Rewriting our own stories through force-free dog training

I wrote another long article because lately, I have been feeling overwhelmed by the sheer volume of short Instagram stories, flashing graphics, reels, and other quick videos. I was struggling with Instagram recently because, as the name implies, everything there truly is instant. A while ago, that felt quite appealing to me; it seemed like an ultra-fast way to absorb ideas and knowledge. Lately, however, I feel like I am lacking a deeper level of processing. I am missing things being slower.The recent rise of AI has made it incredibly easy for people to create millions of pictures, diagrams, and drawings. Entire articles are written in seconds after just a small prompt.Yet, here I am serving you another long piece of writing. And just to let you know, I will be honest—I do use software that contains AI, but these days, I only use it to check my spelling as a non-native speaker (haha). I am also working to completely withdraw myself from using AI  in the future(ethical reasons). This entire article was written by me. I feel a bit strange explaining this, but I wanted you to know that it all comes directly from my own thoughts and research.

In this article, I want to expand on something that has been discussed over and over and over again: the difference between force-free and punishment-based methods in dog training. However, I want to look a bit closer at the psychological mechanisms behind it. We, the force-free trainers, continue the battle, often throwing around words like control, ego, and abuse. What I want to achieve instead is to help owners understand why punishment-based methods are so popular and what triggers the use of different aversive tools. I want owners to understand this so it is easier for them to see things differently. I believe that training without force not only benefits dogs but can also be therapeutic for the owner. 

Aversive methods vary. Some trainers use shock collars, prong collars, or harsh physical corrections, while others claim to be more subtle, only "giving clarity" with a vibration collar or verbally correcting behaviors with a harsh voice. Yet, despite prominent abuse—there is, for example, one trainer who literally "helicopters" dogs by their necks—some still have millions of likes on YouTube. And yes, it is frustrating, sad, and incredibly hard to see. It often triggers people who simply feel empathy for a dog. But for people who understand the nuances of how behavior works, they see far more than just stress and trauma—they see disrupted learning, potential future danger, and undiagnosed, underlying medical conditions and pain. Unfortunately, aversive trainers continuously try to spread the propaganda that dogs cannot learn without punishment. Their favorite argument is that force-free trainers are just sending dogs to be euthanized, which convinces many owners who only want the best for their dogs. 

"People feel like they need to control their dogs all the time." 

I have heard that a lot—and yes, it is true. Many seem to show this pattern . Whenever a dog does something that does not perfectly fit human standards, people assume they just need to enforce more control. On top of micro-managing meal times, pee times, walk times, and food types (oh God, the list is long—just think of all the things!)The typical advice is to shorten the leash, scold the dog, show them who is boss, get them off the sofa, tell them "no," tell them to go to their place, and tell them to sit. Unfortunately, all of these things do not benefit our dogs. All we achieve this way is a complete lack of agency and choice—two things that are incredibly important for a healthy, resilient nervous system.

But where is all of this coming from?

Well, it seems like many of us still carry internal fear and anxiety. Anxious or fearful people have an intense need for predictability, which turns them into over controlling handlers. To them, the unexpected feels dangerous, making it terrifying to relax or give their dog any independent "slack." They panic that if they loosen their grip for even a second, something unmanageable will happen. Too scared to let go, they mistake rigid control for safety, keeping both themselves and their dogs trapped in constant tension.

Punishment-based methods can appear very attractive to dog owners because they look like a quick and easy solution. Social media is full of "before and after" videos. A reactive dog who lunges and barks at other dogs suddenly, after just one session, changes into a "calm" and obedient pet. When we look closer at these videos, we see prong collars, shock collars, or tight slip leads. But for a qualified professional, another thing is very apparent: the dog's body language. Body language is what helps us assess behavior, welfare, and health. It is widely used by animal specialists, vets, and the entire scientific community. If you know how to read it, you quickly realize that these "fixed" dogs are simply shut down and fearful of being punished again. None of the underlying emotions have been resolved. None of the pain or other medical conditions have been addressed. Compliance and true learning are being confused. Owners who cope daily with behavioral problems can experience severe desperation. In their search for relief, it is very easy for them to fall for this propaganda. For a person experiencing these difficulties on a daily basis, a sudden "gain of control" is incredibly attractive—and it is a vulnerability continuously exploited by "balanced" trainers. Compounding the problem, there is absolutely no regulation in the training industry. Anyone can become a trainer. You can simply purchase a slip lead, jerk dogs' necks, record videos with a confident voice, buy likes on Instagram, and start a business. Can you imagine something like this in human therapy? Hitting a traumatized teenager to make them behave, and then recording videos of them sitting quietly just to gain social media popularity?

