Abstract
This article is based on the creation of sports heritage as having strong roots in the Anthropocene. It particularly discusses listed building declarations of the built heritage of sport, from a Swedish perspective, as well as the feelings of nostalgia associated with such activities. Two contemporary examples of preserved sports heritage sites, Hindås Ski Jumping Hill in Hindås and the stand at Virdavallen in Alvesta, are analysed. The analysis shows that the preservation or the foreverising of sporting sites is based on a fear of losing them, known as constructalgia, and that a listed building declaration is a way of curing such feelings. The importance of preserving the sites is partly about honouring past generations and partly about offering the heritage of sport to future generations. Using contemporary heritage theory and a post-anthropocentric approach, the article problematises prevailing, human-centred conservation paradigms and proposes other imaginative ideas of how to think beyond the ingrained patterns that characterise the Anthropocene.
Introduction
The heritage of sports can be seen as a part of the Anthropocene since modern sports are greatly a product of the age of man. Historically, modern sport is interwoven with late industrialisation and globalisation of society (Guttmann, 2000) and thus strongly associated with the period during which humans severely impacted the environment and ecosystems. This is reflected, for example, in greenhouse gas emissions (Schmidt, 2006), soil pollution (Dingle and Stewart, 2018), chemical use (Millington and Wilson, 2016), and recent debates on greenwashing in sports (Miller, 2016). Striving to preserve the memory and heritage of modern sport, both tangible and intangible, is thus an effort to preserve the memory of something created based on the idea of humans as the centre of existence and exercising power over their environment.
This article looks deeper into the anthropocentric aspects of sports heritage and seeks to understand and problematise the human-centeredness. This is done through a study of the preservation of the built heritage of sport, especially the moment when a sports site that has been threatened by elimination suddenly is given eternal protection by heritage authorities and thus is decided to live forever beyond as long as we can imagine. The study objects are two sporting sites recognised and protected by heritage authorities for the sake of rarity.
These are the old stands at Virdavallen in Alvesta municipality, Sweden, and Hindås Ski Jumping Hill outside Gothenburg, Sweden. Both have recently been declared as listed buildings by Swedish heritage authorities, which means that they are protected according to Swedish law and should be preserved for the future using professional methods (Länsstyrelsen, 2022; Länsstyrelsen, 2023).
The idea of heritage in general as a carrier of destructive historical worldviews is not new. Recent research has discussed how heritage can work to deconstruct ingrained ideas about, for example, colonialism and environmental exploitation, and instead seek new, critical approaches to history (Das and Lowe, 2018). Another example is Museums for Climate Change (MfCA), a research project that aims to investigate the potential of the museum sector to become an actor in the climate transition. According to MfCA, this would represent a break in the trend and a ‘historical reckoning with the role museums have in supporting the main drivers of climate breakdown – not least colonialism, capitalism (at least as we currently know it), and industrial modernity’ (MfCA, 2024). This article is inspired by such thinking but switches the focus to built heritage and the context of sports, while also seeking to problematise the (human) need to preserve the past in the future.
The article highlights the human-centered understanding of sports heritage and how it manifests itself. Moreover, the article seeks to understand how to move beyond this by proposing alternative paths to prevailing, Western-oriented, anthropocentric preservation ideals. Specifically, the stands at Virdavallen and Hindås Ski Jumping Hill are examples of heritage characterised by strong emotions, which means they represent a heritage that revolves solely around individuals’ perceptions of cultural-historical value. Hence, they represent heritage that originates from a context of human superiority over materialities, which is going to be problematised. Thus, the article aims to answer and discuss the following questions: How can we understand the making of sports heritage in the Anthropocene? What alternative ways can be discussed to approach the heritage of sports that lead towards a less anthropocentric understanding?
Theoretical framework
The concepts of foreverism and constructalgia
One of the more common emotions when it comes to the heritage of sport is nostalgia, and much of the work with preserving it is about curing these emotions of longing and fear of loss. To further understand the mechanisms behind this, the article draws inspiration from the concept of foreverism launched by American philosopher Grafton Tanner (2023). Foreverism is an ‘anti-nostalgic discourse’ that captures what Tanner considers a constant presence of the past in contemporary society. Tanner argues that foreverism solves the problem of nostalgia, which is about longing for the past, and simply provides people with what they long for. He cites examples from popular culture, not least the creation of remakes of classic films, and argues that foreverism allows us to relive the old repeatedly, making nostalgia redundant. Foreverism, therefore, according to Tanner, wants to eliminate nostalgia while still profiting from it. In this respect, foreverism is a suitable term to describe the moment when the fear of loss disappears.
