“Anything we do out of fear of punishment, everybody pays for it. Anything we do for a reward, everybody pays for it. Anything we do out of shame, guilt, obligation, everybody pays for it. Anthing we do to make people like us, everybody pays for it. That isn’t what we were designed for. We were designed to enjoy giving from the heart”. — Marshall Rosenberg, founder of Nonviolent Communication.
By the time most of us are adults, we are likely to have lost track of why we do many things. We may feel like our days are filled with conscious choices, but how many of the little choices that make up our daily lives are driven by fear or by other people’s perception of us? Gaining someone’s approval, avoiding guilt, fear of rejection—there are lots of reasons for doing things that may not be aligned with our own values or even meet our own needs. And, how many things do we do every day because we feel we have no choice in the matter? All the duties and obligations that leave us feeling resentful or bored. All the “shoulds” and the “have to’s”. For these, we get the not-so-satisfying reward of not rocking a boat, not being disapproved of, or of just ticking something off an endless list.
Because we adults are mostly prone to this kind of thinking and behaving, it follows that we would assume that our children should think and behave in the same way. In fact, we seem to relish in making sure that children understand how little agency they have over their lives. To allow a child much free choice is largely considered unrealistic and likely to set them up for a lifetime of disappointment and not fitting in. “How will they cope in the real world?”, parents are often asked about their children who don’t go to school. Underneath this question is perhaps the belief that the “real world” is a place of demands and compromise. These children, so dangerously in touch with their own needs and desires, will not know how to buckle down and work with everyone else. Their choices will be self-serving and lack any sense of responsibility.
But Rosenberg was making a very different point about choice, and one that most unschooling families will, over time, come to validate and appreciate. His belief was that when human beings are in touch with their own needs and have compassion for those around them, the free choices they make are highly likely to be life-enhancing choices—choices that increase connection and wellbeing, choices that are good for everyone. As the quote says, “We were designed to enjoy giving from the heart”.
Autonomy is extremely important to human beings, and is one of the values we prize most in life. This is why we are naturally resistant to the demands of others, unless they align with our own values and needs. And, if we are made to follow these demands rather than our own free choices, we are likely to feel resentful, disconnected, put-upon, bored, or unenthusiastic. We might get accustomed to such disempowerment but eventually it’s likely to lead us astray. As adults, most of us recognise how depleting it can be to continually put others’ needs above our own, to meet someone’s approval or expectations, or to chase some kind of external reward. When we consistently ignore our own deeper needs, we end up feeling less than our authentic selves. And when our actions come from a place of inauthenticity or disconnect, ultimately everybody pays for it.
In Western culture, children’s free choice is mostly replaced by systems of rewards and punishment. In the home, these may be anything from naughty steps and reward charts to privileges being given or taken away, to a parent’s praise or disapproval, or just the gentle pointing out of all the “shoulds” and “have to’s”. At school, to ensure that a child is following the right path there are gold stars, medals, awards, thinking corners, sunshines and rainclouds, grades, detentions, letters to parents etc. Our culture is armed with ways to make children bend to our will. Our coercion may be delivered in a gentle voice and disguised as a request, but if the end goal is to get the child to submit, then we are making a demand, because we are saying that there is no choice, or that the only choice is shame, rejection or punishment. For children, real choice based on their own unique needs and feelings is hard to find. And any rejection of demands that feel uncomfortable or that go against their needs is generally seen as intentionally troublesome rather than a natural part of their humanity.
The other key point that Rosenberg makes in his work is that when personal choice is taken away from us, so is personal responsibility. Our own choices are meaningful to us. We make them because they make sense to us in the context of our lives, and so we are personally invested in them. This ownership is lost when we tell a child that they “have to” do things that are not aligned with their needs or feelings. And, if things don’t go so well, as is often the case when we give our power away, they are likely to feel blame for someone else. It was never their choice in the first place. We see this abdication of responsibility all the time in politics, business and institutions. We see it in decisions lacking in compassion that no one is willing to vouch for, and we see it in conflicts around the world where inhumane actions are made easier through lack of personal responsibility.
So, far more important than what choice we make is why we make it. Do we make it because it feels right to us or because we think we have no alternative? Is it a meaningful choice that we naturally feel responsible for? I have often been asked about qualifications and exams, and how I would feel if my children didn’t pursue those paths. Some years ago, I would probably have felt a little unsure. But now, I see that every choice they make freely and that meets their own needs is indeed life-enhancing. These choices—whether it’s to come out for a walk, tidy their room, buy a present, engage in a new interest, or deep dive into one of their current interests—are filled with goodwill, interest, fun and enthusiasm. The joy and purpose of these choices ripple through the whole family, connecting and enriching us all. On the other hand, any choices they make because they feel like they “have to” feel dull and lifeless in comparison. When they are engaged in a “should” or a “have to” everything about them is different. I can see it in their posture and in their voices, like they are being dragged forward against their will, rather than forging their own path. So, I don’t worry about what choices they make in life. I just want them to know that they can trust their own choices.
In fact, my older children have both chosen to take some qualifications. Although these are their choices, these particular qualifications also have a “have to” element to them, because they feel necessary in order to advance on specific paths through life. I’ve noticed that what naturally happens is that the parts of these “have to” studies that are aligned with their needs and interests move forward with ease and enthusiasm, whilst the parts that are not aligned create resistance. If they are feeling particularly resistant, the energy required to engage from this place of obligation is slow and weighty. What is interesting is that they are rarely capable of engaging from this place. Instead, they find ways to bring meaning to these half-choices. So, they might look for connections between that theme and something else that does interest them, or they might look for a resource that makes the studying more engaging or fun to them. They naturally look for choice that feels good. And when they find it, everything shifts for the better.
As a neurodivergent family, this whole piece around choice makes me think about the term “demand avoidant” in the context of PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance). For the uninitiated, this term might suggest a person who can’t take responsibility, who shies away from things, who “avoids” things. And, of course, the word “pathological” makes this all sound terrible. Personally, I like the alternative and more accurate, Pervasive Drive for Autonomy. Whilst not wanting to underestimate the struggle that many PDA children and parents have in our culture, I think that Dr Rosenberg’s work is a useful lens to bring to our thinking around demand avoidance.
If all healthy humans have an innate need for autonomy and a natural tendency towards making life-enhancing choices, then it follows that we must naturally resist the demands that do not chime with our own needs and values. That it is logical to reject responsibility of things we don’t agree with. From this perspective, there is a lot to be admired in a person who finds it debilitating to lose ownership of their own choices. And I wonder, which of us is more life-affirming? The person whose free choice and authentic self is lost in the murkiness of others’ needs and expectations, or the person who knows that nothing less than their full self will do. That when humans lose their connection to meaningful choice, everybody pays for it.
A PLACE ON A HILL 
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