04/15/2025
This is a great discussion of the current criticisms of positive reinforcement training methods. https://www.facebook.com/share/p/12DMMLV4jSS/
When Strawmen Train Dogs:
This isn’t a new debate.
It’s another round of an all-too-familiar argument that isn’t really an argument at all.
Once again, we’re seeing claims that paint force-free or “positive-only” trainers as people who would rather see a dog euthanized than consider another tool. That we sedate dogs into submission. That we reject nuance. That we care more about ideology than outcomes.
But those aren’t real depictions. They’re not serious engagement with the actual ideas behind humane, evidence-based training.
They’re rhetorical shortcuts. And they show up in the form of logical fallacies:
Strawman fallacy – Misrepresent the position so it’s easier to attack.
False dichotomy – Suggest we must either punish or euthanize.
Appeal to emotion – Rely on fear, outrage, or worst-case hypotheticals.
Ad hominem – Attack the credibility of trainers instead of the substance of their approach.
And here’s the thing: every one of these tactics could just as easily be flipped around.
Some claim that force-free trainers are happy to let problems drag on so we can charge more. But that doesn’t hold water. When I first started out, I paid a trainer $3,000 for six hours of instruction. I was taught how to throw chains, pop a prong collar, and dominate my dog into compliance.
In the end, my dog was more reactive than before—and I was out $3,000 and a lot of trust.
These fallacies don’t work—not just because they’re flawed arguments, but because they don’t engage in a real discussion.
Take the appeal to emotion, for example:
It often shows up in the form of an assertion—that “positive-only” training leads to dogs being euthanized. But rarely, if ever, are actual cases shared. There’s no context, no detail, no attempt to understand what was tried, what was misunderstood, or what the dog actually needed. Just the claim that if only punishment had been used, the dog would still be alive.
But even if those stories were told, they wouldn’t be one-sided.
I’ve personally worked with dogs who would’ve completely fallen apart under punitive training.
Frank is one of them.
He was the kind of case people point to when they say, “some dogs just can’t be saved.”
He was so deeply traumatized, he couldn’t tolerate human touch at all. And I have it on good authority—punishment was tried before he came to me. It didn’t help. It made things worse.
If anyone fit the narrative of a dog “needing” a firm hand or being “too far gone,” it was Frank.
But what he needed wasn’t correction. It was time, space, and safety. And today, he’s a different dog—not because someone made him comply, but because someone let him recover.
And then there’s Licorice.
She didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to stand out.
But she needed someone to notice her anyway—to see her hesitation, her quiet boundaries, the way she asked for space without making a sound.
Punishment would have crushed that.
She didn’t need someone to control her. She needed someone to understand her.
When you can assert anything and back it with nothing, the conversation stops being about dogs and starts being about ego.
That’s where thoughtful, ethical training becomes essential—not just for the dog’s behavior, but for their well-being.
So, if we’re going to have the conversation—
Let’s actually have it.
Let’s raise the bar—not just for training, but for the dialogue around it.