After many years of experience in dog rescue, living with my own dogs, and years of dedicated study, it has become apparent to me that dog behavior shares profound similarities with human psychology. By learning about the mechanics of behavior, we often end up learning more about ourselves. It is very clear to me that the use of punishment reflects what people have absorbed from society. Harsh punishment was deeply normalized in older generations: hitting kids at school, hitting them at home, and constantly showing them "their place." Children were not allowed to speak up, and a culture of silence was promoted around domestic abuse. We see the exact same history in dog training. It began with military-style exercises where dogs were repeatedly and physically punished in various ways. It is now 2026, but unfortunately, these outdated practices not only continue to happen, but they have actually gained popularity due to social media. Repeating these familiar, often traumatic patterns benefits neither the dog nor the human. Modern psychology confirms that while punishment can have a short-term effect on behavior, it fails to teach life skills or promote actual understanding. On the contrary, clear boundaries and positive reinforcement help build a healthy relationship based on trust, problem-solving, and emotional regulation. Aversive methods rely on humiliation and fear, but they never address the root cause of the behavior. I believe what stops some people from embracing positive reinforcement is the terrifying realization that the parenting methods they themselves were subjected to were deeply flawed. Rejecting aversive methods in dog training requires us to unlearn the old patterns applied to us as humans. That is a scary thing for many, and I see this clearly. By admitting that punishment has a destructive effect on the brain and mental health, we are forced to confront our own history. Not everyone is ready to face that. Many people and trainers have yet to acknowledge these wounds. Breaking the cycle of trauma triggers a profound fear of re-traumatization, and doing that heavy internal work is incredibly exhausting. It is vital that we recognize this: people who have not yet processed their own trauma are often the ones trying to tell us how to train our dogs.

Overcoming these patterns requires retraining your own nervous system so that you can tolerate predictability gaps without panicking. For some people, it takes decades to see that they received incorrect or abusive parenting methods. For others, it is nearly impossible. This struggle isn't due to a lack of intelligence; it is caused by deeply hardwired psychological defense mechanisms designed to protect the mind from shattering.  To stop transferring the trauma, you have to completely reframe what "coexistence" looks like. It requires moving from a model of domination to a model of co-regulation. In human psychology, realizing you carry childhood trauma is incredibly difficult because the brain's primary survival mechanism is to protect you from the devastating pain of your past. As children, we normalize our environment and blame ourselves for our parents' harshness just to survive; as adults, facing the truth forces us to confront a double wave of agony—the grief of realizing we were unprotected, and the crushing guilt of admitting we have passed that same harm onto our children or dogs. For some people, this realization is nearly impossible because their psychological defenses are too rigid; admitting they were hurt, or that they are now hurting others, causes a level of shame so severe that their ego would collapse under the weight of it. To avoid this emotional annihilation, their subconscious constructs an impenetrable wall of denial, choosing to mistake rigid control for safety and passing the fire of their unhealed trauma onto a vulnerable being rather than facing their own grief. 

Despite the fact that this journey can be extremely challenging, I believe it is absolutely worth it. Positive training methods are not only a great way to work with your dog, but also an amazing opportunity to heal your own traumas. By using humane methods, we can see how the animal starts to trust us more, how we build a strong relationship, and how we effectively communicate. Understanding a dog’s communication and being able to have those unspoken conversations is one of the best things a dog owner can experience! When we look at a dog barking, or doing something else that could potentially annoy us, instead of trying to just force them to stop, positive training teaches us to pause and think for a moment about what the dog is trying to tell us. Instead of just shouting "no," we can think: Is he bored? Is he scared of something? Does he feel discomfort? Through this process, anger is transformed into curiosity. The continuous use of punishment can leave humans with a subconscious feeling of guilt and shame; even if we were told by an "expert" to use these techniques to achieve results, we might still feel subconscious, internal discomfort. Force-free methods do not produce this conflict because they are based entirely on building a relationship and fostering trust. Instead of relying on a dynamic of hierarchy, compliance, and dominance, these methods rely on co-regulation—a crucial nervous system mechanism for every mammal. When we learn to apply this to our dogs, we naturally gain better, more empathetic skills around the other humans in our lives.

Force-free training teaches you that your dog can make mistakes—and the same applies to you! Positive training builds a new, healthier neurological loop. Ultimately, transforming how we train our dogs is a profound journey of human self-discovery and healing. The deep-seated need to overcontrol our pets often stems from our own unhealed childhood traumas and a fear of the unpredictable. When we courageously reject outdated, punishment-based methods—which only produce compliance through fear and shut down a dog's agency—we break a painful generational cycle. Choosing force-free methods allows us to transform our anxiety into curiosity, replacing a rigid hierarchy with the life-changing power of co-regulation. By learning to communicate without force, tolerate independent "slack," and embrace mistakes as part of the learning process, we don't just build a resilient nervous system for our dogs; we heal our own wounds and naturally carry that newfound empathy, patience, and trust into our relationships with our children and the humans around us.