Unseen Footage on Hierarchy

In our personal relationships, things are very different. Our relationships are driven by feelings, not by laws. Human groups rely on a regulatory framework as their foundation — a structure within which we still have freedom. In our relationships, though, feelings are the foundation.

What does this have to do with dogs? It comes down to the role we assign them, because that determines how we naturally treat them.

During the 19th century, the status of the dog changed completely. Until then, a dog was primarily a working tool. He had to perform a specific task; he had no choice in the matter — he simply had to do the job and comply. His living conditions prevented him from exercising any power or dominance: he lived outside the house, was fed on scraps, and feelings, when they existed, played only a marginal role in the relationship.

Later, the dog became primarily a companion animal — and moved inside the house, into the very space where a family's power dynamics play out. We no longer ask dogs to do a job; we keep them for companionship because we love them — feelings have become the foundation of our relationship with them.

And when it comes to feelings, concepts like power, hierarchy, and rules are completely irrelevant. We want to be pleased, and we want to please the other — that's how humans interact in personal, feeling-based relationships. In the same way, when we welcome a dog into our lives — driven by those feelings — we want to please him. But we do it in a human way, forgetting the dog belongs to a different species. His needs and expectations from the group are different. How he perceives what we give him — thinking we're pleasing him — is totally different too.

While we treat our dogs mostly based on feelings — which isn't a mistake in itself — we overlook the fact that he primarily needs structure. A dog doesn't live in a group for the sake of feelings, nor does he form attachments based on emotion, but rather for survival — much like we did originally. We began living in communities because, as hunters, we could take down larger prey in groups and were better able to withstand adversity. Dogs and humans share the same basic reason for group living: survival. And groups require structure, rules, and leaders.

Since we welcome a dog into our lives out of affection, we don't want to think in terms of hierarchy at all. Admirable as that instinct is, it isn't possible in reality. Why? Because a dog doesn't look for emotional bonding within a group — he looks for structure. That structure has to be consistent, meaning everyone's position is clearly defined, and those positions are hierarchical by nature.

We often hesitate to establish a hierarchy because we see dominance in relationships as unfair, harsh, or unjust; we don't want that kind of relationship with our dogs, mistakenly believing it's unkind to him. But that anthropomorphic view leads the dog — driven by instinct — to establish that hierarchy himself and take charge of it. He's compelled to lead the pack not by choice, but by nature: if a group has no leader, it's unlikely to survive, so he steps into the role we've unwittingly left open.

That position comes with heavy responsibilities though, and triggers various forms of anxiety in a dog who doesn't have the temperament to handle them. Even a dog with the right temperament finds daily life deeply confusing, because every time we ask something of him — leaving him home alone, choosing the direction of a walk, asking for obedience — his status gets challenged, and that happens constantly.

Dominating a dog has nothing to do with falling out of love with him or mistreating him — on the contrary, it means loving him for who he really is, and treating him according to his needs: it means respecting his nature. It means giving up loving an illusion of who we wish he were, for who he actually is. Dominating means taking charge so your dog doesn't have to shoulder that impossible task himself. And "dominance" doesn't carry the connotation you might think.

You should also know that if you dominate your dog, he'll become deeply attached to you, because you become his guide — the one he can lean on and count on. Your attention takes on real value, because it represents the care a leader gives. A dog is "loyal" to his family out of habit and an innate attachment to the group — something that can change quickly. But a dog is truly and deeply attached and loyal to his leader. By becoming your dog's leader, you won't just put him at ease — you'll build a bond with him deeper than you ever imagined possible, unlike anything you could have with another species.

"He is following me everywhere now... and very calm. Unlike before 🥹" Jasmine, course participant

Before I studied dogs for a living, "hierarchy" was a bad word for me too. Dominating isn't in my nature — some people are drawn to that kind of power struggle with an animal; I've never been that kind of personality. I used to think the ideal relationship with a dog was being his friend, his equal.

What changed my mind wasn't years of practice — it was what my studies, and what I actually observed between dogs, taught me about a dog's real nature. Treating my dog as an equal had created real problems, for him and for me, and I couldn't go on that way. Making the change meant giving up a mistaken idea of who my dog was — and a harmful way of loving him — for the real thing. The good news: nothing about the affection had to go. I just learned the correct way to express it.

What you get from taking on leadership is the opposite of what you might fear. My dogs didn't become distant or fearful — they grew more attached than ever, and that's where a depth in the relationship is born that I'd never known before. I dote on my dogs; I love them more than some members of my own family. That's thirty years of hearing clients say some version of the same thing: "My dog has never been this calm, this balanced — thank you."

Most trainers form their opinions from books alone. I started the same way — reading everything I could find on canine ethology and behavior, with no preconceived idea of what I'd find. But I didn't stop there: once I'd gathered everything available to me, I started living with a pack of 20 dogs, 10 of whom were constantly changing. These dogs weren't kept in kennels — they lived with me, at home. My own observations are what let me sort out, from everything I'd read, what actually held up and what didn't.

I've continued observing dog packs ever since — living alongside humans, near humans, or far from them. I've studied them in Costa Rica, Portugal, India, Mauritania, and several countries across North Africa, and for the past four years, daily in Bali and Sri Lanka too. What I've watched happen, over and over, is that every group of dogs settles into a structure with the same characteristics.

Everything I teach about hierarchy is grounded and proven on film. I don't ask you to take it on faith. I ask you to look at what actually happens in a group of dogs, which you see on the footage below.

It isn't a method based on theory — it's what happens when you stop arguing about dogs and start watching them, for three decades, without stopping. Nor is it a method that brings obedience only when there are no distractions around — it works anywhere, in any circumstances.

I tested nearly every method out there, until I applied the rules of life based on hierarchy as the source of obedience. It was a revelation in terms of efficiency — not only in the level of obedience itself, but because it also produces amazing balance in a dog, and is the only effective way to solve any behavioral problem. The results were incomparable to the small, partial changes other methods produced.