author: Maija Meire-Oša

On the final eve before the war, on 23 February, 2022, I was sitting at a place of personal and professional significance to me – the Le Dôme restaurant in Montparnasse, Paris – which was often frequented by Isaac Drisin during his student years. It used to be a café of the same name, which has been referenced in Edith Piaf’s lyrics and the writings of Ernest Hemingway.

Isaac Drisin is a special person to me; he was one of the people Žanis Lipke rescued from death in Ķīpsala. Last summer, while transcribing a 1988 recorded interview with Isaac, I saw and heard how movingly he spoke of a lost world, the bohemian student lifestyle in Paris, a time when his family, classmates, and friends were alive and well. Needless to say, I had no idea that only hours after my visit to Le Dôme a power-drunk dictator would deploy forbidden weapons and tactics to ruthlessly attack civilians of a sovereign state. Their country’s neighbours and brothers in faith. The friends of my friends, and kin of my kin.

^{Photo by Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash}

Ironically, my colleague and I were in the history-steeped rooms of Le Dôme to mark the conclusion of an emotionally challenging but valuable workshop. Together with museum workers from Poland, France and North Macedonia, we learned the foundations of non-violent communication. How to speak with a museum visitor whose words we feel as a verbal attack on, for example, our identity and values? How to talk with a museum visitor or even a colleague who is overwhelmed by destructive emotions? Nobody then could have foreseen how important a role the principles of non-violent communication would soon have for all our museums.

It is worth noting the method does not imply one should agree with a visitor’s sometimes cursory knowledge of history or interpretations stemming from a different information environment. Nor does it suggest endorsing their hate speech. The method was developed to help people form a deeper connection, so they, despite their disagreements, could make room to engage in mutual dialogue and problem-solving without hatred or violence.

Museums, which feature exhibitions about the events and war crimes committed during World War II, often have to deal with visitors who come from a different information environment and subscribe to a different historical narrative. For example, every so often these museums are frequented by people harbouring different degrees of antisemitism – you can hear opinions ranging from ‘there has to be a reason why Jews (a different designation is often used) have been disliked for centuries’ to ‘the Holocaust is all made-up, nothing of the sort has happened, it’s a Jewish conspiracy to get their hands on an independent state’. This does not happen only in Latvia. Similar cases were brought to light by our colleagues from Poland, North Macedonia and France. How should we talk with such visitors? Is it possible? How to muster one’s inner resolve to avoid retaliating? Experts of non-violent communication would advise not giving in to our inner ‘Jackal’ and instead using the ‘language of life’.

The method or process, as he calls it himself, was developed by Marshall B. Rosenberg (1934-2015), an American clinical psychologist of Jewish descent. At a very early age, he encountered instances of violence and hatred spurred by racism and antisemitism in his home town of Detroit. For instance, he was beaten up by a couple of boys from his class on the first day of school because he was Jewish. His first-hand experience and observations fostered a deep wish to understand what brings out violence within us and how it can be lessened in our interactions.

He believed human communication can be classified into two types – that of the ‘Jackal’ and the ‘Giraffe’. Both can turn up when engaging our own thoughts and feelings, as well as those of others. Giving in to the language of the ‘Jackal’ is easy; it can sometimes even bring instant relief – after our venom sac has been emptied and our anger vented. For instance, the ‘Jackal’ hears what it is told, but forgets to see and hear the opponent’s human side. The ‘Jackal’ hastily interprets what it has heard in a negative light, sees the other as an adversary, and lets their words incite aggression. Rosenberg chose the giraffe to represent the opposite of this kind of behaviour, because of all the land-dwelling animals it has the biggest heart. The ‘Giraffe’ observes what happens, identifies what emotions are stirred by the other’s words, understands what need is not met, and can respectfully explain that to the other person, as well as extend an invitation to carry on communicating without hatred or violence in neither words nor actions. The aim of this process is not to manipulate or change the other person. Its only goal is to improve communication and the quality of the relationship – to help create a connection, which would allow two people to hear one another, to understand each other’s needs and whether they are fulfilled or not. Rosenberg practiced this method not only with cases of domestic disagreements but also in regions affected by global, inter-state conflicts, bringing even mortal enemies together at the same table.

Rosenberg’s legacy is carried on by educators who continue to spread his message – to stop viewing the world in categories of ‘friend – enemy’ and ‘good – bad’. At times he was reproached for being naive. Rosenberg disagreed, but admitted that his method had its limits – if someone physically assaults us, we need to flee or defend ourselves. The use of physical force is permitted in self-defence. The only nuance is that this has to be done without the desire to punish or seek revenge.

Up until 23 February, I believed I was up to the task. I could be a ‘Giraffe’ both in my professional and personal life. I recall going over past incidents when somebody had crossed my boundaries and trampled over my values. I tried to remember how that felt and found the words that would have helped establish a channel of communication. I presume my colleagues from France, Poland and North Macedonia all did the same. However, on the following morning, I woke up in a whole different world. A world of violence and lies. Now more so than ever I find it difficult to talk about non-violence and to stay true to Rosenberg’s principles. However, there is no alternative. At least for now we are not forced to seek shelter in basements, pick up arms, or google Molotov cocktail recipes. So long as we remain witnesses of war and not direct victims, we must keep faith in peace and the ideal of non-violent methods of conflict resolution both at work and in our daily lives.

Violence is unacceptable to me. Despite this fact, I feel suffocating indignation and pain for all that has been done to Ukraine. The only way to break free from this state of shock is to employ the ‘Giraffe’s method’ on myself. With the senses of a ‘Giraffe’, I can see that I am very angry, hurt, vulnerable, I feel anxious and confused. With the mindset of a ‘Giraffe’, I understand that this is because my main need is for safety – for myself, my family, and fellow human beings.

There is still a long road ahead until we reach Rosenberg’s level. Especially given the current situation. He would often quote a verse by the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi (Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi), ‘Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a garden, I will meet you there.’ My goal, both professionally and personally, is to reach that garden where we will not be polar opposites but two people capable of coming to a mutual agreement through dialogue. Let us stay human at the dawn of a new age of inhumanity, hate, and violence.

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The Paris seminar on non-violent communication in February 2022 was organized within the “Nonviolent Communication Approach in Adult Education in Historical Museums and Memorial Sites” project which is led by POLIN Museum of the History of Polish Jews in Warsaw, together with partners from the Žanis Lipke Memorial in Riga, the Mémorial de la Shoah in Paris and the Holocaust Fund of the Jews from Macedonia in Skopje. The project’s aim is to introduce the method of non-violent communication into the daily work of institutional teams and, through it, to activate groups of adult recipients in the field of expanding their knowledge about the Holocaust in Europe. You can read more about the project here.

The project is co-funded by the Erasmus+ Programme of the European Union.

Maija Meire-Oša – researcher and educational programme curator at the Žanis Lipke Memorial