Read Nonviolent Communication - A Language of Life, Second Edition @Team LiB Online
Authors: by Marshall B. Rosenberg
Nonviolent Communication - A Language of Life, Second Edition @Team LiB (9 page)
Requesting That Which Would Enrich Life
We have now covered the first three components of NVC that address what we are
observing
,
feeling
, and
needing
. We have learned to do this without criticizing, analyzing, blaming, or diagnosing others, and in a way most likely to inspire compassion. The fourth and final component of this process addresses the question of
what we would like to request of others
in order to enrich life for us. When our needs are not being fulfilled, we follow the expression of what we are observing, feeling, and needing with a specific request: we ask for actions that might fulfill our needs. How do we express our requests so that others are more willing to respond compassionately to our needs?
First of all, we express what we
are
requesting rather than what we
are not
requesting. “How do you do a
don’t
?” goes a line of a children’s song by my colleague, Ruth Bebermeyer, “All I know is I feel
won’t
when I’m told to do a
don’t
.” These lyrics reveal two problems commonly encountered when requests are worded in the negative. People are often confused as to what is actually being requested, and furthermore, negative requests are likely to provoke resistance.
A woman at a workshop, frustrated that her husband was spending so much time at work, described how her request had backfired: “I asked him not to spend so much time at work. Three weeks later, he responded by announcing that he’d signed up for a golf tournament!” She had successfully communicated to him what she did not want—his spending so much time at work—but had failed to request what she
did
want. Encouraged to reword her request, she thought a minute and 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.”
Use positive language when making requests.
During the Vietnam War, I was asked to debate the war issue on television with a man whose position differed from mine. The show was videotaped, so I was able to watch it at home that evening. When I saw myself on the screen communicating in ways I didn’t want to be communicating, I felt very upset. “If I’m ever in another discussion,” I told myself, “I am determined not to do what I did on that program! I’m not going to be defensive. I’m not going to let them make a fool of me.” Notice how I spoke to myself in terms of what I
didn’t
want to do rather than in terms of what I
did
want to do.
A chance to redeem myself came the very next week when I was invited to continue the debate on the same program. All the way to the studio, I repeated to myself all the things I didn’t want to do. As soon as the program started, the man launched off in exactly the same way as he had a week earlier. For about ten seconds after he’d finished talking, I managed not to communicate in the ways I had been reminding myself. In fact, I said nothing. I just sat there. As soon as I opened my mouth, however, I found words tumbling out in all the ways I had been so determined to avoid! It was a painful lesson about what can happen when I only identify what I
don’t
want to do, without clarifying what I
do
want to do.
I was once invited to work with some high school students who suffered a long litany of grievances against their principal. They regarded the principal as a racist, and searched for ways to get even with him. A minister who worked closely with the young people became deeply concerned over the prospect of violence. Out of respect for the minister, the students agreed to meet with me.
They began by describing what they saw as discrimination on the part of the principal. After listening to several of their charges, I suggested that they proceed by clarifying what they wanted from the principal.
“What good would that do?” scoffed one student in disgust, “We already went to him to tell him what we wanted. His answer to us was, ‘Get out of here! I don’t need you people telling me what to do!’”
I asked the students what they had requested of the principal. They recalled saying to him that they didn’t want him telling them how to wear their hair. I suggested that they might have received a more cooperative response if they had expressed what they
did
, rather than what they
did not
, want. They had then informed the principal that they wanted to be treated with fairness, at which he had become defensive, vociferously denying ever having been unfair. I ventured to guess that the principal would have responded more favorably if they had asked for specific actions rather than vague behavior like “fair treatment.”
Working together, we found ways to express their requests in positive action language. At the end of the meeting, the students had clarified 38 actions they wanted the principal to take, including “We’d like you to agree to black student representation on decisions made about dress code,” and “We’d like you to refer to us as ‘black students’ and not ‘you people.’” The following day, the students presented their requests to the principal using the positive action language we had practiced; that evening I received an elated phone call from them: their principal had agreed to all 38 requests!
In addition to using positive language, we also want to avoid vague, abstract, or ambiguous phrasing and to word our requests in the form of concrete actions that others can undertake. A cartoon depicts a man who has fallen into a lake. As he struggles to swim, he shouts to his dog on shore, “Lassie, get help!” In the next frame, the dog is lying on a psychiatrist’s couch. We all know how opinions vary as to what constitutes “help”: some members of my family, when asked to help with the dishes, think “help” means supervision.
Making requests in clear, positive, concrete action language reveals what we really want.
A couple in distress attending a workshop provides an additional illustration of how nonspecific language can hamper understanding and communication. “I want you to let me be me,” the woman declared to her husband. “I do!” he retorted. “No, you don’t!” she insisted. Asked to express herself in positive action language, the woman replied, “I want you to give me the freedom to grow and be myself.” Such a statement, however, is just as vague and likely to provoke a defensive response. She struggled to formulate her request clearly, and then admitted, “It’s kind of awkward, but if I were to be precise, I guess what I want is for you to smile and say that anything I do is okay.” Often, the use of vague and abstract language can mask such oppressive interpersonal games.
A similar lack of clarity occurred between a father and his 15-year-old son when they came in for counseling. “All I want is for you to start showing a little responsibility,” claimed the father. “Is that asking too much?” I suggested that he specify what it would take for his son to demonstrate the responsibility he was seeking. After a discussion on how to clarify his request, the father responded sheepishly, “Well, it doesn’t sound so good, but when I say that I want responsibility, what I really mean is that I want him to do what I ask, without question—to jump when I say jump, and to smile while doing it.” He then agreed with me that if his son were to actually behave this way, it would demonstrate obedience rather than responsibility.
Vague language contributes to internal confusion.
