18. How Can I Create Social Change Without Creating More Violence?
Short Answer
One of the deepest things Nonviolent Communication (NVC) has taught me is that social change is not only about what I want to create in the world, but even more about how I try to create it.
Again and again, I notice how often I unconsciously teach the very opposite of what I intend to teach: I judge the judgment, I fight for peace, I shout for care, etc.
Today, I increasingly try to live by a simple principle: Be the need you want to see in the world (my variation on Gandhi’s “Be the change you wish to see in the world”):
If I long for empathy, I try to listen empathically. If I want to bring peace, I try to speak peacefully. If I want more care, I try to care. etc.
A core practice for me is remembering that whenever I try to bring a change that is dear to my heart, people will often initially resist it. Without noticing, I often resist the resistance and create the very atmosphere I am trying to transform. Learning to see resistance differently has changed my life. Rather than seeing it as an obstacle, I increasingly experience it as a sign that something important in the other person has not yet been heard, met, or included. The more I try to convince people, the more they often resist. The more I listen, the more openness becomes possible.
For me, the deepest form of activism is not only working for a different future, but embodying—moment by moment—the very qualities I hope to bring into the world.
More Personal Answer
My Understanding of Activism Through the Lens of NVC
What “Be the Change You Want to See in the World” Means to Me (Gandhi)
One of the deepest things Nonviolent Communication has changed in me is not only what I want to bring into the world—but even more, how I want to bring it.
I believe we all know what we wish to bring into the world: peace, connection, love, cooperation, care…
And yet, so often, in the way we try to bring these things, we unconsciously create the very opposite of what we intend to create.
For example, I was mediating a couple. The woman was screaming at her husband, “Why are you always speaking so aggressively to the children?”
My guess is that what she most wanted her husband to learn was softness and Empathy. Yet in the way she was trying to teach it to him, I am not sure that this is what he learned in that moment.
Another example: I often see parents trying to control their child on a train. While the child is making noise or running around, the parent says, “Shhh! Come here! Be quiet! How many times do I have to tell you? Shhh!”
My guess is that the parent is trying to teach the child how to care about and be aware of other people’s needs.
Yet in the way they are doing it, I believe the child is not learning how to care about other people or be aware of their needs. Instead, the child may be learning how to be afraid of punishment or anger—or how to control other people.
I call this: “Be the Need You Want to See in the World,” a small variation on Gandhi’s famous quote: “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
For me, “be the need” makes it much more concrete. The most powerful way I can teach other people is through experience, not by telling them how they should be.
For example, if I want my partner to learn how to be gentle with the children, then I want to be gentle with both my partner and the children.
People learn most through absorption. Just like children, we learn far more from our parents by watching them and absorbing who they are than from being told what to do, how to behave, or who we should be.
Activism: The Discomfort I Felt in Demonstrations
When I was around 15–18 years old, I went to some demonstrations advocating for peace.
The cause itself mattered deeply to me. And yet, something inside me felt very uncomfortable.
At the time, I could not clearly explain why.
It took me almost 25 years to understand it more deeply.
People were demonstrating for peace, yet the atmosphere itself often seemed filled with anger, hatred, enemy images, blame toward other groups, and even violence toward the police.
And on some very deep cellular level, I could not fully trust it.
The demonstration was trying to create peace, yet the energy of the process itself did not embody peace.
This realization stayed with me for years.
→ Be the Need I Want to See in the World
Activism in Daily Life
Today, I no longer experience activism only as: demonstrations, politics, or social movements.
I experience activism everywhere.
For example: introducing empathy into a family, slowing down a conflict, speaking vulnerably instead of blaming, welcoming a no, listening differently, or standing for care for a punished child in a world dominated by punishment and reward.
All of these seem deeply activist to me. NVC challenges the inherited systems we have been absorbing since we were embryos.
NVC Is a Form of Activism
Because whenever I begin: speaking about feelings and needs, reformulating instead of blaming, slowing down conflict, welcoming emotions, or questioning domination and right/wrong thinking,
I am introducing something deeply unconventional into many human systems.
And honestly, this is not always easy.
When I first encountered NVC, I thought, “Great, I will learn how to communicate better with my girlfriend.” I had no idea how deep the learning would go—all the way into thousands of years of cultural conditioning that had been passed on to me. It felt a bit like stepping out of the Matrix.
For me, NVC is both a deep personal and a cultural revolution. Practicing NVC is, in itself, an act of activism.
Welcoming Resistance
One of the hardest and most important things I’ve learned is: whenever I bring something new, resistance will almost certainly appear.
This is true whether: I speak about NVC, advocate for animals, challenge social norms, or simply ask for more empathy in a relationship.
And honestly, resistance used to hurt me a lot. When I carried something precious in my heart and someone reacted with: criticism, sarcasm, dismissal, or annoyance,
I often became defensive or discouraged. Part of me was silently screaming, “Please be open.”
Resistance Is Often a Cry for Inclusion
One of the most transformative understandings for me is: resistance is often an attempt to include oneself.
For example, a participant once became very excited after learning empathy in one of my courses. She immediately went to her boyfriend and started guessing his feelings and needs.
Her boyfriend became irritated and said: “Why are you telling me how I feel? Why don’t you just ask me how I am?”
She became frustrated and started trying to convince him of the value and power of guessing feelings and needs.
Without realizing it, they were fighting about what empathy is, while her original intention was to live empathy.
I find this example so human.
Because when resistance appears, my habitual tendency is often to either convince or withdraw.
But the more I try to convince someone, the more likely I lose: their ears, their openness, and their trust.
Hearing the Beauty Behind Resistance
Today, I increasingly try to listen differently. Instead of hearing resistance as a rejection of what I am saying or bringing, I try to ask myself: “What is this person trying to care for right now?”
Maybe behind, “Why do you always repeat what I say in NVC? Are you a parrot?” there is someone trying to care for authenticity, spontaneity, or natural human connection.
I increasingly experience that there is always something beautiful behind resistance. If I do not hear it, the resistance remains. But when resistance receives empathy instead of counter-pressure, something often softens naturally and begins to open.
The Waves of Resistance
One thing that changed my life was shifting my expectations. I no longer expect people to immediately embrace what I care about. Instead, I increasingly expect resistance—at least three waves of it:
Wave 1. Wave 2. Wave 3.
This shift in expectations relaxed me enormously. Before, if someone resisted even once, I might conclude:
“They are not open.”
“Connection is impossible.”
“NVC doesn’t work with my boyfriend.”
Today, I increasingly experience openness as: a side effect of enough empathy and trust.
The Activism of My Heart
For me, the activism of my heart means: I want the way I try to create change to embody the very qualities I long to bring into the world.
If I long for peace, I want to speak peacefully.
If I long for empathy, I want to listen empathically.
If I want freedom, I want to avoid coercion.
If I care about care, I want to include even those who disagree with me.
Not perfectly. I fail at this constantly. Sometimes resistance still hurts me deeply. Sometimes I become reactive. Sometimes I lose connection with myself.
And in those moments, I increasingly move toward self-connection: taking a time-out, breathing, reconnecting with my needs, and remembering what kind of world I actually want to help create.
Creating the Future in the Present
One thing I increasingly experience is: the future is already being created in the atmosphere of this moment.
If I try to create peace through hatred, I may unconsciously continue the very consciousness I long to transform.
But when I embody: curiosity, empathy, honesty, vulnerability, and care,
even in disagreement, something very different becomes possible.
And maybe this is the deepest activism I know: not only fighting for a different world —
but becoming, moment by moment, the qualities I long for the world itself to embody.