8. What Is the Jackal in Nonviolent Communication (NVC)? How Do Judgment and Blame Disconnect Us?
Short Answer
When we judge, blame, criticize, or diagnose others, we often stop seeing the human being in front of us. Instead of becoming curious about what a person is feeling, needing, fearing, or longing for, we create a story about who they are. This tends to trigger hurt, defensiveness, resistance, withdrawal, or conflict.
In Nonviolent Communication (NVC), the “jackal” is not bad or wrong. The jackal simply represents a state of consciousness: the belief that one can know with certainty who is right or wrong, good or bad, worthy or unworthy, normal or abnormal.
For me, judgments are not bad. They are simply expressions of something vulnerable and important happening inside us. Beneath judgments, I eventually discover pain, fear, care, longing, or unmet needs. In this sense, judgments can become invitations to care for what is important and to move beyond blame toward vulnerability, understanding, and connection.
More Personal Answer
One of the biggest paradigm shifts I encountered through Nonviolent Communication (NVC) was discovering what Marshall Rosenberg called “the jackal.” Marshall often used jackal and giraffe puppets to illustrate different states of consciousness and ways of communicating.
This simple metaphor points to something enormous: the very way I had learned to think.
As this distinction has gradually settled in me over the years, I have come to experience the “jackal” not as the enemy, but as one of the deepest sources of suffering and disconnection in human relationships.
Who Is the Jackal?
In NVC, the jackal represents a certain consciousness:
the belief that I can absolutely know who (or what) is:
- right or wrong,
- good or bad,
- normal or abnormal.
In other words, it is the belief that I am God — that I can absolutely know what is right and wrong, good and bad.
The simple truth is that I don’t. I was not born with a manual for how to live life. And there is no human being on this planet who can know with absolute certainty — especially in the long run — what is truly right or wrong.
And once I believe I know who is “wrong,” something very dangerous tends to happen: I stop being curious and open to seeing life as it is. I stop seeing people for who they really are.
The image — the judgment — that lives in my mind becomes my truth. It stands as a filter between me and reality. Instead of wondering:
“What is happening in this person?”
“What pain are they carrying?”
“What beautiful need are they trying to meet?”
I move into diagnosis. I decide:
“You are selfish.”
“She is lazy.”
“They are manipulative.”
“I am too sensitive.”
“You are irresponsible.”
And in that moment, connection tends to disappear, and cooperation becomes difficult.
The Tragedy of Judgment
One of the deepest shifts in my life was realizing: judgments are not objective truth. They are interpretations.
For example, if I say, “This shirt is ugly,” another person may genuinely find it “beautiful”.
So is the shirt ugly or beautiful? What does “ugly” actually describe? The shirt?
Or does it describe my taste, my culture, my preferences, my conditioning, and my inner world?
It is relatively easy to see this when we are talking about shirts. But when we are talking about people, it becomes much more painful. When I say: “You are stupid.”
Over time, I began seeing that judgments often tell me much more about the observer than about the observed.
If I say: “You are selfish,” what is it that I am actually trying to describe? What is the experience inside me that I am attempting to put into words?
Usually, if I slow down enough, I discover something much more vulnerable.
Perhaps:
- I feel hurt,
- lonely,
- disappointed,
- overwhelmed,
- scared,
- or longing for support and care.
So increasingly, I no longer experience judgments as truth.
I experience them more as: tragic expressions of what is alive in me.
Why Judgment Disconnects People
One thing I repeatedly observe is that when human beings are being judged, they usually move into one of two reactions:
- attack back,
or - withdraw.
For example:
If I say to someone: “You are so selfish,”
their nervous system rarely hears my true message: “I long for consideration.”
Instead, it hears: “Something is wrong with you.”
And once human beings sense that who they are is under attack, they naturally move into protection. They may:
- defend,
- justify,
- counterattack,
- shut down,
- disconnect,
- rebel,
- or submit.
And suddenly, instead of closeness, we have war.
Ironically, judgment often makes it less likely that my actual needs will be met.
