First written in October 2020 and last updated in December 2021. Our approach is always evolving as we, our environment, and our opportunities grow! You can read some specific ways our dog training has changed over time in this more recent article.
Conversations about dog training methodologies can get heated. People throw labels back and forth like grenades. We’re too quick to judge someone who isn’t in our “camp”.
The insults, reductionist attacks, and overall dialogue have prompted me to consider my own beliefs more deeply. What truly is my dog training philosophy, at its core?
On the surface, many would say I’m “balanced”. I support the thoughtful use of traditionally aversive tools like prongs and ecollars and am not ashamed to talk about punishment. At the same time, I cringe at cookie-cutter board and train programs that slap the same approach on every single dog. I think many “balanced” trainers use far too much compulsion. And I’ve learned helpful information from professionals across the methodology spectrum.
Dog training is too nuanced to fit neatly under a few labels. I understand the need to categorize ourselves in some way—but when anyone under the sun can claim they’re “balanced” or “force free” or “relationship based” or whatever else, the words lose some of their meaning.
With all that in mind, this is my personal dog training philosophy.
1) We intentionally use all four quadrants—and think beyond operant conditioning
When I first got into the dog world with my family’s special-needs Siberian husky, I believed in “positive reinforcement” or “force free” training. Why would I want to hurt my pets?! Prong collars looked terrifying (I remember seeing one on a family friends’ dog and exchanging not-so-kind comments with my mom under my breath) and I had yet to encounter any behavioral problems.
I (naively) thought that because I taught our husky to walk on a loose leash in a calm neighborhood with treats, there was never any use for a prong or slip. That because we lived a quiet life where she didn’t have much opportunity to do anything dangerous, there was never any need to say “knock it off”. That because of my own connotations with the word, punishment must always be synonymous with pain and contempt.
While I still align with many core principles of a “force free” approach, I’ve since come to believe that training without any sort of leverage or pressure doesn’t really exist.
Positive reinforcement: a quick look at operant conditioning
Operant conditioning is a learning theory where an animal makes an association between a particular behavior and a following consequence, and that consequence affects how often they perform the behavior moving forward.
Operant conditioning is not all there is in dog training (more on that in a bit—classical conditioning, social relationships, play, and genetics also play a role!) but it’s often the conceptual foundation driving many professionals.
There are four operant conditioning quadrants based on two criteria:
- You either want a behavior to increase or decrease, and
- You either add something or remove something to achieve that result.
If you add something, it’s called “positive” (even if what you’re adding is unpleasant). If you take something away, it’s called negative. This is important because we often have strong gut reactions to those two words. In operant conditioning, “positive” does not mean good and “negative” does not mean bad!
If you’re increasing a behavior, it’s called reinforcement. If you’re decreasing a behavior, it’s called punishment.
Examples of the four quadrants
Positive reinforcement
I say “sit”. When Scout sits and I give her a treat, that’s positive reinforcement (+R). I’m adding something—a food reward—to increase the rate of her sitting after the cue.
Negative punishment
Scout jumps on me. When I walk away and ignore her, that’s negative punishment (-P). I’m removing something—my desired attention—to decrease the rate of her putting paws on my leg.
Positive punishment
Scout lunges at the end of her leash after a squirrel on a walk. When I strongly say “ah, hey”, that’s positive punishment (+P). I’m adding something—my disappointed verbal—to decrease the rate of her chasing squirrels without permission.
Negative reinforcement
We see another dog on a walk. When Scout looks at me and I quickly move away to create distance, that’s negative reinforcement (-R). I’m removing something—the pressure of the scary other dog being nearby—to increase the rate of her looking at me for direction.
What happens to the behavior?
The most important thing to realize about operant conditioning: What makes an action fall into a certain quadrant is fundamentally based on what happens to the behavior.
If the behavior doesn’t increase, we weren’t reinforcing (even if we think we were). If the behavior doesn’t decrease, we weren’t punishing (even if we think we were).
Does Scout still jump on me even if I’ve taken away my attention when she does? Well, then I wasn’t using negative punishment like I thought. Does she not look at me more frequently in the presence of other dogs? Then I wasn’t using negative reinforcement like I thought. And so on.
By definition, everybody uses all four quadrants. Even things like our voice—or simply giving affection at the wrong time—can be positive punishment if they decrease a behavior. (I intentionally didn’t use any examples above that involve traditionally “aversive” tools.)
Not to mention this entire conversation gets more complicated when we acknowledge that many of our dogs’ “undesirable” behaviors are self-reinforcing. Our actions as owners are far from being the only things that can reinforce or punish our dogs!
What about being force free?
So we can’t live in just one quadrant of operant conditioning. Cool, that seems to make sense. But can we still refrain from using force or pressure when training our dogs?
My personal belief is no.
Life is full of pressure. One of my favorite quotes from Chad Mackin and Jay Jack’s Dog Training Conversation podcast: “Put a french fry under the nose of someone who’s dieting and tell me food isn’t pressure.”
