The Decline of Professionalism
Knowledge, practice and professional integrity
By Anders H. Davidsen
SAHD – Centre for Behaviour and Mentality
As the market for dog-related services grows, a shift is taking place that is rarely discussed, but has far-reaching consequences: the professional foundation for work with dogs’ behaviour is gradually being undermined—not through direct errors, but through simplification. What was once painstaking craft, grounded in observation, reflection and relational understanding, is giving way to fixation on methods, commercial “certifications” and quick fixes. This development weakens the field’s autonomy, insight and ethical foundation.
In this text I will share some of my thoughts about what is happening—and why it is problematic—through six perspectives: epistemology, professionalisation, ethology, market logic, pressure to standardise and performative professionalism. It is grounded both in academic theory and long-standing practical experience, and seeks to restore what is now disappearing: deep professional knowledge and respect for a field threatened by carelessness and self-interest.
From experience to recipe – an epistemological impoverishment
Experience is slow knowledge. It is built over time through encounters with individual dogs, different owners and complex situations. Such experience creates what Michael Polanyi described as “tacit knowledge”—knowledge that guides our actions even when we cannot necessarily explain it [1]. It is embodied, context-dependent and grounded in relationships.
But today’s education industry in the dog field does not place value on this kind of knowledge. Instead, it highlights “tools”, “methods” and “procedures” that are supposed to be applied universally. This creates an illusion of professionalism, but in reality leads to what Donald Schön called a “crisis of confidence in professional knowledge” [2]: practitioners lose the ability to reflect in action and begin to believe that all the answers are contained in technique.
In practice, this means that a dog’s behaviour is not understood, but classified. People act from checklists, not an understanding of the situation. They “distract”, “redirect” or “reward the right behaviour” without asking: Why is this happening now—in this particular relationship?
Professionalisation without depth – when standardisation overrides substance
In principle, professionalisation means raising the standard of professional practice. But that presupposes real quality criteria—not merely marketable symbols. Today we see a growing number of courses and “training programmes” that offer certificates after only a few hours of teaching, often without a requirement for practical work, supervision or ethical reflection.
This corresponds to Eliot Freidson’s description of “the third logic”, in which market mechanisms and administrative frameworks displace professional autonomy [5]. What was previously grounded in experienced professional communities and communities of practice is now being taken over by private providers who operate with their own definitions of what counts as “approved competence”.
At the same time, the possibility of long-term professional development is weakened. Professional communities dissolve in favour of individual actors, and structures for collective reflection, continuing education or professional criticism are not built. As a result, the professional community that should have been the field’s backbone also disappears [4].
Behaviour without context – the ethological breakdown
Behaviour is not something a dog “has”; it is something that happens in relation to something else. From an ethological perspective, all behaviour is rooted in context and influenced by both internal states and external surroundings [6]. Yet behaviour is now often discussed almost as an object: something that can be changed, manipulated, corrected or reinforced, independently of the conditions that produce it.
This points to a theoretical weakness. For example, both neurobiology and behavioural ecology show us that prolonged stress changes reactivity and the ability to learn [6][7]. A dog in a constant state of activation will behave differently from one that has rest, safety and social support. If we assess behaviour without understanding this context, interventions will be ineffective—or directly harmful.
This is where the commercial training industry breaks with basic professional principles: symptoms are trained away without understanding their cause. It is like painting over rust. It looks better—for a while.
Market logic threatens the field’s autonomy
The market does not reward professional depth; it rewards visibility, simplicity and marketing skill. This means that many of the most experienced and professionally grounded practitioners are overshadowed by those offering “course guarantees”, “quick results” and effective slogans. The result is that dog owners are offered easy solutions but lose contact with the slow, relational knowledge of the profession.
This creates a system in which it is profitable to simplify complex problems. A “reactive” dog becomes a training problem, rather than an indication of insecurity, misunderstood boundaries or a dysfunctional relationship. It becomes more profitable to teach a few techniques than to take responsibility for the whole structure of everyday life. Owners become consumers, not participants in building a relationship.
