Review: Marshall B. Rosenberg’s “Nonviolent Communication”
by Miles Raymer
I’ve had Marshall B. Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication recommended to me more than a few times, both by friends and strangers on the Internet. It never really appealed to me, but now that I’m gearing up to enter a caring profession I decided to give it a whirl. My experience was a mixed bag; some of Rosenberg’s ideas and methods seem useful, but I also found a lot to criticize.
Nonviolent Communication (NVC) is a way of speaking that focuses on making observations, exploring and expressing feelings, explicitly attaching feelings to unmet needs, and making respectful requests for things that will help meet those needs. In Rosenberg’s own words:
Nonviolent Communication helps us connect with each other and ourselves in a way that allows our natural compassion to flourish. It guides us to reframe the way we express ourselves and listen to others by focusing our consciousness in four areas: what we are observing, feeling, and needing, and what we are requesting to enrich our lives. NVC fosters deep listening, respect, and empathy and engenders a mutual desire to give from the heart. Some people use NVC to respond compassionately to themselves, some to create greater depth in their personal relationships, and still others to build effective relationships at work or in the political arena. Worldwide, NVC is used to mediate disputes and conflicts at all levels. (12)
Sounds great, right? And it is, to an extent. As a book, Nonviolent Communication is accessible and straightforward, with lots of dialogic examples that clearly demonstrate Rosenberg’s methods. It also has a helpful summary at the end of each chapter, and many chapters also contain simple exercises so the reader can check their comprehension.
In my view, the strongest element of NVC is how it focuses our attention on the basic needs that make us all human. “No matter what else is going on,” Rosenberg writes, “we all have the same needs. Needs are universal” (178). Rosenberg convincingly claims that many people are deficient when it comes to “needs literacy,” meaning we lack the educational foundation and linguistic toolkit with which to effectively understand, articulate, and ultimately satisfy our basic needs. As a result, we talk rarely and poorly about our needs, seek to meet them through oblique and ineffectual means, and often blame others when we feel dissatisfied. Bringing our needs to the forefront of difficult conversations, Rosenberg tells us, unlocks a new horizon of social possibilities:
When we express our needs indirectly through the use of evaluations, interpretations, and images, others are likely to hear criticism. And when people hear anything that sounds like criticism, they tend to invest their energy in self-defense or counterattack. If we wish for a compassionate response from others, it is self-defeating to express our needs by interpreting or diagnosing their behavior. Instead, the more directly we can connect our feelings to our own needs, the easier it is for others to respond to us compassionately…It has been my experience over and over again that from the moment people begin talking about what they need rather than what’s wrong with another, the possibility of finding ways to meet everybody’s needs is greatly increased. (53-4)
Although I don’t personally resonate with all of Rosenberg’s recommendations regarding how we should express our needs, I absolutely agree that thinking and talking more about needs will benefit most people most of the time. Additionally, NVC’s compassionate and empathy-based approach demonstrates the healing power we can tap into when we embrace and explore universal forms of cognition and shared experience.
This strain of positive humanism, appealing and well-intentioned as it may be, seems to have several notable flaws. Like many other interviewing techniques (including good ones), NVC overemphasizes the role of individuals in creating and controlling their own experience, downplaying the role of external influences and structural constraints. Rosenberg encourages people to take responsibility “for our own thoughts, feelings, and actions” (19). While I think this is a laudable goal, he sometimes takes it too far. For example:
The phrase makes one feel, as in “You make me feel guilty,” is another example of how language facilitates denial of personal responsibility for our own feelings and thoughts. (19, emphasis his)
The implication here is that no one can truly “make” anyone feel anything. But this is only a half-truth. Is it fair to say that we too often blame others for our internal negative experiences? I think so. But isn’t it also fair to say that some conduct makes it impossible for most people to not feel certain emotions? If I am serially abused, for example, is it inappropriate for me to state that my abuser “makes me feel unsafe”? If a coworker harasses me, should I refrain from telling HR that this person “made me feel uncomfortable”?