Like this father, we often use vague and abstract language to indicate how we want other people to feel or be without naming a concrete action they can take to reach that state. For example, an employer makes a genuine effort to invite feedback, telling the employees, “I want you to feel free to express yourself around me.” The statement communicates the employer’s desire for the employees to “feel free,” but not what they could do in order to feel this way. Instead, the employer could use positive action language to make a request: “I’d like you to
tell
me what I might
do
to make it easier for you to feel free to express yourselves around me.”
As a final illustration of how the use of vague language contributes to internal confusion, I would like to present a conversation that I would invariably have during my practice as a clinical psychologist with the many clients who came to me with complaints of depression. After I empathized with the depth of feelings that a client had just expressed, our exchanges would typically proceed in the following manner:
Depression is the reward we get for being “good.”
MBR:
“What are you wanting that you are not receiving?”
Client:
“I don’t know what I want.”
MBR:
“I guessed that you would say that.”
Client:
“Why?”
MBR:
“My theory is that we get depressed because we’re not getting what we want, and we’re not getting what we want because we have never been taught to get what we want. Instead, we’ve been taught to be good little boys and girls and good mothers and fathers. If we’re going to be one of those good things, better get used to being depressed. Depression is the reward we get for being ‘good.’ But, if you want to feel better, I’d like you to clarify what you would like people to do to make life more wonderful for you.”
Client:
“I just want someone to love me. That’s hardly unreasonable, is it?”
MBR:
“It’s a good start. Now I’d like you to clarify what you would like people to do that would fulfill your need to be loved. For example, what could I do right now?”
Client:
“Oh, you know . . . ”
MBR:
“I’m not sure I do. I’d like you to tell me what you would like me, or others, to do to give you the love you’re looking for.”
Client:
“That’s hard.”
MBR:
“Yes, it can be difficult to make clear requests. But think how hard it will be for others to respond to our request if we’re not even clear what it is!”
Client:
“I’m starting to get clear what I want from others to fulfill my need for love, but it’s embarrassing.”
MBR:
“Yes, very often it is embarrassing. So what would you like for me or others to do?”
Client:
“If I really reflect upon what I’m requesting when I ask to be loved, I suppose I want you to guess what I want before I’m even aware of it. And then I want you to always do it.”
MBR:
“I’m grateful for your clarity. I hope you can see how you are not likely to find someone who can fulfill your need for love if that’s what it takes.”
Very often, my clients were able to see how the lack of awareness of what they wanted from others had contributed significantly to their frustrations and depression.
Sometimes we may be able to communicate a clear request without putting it in words. Suppose you’re in the kitchen and your sister, who is watching television in the living room, calls out, “I’m thirsty.” In this case, it may be obvious that she is requesting you to bring her a glass of water from the kitchen.
It may not be clear to the listener what we want them to do when we simply express our feelings.
However, in other instances, we may express our discomfort and incorrectly assume that the listener has understood the underlying request. For example, a woman might say to her husband, “I’m annoyed you forgot the butter and onions I asked you to pick up for dinner.” While it may be obvious to her that she is asking him to go back to the store, the husband may think that her words were uttered solely to make him feel guilty.
Even more often, we are simply not conscious of what we are requesting when we speak. We talk
to
others or
at
them without knowing how to engage in a dialogue
with
them. We toss out words, using the presence of others as a wastebasket. In such situations, the listener, unable to discern a clear request in the speaker’s words, may experience the kind of distress illustrated in the following anecdote.
We are often not conscious of what we are requesting.
I was seated directly across the aisle from a couple on a minitrain that carries passengers to their respective terminals at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport. For passengers in a hurry to catch a plane, the snail’s pace of the train may well be irritating. The man turned to his wife and said with intensity, “I have never seen a train go so slow in all my life!” She said nothing, appearing tense and uneasy as to what response he might be expecting from her. He then did what many of us do when we’re not getting the response we want: he repeated himself. In a markedly stronger voice, he exclaimed, “I have never seen a train go so slow in all my life!”
The wife, at a loss for response, looked even more distressed. In desperation, she turned to him and said, “They’re electronically timed.” I didn’t think this piece of information would satisfy him, and indeed it did not, for he repeated himself a third time—even more loudly, “
I HAVE NEVER SEEN A TRAIN GO SO SLOW IN ALL MY LIFE
!” The wife’s patience was clearly exhausted as she snapped back angrily, “Well, what do you want me to do about it? Get out and push?” Now there were two people in pain!
What response was the man wanting? I believe he wanted to hear that his pain was understood. If his wife had known this, she might have responded, “It sounds like you’re scared we might miss our plane, and disgusted because you’d like a faster train running between these terminals.”
Requests unaccompanied by the speaker’s feelings and needs may sound like a demand.
In the above exchange, the wife heard the husband’s frustration but was clueless as to what he was asking for. Equally problematic is the reverse situation—when people state their requests without first communicating the feelings and needs behind them. This is especially true when the request takes the form of a question. “Why don’t you go and get a haircut?” can easily be heard by youngsters as a demand or an attack unless parents remember to first reveal their own feelings and needs: “We’re worried that your hair is getting so long it might keep you from seeing things, especially when you’re on your bike. How about a haircut?”
The clearer we are about what we want back, the more likely it is that we’ll get it.
It is more common, however, for people to talk without being conscious of what they are asking for. “I’m not requesting anything,” they might remark, “I just felt like saying what I said.” My belief is that, whenever we say something to another person, we are requesting something in return. It may simply be an empathic connection—a verbal or nonverbal acknowledgment, as with the man on the train, that our words have been understood. Or we may be requesting honesty: we wish to know the listener’s honest reaction to our words. Or we may be requesting an action that we hope would fulfill our needs. The clearer we are on what we want back from the other person, the more likely it is that our needs will be met.