What’s more: Every tool we put on our dogs—including flat collars, harnesses, head halters, and regular leashes—can use force. Front-clipping harnesses can permanently alter a dog’s gait. Head halters can cause more pain to sensitive facial tissues than something like a properly fitted prong collar might cause to a strong neck.
As a personal example, Scout has always found any type of harness more aversive than any type of collar. We’ve still worked to condition her to a back-clipping harness because I love using it for “no expectations” sniffaris! But it’s important to consider her initial preferences and remember that the way I perceive a certain thing might not be the way she does.
Just about any tool can be used fairly… or can be used poorly. More importantly: Our training methods are not inherently defined by our training tools. I think we can aspire to be “as limited force as possible” (many folks use LIMA to describe their training, standing for least invasive minimally aversive) but “force free” isn’t going to be an accurate label.
When we live and train with our dogs, there will be pressure. There will be force. There will be punishment. I want to be intimately aware of those things so I can be intentional about how I use them!
Punishment isn’t a dirty word
I want to be clear that we don’t just use punishment because it’s inevitable, though. We use it because sometimes I truly believe it is the “least invasive minimally aversive” option in the long run.
This article dives deeper into my thoughts on punishment and how we personally use it, and I thought this episode of the Training Without Conflict podcast had some great discussions as well.
Careful punishment has allowed Scout to enjoy more liberty (a top personal goal I get into in the next sections). I can tell her “do anything but this one thing” and she can have greater freedom with less stress.
Thinking beyond the quadrants
Nitty-gritty talk of operant conditioning aside, I’ve also found a lot of value—more and more as time goes on—in thinking beyond the quadrants.
Life is not as simple as emotionless behaviors and consequences, and limiting ourselves to a strict behaviorism view does a disservice to both us and our companions.
- The behaviorist view ignores genetics, assuming that the right consequences can shape an animal to do anything.
- Classical conditioning is always happening alongside operant conditioning. We can’t choose to focus solely on behaviors when emotions also play a role.
- Getting constantly caught up in what quadrant we’re in can prevent us from fully connecting with our dogs in the moment.
- Canines coevolved with humans over generations. Dogs are the only species to respond more readily to cues from humans than from their own species! Focusing only on operant conditioning precludes us from tapping into the wonder of that innate bond. (I don’t mean to veer into folk nonsense, but research on the dog-person relationship really is amazing.)
I’ve become increasingly interested in social learning, play-based training like Ivan Balabanov’s methods, and books like Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are by Frans de Waal that dive into the nature of social mammals.
Operant conditioning is a helpful learning theory—but it isn’t everything.
Labels can be limiting
Phew, that was a lot. As I’ve said before and will repeat until my dying day: Dog training is complicated!
I think hard-and-fast labels can be limiting to our growth as owners. I’ve learned amazing things from trainers who consider themselves “force free” and amazing things from trainers who consider themselves “balanced” (and amazing things from folks who refuse to use either label or pick a new one of their own).
There is a huge spectrum between “dangerous compulsion training that forces the dog into situations” and “dangerous permissive training that lets the dog do whatever it wants”. All the good trainers I’ve connected with fall somewhere in the middle.
At the end of the day, I am not anti-force-free-training or anti-balanced-training. I am anti-extremist-views-that-hurt-dogs-and-owners (like trying to ban tools across the board or fear monger folks to follow a certain path).
And I am very much pro-whatever-is-best-for-my-individual-dog-and-our-lifestyle-together.
Some research to ponder
Solid research on dog training methods is lacking. I wish we had more studies answering truly relevant questions with reliable methodologies—I love the way Dr. Kelly Boddington distills dog training science on her Instagram page, @lanna.and.vex and have appreciated podcast episodes discussing research barriers.
With that said, here are a few links to explore:
- Comparison of Stress and Learning Effects of Three Different Training Methods in Dogs (Schalke, Salgirli, Bōhm, and Harbarth 2008)
- Is Negative Punishment Really More Positive? (Dog trainer Tyler Muto’s article inspired by the previous research)
- Dr. Kelly Boddington’s review of the previous “Comparison of Stress and Learning Effects” study
- The Welfare Consequences and Efficacy of Training Pet Dogs with Remote Electronic Training Collars in Comparison to Reward Based Training (Cooper JJ, Cracknell N, Hardiman J, Wright H, Mills D 2014)
- Dr. Kelly Boddington’s review of the previous “Welfare Consequences” study
- Efficacy of Dog Training With and Without Remote Electronic Collars vs. a Focus on Positive Reinforcement (Cooper JJ, Mills D, China L 2020)
- Dr. Kelly Boddington’s review of the previous “Efficacy of Dog Training” study
- The New Behaviorism, book by John Staddon
- Purely Positive, Force Free, and Science (Article by trainer and researcher Mark Plonsky, PhD)
- Confusing Consequences: A Brief Introduction to Operant Conditioning (Article by trainer and researcher Mark Plonsky, PhD)
2) We come back to the “why” behind what we do
Which brings me to the question of “why”. Why does Scout need to do anything? I’ve written a lengthy blog about this before, but the gist is this: With so many opinions out there on what makes a “good” dog, the most important thing is deciding what matters in our unique situation.