I think the answer to both of these questions is an obvious no. This is because human emotions are intersubjective phenomena––generated not just within, but between people. Each member of a certain social setting helps to make the experiences of others who share that setting better or worse in all kinds of subtle and not-so-subtle ways, and we need a way of talking about this reality that doesn’t place 100% of the responsibility for any given emotion solely on the person who happens to be feeling it. I wish Rosenberg had handled this subject with a bit more nuance, instead of repeatedly insisting that each individual is entirely responsible for their own feelings.
Another problem is that Rosenberg offers only one form of evidence for NVC’s efficacy: anecdote. The book is full of heartwarming stories about how NVC has helped people over the years, and I have no reason to doubt their veracity. I’m confident that the positive effects Rosenberg describes have been felt by many people over the decades he and others have been practicing NVC. However, the book presents no scholarly research on NVC’s measurable effects or the longevity of those effects, and fails to ask whether other methods might produce the same or better results. Perhaps solid research on this question has been done, but if so Rosenberg declines to share it. I don’t recall him citing a single academic study in the whole book, and the bibliography is merely three pages long. This should leave readers wondering: NVC may be a good practice, but compared to what?
Rosenberg’s refusal to connect NVC to the wealth of psychological research that’s been done over the past century may have been intentional, but if so it’s hard to see how it makes NVC more and not less legitimate. For example, as mentioned above, Rosenberg spends a lot of time discussing the importance of universal human needs, but not once does he reference Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. While we shouldn’t treat Maslow as the ultimate arbiter of what’s important when we think about needs, his ideas played a big role in the development of modern psychology, and for good reason. Rosenberg’s lack of engagement with Maslow situates his work more in the “self help” camp and less in the “serious psychology” camp, at least in my opinion.
Finally, I have doubts that all of the speech patterns recommended in Nonviolent Communication are actually as “nonviolent” as Rosenberg claims. These doubts are entirely theoretical––not based on personal experience or research. In some of the examples, Rosenberg comes off as weirdly domineering, insisting that his interlocutor talk about their feelings and needs in the precise way he thinks they ought to. Here’s an example:
Participant: Marshall, you’re brilliant!
Rosenberg: I’m not able to get as much out of your appreciation as I would like.
Participant: Why, what do you mean?
Rosenberg: In my lifetime I’ve been called a multitude of names, yet I can’t recall seriously learning anything by being told what I am. I’d like to learn from your appreciation and enjoy it, but I would need more information.
Participant: Like what?
Rosenberg: First, I’d like to know what I said or did that made life more wonderful for you.
Participant: Well, you’re so intelligent.
Rosenberg: I’m afraid you’ve just given me another judgment that still leaves me wondering what I did that made life more wonderful for you.
Participant: (thinks for a while, then points to notes she had taken during the workshop) Look at these two places. It was these two things you said.
Rosenberg: Ah, so it’s my saying those two things that you appreciate.
Participant: Yes.
Rosenberg: Next, I’d like to know how you feel in conjunction to my having said those two things.
Participant: Hopeful and relieved.
Rosenberg: And now I’d like to know what needs of yours were fulfilled by my saying those two things.
Participant: I have this eighteen-year-old son whom I haven’t been able to communicate with. I’d been desperately searching for some direction that might help me to relate with him in a more loving manner, and those two things you said provide the direction I was looking for. (211)
Now, I’d like to state upfront that this is by far the most cringeworthy exchange in the book––a bit of an outlier. I’ll also admit that Rosenberg did help the participant articulate her praise in a way that embellished her original comment, and that also revealed something interesting about how she planed to use NVC moving forward. He says that this allowed him to “celebrate the appreciation with her,” and he also provides an example of how the compliment would have sounded in NVC (212). But, all that aside, I think it would be rather painful to have a conversation with someone who communicated this way. Rosenberg’s failure to accept a simple compliment––coupled with an obnoxious interrogation that reeks of fishing for additional compliments––really rubbed me the wrong way. When used in this fashion, NVC seems more like a way of controlling how people express themselves, rather than a tool for helping them discover their own authentic modes of self-expression. I’m not sure if this represents a common problem in the NVC process, but at the very least I think it reveals a potential pitfall.
