Quest, 2008, 60, -12 2008 American Academy of Kinesiology and Physical Education

The Utility of Silos and Bunkers in the Evolution of Kinesiology

R. Scott Kretchmar
Silos and bunkers have been allies in the development of kinesiology for nearly 50 years. Silos of specialization allow us to go toe-to-toe with researchers in parent disciplines, compete for grants, and otherwise spread our academic wings. The bunkers of utility and generic movement provide an important degree of legitimacy for a subject matter that is often denigrated as mere play and games. Nevertheless, both silos and bunkers introduce problems that might well stand in the way of future development. Silos present practical problems related to fractionation, poor communication, and a lack of mutual respect. They also are grounded in a research paradigm that features subdisciplinary independence, a paradigm that is increasingly coming under attack. The bunker of utility might cause us to mistake one part of the value of movement for the whole and thereby produce a profile that is unduly health fixated, sober, and serious. Our tendency to abstract movement from the cultural forms of activity in which we find it drains life and vitality from skillful performances. I conclude by recommending that silos and bunkers will continue to be useful in the years ahead, albeit less so. I recommend a brand of kinesiology whose silo walls are lower and more permeable, whose spirit is more playful, and whose researchers and practitioners interact more democratically, with increasing levels of interdependence and humility and with a higher degree of mutual respect.

Silos and bunkers are good things. Silos help to define, orient, provide focus and depth and produce the quality that goes with it. You and I as philosophers, biomechanists, pedagogists, physiologists, and motor-control experts, among other specialties, live in these structures to one extent or another, have both shaped them and have been, in turn, shaped by them, and I thinkif our election as Fellows in the Academy is any indicationhave benefited from them. We live in an educational era that requires demanding levels of expertise and specialization, and honored residence in a silo is one important indicator that we have met those standards. Bunkers are good too, especially when one is under attack or under threat of an attack.1 Without trying to be unduly pessimistic or dramatic about it, we are always vulnerable in an academy that tends to value high culture, theory, and the mind over things associated with physical activitylow culture, performance, and the body. So we find safety and strength in any number of more or less safe bunkers when various intellectual missiles are directed our way.
The author (AAKPE Fellow #330) is with the Dept. of Kinesiology, Penn State University, University Park, PA 16802. E-mail: rsk1@psu.edu 

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One such missile is represented by the claim that games, sport, and play are essentially trivial pursuits, the kinds of things that are done in ones free time when important duties have been taken care of. Partly in response, we constructed what might be identified as the bunker of utility, one that is becoming increasingly fortified by all the evidence we have gathered about activity in relationship to health, longevity, obesity, human development, and even cognitive functioning. An additional bunker has been required, one that defends against two other potentially damaging claims. The first is the suggestion that many of our traditional movement activities do not rise to the level of high culture. Games, exercise, and play are nothing like art, sculpting, or music. The other criticism focuses on cultural visibility rather than status. Our traditional focus on physical education activitieson exercise, sport, dance, and recreationit is said, limits our influence. It makes us appear too narrow, too parochial. Fortunately we have found a degree of protection in what might be called the bunker of redefinition. We expanded our subject matter from culturally defined activities commonly associated with play to all intentional and skillful activities related to any and all daily activitiesincluding, importantly, art and other forms of high culture and work (Newell, 1990). Thus, we are now comfortable talking about kinesiology as the study of human movement or physical activity in virtually all of its forms and manifestations. The bottom line is this: By highlighting our utility and redefining our subject matter, we gained room to operate, spread our wings, and show our worth in the modern university. Nevertheless, in spite of all the protection that silos and bunkers have given us, they have also exposed us to new problems and thus have been the object of severe criticism within kinesiology (e.g., Hoffman, 1985). Silos divide us, splinter the profession, promote hierarchies, impede unity, create tension, make communication within the field difficult, and make it easier to subdivide our departments and send the pieces off to other administrative units. Bunkers too have been criticized. They make us look defensive, apologetic, even paranoid. The bunker of utility, some have said, has promoted an overemphasis on the duty of movement at the expense of joy and serendipity (Kretchmar, in press). The bunker of redefinition has won breadth at the cost of specificitythat is, it has stimulated an expensive redirection of attention from the activities that really matter to people to movement in the abstract. Some, therefore, have concluded that the efforts to build bunkers could have been put to better use on more offensive strategies and have done more harm than good. I think that these assessments are wrong. First, such calculations are difficult to carry out, and it is probably too early in our evolution to draw such final conclusions. Moreover, it is difficult to argue that silos and bunkers have uniformly and unequivocally pushed us backward. To support this point, I would underline the following. Without the high-quality research promoted and conducted in each of our silos and without a clear understanding that our research and subject matter transcend games, sport, and play, we would never have survived in many of our researchdemanding institutions. We would never have attracted many of the scholars sitting in this room and back at our colleges and universities whose interests transcend sport, and correspondingly, we would never have attracted the millions of dollars annually that we secure from the National Science Foundation (NSF), National

