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20. What Is Interdependence? How Is It Different from Dependence and Independence?

We often confuse dependence, independence, and interdependence.
While dependence says, “I need you,” and independence says, “I don’t need anyone,” interdependence points to something more subtle: your well-being is part of my well-being.
Through Nonviolent Communication (NVC), I have increasingly come to experience interdependence as one of the deepest realities of life.

One of the biggest shifts in my life has been realizing that needs are not scarce, but strategies often are. When I become attached to one person, one outcome, or one specific way of meeting a need, fear, pressure, and control often appear. I become dependent.
Interdependence helps me remember that there are countless ways life can care for what matters most.

In relationships, interdependence does not mean giving up myself for others, nor does it mean ignoring the impact I have on them. Rather, it is the practice of caring for one another without guilt, blame, or self-abandonment. It is learning to care for both your needs and mine.

For me, NVC is not primarily a communication technique. It is a practice of moving—again and again—from dependence and independence toward the embodiment of interdependence.
For me, this is a doorway to a new quality of safety, belonging and joy.

Often, NVC is practiced as a skill. And yet, for me, at its core, NVC is a spiritual practice. It supports the cultivation of a particular consciousness. One way of naming that consciousness is the consciousness of interdependence.

“The survival of our species depends on our ability to recognize that our well being and the well being of others are in fact one and the same.” Marshall Rosenberg

The more years I practice NVC, the more I feel the experiential depth of this sentence.

I find it helpful to distinguish between three different forms of consciousness that I unconsciously move between on a daily basis: Dependence, Independence, Interdependence.

I grew up — like many people — in what I would call: dependency consciousness.

One way I describe dependence is: being attached to specific strategies rather than to needs.

For example: instead of: “I long for love, support, or connection,” dependency sounds more like: “I need YOU.”
Meaning: My well-being becomes attached to one specific person, one strategy, or one outcome. I become dependent on a single way of meeting my needs.

And then fear appears. Pressure appears. “Should” appears. The desire to control appears.

For example:

  • “You have to call me every evening.”
  • “You must spend more time with me.”
  • “You should be home by 21:00.”
  • “You are not allowed to eat cookies…”

The focus becomes: attachment to a specific way life must happen.
And honestly, I see this consciousness alive in me very often—both consciously and, even more so, unconsciously.

Many of us grew up—either ourselves or through the influence of one or two generations before us—within a culture of dependency. Adults and institutions often exercised power through dependency-based practices: coercion, punishment when we did not do as we were told, authoritarian parenting, power over, and social pressure to conform to what was considered normal and acceptable.
The underlying message was: “If you want love, belonging, approval, or safety, you need to do what we expect of you.”

After people suffer from dependency for long enough, another movement often appears: independence—a reaction against dependency.

At first, this can feel deeply liberating. Suddenly something inside says: “No one will tell me what to do anymore.”

I find this phase extremely precious in helping us reconnect with our own agency and our own spirituality.

Especially for many of us who grew up:

  • suppressing ourselves,
  • pleasing others,
  • abandoning our own needs,
  • or believing we are responsible for everybody’s feelings.

Independence can sound like:

  • “I am free.”
  • “I will do whatever I want.”
  • “It is a free country”
  • “I don’t need anyone.”
  • “Your feelings are your responsibility.”

Marshall sometimes called this: the “obnoxious giraffe.” A kind of teenage revolution against domination.

I deeply understand it. I have a lot of it in me.
When people first reconnect with their own needs after years of suppression, there is often a huge inner explosion of:

  • aliveness,
  • anger,
  • freedom,
  • and reclaiming choice.

But over time, I started noticing something: independence is often still deeply connected to the same old paradigm. It is simply the opposite side of the same coin.

Every revolution that is against something tends to unconsciously recreate the very paradigm it is trying to change, because it uses the same strategies—the same how—as the old paradigm itself.

For example, you can hear it in the phrase: “We fight for peace.”. Do you hear the paradox?

Or in some spiritual and personal development circles, I often hear: “Don’t judge. Judging is bad.” Do you hear the paradox? I am judging judgment itself, and without noticing it, I fall into the very paradigm I am trying to change.

Interdependence points somewhere very different.

A common independence statement—”I cannot make you feel anything. You are responsible for your feelings”—can help clarify the difference:

Not: “You are responsible for me.” (Dependence)
And not: “I am completely separate from you.” (Independence)

But rather: Your well-being affects mine, and mine affects yours. We share one ecosystem.

Here are some examples:

For example, when train workers or garbage collectors go on strike, I quickly realize that their well-being is part of my well-being. I am directly affected in a very tangible way.

Or with food: if the global trade system collapsed, I would probably have no idea how to:

  • grow enough food,
  • make clothes,
  • build a house,
  • or heal illnesses.