Despite my ambivalent assessment, I’m glad to have read Nonviolent Communication. As I explore the world of interviewing techniques and start learning to use them in practice, it’s entirely possible I’ll discover that one or more of my critiques is unfounded.
Rating: 4/10
Thank you for such a well described experience of NVC work. Parts of it are extremely helpful in managing difficult conversations, but like you, I feel it only goes so far.
Having attended a few online groups the ethos or lose structure leaves me feeling confined, restricted in how I express feelings. NVC whilst different in its approach is very similar to The Work by Byron Katie. Thank you for the reassurance that I’m not alone in thinking similar thoughts. Clare
Hi Clare! Thanks very much for reading my review and leaving this nice comment. I’m really glad to hear that my interpretation of NVC resonated with you. 🙂
The dialogue you quoted took place after a lesson in NVC, so that Marshall practiced his teaching with the participant, who was prepared for such an attitude.
This basic pattern of NVC (observation, feeling, need, request) may be accommodated to everyday language, so called street-giraffe.
Hi, I appreciated reading your post. I’m a bit on the fence about NVC too…
On one hand, I think it’s a fantastic tool to connect ourvemotions to our needs and take responsibility for one’s emotional experiences.
On the other hand, it sounds a bit inauthentic to me… Like a polite way to avoid shadow work…A way to protect the ego. I feel like I gain more awareness by leaning into pertinent observations made by wise people than by simply avoiding any kind of judgement or opinion. We all have our blind spots and we can grow tremendously if we develop the ability to listen to others without taking every observation as a personal attack.
I prefer that people tell me their (even if it’s subjective) truth instead of doing a polite dance to not hurt my feelings. I feel like it dilutes the message and the feelings behind it, making it feel inauthentic to me.
I’m curious, do you agree?
Hi Linda! Thanks for reading my review and leaving this comment. I’m honestly not sure whether or not I agree with your point of view. I wouldn’t say that NVC is a way of “avoiding shadow work” or “protecting the ego,” as you put it. I think NVC’s strength is that it seeks to help people directly articulate their needs and desires to other people even when doing so may be difficult, so I don’t think avoidance, ego protection, or inauthenticity are part of Rosenberg’s model.
My main issues with NVC are that I don’t like how Rosenberg seems so motivated to make people talk in an awkward, unnatural way, and also that he fails to present any empirical evidence that NVC is better than other methods of interpersonal communication.
I wish I’d been as balanced as you when I first read the book. I fell in love with it then tried out local groups and online workshops. It has some hidden red flags I reckon. Here’s my summary: https://medium.com/@NomeBee/red-flags-in-nonviolent-communication-d3df3230661e
Hi there! Thanks for reading my review and leaving this comment. It’s nice to know I’m not alone when it comes to getting a somewhat unsettling vibe from the NVC model.
Dear Miles,
it is a good thing, in my opinion, to be sceptical about everything we do or believe. I am new to NVC, but still I found it disrespectful to the other’s intellect and subjectivity, especially towards children. I prefer to ask other people about their felling instead of placing myself into the position of “impartial” emo-judge. Moreover, the Rosenberg’s system has affected by his Jewish ethnicity and history, which scheme has been described by Jaff Schatz in his “The Generation”, I think. We have to remember that NVC has been created in the specific context, time, and political situation.
Regards,
ML
Having recently dipped into the world of NVC I went looking for authors like yourself who had tread this ground before me and come away with some of the same gut feelings and initial concerns I did.
