The Dunning-Kruger Valley: Why Inexperienced Trainers Escalate

The Trajectory of Dog Training

Over the past hundred years, dog training has experienced a renaissance.   As we have learned more about dog behavior and tested applications of learning theory, the needle has slowly swung away from dominance-minded, correction-focused dog training methods and toward well-planned positive training.

We have moved from ear-pinching to clicker trained retrieves.  Most people can’t even imagine outdated methods like holding dogs’ heads underwater to stop digging or tying dead chickens to dogs’ necks to teach them to leave birds alone (yes, really).  One of the biggest guide dog schools in the world is currently crossing over to clicker training.

In other words, the more we’ve learned, the better we’ve done, broadly speaking.

By and large, the trajectory is usually similar for individual dog trainers.

Most trainers start off with a whatever-works training philosophy. They don’t know a lot about the different dog training methodologies and the deeply entrenched “trainer wars” between them.  They’re just looking for something, anything, that works.

Education opens the door to nuance and alternatives.  As they learn more of the theory instead of relying on recipes, the range of methods a trainer uses typically shifts toward the positive and away from the punitive.  This trend holds true even for trainers who are still willing to use punitive methods to varying degrees.

They learn less invasive interventions and they try those first.  A stronger grasp of theory allows them to work with more precision.  They learn how to be proactive instead of reactive.  The more they learn, the less often they need to escalate to more invasive methods to get results.

And surprisingly few highly skilled positive reinforcement trainers later “cross back” and advocate for more punitive methods. If a trainer has stocked it with the right theory, their training toolbox is already plenty big.

But.

(You knew there was a “but” coming, didn’t you?)

Are the kids alright?

I’ve noticed a trend in the training community and it has been on my mind recently.  There is one demographic that intermittently flows in the opposite direction.

The one place I do see a significant amount of full-scale back-crossing is with novice dog trainers.   Trainers who learned a lot of theory very quickly but had relatively little hands-on experience with a variety of dogs seem to be at the most risk.

There are some few trainers who reject the Humane Hierarchy model altogether and that’s a whole different kettle of fish.  But lately, I’m concerned with the number of younger trainers who agree with the Humane Hierarchy as a model but consistently find themselves at the last-tier interventions, to the point that they have gradually switched methodologies altogether.

Why?

We have a hundred years of behavioral science to draw on. Excellent training books are available to anyone for mere pocket change. YouTube has myriad dog training tutorials posted for free.  We have professional organizations actively promoting dog-friendly training methods.

So why are these novice positive trainers jumping ship?

That wasn’t a rhetorical question. We need to understand.  If we know why people take those risks, we can be better prepared to help them make less damaging choices.

Something this complex doesn’t have a single answer, but a good starting point is a cognitive bias called the Dunning-Kruger effect.

The Dunning-Kruger Crossover

The Dunning-Kruger effect is the difference between someone’s self-perceived skill level and their objective skill level.

In a nutshell, researchers Dunning and Kruger found that the people who are less skilled are likely to over-estimate their own skill level, often drastically.

In other words, a less-skilled dog trainer is not only objectively a novice at training dogs, they are also likely to be unaware of their own incompetence. They are likely to rate themself as highly skilled.  They don’t know how much they don’t know.

(The corollary is that the people with the highest objective skill tend to undervalue their own expertise.  Andre Yeu wrote beautifully here about how the corollary applies to dog training and I recommend the read.)

This gap between real and self-perceived skill level sets novice trainers up for a rude awakening.

The Valley Of Errors

To illustrate, we’re going to pretend that training skill can be simplified down to one skill measured on a scale from 1-10.  A level 1 trainer can train only the easiest 10% of dogs. A level 10 trainer is the best of the best.

Let’s say that a particular trainer objectively has 5 units of trainer-skill. But because he doesn’t know what he doesn’t know, he mistakenly believes that he has 8 units of trainer-skill.

So any training goal that costs between 1-5 units of trainer-skill, he can competently address and he knows he can competently address it. And he correctly recognizes that level 9 and 10 cases are above his skill level, so he refers those cases to other trainers.

But the 5-8 unit range is the valley between his perceived skill and his actual skill level.

This is what I call the Dunning-Kruger Valley of Errors.  And that’s a really crummy place to be for everyone involved. The trainer tackles a problem because he “knows” that he can handle it.  At the same time, he can see that his skill isn’t accomplishing the thing.

At which point he has three options:

1. Acknowledge that he misjudged his own skill level.  Drop his perceived skill level back down to match his actual skill level, which feels humiliating.
2. Acknowledge that he misjudged his own skill level.  Put in the work to raise his actual skill level to where his perception originally was.  This is satisfying in the end but is expensive in effort and time.
3. Decide that he misjudged the difficulty level of the challenge rather than his own competency.  “This dog isn’t a 6.  He must be a 9 or a 10.”  At that point, he realizes that he’s unexpectedly in over his head (but not why).  He feels like his only option is to escalate to more risky methods because he’s reached the limit of his current skills.

The take-away message here is that you don’t know what you don’t know, and that can be dangerous.

The damaging part of the Dunning-Kruger effect isn’t that the trainers are low-skill.  All trainers start off unskilled; that comes with the territory.

The danger is that they aren’t aware of their actual skill level.  When they bite off more than they can chew, they have no option but to escalate to riskier methods because they are operating outside of their known skill level.

This is part of why I advocate for joining professional organizations, attending conferences with leaders in the field, staying up to date on continuing education and pursuing reputable certifications.  Having objective external benchmarks for competency helps to calibrate your self-perceived skill level.

So how do we prevent it?

When you find yourself faced with a problem that pushes your limits, don’t be afraid to refer to another skilled trainer.  Sometimes a fresh set of eyes can make all the difference.  And that’s not just for novices; that’s for anyone working with dogs.

I practice what I preach.  I’ve been training dogs for most of a decade and will freely acknowledge that I don’t know everything.  I’m happy to consult with my mentors and peers when something has me stumped or refer complex cases to a specialist.  That’s part of being a professional.  After all, would you trust a doctor who told you that they specialize in every health problem known to man and never referred their patients out to specialists?  Exactly.

To the novice trainers in particular:

Dogs are your best teacher.  Work with as many different dogs as you can when you’re starting out, preferably under the guidance of a skilled mentor.

If you’re like most novices, you have access to a lot more theory resources than new dogs at first.  It’s completely normal for your knowledge of the theory and your practical skills to grow at different rates as a result.  (Frustrating, but normal.) If you’ve spent a lot of time learning the theory but have only worked with a handful of dogs, it’s normal to feel adrift when you work with a very different dog who “hasn’t read the manual.”

As mentioned in a previous blog post, the ability to troubleshoot is one of the most valuable skills a trainer can have, and one that gets much less attention than it should.  Consciously develop it.  Focus on the theory instead of the recipe.  Challenge yourself to improve your mechanics and your theory.

And expect that you’ll bite off more than you can chew at some point, because you will, because everyone does.

Show me a skilled trainer who has never been stumped by a dog and I will show you a liar.  Have a safety net in place so you don’t feel backed into a corner when something goes pear-shaped.  You always, always have options.

Have you ever been in a situation where you over-estimated your own training abilities?  Let me know about your experience in the comments below.