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Institutes of Health (NIH), and other top-level granting agencies. Without the benefit of silos and bunkers, we would never have been considered for, let alone included in, the taxonomy of doctoral and research programs by the National Research Council (NRC). In some ways, our evolution from a largely professionally oriented unit populated in the main by academic generalists and pedagogical specialists2 to one that is now listed among the NRC-recognized academic fields is remarkable. The fact that the major portion of this journey took place in less than 40 years borders on the spectacular. So let it be said that both the silos of specialization and the twin bunkers of health-grounded utility and subject-matter expansion have been helpful as the emerging field of kinesiology attempted to define itself, develop its credentials, and gain an additional toe hold in our colleges and universities. The story of silos and bunkers is not one-sided, however. We live in an ambiguous and chaotic world, one in which things that work for the good might also, at the same time, bring harm and one in which even seemingly innocuous changes can stimulate dramatic consequences. Because of these two factorsbecause of the normative ambiguity of silos and bunkers and because mixed successes can unravel in significant wayswe need to take a closer look at our mostly vertical subdisciplinary and professional specializations and our emphases on utility and generic movement.3 I will first examine concerns raised about silos.

Critique of Silos
Silos might cause problems at both political and theoretical levels. The political problems are relatively obvious. They include difficulties in communicating from one silo to another. They raise questions about priorities, centrality, and sequencing of research information. Who is more fundamental? Who is more central? Is it the micro- or macro-tending silos that are more important? What, in fact, counts as more central or important? Silo mentality has been known to promote internecine warfare. Why, it has been occasionally asked, would we want to hire someone for that silo when we could hire someone for this far more significant silo? Or why would we want to waste precious time in the curriculum with another biomechanics class when we need to educate our students in something far more significantsomething well, like philosophy! Sometimes lines are drawn between those who have silos and those who are at least perceived to be without onethose who work in the more-applied areas that inevitably fall across several disciplines and have different purposes or those who teach activity classes. Karl Newell (2007) addressed a number of these divisions last year when he discussed problems associated with a diverse faculty with multiple agendas. He knows, as do many others in the Academy, that being a department head in a silo-dominated unit offers, shall we say, unique challenges. Administrators across campus in more homogeneous departments still have to deal with divisions among their facultybetween those who teach theory and those who focus on practice (e.g., English literature versus composition or music theory versus music lessons)