You bring up a lot of clear pitfalls of the NVC model and it’s tools, but in trying to interrogate my own immediate reactions I find myself playing devil’s advocate with some of the criticism you’ve expressed here— this all to say, please understand I think you have entirely salient points here that I shared while engaging with NVC but I’d like to respond with some remarks that I think could lead modern communicators to miss the forest for the trees.
Primarily, I too struggled with the idea that we are wholly and entirely responsible for our own feelings.
There’s a vast and unjust world out there constructed by systems of power and the people who uphold them that inspire me to a lot of feelings beyond my control. NVC, frustratingly, says nothing of systemic oppression and this bothers me greatly.
However. Despite its almost active blindness to these conversation, it does paint a picture for me of the world according to people with privilege.
Consider that, in coming from a place of such privilege, NVC does create a model for us to use to communicate with people who do not, or will not, see the world and its various injustices as man made systems of oppression, but rather the unfortunate reality of an ambivalent universe.
I don’t agree with this world view. I will never agree with this world view. But NVC has, perhaps inadvertently, exposed me to a means of communicating with people who live by this world view that often, especially when I am feeling most angered and helpless, seems largely incomprehensible to me.
This doesn’t mean that I intend to change my world view on to meet theirs, but it does mean that NVC begins to show me a way to communicate constructively with these kinds of people— even if doing so means I need to come to an NVC conversation on their terms and not my own. In this way it feels less like a means of reaching universal understanding with others and more like a means of fostering useful negotiation with a terrorist. Sometimes, to reach any kind of resolution, you have to let the kidnapper thing they’re getting a good deal.
Secondly, your point about a lack of concrete evidence and a heavy reliance on anecdote and sales pitches is spot on. I found myself rejecting the lessons in the text a number of times because many of Rosenbergs explanations triggers the sense in me that I am being sold something, rather than explained the psychology of a useful communication tool.
Rosenbergs work, seems to me that it would benefit from a powerful edit. Even, perhaps, a ghostwriter, to reduce this self-help tonality and modernize his langauge at large. Though, if Rosenberg or someone ever aims to connect this work to a broader collection of well founded psychology tools I surely hope there are more accessible and modern options to draw upon than Maslow’s.
Lastly, your point about the overall “cringe-worthiness” of the NVC speech patterns was one of my initial, and strongest, reactions to the text as well. That said, gauging the quality of a text or it’s tools on my emotional reaction to how comfortable I perceive it to be is probably not a great measure of it’s value, but rather a judgement on my part, born out of my own emotional limitations.
For example there are perfectly harmless customs in other cultures that I find to be incredibly difficult to engage with. This is not an accurate reflection of the value of those customs, or even a sound judgement of the behaviour. This is purely my emotional response to something that exists outside the realm of what I have been taught is acceptable, or normal behaviour. Stretching beyond myself to attempt things that feel emotionally difficult is scary, and leaves me feeling vulnerable at the best of times, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say practicing things other than what I deem socially comfortable is probably good for me. Perhaps more than ever in a western culture being increasingly divided by moral judgements on one another’s definition of an acceptable lifestyle.
Suffice to say, I shared a lot, if not all, of your reactions to this text, and appreciate that you’ve articulated them well enough for me to recognize them as my own. It’s given me the room I needed to examine my own thoughts from an outside perspective and in doing so found some thoughts in defence of what we learned, or at least, some good reasons to more deeply consider my reactions to it.
Hi RM and thanks so much for this comment! This is honestly one of the most thoughtful and well-written comments that I have received in over a decade of writing this blog. I think all your points are valid and I wouldn’t really argue with them, even if I don’t fully agree. I am really grateful that you found my review and made this contribution. Your comment improves the quality of this review immensely. Thanks again and take care! 🙂
Oh. I’m sorry the formatting of my response was removed by the comment form.
I didn’t realize that would happen upon submitting. It’s served you a real text wall to deal with. If there’s anyway I can fix that for you please let me know.