As dog trainers, we understand the power of repetition and influence. Present an odor to a dog, reinforce the response, repeat it, and very quickly that odor becomes meaningful. After enough repetitions, the dog starts filtering the world differently. One odor matters. Others become irrelevant. We understand this perfectly when we train dogs. But do we recognize when the same principle is working on us?
Algorithms are shaping what we see, what we read, what we hear and, eventually, what we start to believe. If you believe positive reinforcement is the only acceptable way to train, your feed will give you more reasons to believe it. If you believe punishment is necessary, your feed will give you evidence for that too. Believe Kong is the perfect target odor? You will find people confirming it. Believe a bridge signal weakens the Trained Final Response? Confirmation is waiting for you. Believe direct reinforcement creates the strongest indication? Your feed can prove you right. Believe walking your own tracks is excellent maintenance training? No problem. There is an algorithm ready to strengthen that belief too. And that is the dangerous part.
The algorithm does not necessarily ask: “Is this true?” It learns: “What keeps this person watching?” “What does this person agree with?” “What makes this person react?” Then it gives you more of it. Again. And again. And again. Until repetition starts to feel like evidence.
Years ago, our beliefs were also influenced. By our parents, teachers, colleagues, K9 instructors and the books we read. But we could argue with our instructor. We could put the book down. We could walk into another club and discover that people there did things completely differently. Today, our information environment follows us everywhere. In our pocket. At breakfast. At work. On the couch. Before we sleep.
A continuous stream of photographs, short videos, headlines and opinions, increasingly selected around what we already believe. And slowly our world can become smaller while we believe it is becoming bigger. That is where curiosity dies. That is where critical thinking becomes uncomfortable. And that is where polarization begins.
But algorithms can also become your servants instead of your masters. I deliberately use that principle myself. I often like and follow stories from cancer survivors. Their stories help me stay positive, keep fighting and move my thoughts away from anxiety when I feel something strange in my body. But in K9 training, I deliberately do something different. I read things I disagree with. When a post immediately makes me think, “That cannot be right,” I try to keep reading. When someone makes me raise an eyebrow, I become curious. Why does this person believe this? What experiences brought them there? What evidence supports their position? Could part of what they are saying actually be right? I listen to podcasts from people I disagree with. I read books that challenge my beliefs. I talk with trainers from completely different backgrounds. Operational trainers. Sport trainers. Scientists. Behaviorists.
I deliberately stay away from the emotional social media fights. Yes, they create traction. Conflict creates comments, shares and attention, and the algorithm loves it. But what do we actually learn from them? Too often, an online discussion turns into a competition. Someone has to win and someone has to lose. People stop listening because they are too busy defending their position. Arguments become personal. Ego enters the conversation. And suddenly the goal is no longer to understand something. The goal is to be right. I don’t like that drama. It teaches me very little.
That is why, instead of debate, I increasingly choose dialogue. For me, dialogue has no winner and no loser. I don’t need to convince you that I am right. You don’t need to convince me that you are right. I want to understand why you think differently. What have you experienced that I haven’t? What do you know that I don’t? What can I learn from you? And maybe, after that conversation, neither of us completely changes our mind. That is fine. Maybe we both just leave with a slightly wider perspective than we had before. That, to me, is growth.
There is another important question I regularly try to ask myself: “What evidence would make me change my mind?” If the answer is “nothing,” then I am no longer thinking critically.I am defending an identity. Maybe one of the most important skills of the modern trainer has nothing to do with dogs. It is the ability to protect your curiosity. Challenge your own feed. Search for information that makes you uncomfortable. Follow people outside your tribe. Read beyond the headline. Ask for evidence. Question authority. Question tradition. Question science. Question experience. And most importantly: Question yourself. Because the most dangerous echo chamber is not the one created by an algorithm. It is the one we no longer realize we are living in.
Stay curious. Keep growing. And never outsource your thinking.