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and between those who do basic research and those who work more at the applied level. Such heads typically take well-deserved sabbaticals after a stint at the helm. Kinesiology department heads in silo-heterogeneous environments face tensions between theory and practice, basic and applied, discipline and profession, and as many as seven or eight different silos, including those that cluster in the sciences and others in the social sciences or humanitiesacross the grand canyon separating what C.P. Snow called the two cultures. Thus, when kinesiology department heads announce that they will be stepping down, they often first seek therapy . . . and then, if and when they feel well enough, they take the sabbatical. Even as we poke fun at ourselves, many of us reside in departments that function reasonably well in spite of the stresses and strains imposed by our diverse silo identities, vocabularies, values, and commitments. Thus, it is to the potential theoretical liabilities that we need to turn. In some ways, these are the more interesting and potentially serious ones. They are interesting and serious because they directly affect our ability to do our research effectively and, consequently, teach our students appropriately. All of us have read Thomas Kuhns The Structure of Scientific Revolutions or at least are familiar with so-called Kuhnian paradigm shifts. Kuhn argued that paradigm shifts occur when the old paradigms lead scientists to acknowledge a crisis. A novel theory emerges only after a pronounced failure in the normal problem-solving activity. . . . Novel theory seems a direct response to crisis (1962/1996, p. 745). When I first read this, I was put off by the pessimism expressed by Kuhn. It is not particularly flattering to hear that we researchers need a crisis to change our habits. I was not at all convinced that we were approaching, let alone currently facing, a research crisis. After all, this is the era of the genome project, unprecedented medical advances in extending human life, and a far more sophisticated understanding of the human brain than we have ever had before. Much of this progress can be traced to Francis Bacon and the scientific revolution in the 17th century. The principles that gave life to these advances seemed reasonably solidan abiding skepticism that privileges reason over faith, a reliance on measurement and demonstration, an understanding of Newtonian physics and a vision of reality as fundamentally machine-like, a reductionistic drive that looks for underlying mechanisms, and finally a belief that the whole will be understood when we can figure out all or most of the requisite parts (Wallace, 2000). Of course, we have not even come close to figuring everything out, and many of the research puzzles we face are tremendously complex, if not also overwhelming. But we surely have good reason to keep on plugging. This is so because, in addition to the many successes to which we can point, we can also make two other claims that would explain the often slow and halting progress of science. First, the development of the technology required to measure everything takes time. Eventually, with better technology in place, the explanatory measurements and data will be produced. Second, some of the problems we face are more complex than we originally expected. We encounter more variables, more interactions, more mediators, more reciprocal relationships. The problem seems to expand even as our knowledge increases. Eventually, however, as complex as the world is, we will get to the final chapter.

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These arguments seem reasonable, and they provided a degree of comfort until I reread a portion of Kuhn where he described previous paradigm shifts, the most famous of which was undoubtedly the Copernican revolution. The situation in which we find ourselves now might be much like the one faced by astronomy at the time of Copernicus. The Ptolemaic systems developed in the two centuries before Christ did a good job of calculating the positions of heavenly bodiesboth the stars and the planets. No other ancient system came close to the successes of the mathematical model produced by Ptolemy. However, as Kuhn points out, to be admirably successful is never, for a scientific theory, to be completely successful (1962/1996, p. 68). Difficulties with the Ptolemaic system were only slowly recognized, calculations were just a little off, predictions were not quite on target . . . that is, until Copernicus came along. Thus, during the 16th century, astronomy finally acknowledged that it had reached a crisis. This forced scientists to imagine that the earth might not actually be the center of things. Of course, this opened up new possibilities for calculationscalculations that would eliminate the previous errors. A dramatic paradigm shift occurred, and scientists began to see the world literally through new eyes. It was surely just as much an unsettling time as it was an exciting one. We might be in just such a periodone that has ramifications as sweeping as those of the Copernican revolution. With Einsteins theory of relativity in 1905, with the rise of quantum mechanics, with the philosophies of ambiguity fostered by such intellectual giants as William James, John Dewey, and Maruice Merleau-Ponty, and with the rise of chaos theory and dynamical systems psychology, we might now be standing at a point of crisis. The old mechanistic and overly rationalistic paradigms,4 while effective in their own ways and while responsible for much of the scholarly progress we have made since the dawn of the scientific revolution some 450 years ago, might have brought us to something of a crisis. We might need a paradigm shift, a revolutionary vision akin to the one that suggested that the earth was not, in fact, the center of the universe. Our new vision will have to take into account the fact that Newtonian physics and, I might add, rationalistic, mathematically oriented philosophy work very well for some problems and with a degree of efficacy for others. But this shift will also be uncompromising in replacing the old, mechanistic metaphor with a new one. If we suppose for a moment that a shift is about to begin or, in fact as some would argue (see, e.g., Kelso & Engstrom, 2006, and Wallace, 2000) is already underway, the utility of silos would have to be reconsidered. This is so because silo vitality is predicated on at least two notions that are tethered to the old more-orless mechanistic paradigm. First, each silo has access to a largely (not necessarily totally) discrete part of reality. In the extent to which the new paradigm suggests that reality is interfused, mixed, complementary, and deeply interrelated, the silos will loose a degree of their relative autonomy. Second, each silo employs partly (not necessarily totally) distinctive research methods to measure and understand its subject matter. In the extent to which the new paradigm suggests that reality at different levels is ambiguously similar as well as different, researchers in different silos will need to begin to use methodologies that more frequently resemble one another. For example, all of us might be talking more in terms of influences, constraints, partial causes, interactions, dynamic relationships, opportunities, and