In this way, the integrity of the field is weakened. What takes time, reflection and relationship loses out to what sells. This is not only a professional problem—it is an ethical one.
The loss of the individual perspective: standardisation becomes blindness
…is one of the most serious consequences of fixation on methods. When dogs are “categorised” into behaviour types and owners are assigned standardised programmes, we lose the most fundamental part of professional work: meeting what is actually there—not what we expect to see.
Standardisation can reassure the inexperienced, but it can blind the experienced. When everything is fitted into forms, it is easy to overlook nuances: the small sign of uncertainty, the interrupted glance, the mild attempt to regulate the situation independently. These signals often carry the dog’s real needs—but they disappear if we are locked into our own method.
This brings to mind what Basil Bernstein called “pedagogic blindness”—the ability to follow a procedure without seeing its substance [9]. In the dog field, this means practitioners become good at doing, but worse at understanding. At worst, they become better at hiding symptoms than resolving them.
We have seen the results of this for many years: more dogs unable to use rational behaviour (damaged by “experts”), stricter leash laws, and hysteria about dogs that are not physically tethered to anything. Are we talking about animal welfare?
Professional ethics give way to social performance
…and in our time, professionalism is increasingly something displayed, not necessarily something practised. This is especially true on social media, where trainers and therapists stage their competence through videos, slogans and before-and-after clips. This creates a form of “performative professionalism”, where the goal is to impress, not necessarily to understand.
The problem with this presentation is that it rewards visibility over substance. Dogs that respond quickly to a command are presented as examples of “good training”, even when the underlying problems have not been resolved. Owners—and professionals—are taught to judge professionalism by presentation, not process.
Professional language is also diluted. Words such as “relationship”, “safety” and “cooperation” are used rhetorically, but without substance. This creates an echo chamber in which everyone seems to agree, but no one challenges the superficial content.
Professional communities must take responsibility here. We must restore the demand for an ethical foundation, demonstrable practice and professional accountability. If we do not, we lose more than language. We lose trust.
But do we have time? Do we, for example, have time to read a text like this? In our world it is far too long and takes far too much time. Not only must problems be solved in a very short time; the explanation must also be delivered in three seconds, which is about the average viewing time for a TikTok post.
What is disappearing is not only a professional practice, but an understanding of what professionalism actually is: what knowledge is, how it is acquired and how it is then stewarded. It is not about knowing the most methods or having the most followers. It is about the ability to see, understand and respond—individually, ethically and with professional integrity.
If the field is to survive with dignity, it must resist the market’s demand for simplification, the speed of social media and the comfort of ready-made recipes. It must defend slow, reflective and experience-based professionalism—even when it is unpopularly slow.
This is where professionalism becomes visible: not when everything is easy, but when one chooses what is right, even when it is less simple and less easy for the masses—or the “experts”—to understand.
References
[1] Polanyi, M. (1966). The Tacit Dimension. University of Chicago Press.
[2] Schön, D.A. (1983). The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. Basic Books.
[3] Molander, B. (1996). Kunnskap i handling. Pax Forlag.
[4] Abbott, A. (1988). The System of Professions: An Essay on the Division of Expert Labor. University of Chicago Press.
[5] Freidson, E. (2001). Professionalism: The Third Logic. University of Chicago Press.
[6] Bekoff, M. (2007). The Emotional Lives of Animals. New World Library.
[7] McGreevy, P., Starling, M., Branson, N., Cobb, M., & Calnon, D. (2018). Dog Behaviour, Evolution, and Cognition (2nd ed.). CABI.
[8] Hiby, E.F., Rooney, N.J., & Bradshaw, J.W.S. (2004). Dog training methods: their use, effectiveness and interaction with behaviour and welfare. Animal Welfare, 13, 63–69.
[9] Bernstein, B. (2000). Pedagogy, Symbolic Control and Identity. Rowman & Littlefield.
