Philosophy of sport

Working out and other forms of exercise have a meritocratic image: your success depends entirely on your own effort and discipline. But according to the philosopher of sport, this is a misleading and elitist ideology. After all, not everyone can free up enough time, energy and money to achieve a well-trained body.

Which is why he thinks it’s an oversimplification to suggest more exercise is the ultimate solution for issues that are expressed by the body, such as obesity and related disease patterns: “You can stress the importance of sport and exercise all you want − and some of my colleagues do − but if people have a whole range of complex underlying problems, such as too little money to buy healthy food or too many worries to have any energy left to work on their fitness, you’ll first need to recognise those problems. In that case, the body is the place where these issues are most visible, but the cause is somewhere else.”

Statistics Netherlands calculated that on average, higher-educated people have fifteen more healthy years than the lower-educated, poorer part of the population. This distinction grew more pronounced in the past years, whereas tolerance of people whose bodies do not meet the standard has decreased.

“Society has become stricter”, says Van Hilvoorde. “The neoliberal vision of everyone being responsible for their own health has grown more and more dominant. I often hear people say they don’t want to fund someone else’s unhealthy behaviour. This means every individual is responsible for their own health, but the question is whether that’s really fair.”

Working at the idealised image

As early as the nineteenth century people didn’t only work out for their health, but also – and perhaps especially – to be found attractive. In that sense, those nineteenthcentury gymnasts are not that different from modern-day influencers. What is different, is that the standard of what constitutes good looks has become narrower. The rise of social media and the wide range of cosmetic possibilities play a part in this. Straight white teeth, a smooth, tight skin, a slender figure with round breasts and buttocks (women) or the famous sixpack (men) have become the standard. Is that harmful? Van Hilvoorde thinks it is, to some degree: “Research shows that young people feel increasingly forced to meet this standard. This already starts with teenagers, who have strict ideas about what looks good and what deviates from the norm. That’s not always good for their self-image.”

At the same time, the idea of what an ideal body looks like is growing more diverse, for instance when it comes to gender. “Our ability to modify our bodies through technical interventions and surgeries is increasing, which adds diversity to our perception of the ideal body.”

All the same, this means the body is no longer a given, but an object that must be moulded into the ideal image. Or to use neoliberal jargon: the body is the showroom of Me, Inc. And for young adults, keeping this showroom in shape is piled on top of all those other obligations: getting good marks, working a side job, having a rich social life, etc. “I see it in students and young scientists. Some of them combine being a top athlete with a double Master’s programme, or a bunch of extra courses, all to set themselves apart.” Having said that, the philosopher of sport also considers the pressure that young adults are under as something that belongs to that phase of life: “When I graduated, there were no jobs. Now there are jobs, but contracts are fixed-term and homes are unaffordable. Every period has its own problems.”

What has changed, in his observation, is that the current generation of students is more concerned with what’s healthy: “They have a lot to do in little time, which is an extra stress factor compared to the old days. This turns a fit body into an instrument and a necessity to keep up with the quick pace. One could say that’s unhealthy, but the way students used to live, with lots of alcohol and pizza, wasn’t exactly healthy either.”

Member of the University Student Council and coordinator of the Accessibility Task Force Rebekah Lamb (23)

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I was abused by my mother growing up, which had a large impact on my view of my body. Especially when you’re a child, your brain goes into survival mode: don’t feel what’s happening, don’t acknowledge it. I kind of disconnected from my body. And because of this, I often struggle knowing what my body needs. When I feel some type of discomfort, I have to go through a list of questions: am I hungry? Too hot? Maybe there’s a light that’s buzzing? It’s a process to get back the feeling of my body being mine. I’m half Irish, half Native American. The Abenaki, where my roots lie, operate outside of the Western idea of a person being an individual that has to move in a certain way and is in control of their navigation. The Abenaki work more in balance than in control. My traditional face tattoos were a way for me to put myself into the balance. Some stranger on the metro commented on them, saying I mutilated my body and lost my dignity. But that doesn’t bother me. In indigenous culture, tattoos are something you earn - I’m proud of them. Comments on my body don’t really affect me in general. I know my ancestors are proud of me and that’s all that matters. I do notice that when I walk with my cane for my chronic pain, people’s demeanour changes. They seem to feel awkward, to not know how to address me. I also get cat-called less when I walk with it.”

(ES)

PHOTO: YVONNE COMPIER

Student Computer Science and founder of the Black and African Diaspora Party Alexis Arrey Bhakor

(20)

“ I see my body as a vessel for communication. By dancing, I’m able to express my mood, it helps me to externalize my feelings and communicate them in a non-verbal manner. Dancing also empowers me. It reflects how I’m feeling, as you can see whether I’m happy, sad or angry. It also helps to blow off some steam. When I’m studying and my mind starts wandering or things get a little chaotic in my head, I’ll take a break and start dancing. The break lasts for about half an hour and after that, I’m able to study again. Although I’m not a shy person, I am reserved. But I like to challenge myself, so I also dance in public areas. When I’m dancing in public and people stop to cheer, it sometimes can be distracting because I suddenly become aware that people are looking at me. However, when I’m in my bubble, nothing can stop me. Even if a fire broke out in a building behind me, I would just keep dancing. At the same time, people clapping or cheering also empowers me. They hype me up and give me more energy and drive to continue dancing. I also like to choreograph dance routines and record them for my social media accounts. This enables me to share my love and passion for dance with people I would be unable to meet otherwise. It is also a way of displaying my talent and skills to my online community.” (BB) PHOTO:

MARTIJN GIJSBERTSEN

The university student council is the representative participation council of and for students of VU Amsterdam. The council concerns itself mainly with the quality and accessibility of education at VU Amsterdam and with the student policy of this university. The council consults with the executive board periodically.