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possibilities than, say, underlying mechanisms. A point of logic for the philosopher might be conceptualized as a constraint, as will a certain genetic profile for the geneticist and a certain social arrangement for the sociologist. All three of them will help us understand the dynamics of behaving in human ways. And importantly, all three of them will be seen as interactive, not discrete. In this topsy-turvy world, the fascination with underlying mechanisms will be replaced by a broader search for both underlying and overarching partial and mutually implicating causes. The metaphor of person as mechanism and behavior as the product of one or more mechanisms might fall out of favor. However that turns out, there is some evidence that this topsy-turvy new world of interdependency is upon us. As most of you know, the NIH recently raised questions about the viability of silo-dependent research. Health research traditionally has been organized much like a series of cottage industries, lumping researchers into broad areas of scientific interest and then grouping them into distinct, departmentally based specialties. But, as science has advanced . . . two fundamental themes are apparent: the study of human biology and behavior is a wonderfully dynamic process, and the traditional divisions with health research may in some instances impede the pace of scientific discovery. (National Institutes of Health, 2006, p. 1) So what are we to make of silos? First, we would never have gotten where we are today in research generally, and in kinesiology specifically, without the high-quality research promoted by specialization in silos. But silos bring mixed goods. The practical problems related to divisions and splintering, and the theoretical problems related to old paradigms and impending research crises forecast by Kuhnboth of these realities suggest that silos, while continuing to be visible and while continuing to require much-needed specialization, will play a lesser role in the years to come. Silo walls, unlike those at Jericho, will not come tumbling down (nor should they), but they will be thinner, lower, and far more permeable.

Critique of Bunkers
The bunkers of utility and the expansive redefinition of physical activity beyond sport, games, and play toward generic movement continue to serve us well. But they too have turned out to be mixed goods. With an emphasis on health and utility comes a concomitant loss of what is intrinsically valuable about movement. When we sell activity as a duty, we invariably take a little luster off activity as a delight. When we focus on fixing the body, we might forget about celebrating the soul. It is understandable that we have used health as our default argument over the years. Many of you know that some of our predecessors in the late 19th and early 20th centuries were M.D.s Two doors from my parents house in Oberlin lived a Dr. Nichols. He was the head of the Physical Education Department at Oberlin College. When I was 12, he actually stitched a gash in my leg. You see, he was M.D. Doctor Nichols, the kind of doctor, as the old joke goes, who can actually do somebody some concrete good. For many years we have been tethered to health and medicine. On this rock we stand. Without our health, as the common truism puts it, we have nothing. In terms

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of utility, very few messages resonate with parents as well as messages about their childrens health. Federal pockets related to health are deep, and few subjects are as likely to be featured on the evening news as health-related research. There is an irony in all this. The utility emphasis, in many ways, gets things exactly backwardin our personal lives and in the lives of most of the clients served by the movement professions. We played games, and frolicked, and exercised because we enjoyed these activities, because they meant something to us, because we found them to be intrinsically satisfying in some way or another. Then we studied them and found out that they were also good for us. To put it more graphically, the front door to our movement mansion is play, and most of the millions of people who came inside and took up residence came through the front door. Movement is so fundamental to being human that it has always had this bimodal character to it. It is useful. We evolved as moving creatures, and as some excellent research by Booth, Chakravarthy, Gordon, and Spangenburg (2002) has shown, when we stop moving, adaptations that served us well during our hunter-gatherer days now become liabilities. We do need to keep moving. As more-sedentary creatures with partly maladaptive plumbing and wiring, we know that we are quirky human beings too. If you are like me, we do what is rational to do only about 50% of the time . . . and that is on our good days! Otherwise, you and I follow our muses; we stay true to our movement-related stories; against better advice, we remain weekend warriors; we answer the call of our various activity playgroundseven though there is another e-mail to answer and yet another chapter to write. Somehow our field has to find a balance. Somehow we have to introduce our students and clients to the delightful world of play while we teach them about all the good that movement brings into existence. We academics, I would suggest, need to be dependably schizophrenicalternately (or maybe concomitantly) professors of health and play. Quite possibly, as Ive suggested elsewhere (Kretchmar, in press), we should actually put a priority on play. After all, a child at vigorous play has an elevated heart rate just like a youngster who is dutifully going through his or her daily exercises. In the final analysis, all of us want to live both healthy and meaningful lives. In physical activity we have a most powerful subject matter because it speaks forcefully to both of these nonnegotiablesboth the health and the meaning. If we are smart, we will want to take advantage of both. If we are smart, we will not want the power of healthful utility to overwhelm the other part of what makes life goodthe meanings and delights that are so closely associated with our activity playgrounds. Speaking personally, as time goes on and as we enjoy a more-secure place in our universities, I find it easier to identify myself occasionally as a professor of play. The second bunkerthe one described as the move to generality and inclusiveness by substituting human movement and physical activity for more-culturally specific terms like sport, games, play, exercise, dance, and workhas expanded our subject matter in very helpful ways. As mentioned, many in the academy look askance at activities like sport and exercise. When many of us stopped calling our departments sport studies, exercise science, or sport and exercise science, and used more-generic terms such as movement science or kinesiology, we realized immediate dividends. There is something here too, however, that might turn out to be one of those small problems that, in a chaotic-ordered world, turns out to have unexpectedly

