If you’ve spent any time in dressage circles — online or in person — you’ve probably noticed that everyone claims to be “classical.”
The competitive trainer calls their work classical. The natural horsemanship person calls their work classical. The person who never asks the horse for anything calls their work classical. The person using draw reins calls their work classical.
At some point, the word stopped meaning anything at all.
The Problem With Labels
Here’s the thing: “classical” has become a brand, not a method. It’s a word people use to signal that they’re one of the good ones, that their training is kind, that their horse is happy. And while those things might be true — the label alone doesn’t prove it.
I’ve seen horses ridden in “classical” programs who were hollow-backed, disengaged, and drifting around the arena with no connection. The rider was soft and quiet, sure. But the horse wasn’t developing any strength, any balance, any ability to actually carry a rider well.
Is that kind? I’d argue no. A horse who can’t engage their core, can’t step under, can’t use their body correctly — that horse is going to have problems down the road. Physical problems.
Meanwhile, I’ve seen competitive horses who looked powerful and “on the bit” but were tense through the jaw, tight in the back, and running from the leg instead of pushing into it.
Neither of these is classical training. They’re both shortcuts wearing different costumes.
So What Does “Classical” Actually Mean?
True classical training isn’t about softness for softness’s sake. It’s not about avoiding all impulsion. And it’s definitely not about making your horse look like a painting from the 1700s.
Classical principles are about educated horsemanship — using knowledge instead of force to create a horse who:
- Carries themselves in balance
- Steps through from behind to the bit
- Stays mentally calm and physically soft
- Gets stronger and more supple over time
The phrase “dressage ends where force begins” comes up a lot. But here’s the flip side that people miss: force begins where knowledge ends.
When riders don’t understand biomechanics, when they don’t understand how a horse’s nervous system works, when they don’t have the timing and feel to make corrections that actually help — they default to stronger aids, more equipment, or they give up entirely and call it “letting the horse be natural.”
Both are failures of education. Neither is classical.
The History Isn’t As Pretty As We Think
Here’s something uncomfortable: if you actually read the old dressage texts — the ones people cite as the foundation of classical training — you’ll find some horrifying things.
Federico Grisone, writing in 1550, suggested tying a live cat to a pole under your horse to “cure” spooking. The bits and spurs illustrated in texts from the 1600s and 1700s look like torture devices. William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, advocated methods that would get you banned from social media today.
“Classical” doesn’t mean “the old ways were better.” It means we’ve had centuries to figure out what works, what’s kind, and what produces horses that stay sound and willing. The best trainers took what worked and left the rest behind.
That’s what classical really is: a refinement. An evolution. Not a religion.
How to Spot the Real Thing
So how do you know if training is actually following classical principles, regardless of what it calls itself?
Look at the horse’s body. Is the back swinging? Is the hind leg stepping under the mass? Is there a soft connection through the topline, from tail to poll?
Look at the horse’s expression. Is the eye soft? Is the ear relaxed? Is the mouth quiet — not clamped shut, not gaping open, not being held in place by gadgets?
Look at the timeline. Classical training takes time. It builds strength gradually. If someone is claiming classical methods but producing “finished” horses in months, something doesn’t add up.
Ask about the why. A true classical trainer can explain why they’re asking for something. “Because that’s how it’s done” is not an answer. “Because we’re developing the horse’s ability to carry weight on the hind end so they can stay sound and balanced” — that’s an answer.
It’s Not About the Label
I don’t care if you call yourself classical, competitive, or anything else. Labels are just marketing.
What I care about is whether your horse is getting stronger without getting tighter. Whether they’re staying mentally calm. Whether the work is building them up instead of breaking them down.
The best trainers I’ve learned from — people who’ve trained Olympic horses, people who’ve studied at the Spanish Riding School, people who compete at the top levels — they don’t argue about labels. They just do the work. And when you watch them ride, you can see the principles in action: rhythm, relaxation, connection, impulsion, straightness, collection.
That’s the training scale. That’s what classical training actually looks like. Not a brand. Not a costume. Just principles, applied consistently, over time.
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