Dominance and Dog Training: What Growing Up in the East Taught Me About Control

If you grew up in a typical Asian household,  or really, anywhere where respect for elders and authority was non-negotiable,  you probably know what it means to keep your head down, follow rules, and not talk back. “Because I said so” wasn’t just a parenting style. It was law. Respect equaled obedience. Obedience equaled being a good kid. And disobedience? That was either met with punishment (groundings, hangers and slippers anyone?) or disappointment. Often both.

Now fast forward to you, an adult millennial, living in the city, trying to raise a dog in 2025. You’ve done your research. You follow all the Instagram trainers. You know about enrichment and consent and cues instead of commands. But deep down, there’s still a voice — maybe even a reflex — that kicks in when your dog growls at you or ignores you for the third time that day.

That voice says: “You’re too easy on him.”

Or worse: “She needs to respect me.”

Dominance and Dog Training: The Cultural Crossover

Dominance in dog training is a concept that took off decades ago, rooted in outdated wolf pack theories (more on that here). But in many Eastern households, it maps uncomfortably well onto the parenting and teaching styles we grew up with. The idea that if someone smaller or younger doesn’t “respect” you, you have to assert control. That being kind is weak. That letting them get away with something once will mean you’re walked all over forever.

You see where I’m going with this?

So when our dogs bark, or growl, or jump on guests, or snatch food off the table, we don’t always reach for empathy first.

We reach for control.

And many turn to aversive tools:  prong collars, e-collars, leash pops,  not because they’re cruel, but because they’re familiar. It feels like the canine version of a scolding or a time-out. It’s what we knew.

Why Dominance-Based Dog Training Feels Normal — And Why It Doesn’t Work

Millennials raised in traditional or semi-traditional households often grew up in environments that emphasized compliance over connection. Emotional needs weren’t always talked about. Misbehavior wasn’t dissected, it was just shut down instead.

So when a dog “misbehaves,” our brain says: “This is disrespect. Fix it.”

And how do we fix it? We mimic what we knew. We correct. We control. We “dominate”.

But here’s the problem: Dogs aren’t being disrespectful. They’re just being dogs.

A dog growling over their bowl isn’t staging a rebellion. They’re saying “I’m uncomfortable. Please give me space.”

A dog pulling on leash isn’t power-tripping. They’re excited, overstimulated, or untrained.

And dominance-based training doesn’t help them feel safer, more regulated, or more connected to us. It just shuts them down.

The Emotional Hangover of Control

Even if these methods seem to “work” in the moment, they leave emotional residue on both sides. You may get the dog to stop barking, but what’s brewing under the surface? Anxiety? Fear? Resentment?

As someone who grew up in a relatively relaxed household (I remember getting yelled at once), I didn’t expect to carry some of these patterns forward. But they showed up anyway in subtle ways. In the way I heated up with embarrassment when Louie ignored a cue, or the frustration I felt when she barked at other dogs.

I realized I wasn’t reacting to the behavior itself. I was reacting to the story I was telling myself about the behavior: That I was failing. That she didn’t respect me. And what other’s would think of that.

Unlearning that has been one of the most important parts of my relationship with Louie. The moment I stopped trying to control her and started trying to understand her, everything changed.

Because the moment I realized what her state of mind was in those situations, the story I tell myself about the type of person I am (kind, compassionate, caring) rose to the top and smashed the story I was telling myself about her behavior before.

Turning Dominance Into Dialogue

Today, when Louie growls, I thank her for telling me how she feels.

When she barks, I figure out what she’s saying.

When she struggles, I support her.

Not because I’ve gone soft, but because this is the kind of relationship I want to have with anyone:  human or dog. Built on trust, communication, and safety. Not fear.

Science backs this up too. Studies now show that dominance-based training increases stress hormones in dogs, reduces trust in their guardians, and can actually make behavior worse long-term which is why the American Veterinary Society of Animal Behavior (AVSAB) and the RSPCA both strongly discourage dominance-based methods for exactly these reasons.

If you want to understand what a training approach built on trust and communication actually looks like in practice, you can read more about how I work and what the process looks like
here.

Respect and Control: Tools, Not Truths

At the end of the day, ideas like respect, obedience, and control are social constructs. They are tools humans developed to help keep large groups functioning smoothly. From schools to families to armies, these ideas served to create order and predictability.

And sure, in some environments, they still serve a purpose. But here’s the catch: just because something is functional in a system doesn’t mean it belongs in a relationship. Especially one that’s supposed to be built on trust and communication.

These concepts don’t always do justice to the richness possible in close, cooperative bonds, whether it’s with our partners, our children, or our dogs. So if they don’t feel good to you anymore, it’s okay to question them. It’s okay to let them go.

And if someone argues that systems start with individuals –  at home — they’re right. But that’s exactly why we have to be thoughtful about the kind of system we’re creating. If we replicate rigid top-down control, we’re building more of the same. But if we build systems rooted in empathy, safety and clear communication? That’s a model worth scaling.

You’re not raising a robot. You’re building a relationship.