My love-hate affair with the Olympic Games continues as I watch the magnificent display that is rhythmic gymnastics. Without question this is an activity that requires tremendous athletic ability, gymnastic acumen, coordination, body control, grace, flexibility, skill, etc. The dedication of these athletes cannot be questioned, nor their excellence, nor the pride they should feel for representing their countries in the Olympic Games.
Still, despite how vulnerable I am to Olympic spirit, I struggle to fend off the impression that this is an activity that does not belong in this competition. Or at least this is an activity that ought not to be framed as a competition at all.
In truth I'm reluctant to make definitive or sweeping pronouncements along these lines one way or the other; but it seems to me that rhythmic gymnastics crosses a boundary into the realm of performance rather than sport. Even plain old gymnastics, diving, figure skating, and other 'judged' competitions would seem more performative than competitive, with 'artistic' components that, unlike the relative beauty or awkwardness of a runner's form as s/he approaches the finish line, can actually determine who wins the event.
To be sure, all sport has strong performative elements (else we wouldn't be flocking to stars like Cristiano Ronaldo and Chad Ochocinco), and all performance has strong competitive aspects (else we wouldn't have films like Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan). There is no inherent or clear-cut line between sport and performance.
On the other hand, when we construct events around the concept of friendly and sanctioned athletic competition (i.e. the Olympics), perhaps we should pay better attention to the boundaries (or lack thereof) we're implying. To suggest that maybe rhythmic gymnastics is the sort of activity that doesn't belong in the Olympics is not necessarily to slight rhythmic gymnastics, but actually to argue for the fact that reducing it to gold, silver, and bronze judgments is itself a slight.
There is a broader context for these kinds of assessment mismatches. This is time in which awkward assessment protocols are brought to bear on a laughable breadth of activities: not just costumed, choreographed gymnastics performances scored as competition between performers (I use 'performers' here for effect, but as I suggested an athlete can be a performer and a performer can be an athlete), but humanities scholarship evaluated by the standards of 'impact' constructed for science and engineering projects, or visual art installments judged by their surrounding political import, or politicians judged for their construction of narrative.
Ultimately it's a messy world, a world in which evaluative frameworks are regularly misapplied. When watching the range of sports that today fall under the banner of the Olympic Games, I'm reminded that it's of great value to study and evaluate evaluative frameworks themselves.