As individual owners, we have different ideas of what a “well behaved” companion looks like. None of our lifestyles are the same—and it makes sense that we don’t have identical expectations for our dogs, either!
I used to feel pressure to teach Scout certain things. It came from friends, social media, and this little voice in my head ceaselessly lecturing me on what a “good” dog does. Good dogs sit, good dogs heel, good dogs love everyone. Good dogs this, good dogs that, good dogs the other thing.
But at the end of the day, I am the one living with Scout, and she is the one living with me—and our happiness is what matters. We aren’t here to show off or know the most tricks or compete with anyone else. We’re here to successfully navigate the world as a team.
3) We care about living well together
Fundamentally, thinking deeply about our “why” puts living well together at the center of everything we do. All of my individual reasons for teaching certain behaviors stem from an overall desire to experience harmony, peace, and joy as a dog-owner team!
Here are a couple of the ways we personally do that.
Liberty is our number one goal
In my perfect world, Scout is able to make a lot of good decisions on her own. We can relax around the house and enjoy new experiences together, all without me having to micromanage her every move.
While I support the intentional, humane use of a range of tools, I don’t want to feel like I’m detrimentally “dependent” on any specific one in order for Scout to be successful. (That includes food!) And while I obviously love obedience and think it can be incredibly helpful, I don’t want her to always have to be under command.
I want to teach Scout to self regulate. To navigate the world confidently. To seamlessly fit into life by my side.
Here are a few of the questions I’ve asked myself about life with Scout:
- Do I want Scout to perform a command (like hold place) because it’s the best thing for her in this specific situation… or because I’m using it instead of teaching her to do / not do something else that’s more specific?
- Is it worth teaching her that other thing to do or not do? Management isn’t inherently bad!
- Have we created enough clarity in our lives that Scout can handle herself in this situation without more explicit direction?
- How can we create more clarity?
- What commands can we wean off of to test the waters of more liberty?
I’m really happy that nowadays Scout enjoys a lot of freedom in our life together. She is almost never under command at home (unless we are doing an active training session). The majority of our walks are loose-leash sniffaris. When we hang out in public, she typically settles quickly on her own.
But it didn’t just happen overnight! We started out with more direction.
I believe dogs need clarity
A key way of thinking about it for me has been prioritizing clarity over structure, and structure over routine. (You can read more about how I conceptualize those terms in this article.)
At the most basic level, I could have Scout on a strict routine that would guarantee a pretty straightforward life: set times to go on walks, eat, play, etc that she would quickly get used to.
A step above that would be giving her structure without as much of a schedule. We wouldn’t always walk at the same time… but the walk would pretty much always be a structured heel. She’d be more flexible than if we were on a strict routine but would still have a lot of guidance from me.
What we work for (and this is just us—there are many valid reasons to have many varying goals) is simply creating clarity. Structure and routine are pretty surefire ways to provide clarity to your dog. But like many tools, you can wean off of them if you want.
And that’s what I personally want.
When Scout has clarity that isn’t dependent on intense structure (which we largely created through well-understood windows of opportunity in the beginning) it opens up our world. It allows us to be hooligans one minute and model citizens the next. It helps us have so much fun.
I want Scout to be motivated and fulfilled
Speaking of fun… I want Scout to have a ton of it.
She’s a dog living in a human world, and sometimes she is going to have to do things—like walk calmly on a leash and resist chasing squirrels and stay calm around arousing stimuli in the environment—that don’t come naturally to her species. Sometimes she will have to tolerate frustration. It’s a simple fact of life.
But I want to understand who she is, as a canine, and find as many ways as possible to still satisfy her instincts.
See: Scout handling liberty helps me live my most enjoyable, stress-free life. Providing biological fulfillment does the same for her. Living well together goes both ways.
Some of our favorite ways to let her “be a dog” and have fun together:
- Enjoying long sniffaris on a retractable lead or long line
- Allowing her to chase prey with permission
- Playing intense games of tug
- Hiding her food in the grass or a snuffle mat for her to find
- Providing raw bones for her to chew
- And anything else that satisfies her natural instincts in a safe way!
4) We seek outside perspectives and new information
Perhaps the most important part of our dog training philosophy is that it isn’t set in stone. It’s wild to think about how much I’ve learned since adopting Scout not even three years ago… and it only begs the question of how much more I have yet to discover.
I don’t really believe in saying “always” or “never”. It’s important to me to try to swallow my pride when I realize I’m wrong. And honestly, I’ve come to think that “right” and “wrong” don’t even really exist as concrete things.
The way to give Scout the best life possible is to stay open. We welcome new perspectives because it’s good for us: They will either encourage me to change my mind… or they will help me strengthen and round out my existing thought process.
Either way, it’s a win. And life with Scout is a win. And that’s what matters.
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