies. If you were a student who had been thus labeled, wouldn’t it just give you permission to have some fun at school by resisting whatever was asked of you? By giving people labels, we tend to act toward them in a way that contributes to the very behavior that concerns us, which we then view as further confirmation of our diagnosis. Since these students knew they had been classified as “socially and emotionally maladjusted,” I wasn’t surprised that, when I walked in, most of them were hanging out the window hollering obscenities at their friends in the courtyard below. I began by making a request: “I’d like you all to come over and sit down so I can tell you who I am and what I’d like us to do today.” About half the students came over. Uncertain that they had all heard me, I repeated my request. With that, the remainder of the students sat down, with the exception of two young men who remained draped over the windowsill.

Unfortunately for me, these two were the biggest students in the class.

“Excuse me,” I addressed them, “would one of you two gentlemen tell me what you heard me say?” One of them turned toward me and snorted, “Yeah, you said we had to go over there and sit down.” I thought to myself, “Uh, oh, he’s heard my request as a demand.”

Out loud I said, “Sir” (I’ve learned always to say “sir” to people with biceps like his, especially when one of them sports a tattoo), “would you be willing to tell me how I could have let you know what I was wanting so that it wouldn’t sound like I was bossing you around?” “Huh?” Having been conditioned to expect demands from authorities, he was not used to my different approach. “How can I let you know what I’m wanting from you so it doesn’t sound like I don’t care about what you’d like?” I repeated. He hesitated for a moment and shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“What’s going on between you and me right now is a good example of what I was wanting us to talk about today. I believe people can enjoy each other a lot better if they can say what they would like without bossing others around. When I tell you what I’d like, I’m not saying that you have to do it or I’ll try to make your life miserable. I don’t know how to say that in a way that you can trust.” To my relief, this seemed to make sense to the young man who, together with his friend, sauntered over to join the group. In certain situations such as this one, it may take awhile for our requests to be clearly seen for what they are.

When making a request, it is also helpful to scan our minds for thoughts of the following sort that automatically transform requests into demands:

• He
  should
  be cleaning up after himself.
  

• She’s
  supposed
  to do what I ask.
  

• I
  deserve
  to get a raise.
  

• I’m
  justified
  in having them stay later.
  

• I have a
  right
  to more time off.
  

• When we frame our needs in this way, we are bound to judge others when they don’t do as we request. I had such self-righteous thoughts in my mind once when my younger son was not taking out the garbage. When we were dividing the household chores, he had agreed to this task, but every day we would have another struggle about getting the garbage out. Every day I would remind him—“This is your job,” “We all have jobs,” etc.—with the sole objective of getting him to take out the garbage.
  

  Finally, one night I listened more closely to what he’d been telling me all along about why the garbage wasn’t going out. I wrote the following song after that evening’s discussion. After my son felt my empathy for his position, he began taking out the garbage without any further reminder from me.
  

  Song from Brett
  

  If I clearly understand
  you intend no demand,
  I’ll usually respond when you call.
  But if you come across
  like a high and mighty boss,
  you’ll feel like you ran into a wall.
  And when you remind me
  so piously
  about all those things you’ve done for me,
  you’d better get ready:
  Here comes another bout!
  Then you can shout,
  you can spit,
  moan, groan, and throw a fit;
  I still won’t take the garbage out.
  Now even if you should change your style,
  It’s going to take me a little while
  before I can forgive and forget.
  Because it seems to me that you
  didn’t see me as human too
  until all your standards were met.