We've all hurt someone: Teaching NVC in Jail

This time I felt excited and curious about visiting the men of the ‘Khanti Outreach’ Buddhist meditation and study group at Concord state prison. Though I hadn’t been for nearly a year, I’d often thought about the men and how they were getting on with their lives, so it wasn’t a shock to see the walls and razor wire of the prison, or to be standing outside the reception waiting for a uniformed guard to find my name on a list and let me through a colossally heavy motorized magnetic door.

In the room, there was already a speaker’s lectern set up and some men putting chairs out in rows. I asked them to put the lectern against the wall and arrange the chairs in a circle. When all twenty of them were full, I introduced myself and the topic: ‘How to be honest and safe’. As it was a meditation group, I started with an ‘Arriving Exercise’ – leading them through the different parts of their body, then their feelings, then their intentions. I guessed a few of their intentions – perhaps to develop their communication skills, perhaps to be true to themselves and stay safe; perhaps to create the kind of environment they’d like to live in, perhaps all of these, perhaps others as well.

Then I got the men to check in with each other, in pairs: ‘How you doing? What’s up?’ I wanted them to start connecting with each other stay engaged, so I suggested two minutes each way. I was satisfied with my choice when the room was filled with talking that didn’t die away towards the end of the exercise.

Then an Opening Round: your name and what’s up for you? Then I went straight into the topic of how to be honest and safe. I described a conflict that I had heard about on a previous visit. Most of the inmates are in eight-man bedrooms. In this particular room, there’s one man who wants to do his homework (college degrees are very popular among lifers), and another who is listening to his music, on headphones, but loud enough to disturb the man doing his homework. As I described this conflict, several men agreed that it was a typical situation. I guessed, “Is it hard enough to get on with the seven men in your room, even before thinking about food or work?” I saw at least ten men nodding in agreement. One said, “If you’ve got eight men in a room, you can guarantee there are ten or 12 different personalities.” I laughed, and immediately felt uncomfortable with how loud I had laughed. I wanted to be sensitive and I was pretty sure from seeing people’s eyes that at least one man in the room was on medication.

To bring some humour and playfulness in, I asked the guys on one side of the circle to role-play ‘Jim’, the guy doing his homework, and the other side of the room to role-play ‘Michael’, the guy using his headphones. I learned this particular sequence from Jeyanthy Siva of the Sandhi Institute (NVC training in Sri Lanka), and she learned it from Miki Kashtan (Bay Area NVC)! This is how the dialogue went:

Jim: Could you turn that down?

Michael: I can’t hear you!

Jim: Turn it down! That’s awfully loud.

Michael: It’s not loud. I’ve got a right to be here too.

Jim: I’m just trying to do my homework.

We paused there and I asked everybody what would be the effect of this conversation. Short answer: less trust and cooperation. And whose side were they on: Jim’s or Michael’s? All those who had role-played Jim took his side, and all those who had role-played Michael took his side.

Then I asked what would happen if we looked at the ‘deeper motivations’ on both sides. What might Jim be feeling, and what did he want? We looked at each of their sentences in turn. They guessed that he was probably feeling frustrated at first, then angry because he was wanting respect, consideration and dignity. Then to be heard. And finally support and understanding (“I’m just trying to do my homework.”)

And what might Michael be feeling, and what did he want? They guessed that initially he felt frustrated, and that he wanted space to himself, some time to relax. Then he wanted understanding, then respect and dignity (“I’ve got a right to be here too.”)

I asked again: Whose side are you on, if any? Several of the men said ‘Well, if they could just listen to each other, maybe they could find a way to work it out.’ I asked the men to go through the conversation again, expressing the ‘deeper motivations’ on both sides. They did, repeating the feelings and deeper motivations (or ‘needs’). I asked if this was more or less likely to lead to trust and cooperation? They said more likely.

Then a man who was in jail ‘for an indefinite period of time’ spoke up: “I don’t know how many times a little bit of kindness or consideration has been interpreted as weakness.” I empathized: “Are you saying that it’s deeply difficult to be true to yourself and at the same time avoid a bigger battle later?” “Yes,” he said. “You need to get to know a guy, to see him over a period of time, before you could trust that he won’t try to control you.” “Do you need to be careful about how you act, to protect yourself?” “Yes.” He went quiet for a few seconds.

