Rethinking Fundamentals

What if everything we think we know about 'fundamentals' in firearms training is wrong? After reviewing the comments and reflecting on the previous post, I want to clarify a central point that may have been misunderstood. That is -

What we call the fundamentals may be wrong.

Fundamentals as Techniques

Let’s take a closer look at what many people mean when they say 'fundamentals.' Most people mean a specific way to do something (e.g., a technique—here’s the 4-point draw, this is the high-friction grip) when they say fundamentals, but I think this might be off base. Think about how these things originally emerged. They likely started with something simple: I tried a method, and it worked better than the others I'd tried. The more I tested it, the more effective it proved compared to other options. It’s the most efficient way I’ve found to get results. So, it becomes “the” technique I use. I don’t see a problem with this, but I would add – the technique I use under these specific circumstances.

I think the problem emerges when we turn around and try to teach “the” technique to someone else. Particularly when we try to teach “the” technique out of the context that produced it. First, we are trying to fit a technique that was developed by someone else to the trainee – this means that it was adapted to the person who developed it. It may not be a good fit for the current trainee simply because the trainee’s body and action capacities are different. Look at any pro-sport, you will see a wide range of successful approaches to any task. Rob Gray has a great picture illustrating this in his How We Learn to Move book. It shows several elite golfers at the end of their backswings and they are all in very different positions. Again, these are all elite golfers. Are their fundamentals wrong, or are they doing something that is adapted to how their body works in their environment?

The second problem is that “the” technique is usually practiced in isolation away from the context in which it was developed. This means that the very feedback that was used to initially shape the technique is absent. Often “the” technique is not the most effective way to achieve the outcome in the practice environment. Many times, we want trainees to do “the” technique because we believe it matters later, but the task at hand doesn’t show them why.

I see this in weight training a lot. You are taught a specific posture, motion, and how to brace using very light weight, but you could pick it up in lots of ways. Because it is very light, it is usually easier to just pick it up and not do all the stuff you are being shown. It is only when you add weight that the posture and bracing begin to make sense, and you need to get up to a reasonably heavy weight before they are really needed. You can show trainees the ideas up front, but you must get them to a reasonable weight before they can experience what you are trying to show them and adapt it to themselves. The techniques only make sense in the context that shaped them.

Also showing trainees a specific thing might stop them from exploring things that would work better for their body. You see this in deadlifting all the time. Everyone argues about what position you should be in when you are setting up to do the lift, but mechanical analysis has shown that an effective setup depends on your arm and leg lengths. If I try to force you into my setup, you may not find one that is better for you. Also, many elite deadlifters have what would be considered horrible form. Should we tell a lifter that is pulling more than 99.9999% of people (or in some cases, everyone) in the world that they need to do it differently?

Perhaps most importantly, there's the issue of how a technique interacts with the environment in which it’s used. This ties into a broader pattern I’ve been highlighting—techniques are not static actions, but dynamic responses to specific conditions.

“The” technique works because of an interaction between the person and the environment. It is regulated by a perception-action loop between the two. If I take the action out of the environment and practice it in isolation, I have broken the loop. The things that I use to trigger and control the action in the practice environment are therefore different from the ones that I use in the performance environment. As a result, I have to relearn how to act effectively in the performance environment.

I am not saying that the traditional approach will not work. Obviously, it does (though perhaps not for the reasons that people think). It’s a question of efficiency. Every police trainer knows that training time is precious.

So - a technique is a specific action that was used by a particular person to accomplish a goal in a distinct situation. If either the person or the situation is different, the technique may no longer function well for achieving the goal.

A Shift in Perspective: From Technique to Outcomes

If applicability of techniques changes when people or contexts change, techniques do not seem like they can be considered fundamental. Rather than anchoring fundamentals in technique, perhaps it’s time to reframe fundamentals around something that is more consistent.

If techniques aren’t the fundamentals—then what is?

That question lies at the heart of this argument, and it demands that we look beyond repetition and form to the purpose those techniques are meant to serve. It is the outcomes that we want the trainee to produce that become fundamental. For this to work, we must clearly define these outcomes, but in many cases, we’ve failed to do so.

For example, what is the objective of firearms training? Many would say that it is to get the trainee to safely and accurately place rounds on a target within certain time constraints. I disagree. Instead, I think it is something like the trainees must be able to accurately assess when deadly force is required and legally justified to resolve a situation, and then the trainees must be able to effectively, safely, and legally utilize their firearms in those situations. I say it is something like that because I think there is room for substantial debate and discussion around this objective. Being able to accurately place rounds on a target within certain time constraints is only important to the extent that this skill transfers to helping the trainee achieve the broader objective of dealing with deadly force situations (and as I have discussed throughout this series, it doesn’t appear to transfer very well.).

With this objective-focused perspective in mind, we begin to see just how critical context truly is. We’re not preparing trainees for the range—we’re preparing them for the real world they’ll face as police officers. This means we have to decide what situations we are talking about. Then we must identify key features of these situations and the skills to handle them. The actual use of the firearm is only one of the skills needed, and as I have tried to make clear throughout this series, that skill must be developed in a context that has the key characteristics of the performance environment. The trainee doesn’t need to know how to work the pistol effectively on the range. They need to know when and how to effectively use the pistol in the situations they will face as an officer. The training environment, therefore, must be representative of the world that police officers will face. Please see the posts here and here to get a better idea of what I am talking about.

So What about Techniques?

If you are focused on objectives, specific techniques become less important. There are numerous ways that an objective can be attained. Some ways will be better (more efficient) than others, but any way that achieves the objective is ultimately acceptable and may be well suited to particular circumstances. For example, a two-handed grip on a pistol is generally better than a one-handed grip. It provides better recoil control, but there are times when a one-handed grip is better suited to the particulars of the situation. Try moving quickly while keeping your sights on a target using a two-handed grip. Now switch to a one-handed grip—you’ll likely find it much easier.

Focusing on one technique can also produce bad outcomes. There is a Force Science study where a driver pulls a gun on an officer during a traffic stop. Most of the officers in the study were close to the driver’s window. Despite the officers being close enough to the attacker to grab or deflect the weapon, very few did. Most of the officers instead back-peddled or sidestepped, drew their weapons, and began firing two-handed. The suspect generally fired his gun less than half a second after it was presented. Officers, in contrast, generally took a 1.5 or more seconds to fire. Attempting to grab the suspect’s gun and then drawing and firing one-handed, may have worked better in this scenario than stepping away and activating the normal two-handed shooting process, but the officers had practiced the two-handed shooting process much more than anything else — so that is what they did under stress.

Conclusion: Training for Reality, Not Routine

If we’re serious about preparing police officers for the complex, high-stakes situations they’ll face in the field, we must rethink what we call “fundamentals.” Techniques are not sacrosanct; they are tools, and like any tools, their value lies in how well they help us accomplish a task under specific conditions.

By shifting our focus from rote techniques to clearly defined objectives, we invite a richer, more adaptive form of learning—one where trainees are not merely copying movements, but becoming perceptive, capable problem-solvers. This isn’t just more effective training—it’s more honest. Because the real world doesn’t care how clean your form is. It only cares whether you’re capable of solving the problem in front of you.

And that, I would argue, is the fundamental that truly matters.