Or consider how one person eating a bat somewhere in China may have contributed to a chain of events that affected the entire world through COVID. Suddenly, the actions of one person on the other side of the planet become relevant to all of us.

Or if people cut down trees in the Amazon rainforest, it will eventually affect the air that I breathe. What happens there is not separate from what happens here.

Climate change is another powerful example of interdependence. Even if I—or even my entire country—do “everything right,” we are still affected by the choices and actions of others around the world.

We already live in a deeply interconnected system—whether we notice it or not, and whether we like it or not.

And maybe the most intimate example is the body itself. My body is a complete network of interdependence.
– If I move my left pinky finger, I can notice how it affects the whole system: my breathing, muscles, nervous system, and emotions.
– I injure my ankle and begin walking differently. A few weeks later, my knee or hip starts hurting too.
– I improve my sleep, and suddenly my mood, concentration, immune system, and relationships improve as well.
– I neglect my dental health, and later learn that it affects inflammation and even cardiovascular health.

Nothing exists separately.

In relationships, interdependence does not mean: giving up myself for you.

And it also does not mean: ignoring your experience because “your feelings are your responsibility.”

Instead, it feels more like: caring for the impact without guilt.
This distinction became huge for me.

For example: if I hurt someone,
Dependency consciousness says: “I am bad. I caused your feelings.”
Independence consciousness says: “Your feelings are your responsibility. Not my problem.”
Interdependence says something much more delicate: “I care deeply about the impact my actions had on you, without making myself wrong or taking responsibility for your inner world. I want to learn how to act in ways that care for more needs—both yours and mine.”

This allows something very different to happen:

  • empathy,
  • learning,
  • regret without guilt,
  • and authentic care.
  • Healing

One of the deepest shifts I experience in interdependence is the movement from: scarcity toward: abundance.

Dependency says: “Without THIS person, THIS strategy, THIS outcome — I will not survive.”

Independence says: “I don’t need anyone.”

Interdependence slowly relaxes into: there are millions of ways (strategies) needs can be met.
For example:
– A friend cancels our coffee meeting. At first I feel disappointed. Then I remember: my need for connection can be met in many ways—with another friend, a phone call, a walk with a neighbor, or even through connection with myself.
– A romantic relationship ends. Part of me believes love came from this one person. Over time, I discover that love can come through friends, family, community, nature, and new relationships.
– I lose a job. At first it feels as if my security disappeared. Later, I discover many other pathways to support, income, contribution, and meaning.

There are millions of strategies for meeting needs. Life is an abundance of possibilities.
The challenge is that I grew up in a dependency culture—an authoritarian culture—that taught me scarcity by constantly mixing up needs and strategies.
I learned to think in terms of what to do (strategies) rather than what I need (needs).
For me, realizing this has been a profound “stepping out of the Matrix” experience. Suddenly, I begin to see that what I thought was the only way was merely one strategy among countless possibilities. The need was never scarce. Only my imagination of how it could be met was.

NVC is not mainly a technique for how to speak. It is an orientation toward an interdependence consciousness.

The consciousness I come from shapes: the words that come out of my mouth, the tone of my voice, the atmosphere I create, and the quality of connection created between us.

I can speak very imperfect words while deeply rooted in care and interdependence. For me, the consciousness matters much more than the vocabulary.

And I can use “perfect NVC words” while actually speaking from a consciousness of righteousness, manipulation, coercion, dependence, or independence.
And the people around me often sense that immediately and give me clear feedback that it doesn’t work. As my girlfriend used to say:”What you’re saying sounds nice, but it doesn’t smell good.”

This is a pitfall I have fallen into thousands of times, and one I will likely continue to fall into for the rest of my life.
I do not expect to “become NVC” in this lifetime. NVC clearly points far beyond what I can learn in a single lifetime.

I find a lot of comfort in Marshall’s humorous words: “NVC is not about becoming perfect, but progressively less stupid.”

My reality is that dependency and independence have been practiced around me since I was an embryo. They not only have a deep place within me; they are also deeply embedded in the culture I grew up in and continue to live in.
I do not expect myself to change this with the snap of two fingers.

Nor do I experience myself as “living in interdependence.” Rather, I find myself constantly moving between dependence, independence, and moments of interdependence.

After thousands of years of domination culture, separation, fear, ownership, and control, I experience interdependence as a radically different way of being alive.
Not something I achieve.
More something I occasionally touch.

Instead, I celebrate each tiny step I take in that direction—toward living interdependence—because each tiny step brings a new opening of the heart, a new openness in relationships, and a completely new experience of being part of the world.

When people truly feel that their needs matter, their bodies naturally relax.

There is less need to fight, defend, pressure, withdraw, or dominate.

There is a profound secret available here—a doorway to a much deeper quality of cooperation and togetherness.