Although Tanner states that foreverism is not the same as preservation, for instance, the making and management of museums or heritage sites, there are obvious similarities between them. Firstly, it is to some extent about manipulating the perception of time, turning something not initially meant to last forever into potential infinity. Secondly, especially in the initial phase, it is about satisfying a longing for something. Like the remake of a famous classic film, listed building declarations are thus a way to ‘cure’ feelings such as nostalgia. Foreverism, in the way Tanner describes it, as well as in the most obvious comparisons with heritage, is based on an anthropocentric worldview. This means that foreverism is based on a view that puts people and their needs at the centre, which makes it both possible and fruitful to examine in relation to heritage. Moreover, foreverism can be used for a critical discussion about the anthropocentric fixation on curing the fear of loss through eternal preservation. This makes the concept suitable for application at the intersection between human care and the potential life of materialities themselves.
The notion of curing is important in this article, but instead of nostalgia, as in Tanner's example, the aim is to go beyond this. Further inspired by the term solastalgia, which describes the feelings of distress caused by environmental changes (Albrecht et al., 2007; Stanley, 2023), the article launches the concept of constructalgia, which refers to similar feelings caused by constructional changes in the surroundings. Constructalgia is a suitable definition for feelings that can arise in the contexts addressed in this article, that is, when places and buildings are threatened with demolition or change.
Constructalgia emerges from the concepts of nostalgia and solastalgia
In his book The Heritage Industry (1987),
From emotions to materialities
Contextually and theoretically, the article relies on a shift from a human-centred, social constructivist heritage ontology, towards a materialistic view that has gained attention from
A characteristic of the social constructivist, anthropocentric view of heritage is how materialities are housed with meaning, provided by humans, that connects them to the past, present and future
Research has claimed that such an approach makes it difficult to achieve sustainable conservation practices, since it is not only resource-intensive, but also contributes to a fixation on the past that needs to be critically discussed. To find new, constructive ways forward, alternative ideas have been presented. Harrison (2015) has highlighted that forgetting can potentially contribute to remembering in the same way as conservation. DeSilvey (2017) has experimented with ideas of decay, allowing materialities to live and disappear on their own terms. This article explores similar ideas, using the heritage of sport as an example.
There are several reasons why the intersection between human-centered and materialistic approaches applies to sports heritage. As described in previous research, sports heritage is a type that is highly characterised by emotions such as nostalgia, often expressed in exhibitions at sports museums and in halls of fame (Gammon and Ramshaw, 2005; Ramshaw, 2020; Vamplew, 1998). The presence of emotions has also meant that the heritage of sport has struggled to gain recognition by heritage authorities (Smith, 2021) and thus be counted in the official heritage that normally includes other forms of cultural expressions, particularly in a Swedish context. This is not unique to sports heritage but also characterises other types of ‘marginalised’ heritage that find themselves outside the ‘authorised heritage discourse’ (Smith, 2006: 29). The emotional elements of sports heritage, however, often take the form of highlighting, for instance, single sporting moments and heroic stories, which tends to attract a limited audience that is usually already interested in the histories presented. Conversely, sports heritage thus also acts as a barrier to the uninitiated, creating a situation where it has difficulty reaching broad layers of people (Berg, 2022). Furthermore, partly because of not being recognised, sports heritage is either amateur-driven or subject to economic incentives, with emotions serving to capitalise on history (Smith & Campbell, 2016). As Ramshaw (2020) argues, nostalgia keeps sports heritage an isolated phenomenon that only concerns those who are already familiar and knowledgeable, excluding those who are not. In this article, such aspects are discussed critically, which should be seen as a move towards a non-anthropocentric understanding. Here, constructalgia is used as a tool to frame this move.
Literature review
The research field on sports heritage is lively and diverse, and conducted from different disciplines such as heritage studies, tourism studies, sociology, and history. Generally, the research field follows two main tracks. One concerns the heritage of sport as an identity-creating practice, where we find research aimed at understanding the heritage of sport in terms of traditions, culture and everyday life. The second track deals with the potential of sports heritage to evoke emotions and contribute to commodification as well as entertainment (Ramshaw, 2020).
Research on the heritage of sport as an identity-creating practice shows that sport and its heritage contribute strongly to the creation of collective identity (Brabazon and Mallinder, 2006; Hughson, 2004; Moore, 2008), but that it has had problems becoming part of the established heritage sector (Moore, 2008). A recent development that has benefited the heritage of sport in relation to the established cultural heritage sector is that it is increasingly being talked about as part of popular culture (Yang, 2017). This has meant that sports, at least in some parts of the world, have increasingly become part of the cultural heritage just like other types of cultural expressions such as music, theatre and literature. However, in Sweden, which is the context of this article, it is a different story, since Swedish sports heritage is still under-represented in museums and official heritage sites and is largely conducted on a volunteer basis (Berg, 2022; Karlsson, 2004).
