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1. What is Nonviolent Communication (NVC)? Why Do We Talk About Giraffes and Jackals?

Nonviolent Communication (NVC) is much more than a communication technique. For me, it is a way of relating to myself, other people, and life itself.
It is a practical path for bringing together two deep human longings: authenticity and connection. In other words: how can I be fully honest about what is alive in me while remaining connected to the people around me?

At the heart of NVC is the understanding that underneath every human behavior there are beautiful needs trying to be met: needs such as love, connection, safety, freedom, belonging, meaning, understanding, and contribution. While human beings often disagree about the strategies they want to use, I increasingly discover that at the level of needs, we have far more in common than we imagine. And when these needs become visible, cooperation becomes natural and effortless.

Marshall Rosenberg used the Jackal and the Giraffe as symbols for two different ways of thinking and relating to life.
The Jackal represents a language of judgments, blame, shoulds, and enemy images.
The Giraffe represents a language of curiosity, vulnerability, empathy, needs, and connection.

The practice of NVC is not about becoming a perfect Giraffe or getting rid of the Jackal. It is about learning to hear the humanity, vulnerability, and needs hidden beneath every expression—both in ourselves and in others.
It is also about learning how to cooperate with one another in ways that support a natural flow of giving, receiving, and creativity.

For me, NVC is an ongoing journey from separation to connection—connection with ourselves, with others, and with life itself.

For me, Nonviolent Communication (NVC) is much more than a communication technique. I experience it as a way of relating, a consciousness, a spiritual practice, and a very practical “how-to” for daily life.

It became a way of seeing life. A way of understanding human beings and how human beings long to be treated, including myself.

It is also about learning how nature speaks through my body, guiding me—and us—in caring for life.

It transformed how I relate to pain, conflict, emotions, relationships, power, and spirituality.

And while the term “Nonviolent Communication” may sound abstract, intellectual, or idealistic, my actual experience of NVC is very grounded and practical. It is about daily life: how I am with my partner, family, friends, children, colleagues, strangers, and myself.

Moment by moment, again and again, learning:
how to create connection instead of disconnection,
honesty instead of suppression,
compassion instead of blame,
and collaboration instead of war.

Before discovering NVC, one of the deepest questions in my life was:

“How can I be honest and still remain connected to the people I love? How can I be radically myself without hurting others or creating distance between us?”

I often experienced a painful dilemma: it is very easy to create conflict – just be honest, and you will likely have many conflicts…
It was not enough for me simply to be honest if connection broke. I am a social being: belonging to the human tribe is at the very core of my being. One of my deepest fears is being outcast from the human tribe. I wanted to be honest and remain in loving and caring connection with every human being I encounter, and especially with those who are closest to me.

Yet, whenever I avoided honesty, I slowly disappeared within relationships. I became polite. Adapted. Careful. Disconnected from myself, and therefore also disconnected from the other person.

And this dilemma deeply hurt me – it seemed impossible.

When I encountered Nonviolent Communication, developed by Marshall Rosenberg, something deep shifted in me: from hopelessness to hope. For the first time, I experienced a concrete path that showed me how honesty and connection could not only coexist, but actually deepen one another.

In Nonviolent Communication, Marshall used the Jackal and Giraffe puppets as symbols representing two different languages, or ways of relating to ourselves, to other people, and to life.

The Jackal represents a consciousness of right and wrong.

In short, Jackal consciousness is the belief that, as human beings, we have the capacity to absolutely know what is good or bad, right or wrong.

Or, as I sometimes jokingly say: Jackal consciousness is the belief that I am God.
The more I live, the more I discover how little I actually know. If there is one thing I know, it is that I do not know. I was not born with a manual explaining how life works. Everything I do is an experiment. I am constantly learning through trial and error, discovering how the world works and how I wish to live in it, and how we can live together.

Even regarding my own life, I do not know what will ultimately turn out to be ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in the long term. Something that seems painful today may become a gift tomorrow. Something that appears wonderful today may later reveal unexpected consequences.
If I cannot know with certainty what is good or bad for myself, then surely I cannot know with certainty what is good or bad for another person.
Yet our culture constantly teaches us otherwise.

This belief—that I know what is right and wrong—appears especially in three forms in the language we speak: judgments, shoulds and have-tos, and comparisons.

   Judgments

All judgments exist within Jackal consciousness. Every judgment expresses an idea about what is right and wrong, good and bad, normal and abnormal.

For example, if I judge someone (or myself) as being lazy, it implies that being lazy is bad and being hardworking is good.

But is that really true?

I once met a man in his sixties who told me: “I worked hard all my life. I built a company, raised a family, and now I am sixty years old and depressed. I don’t remember much of my life because I wasn’t really there. I don’t know how to enjoy life.”

So can I absolutely know for sure that being lazy is bad?

