Horses Are Not Machines: Why Force and Fear Destroy Trust
Oct 17, 2025
Let me be brutally honest. I’ve seen it all.
Not just the beautiful moments, the sunrise rides, the quiet trust in a horse’s eyes, the way your heart syncs with their rhythm. I’ve also seen the ugly side of riding. The kind that makes you want to turn away, shake your head, and whisper, “How can this be?”
I’ve watched riders beat horses in the face, slap them across the muzzle, yank reins like they’re trying to break a stubborn door. I’ve seen people kick, pull, and punish their horses for something as simple as not moving fast enough. And the worst part? The rider doesn’t even realize what they’re doing. They think they’re “training.” They think they’re “disciplining.” But they’re not. They’re breaking something sacred.
And here’s the truth no one wants to hear: Horses are not machines.
They don’t need a manual. They don’t respond to force. They don’t learn through fear. They respond to presence, consistency, and respect. When you treat them like a tool, something to be controlled, shaped, and used, you destroy the very bond that makes riding meaningful.
I Wasn’t Always This Way
Before I wrote The Promise, I was lost. A doctor by training, a developer by trade, a man drowning in silence after a failed marriage. I didn’t know how to connect with anyone, least of all myself. Then came Kuzey.
He wasn’t mine by choice. I accidentally became a horse owner. But from the moment I first touched his bridle, something shifted. He didn’t care about my title, my income, or my past. He only cared if I was present, calm, and honest.
That’s when I learned: You can’t ride a horse without first learning to ride yourself.
But I didn’t start out wise. I made mistakes. I thought I could “fix” him with pressure. I tried to dominate him. And he responded, not with obedience, but with resistance, fear, and shutdown.
That’s when I stopped. I stepped back. I read. I studied. I listened to real masters. I realized that the people who claim to “train” horses with violence aren’t trainers. They’re bullies. And their horses pay the price.
The Myth of "Strong Leadership"
There’s this dangerous myth in riding culture: “If you’re not tough, the horse will take over.” It’s nonsense. Horses don’t want to “take over.” They want to belong. They want to be part of a herd. They look to us, not as tyrants, but as leaders who are steady, fair, and consistent.
When you use fear, you don’t gain control. You gain chaos. You create a horse who is afraid to move, afraid to try, afraid to trust. That’s not discipline. That’s trauma.
I’ve seen kids come to the farm, eager to ride, only to be handed a horse that’s been “trained” with harsh techniques. The horse flinches at every sound. He’s tense, reactive, and scared. The child gets nervous. The rider blames the horse. “He’s bad.” “He’s not right for me.”
No. The horse is perfect. It’s the handler who’s broken.
The Damage of Ignorance
Many riders don’t understand what a horse truly is. They buy a horse because it looks cool. They join a club because it feels prestigious. They don’t ask: Why do I want to ride? What am I learning? How will I care for this living being?
And then they project their own insecurities onto the horse. Their stress becomes the horse’s anxiety. Their confusion becomes the horse’s resistance. Their ego becomes the horse’s fear.
I’ve seen riders hit their horses in the face, thinking it’s “correction.” I’ve seen people use whips not to guide, but to intimidate. I’ve seen owners leave their horses unattended for weeks, feeding them but never touching them. These aren’t riders. These are abusers.
And worse, they don’t even know it.
Horses Are Emotional, Intelligent Beings
A horse isn’t a robot. He has feelings. He remembers kindness. He remembers betrayal. He senses tension in your hands, your breath, your voice. He reads your energy before you even speak.
“A horse doesn’t care how much you know until he knows how much you care,” John Shedd said. That line changed everything for me.
I’ve sat beside Kuzey after a long day. No saddle. No bit. Just sitting. And he’d nuzzle my shoulder. He’d sigh. He’d lean into me. That wasn’t obedience. That was connection. That was love.
But you can’t earn that with force. You can’t build it with punishment. You can only grow it with patience, time, and humility.
The Ripple Effect of Bad Riding
When a rider uses fear, the damage spreads. The horse becomes unpredictable. He might bolt. He might rear. He might refuse to move. And then the rider blames the horse. “He’s spooky.” “He’s lazy.” “He’s not trainable.”
But the truth? The horse is reacting to you. To your lack of clarity, your inconsistency, your fear. He’s mirroring your inner state.
And when a horse is trained this way, it’s not just his behavior that suffers, it’s his mental health. His spirit. His ability to thrive.
I’ve seen horses lose their spark. Their joy. Their willingness. And once that’s gone, it’s nearly impossible to bring back. Because trust, once broken, takes years to rebuild.
Why I Wrote The Promise
I wrote this book because I had to. Not for fame. Not for money. For my son. For my horse. For every rider who’s ever felt lost, confused, or disconnected from their horse.
Because I saw too many people treating horses like objects. I saw too many riders chasing trophies instead of building relationships. I saw too many horses suffering in silence.
So I stepped back. I chose education over ego. I chose listening over commanding. I chose healing over control.
And now, I’m sharing what I’ve learned, because someone else might be where I was. Drowning. Lost. Needing a lifeline.
In The Promise, I go deeper than just technique. I explore:
- Why your horse is a mirror of your soul
- How routines build trust (and why changing them hurts)
- The real meaning of “riding with purpose”
- How to spot a good trainer, and how to avoid the fake ones
- Why a horse’s well-being must always come before your desire to ride
This isn’t just a book about horsemanship. It’s a manifesto on respect, responsibility, and emotional honesty.
If You’re New to Riding… Listen to This
If you’re just starting out, please hear me: Don’t rush. Don’t copy others. Don’t chase the next trend.
Take time. Learn. Observe. Ask questions. Build a relationship. Your horse isn’t a machine. He’s a partner.
Start with grooming. Teach your child how to approach a horse with respect. Learn to read body language. Understand the difference between a horse that’s tired and one that’s resistant.
And if someone tells you to “make the horse obey,” walk away. Real riding isn’t about domination. It’s about connection.
The Truth Is Simple
A horse is not a pet. He’s not a toy. He’s not a means to an end. He’s a sentient being, intelligent, emotional, social, and deeply sensitive.
To ride him is not a right. It’s a privilege. One earned through patience, consistency, and love.
And if you want to understand what this really means, if you want to learn how to ride with integrity, purpose, and compassion, then you need to read The Promise.
This book isn’t just for experienced riders. It’s for anyone who wants to do better. To be better. To honor the horse as he deserves.
Because when we stop seeing horses as tools and start seeing them as equals, we don’t just become better riders, we become better humans.
And that’s the promise I made. To Kuzey. To my son. To myself.
Now, it’s yours to keep.