“Should,” “Must,” and “Have To”
Over time, I also became highly sensitive to words like:
- should,
- must,
- have to,
- ought to.
For example:
“You should study harder.”
“You have to be more kind.”
“You must communicate better.”
At first glance, these sentences may sound caring. But underneath, they often carry the message: “I know what is right for your life better than you do.”
And I notice that human beings naturally resist this. Because people deeply need:
- autonomy,
- freedom,
- choice,
- and ownership over their own path and spirituality
So when people hear “should,” they often rebel internally —
or submit while losing aliveness.
And both options feel painful to me.
The “Good vs Bad” Story
One thing that deeply touched me in NVC is the understanding that our entire culture is saturated with: good vs bad thinking.
Movies.
Politics.
Religion.
Education.
Families.
So often, the story is the same: There is a bad person (or bad behaviour), and a good person (or good behaviour) must defeat them.
We see this everywhere. For example, in the way punishment and reward are used in schools and parenting. Or in the way our legal systems often operate.
And strangely, this same violence often exists inside me.
For example, if I wake up late, part of me may say: “You are lazy.” “What is wrong with you?” “You should work harder.”
The “good” part attacks the “bad” part.
And yet the “bad” part reacts: “Leave me alone.” “Stop putting pressure on me.” “I’ll do whatever I want.” “I don’t want to be like my brother, who is always working, working, working.” “I want to be a human being!”
And so an inner war begins.
One part tries to force change through judgment, criticism, guilt, and shame. The other part resists, rebels, defends itself, or gives up.
Over time, I began to notice that this inner violence is my definition of what “suffering” is.
Not only in society — but inside my own body.
The Jackal Is Not Bad
One important thing I want to emphasize: to judge is not “bad.”
Actually, when people learn NVC, they sometimes create what I call: “new-age jackals.” For example: “I shouldn’t judge.” “Judging is bad.” “I’m failing at NVC.”
But this is still the same consciousness: good/bad thinking.
Today, I increasingly experience judgments with tenderness. Because judgments are often: condensed authenticity in a tragic package. Inside every judgment, there is usually:
- pain,
- longing,
- fear,
- vulnerability,
- unmet needs,
- or deep care for life.
Every Judgment Is a Tragic Expression of a Beautiful Need
One sentence from Marshall Rosenberg profoundly changed my life: “Every judgment is a tragic expression of an unmet need.”
This sentence completely transformed the way I listen. Now when I hear: “Yoram, you are lazy!”
instead of only hearing attack, I may wonder:
“Is this person worried about me and trying to help me?”
“Are they feeling tired and needing support?”
“Are they longing for understanding of what they are carrying?”
And when I hear my own self-judgments: “I’m failing.”
I increasingly try to listen underneath them. Almost like the judgment is a torch shining into a dark cave, helping me discover what deeply matters to me.
From Judgment to Vulnerability
For me, NVC is not about becoming “positive.” It is about learning a new language for authenticity.
Instead of: “You are selfish,” I may slowly learn to say:
“I feel hurt.”
“I love you, and I so wish to find a way for both of us to feel comfortable.”
“I really want to find some support right now.”
This shift may sound small. But I experience it as revolutionary.
Because vulnerability tends to invite connection — while judgment usually invites defense.
Beyond Right and Wrong
One of my favorite quotes, often connected to NVC, is from Rumi:
“Beyond rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
For me, this sentence captures the heart of NVC.
Not:
- pretending people never hurt each other,
- nor becoming passive,
- nor losing discernment.
But slowly moving beyond the consciousness of: “Who is bad?”
toward:
“What is alive in us?”
“What hurts?”
“What matters deeply?”
“How can we care for life together?”
And honestly, I still judge. Every day. But now, instead of treating my judgments as truth—or as something bad—I increasingly meet them with curiosity and see them as invitations. Invitations to go deeper. Toward vulnerability. Toward needs. Toward humanity. Toward cooperation. Toward caring for life together and finding ways to be closer to one another.