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large negative consequences down the road. Strategies that move us safely toward the generictoward, say, movement and away from soccer or horse racingcarry risks. This is the case because human beings are inherently local, not generic, creatures. We live a very concrete existence, at one place, not another, at one time, not another. When we fall in love, we do not fall in love with the idea of a desirable partner. We do not fall in love in principle, or in general. We fall in love with that individual, that one! Likewise, we rarely hear anyone say that they have fallen in love with movement. Im not even sure what that would be like! But we do understand people who say they are golfing fanatics, skiing enthusiasts, distance runners, or that they fell in love with table tennis. You and I are often lampooned by the general public as eggheads, geeks, or irrelevant academics because, in addition to the fact that we have trouble managing basic life skills like dressing ourselves, we are professional abstractors. Given our training, we can barely help ourselves. We measure the specific but convert it to the general, the law, or the principle, that lurks beneath. We look for insights that apply across particular cases, even universally. What we call understanding traffics almost exclusively in the world of generalities. Even though we have good reason to respect understanding-producing generalities, we always abstract from the particular, and I would argue, we always need to return to it. As a philosopher, Im more than happy to do a phenomenology of, say, the hamburger, lay out the essence of hambergerness for all to see, and make it absolutely clear, in principle, how and why hamburgers differ from hot dogs. But the abstract world in which I make my living carries me only so far before I hunger for the concrete experience that was the occasion for my phenomenology. So too with movement and, in my case, table tennis! You might recall the stir that was caused 20 years ago when some sociologists predicted that we were entering a global community, one that would be normalized by a common language, a common currency, and various cultural similarities fostered by the Internet and other technologies of our information age. They argued that many of the quirks, eccentricities, and provincialisms of our local traditionsincluding those related to potentially divisive religionswould melt away under the onslaught of these globalizing forces. How wrong they were. Perhaps they underestimated the power of the local. Perhaps they forgot that no matter how sophisticated we become, we still live from our very fleshy bodies toward a specific physical horizon, at a specific time. Perhaps it is time to bring our specific movement forms back out of mothballs. Times are slightly different, and they are encouraging. When I got out of graduate school and went to my first philosophy meetings, I met mainline philosophers who told me that when they spoke at our philosophy of sport meetings and published in our philosophy of sport journal, they never put it on their resumes. Sport, they said, was not a legitimate topic for a self-respecting philosopher. Now, less than 40 years later, the last two editors of the gold-standard journal in our fieldThe Journal of the Philosophy of Sporthave been philosophers. Three of the worlds top philosophersColin McGinn, Michael Sandel, and Hans Gumbrechtwill publish, or have published, books on sport this year. At Penn State 40 years ago, what were then the departments of physical education and recreation were about the only units that had anything to do with sport, games, exercise, or play. Today, we have sport-related positions in three colleges