I drew two stick men, facing each other, close up, and talked about conflict the way that I’d seen Marshall do it. Usually we listen to each other’s thoughts – what the other person is. Labels, blame, judgements. Or shoulds, threats and can’ts. I’d like see what happens when we get connected at a heart level. And I drew hearts on the stick men and an arrow going between them. How do I connect on the level of our ‘deeper motivations’, what’s in our hearts. That’s what connects me with other people – that’s what we have in common. I paused for feedback.

“Yes, but you can’t go around here telling people what you’re feeling all the time.” “Is it ‘Safety first?’” I asked. He nodded. I went on, “I don’t want to get all touchy-feely about this. For me, feelings are feedback about my deeper motivations – what I’m calling my ‘Needs’ (CNVC's list of basic Needs). They are telling me about what I need to give attention to.” He looked around and said, “There are 1500 men in here, and I reckon that 1200 of them are disconnected from their feelings.” “So you’re pretty unhopeful of connecting with them?” “Yup.”

I paused for a few seconds and then said, “I make a distinction between basic needs, which we all share, and the ways we try to meet those needs. I can stay connected to someone if I can understand what need they are trying to meet, even if I’m not happy with how they are going about meeting it. I don’t need to agree with someone to have a connection with them. For example, since I’ve been here, I’ve heard people mention the needs for safety, respect and consideration more than ten times each. I can connect on this level – doesn’t mean I agree with how everybody is trying to meet these needs.”

The conversation turned to other difficulties of sharing a room with seven other men. One guy said that there will always be one who likes to read late, and another who gets up early. Another guy said that he likes to stay up all night on Saturday and watch the TV until 4:00am. “I’m the same,” I said. “I’m a night bird. And my partner likes to go to bed early and get up and go to work early. It’s a daily source of conflict for us. But you’ve got seven other people to deal with.” I looked around and it hit me like a thunderbolt: of course there were no women inmates. In fact, some of the men I was looking at hadn’t slept with their wife (if they still had one) or a woman for more than a decade. I felt a reeling sense of shock and sadness. Then I was slightly embarrased and deeply grateful to connect on this level. And no-one said anything.

I told them I had an exercise – to practise staying connected at this deeper level. I asked them to find someone to work with and to speak for a minute about ‘something on their mind’. Then I asked the other guy in the pair to guess what was important to the speaker. This went on for five minutes then I asked them to swap over. I was delighted to see some of the men leaning towards each other in a way that I would describe as 'confidential', receiving their partner's words.

In the ‘Closing round’, people expressed appreciation of the exercise they’d just done. “It’s not often you get a chance to talk and somebody really listens.” Several said that they were very glad to meet me, and invited me to come again. Another person thanked me for the perspective I’d talked about – how to stay connected at the level of what we have in common. This sparked a man to recall what someone else in the circle had said at meditation group a couple of years previously: “We’ve all hurt somebody. We’ve all hurt someone.” He said that it had really struck him at the time, acknowledging that they were all ‘in the same boat’. I listened without speaking, trusting that it was a moment of acknowledgement and awareness rather than an attempt to provoke feelings of guilt. Another (the one I had previously assessed from the look in his eyes as ‘on medication’) said, “We need more people like you to come – people with insight into what’s happening.” I thanked him, and said that I was glad to meet and connect with ‘fellow human beings’. The last man in the circle thanked me for calling him a human being: “That’s the first time anybody has done that in here.”

As I was packing up to go about ten of the men came up and shook my hand. I was deeply touched and amazed with the connection I felt. And as I walked out through the magnetic doors I surprised myself by feeling some sadness about leaving. I got in the car with my companion from the Khanti outreach group. She turned to me and said, “I’ve never seen the men so upbeat as that.”

I'd love to hear your comments!

Light and love, Shantigarbha

Further Reading: See also Shantigarbha's magazine article on Teaching Nonviolent Communication in a US Prison in the seedofpeace.org Downloads (General NVC) section.