When I was ten years old, my teacher told me that I was lazy because I was not doing my assignments thoroughly.
But actually, I was not lazy. I was doing the assignments as quickly as possible so that I could get to something that felt much more meaningful to me at the time: practicing rhythms with my fingers.
As it turned out, this was highly life-serving. Years later, when I became a professional dancer, having a strong sense of rhythm in my body was extremely important.

All other judgments follow the same logic: You are selfish. She is arrogant. They are harsh. I am stingy. He is dishonest.

Judgments contain the assumption that I know what is good and what is bad, what people should be and how they should behave.

   The language of “should” and “have to.”

Every time I say “should,” I am assuming that I know the correct way for life to unfold.

For example, if I tell my child, “You should do your homework,” do I truly know that doing homework is unquestionably the best thing for them?

If I am honest, the answer is no. I may have worries, preferences, values, and hopes. But certainty? No.

I am not God—at least not yet.

On top of that, the language of “should” often creates immediate resistance, making the path to cooperation much longer and more difficult.

   The language of comparison.

Words such as too much, not enough, more, less, better, and worse often emerge from the same consciousness.

If I say, “You wear too much makeup,” I am speaking as if I absolutely know what amount of makeup is normal or abnormal, right or wrong.

Again, I may have my own worries, fears, preferences, and values. But once again, I am placing myself in the position of ultimate authority over reality.
And in doing so, I create resistance in the very place where I most long for openness, and cooperation.

As a mediator, I spend much of my life exploring conflict. I love conflict, and I am fascinated by what creates it.
Again and again, when I follow a conflict down to its roots, I find the same pattern: Jackal language—the belief that I am right and the other person is wrong.

According to some researchers, Jackal language emerged roughly 8,000 years ago. Whether that number is exact or not is less important to me than the insight itself: this language is a human invention. It is not reality.

Realizing this felt like stepping out of the Matrix.
I became amazed by how many of my thoughts were built upon judgments, how often people around me spoke this language, and how deeply it is woven into our culture.
Even more surprising was discovering how sneakily and subtly it appears, and how often it hides between the lines.

Sometimes I playfully call Jackal language a ‘lie’—not because people are trying to deceive each other, but because it is a tragic description of reality. It mistakes our interpretations for reality itself.

For me, learning Nonviolent Communication is a gradual process of stepping out of this Matrix.
It invites me to learn a different language: a language that describes human experience rather than judges it. A language that helps us understand what is alive in ourselves and others. A language that supports connection, cooperation, love, and an opening of the heart.

The Giraffe represents Nonviolent Communication.

”Every judgment is a tragic expression of an unmet need.” — Marshall Rosenberg

Or, in my version: “Every judgment is a tragic expression of a beautiful need.”

This insight completely changed how I see human beings. It was one of those rare moments in life that felt like stepping out of the Matrix.

In NVC, needs are the universal qualities all human beings long for and try to care for in life.
For example: love, connection, safety, freedom, rest, understanding, belonging, meaning, play, support, autonomy, trust, and contribution.

One of the deepest discoveries for me was realizing that underneath every human behavior, there is a beautiful need trying to be fulfilled.
Needs are the motivations behind our actions. They are the essence of what we are trying to experience, nurture, or receive through everything we do.

For example:
underneath anger, there may be a longing for care,
underneath a scream, there may be a longing for being heard,
underneath withdrawal, there may be a need for safety,
underneath jealousy, there may be a longing for love.

This does not mean every strategy (words or actions) human beings use is beautiful or life-serving. Some strategies create enormous suffering.

NVC helped me distinguish between:
the need itself,
and
the strategy used to try to meet it.

Here are a few examples:

– My need may be for connection.
But demanding that you spend the evening with me is only one possible way, or strategy, of trying to meet this need.

– My need may be for financial stability.
But stealing is a strategy that may try to care for this need—while creating a great deal of suffering for myself and others.

– My need may be for gentleness toward our children.
But shouting at you that you shouldn’t be so aggressive with them may not be the most effective way of creating an atmosphere of gentleness.

– My need may be for safety.
But buying weapons or building fences are strategies that may try to care for this need—while not necessarily meeting it in the long run.

– My need may be for belonging.
But agreeing with everyone and hiding parts of myself are strategies that may try to care for this need—while not necessarily meeting it in the long run.

When I listen deeply to people, I repeatedly discover that perhaps the deepest pleasure human beings can experience is contributing to one another’s well-being.
And yet, many of us learned ways of trying to meet our needs that, instead of fostering this natural movement to care for one another, often turn us into representations of danger or threat—either to one another or to each other’s needs.

For example: I may want to go to the sea, while you may want to stay home.
On the surface: conflict.
But underneath, we both have needs:
Behind my desire to go to the sea, I may long for connection, sharing, and intimate time together, while behind your wish to stay home, you may long for rest, quiet, and recovery after a stressful day at work.

And once needs become visible, creativity often begins to emerge naturally.

For example, I might call a friend to connect and spend time together while you rest and recover. Later, we might enjoy making love, sharing a quiet moment together, or simply falling asleep in each other’s arms.

