The "Balanced/Force Free" Dilemma

If we made a mistake on math homework in school and the teacher didn’t correct our mistake, would we learn what was right and what was wrong? Would you become fearful of your teacher after this correction and be intimidated by them? Would you mistrust them and walk on eggshells around them? Or would you learn from the correction and improve? The ability to distinguish right from wrong is fundamental to learning and in the world of dog training, denying this is denying the essence of how beings—human or canine—develop and grow.

Yesterday, I saw an argument that claimed “balanced” dog training is inherently abusive, an industry built on pain and fear. It was a passionate piece, no doubt, but let’s be clear about what’s actually happening here: the author wasn’t just criticizing a training method; they were villainizing an entire group of professionals who have dedicated their lives to helping dogs and their owners. They used emotionally charged language, painting all balanced trainers as abusers, all while claiming to stand against cruelty. But here’s the irony: attacking an entire group of people, misrepresenting their work, and attempting to shut them out of the conversation—that, itself, is abusive behavior.

Predictably, the author dismissed any defense of balanced training with the same rhetoric we’ve heard before: “Not all” is the language of complicity. But this is a dangerous oversimplification. Generalizing all balanced trainers as cruel is not only misleading but also harmful to the entire dog training ecosystem. It creates unnecessary division, turning dog training into an ideological battleground instead of what it should be—a shared mission to help dogs and their owners live better lives.

The argument suggests that balanced training requires fear and pain. That’s simply false. A correction does not mean abuse, just like a teacher pointing out a wrong answer does not mean cruelty. Balanced training, when used correctly, is about communication, clarity, and fairness. It does not teach through intimidation; it teaches through guidance. If we care about dogs’ well-being, we should care about training methods that make sense to them—methods that acknowledge both reward and correction as essential parts of learning.

And let’s talk about manipulation. The author claims that balanced trainers use euphemisms like “pressure” and “correction” to hide what’s really happening. But words matter. Whether you’re using treats to encourage a behavior or words to sway an audience, it’s all a form of manipulation. The difference? Some of us are honest about it. Good trainers—regardless of methodology—don’t rely on emotional appeals and sweeping accusations to prove their point. They rely on results.

Professionally, I look to the people who aren’t tearing others down to elevate themselves. The ones who focus on helping dogs and owners, rather than standing on a soapbox to push an agenda. The ones who understand that training is not about ideology—it’s about what works. Real trainers don’t need to demonize others to prove they care. They let their work speak for itself.

The truth is, the future of dog training isn’t about choosing sides in a fabricated war. It’s about being open-minded, learning from experience, and doing what’s best for the dogs in front of us. And if we truly care about dogs, we should care more about results than rhetoric. There is no balance in attacking others while claiming to fight against abuse. Real progress comes from understanding—not condemnation.