I watched the Louis Theroux documentary on the manosphere recently — the one where a succession of men (and some women) explain, with remarkable confidence, that women are happiest when they step back, make themselves smaller, and let men lead. That their opinions are, at best, a distraction. That compliance is a virtue.
It brought back a vivid memory: I was a university student visiting family in Italy. On an evening out, one of my sister’s male colleagues made a comment about me. He said (in the tone of someone delivering an observation rather than an insult) that I was “alternative”. That I didn’t dress the way other women did. That I always had to have an opinion.
He said it like it was a problem I had. Something I should probably work on. And in the moment, I just felt angry that he was trying to fold me down into a shape that was more comfortable for him. What I didn’t think about until much later was the more interesting question: Why did my being different make him so uncomfortable?
This pattern of thinking isn’t new, and it isn’t exclusive to gender dynamics. I’ve come to recognise it in a lot of places, including (perhaps surprisingly) the dog training industry.
Dominance theory — the idea that dogs are constantly jockeying for status and that owners must establish themselves as the pack leader — was largely debunked by animal behaviour research decades ago. The science has moved on.
And yet dominance theory persists. It has influencers. It has television shows. It has a market.
I don’t think that’s a coincidence.
The language of dominance training (submission, correction, control, alpha) echoes a deeply familiar set of beliefs about power. The idea that someone who doesn’t comply needs to be brought into line. That pushback is a challenge to authority rather than a legitimate response. That strength looks like control rather than understanding. That the goal is a quiet, obedient subject rather than a thinking, feeling individual with their own inner life.
I want to be clear: this is not about men versus women. I’m pointing at a pervasive set of patriarchal beliefs about power that people of all genders have internalised, and how those beliefs show up in the ways we treat the people and animals around us.
These (often subconscious) beliefs are why some dog owners are genuinely uncomfortable with the idea that their dog has opinions and preferences that don’t always align with what they want. And profiting from that discomfort is a certain kind of trainer who tells you that the dog is the problem. That a dog who hesitates, pushes back, or refuses to do what you say is challenging your authority. Dominating you. Trying to be alpha.
The solution this kind of trainer offers is control, correction, making the dog comply, silencing the dog’s voice.
Sound familiar?
Currently, the scientific consensus is that dogs trained with positive reinforcement have better learning retention, lower stress, and fewer behavioural problems than dogs trained with aversive methods. The evidence that punishment-based training is harmful in the long-term is not ambiguous.
But here’s the thing: even if a paper came out tomorrow showing that punishment-based training produced measurably better results, I still wouldn’t use it. Because my training philosophy isn’t purely reliant on science. My approach is informed by what kind of impact I want to have on the world. And I’m not interested in methods that work through fear, discomfort, or folding a dog down into a shape that makes other people more comfortable.
What that looks like in practice is this: I let dogs opt-in to interactions. I give them clear opportunities to step away when they need space. When I can’t offer a choice (because sometimes you genuinely can’t, whether that’s a vet visit or necessary handling) I try to make it as cooperative as possible. I pay attention to what the dog is telling me, even when what they’re telling me is, I don’t want to do this right now.
When I think back to moments in my life when people have tried to make me fit a shape that was more convenient or comfortable for them, what I remember most is how I felt. Angry. Dismissed. Like I didn’t count.
I don’t want to make anyone feel that way. Not people, not their dogs.
The dogs I work with are not problems to be solved or controlled or silenced. They’re individuals with histories and feelings and very good reasons for behaving the way they do. My job is to take that seriously, and to help the people who love them do the same.
Need support navigating city life with your dog?
I’m Anna, a certified, force-free dog trainer based in Walthamstow E17. I specialise in helping dogs and their owners build confidence and practical skills for city life. If you’re finding things tough, or just want a clear, realistic plan, I’d love to help. You can find out more about how to work with me at mindfulpups.co.uk/services.
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