This distinction—Need ≠ Strategy—changed my life:
All conflicts on the planet happen on the level of strategies. On the level of Needs, there is no conflict whatsoever.
Needs are simply beautiful qualities of life that we all long to experience.

Instead of seeing people mainly as selfish, difficult, manipulative, crazy, or wrong, I increasingly began seeing human beings as vulnerable creatures trying, in the best ways they currently know, to care for life inside them and around them.

And strangely, once needs become visible, compassion begins to flow naturally and effortlessly.

How do we move from Jackal consciousness to Giraffe consciousness in an actual conversation?

Giraffe, or Nonviolent Communication, is the capacity to describe what is actually happening—to describe life as it is.
As mentioned, I see the Jackal as a ‘lie’, as a tragic description of reality. When I say (or think), “You are selfish,” it is actually an expression of a movement within me—my authenticity, something that is going on inside me.

If I say, “I will be really honest with you: you are selfish,” notice that there is something strange about this expression. I will be honest with you: you are… : The way I learned to describe my authenticity was by telling you who you are. Strange.

When I speak about authenticity, I want to describe what is going on within me, especially my experience (feelings) and my longings (Needs).

So, for example, instead of saying, “I will be honest with you: you are so self-centered! When I come home, you don’t even look at me. You just stay on your mobile, and you don’t care,” if I go deeper within myself and explore what is happening in me when I think, “You are self-centered,” I might discover something like this:
When I see her now on her mobile, I feel disappointed because I long for connection and sharing at the end of the day, before going to sleep. I also feel worried because I want to nurture closeness between us.”

Or another example:

Instead of looking at my son and saying, “You are so lazy. You only do what is easy for you,” I might discover that what is actually going on in me is that I am worried about my child, I love him so much and I long to support him in developing the skills he needs to participate fully in life and community.

This is more vulnerable to say, and more true. At its core, it is a message of love that, in Jackal language, turns into power struggles, control, resistance, and putting people down (even if unintentionally).

And surprisingly, it greatly increases the chances of openness, collaboration, and deeper connection, not only in the short term but, more importantly, in the long term.

One way that captures well what NVC is for me is the way the poet Rumi said: “Beyond right and wrong, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

When I first heard this sentence, I felt angry. Rumi tells me, “I’ll meet you there,” but he doesn’t tell me how to get there!

NVC became a concrete way for me to learn how to go there—slowly and compassionately.
For me, NVC is a practical how-to: a way to live my deepest values in everyday situations. It is a way of bringing my meditation cushion into real life.

Often, when people first encounter NVC, they start thinking: “OK, the Giraffe is good, and the Jackal is bad.”

Can you hear the paradox?
The core intention of NVC is to move beyond right and wrong, and the first thing I do is think: “Jackal is bad. NVC is good.”

If I think, “It is bad to judge,” I am judging the judgment and falling even deeper into Jackal land.

Judging is not bad. Judging is how most of us learned to express ourselves. Human beings have been speaking this way for thousands of years.

It is a huge revolution to learn something different, especially while everyone around me continues to speak Jackal language.

As Marshall put it jokingly: “NVC is not about becoming perfect, but progressively less stupid.”

I do not expect to become a Giraffe in this lifetime. The learning curve is simply too steep for one lifetime.

Yet for me, the emphasis is on progressively: step by step, learning to speak a language of life. A dynamic language that describes experience, rather than a static language that puts people into boxes and tells them who they are.

It is a cultural revolution.

And every small step in this process of becoming progressively less stupid is a huge opening of the heart. It creates new possibilities with the people around me. It supports healing. It brings me closer to life.

One misunderstanding I often encounter is that people think NVC means: always being calm, always speaking softly, avoiding conflict, suppressing anger, or becoming “spiritual.”

This is not my understanding of NVC. For me, NVC is about being honest and real: More directness. More authenticity. More willingness to stand for needs.
But differently.
Not through blame, domination, or making others wrong—but through vulnerable honesty, compassion, and empathy for everyone involved.

For me, NVC is not about becoming “nice.” It is about becoming real.

In fact, I see the Jackal as a loyal servant of life.

Behind every judgment is something precious that it is trying to protect. Behind every criticism is a need. Behind every complaint is a longing. Behind every enemy image is pain. Behind every painful opinion is care.

Judgment is like a torch in a dark cave. It offers light that helps us discover the precious message—the core of what a person is trying to care for.

For me, NVC is not about getting rid of the Jackal and becoming a perfect Giraffe. It is about learning to listen differently. To hear the beautiful message hidden within the Jackal—my own and that of others. To discover the vulnerability, needs, and humanity living beneath judgments.

Again and again, the practice of NVC is a movement from Jackal consciousness toward Giraffe consciousness—from judgment to understanding, from enemy images to humanity, and from separation to connection.

• What Are Needs in NVC?
• What Are Feelings in NVC?
• What Is Empathy in NVC?
• Why Do Conflicts Escalate?
• What is Self-Connection in NVC?