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other than our ownin sport business, in sport journalism, and in sport lawall tenure-track positions (one of them an endowed chair) with a mission related specifically to sport. When a meeting was called recently to discuss a sport studies minor, it was chaired by a new assistant professor in Sport Law. The invitation attracted people from Math (sport statistics), English (sport literature), the College of Liberal Arts (the dean is doing research on the decline of women coaching womens teams), the Penn State Press, Economics, Athletics, as well as Business, Law, and Journalism. The landscape has changed. The particular, the specific, sport has gained legitimacy, and our colleagues are coming out of their respective academic closets to say so. We might have glimpsed this more inclusive future when Jane Clark led a contingent of Academy members to Washington about two years ago to make our case for inclusion as an NRC-rated academic field. The overall message that she delivered, one that a number of you had a hand in crafting, was a message of unity in diversity (Thomas et al., 2007). The night before the final presentation, we deleted our silo-specific identities from a key document. In other words, we presented our research as coming from kinesiology, not a loose confederation of subdisciplines. Moreover, even in the face of being misunderstood as an applied field, we celebrated our diversity, including our professional programs. We wrote in our unpublished working documents that Kinesiolgy supports and informs professional practice in any number of areassuch as education, coaching, and sports medicine. We are proud of this and would hope that (much of) our research has practical ramifications.

Conclusions
The evolution of kinesiology continues. The playing of less-dominant roles by silos promises more collaboration, greater interdependency, and a deepened sense of mutual respect. As we rely less on the bunker of utility, we become more playful and remember that physical activities might be just as important as jewels that adorn our lives as they are as tools that serve any number of other ends. Finally, as it becomes less politically important to convert our popular cultural activities into generic movement forms, we will grow more comfortable with the full range of our research and teachingfrom the highly abstract and generic to the very local and idiosyncratic. With the advent of inclusive organizations such as the American Kinesiology Association, it could be that we are on the cusp of the new era of unity and strengthpartly in spite of silos and bunkers, but also, partly because of them.

Notes
1. I do not want to say that our emphasis on health and our redefinition were only defensive or bunkering strategies. They can be considered offensive strategies, as well. I do claim, however, that the bunker metaphor is useful here because defense and safety have always been priority concerns as we have attempted to carve out our niche in colleges and universities. 2. My own father was a physical educator during this period. I admire the quality of work that he accomplished and the idealism that permeated physical education in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s. There is much to be said in favor of our fields teaching and research prior to the subdisciplinary movement in the late 1960s.

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3. Newell (1990) did not claim that physical activity should be studied and otherwise encountered as generic. He was interested in finding a term that would function more inclusivelyboth for bench scientists and for scholars of culture. Nevertheless, the effect has been to decontextualize physical activity and provide a handy, more-abstract notion of what we are about. 4. By overly rationalistic paradigms I mean philosophic approaches that would cleanly divide things into exclusive categories, on the model of mathematics. Some brands of analytic philosophy have moved in this direction and provide a philosophic analogue to the linear precision of Newtonian physics.

References
Booth, F., Chakravarthy, M., Gordon, S., & Spangenburg, E. (2002). Waging war on physical inactivity: Using modern molecular ammunition against an ancient enemy. Journal of Applied Physiology, 93, 330. Hoffman, S. (1985). Specialization and fragmentation = extermination: A formula for the demise of graduate education. Journal of Health, Physical Education, Recreation and Dance, 35, 1922. Kelso, S., & Engstrom, D. (2006.) The complementary nature. Cambridge/London, UK: MIT Press. Kretchmar, R.S. (in press). The increasing utility of elementary physical education: A mixed blessing and unique challenge. Elementary School Journal. Kuhn, T. (1962/1996). The structure of scientific revolutions (3rd ed.). Chicago & London: University of Chicago Press. National Institutes of Health (NIH). (Nov. 2006). NIH roadmap for medical research. Retrieved March 20, 2007, from http://nihroadmap.nih.gov/interdisciplinary/ Newell, K.M. (1990). Kinesiology: Activity focus, knowledge types and degree programs. Quest, 42, 243268. Newell, K.M. (2007). Kinesiology: Challenges of multiple agendas. Quest, 59, 524. Thomas, J.R., Clark, J.E., Feltz, D.L., Kretchmar, R.S., Morrow, J.R., Reeve, G.T., et al. (2007). The academy promotes, unifies, and evaluates doctoral education in kinesiology. Quest, 59, 174194. Wallace, B.A. (2000). The taboo of subjectivity: Toward a new science of consciousness. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press.