Research on the commercial and entertainment aspects of sports heritage has largely been conducted by US-based scholars, where historians Sean Gammon and Gregory Ramshaw have done some of the most influential work in relation to tourism, commodification and emotions (Gammon, 2014; Ramshaw, 2020). When talking about sports heritage in these terms, the focus is often on theme parks or small museums adjacent to major sports venues (Ramshaw, 2010). The point of using heritage in such contexts is to enhance the feeling of getting close to history while being in the present, but also to stimulate the commodification and commercialisation of sports. Moreover, entire sport stadiums can serve as heritage sites. During periods between events, when the stadiums are ‘sleeping’, they can be used as tourist attractions where history and heritage are central (Gammon, 2010).
In relation to previous research, this article aims to make an innovative contribution. Research on the heritage of sport has not addressed the issue of sport's strong links to the Anthropocene and a human-centred approach to preservation. In this respect, the article breaks new ground as it intends to do so. Highlighting the Anthropocene perspective is important, not least to understand the heritage of sport in relation to sustainable development. As sport is largely a product of modern industrial society, research needs to highlight the ways in which it glorifies the ideals created during the Anthropocene, but also suggest alternative ways around this. Placing the heritage of sport in an Anthropocene context and opening for alternative understandings of the preservation of the remains of sport also means that new ontological positionings need to be explored.
Materials and methods
The article is based on documents related to the conservation process of Virdavallen's stand and Hindås Ski Jumping Hill. These include application documents from both sites' stakeholders to the County Administrative Board (Länsstyrelsen), which is the authority that designates listed buildings in Sweden and to which anyone can apply with suggestions of buildings or environments that they find interesting to preserve. These are public documents and were collected through the local archives of the county administrative boards for each region. The reading also included newspaper articles on how the conservation work has been portrayed and how the various stakeholders expressed themselves during the process. The newspaper articles were collected using the digital database provided by the National Library of Sweden. In the case of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, material from an interview that the author conducted with two stakeholders in April 2024 has also been used. The interviewees were involved in the listed building process since 2015, and the interview circled around their driving forces, the difficulties along the way, and how their perception of the ski jumping hill had changed since it became a listed building. However, they had been around in the work on the listed building declaration even before the foundation was established, which meant they could answer questions about how the work had progressed from the very beginning.
The newspaper articles were found by searching the database in connection with the time periods in which the applications to heritage authorities had been made, as well as the times when decisions were taken. These events received media attention, and most newspapers published articles. However, it turned out that several newspapers copied each other's articles, which reduced the sample. In analysing the material, articles written by local media were prioritised over national newspapers, partly because they were often published first, and partly because they generally contained more information.
The material has been analysed discursively, which means that the reading of it has aimed to identify patterns and preconceptions that together could form an overall understanding. Particular attention has been paid to understanding what drives stakeholders to fight for the preservation of sports heritage. It has also been important to problematise these motivations against a backdrop of the heritage field's transformation towards a more material-focused practice, and thus a distancing from the prevailing attitude that can be said to characterise the heritage of the Anthropocene. The analysis can be said to be both conceptual and hermeneutic. It is conceptual in that there are certain given frameworks to relate to, such as ideas of foreverism and the Anthropocene as a description of reality. The reading of the source material, on the other hand, is also based on the author's interpretations and can thus be said to be hermeneutic.
The foreverising of Virdavallen
A part of the sports movement
Alvesta municipality has around 20000 inhabitants and is located in the Småland region in the southern parts of Sweden. In the 1900s, the railway enabled the city to become an industrial town with slaughterhouses, foundries and sawmills (Visit Alvesta, 2024). The tradition of sports is strong, and the city has several sporting facilities (Alvesta kommun, 2024).
One of the most prominent sporting fields in Alvesta is Virdavallen. It was first inaugurated in 1933 and was, from the beginning, equipped with a tennis lawn and a gravel pitch. In 1939, the currently listed building stand was finally built (Länsstyrelsen, 2023) with help from public funding and volunteer efforts. The stand is placed on the eastern long side of the facility and is Virdavallen's oldest remaining building. Its architecture is somewhat rudimentary and functionalistic, with four pillars to hold the structure and a canopy on the top. The bottom part originally housed offices, dressing rooms and showers, but has been closed since 2021 due to its poor condition (Länsstyrelsen, 2023).
Virdavallen is one of hundreds of sports grounds built in the 1930s, most of which have a similar appearance (Lindroth, 2000). They can be seen as symbols of the early expansion of the broad sports movement and look much the same today. Necessary upgrades are continually being made as needs change, but so far, few sports grounds have been the subject of conservation efforts. The fact that a small part of Virdavallen has now become the subject of conservation can probably be largely attributed to the voluntary forces that drew attention to the object.
Honouring the hard work of the past
The listed building process was initiated in January 2022 when local inhabitant Lars Odelgård raised the issue in a letter to the County Administrative Board. In the letter, he argued that the stand should be rewarded with a listed building status because it represented ‘the sportsmen of the time that were not only involved in sports but also the development of their sports ground’ (Odelgård, 2022). He also emphasised the stand as a monument for the sporting successes achieved over the years. Preserving the stand was a way to show respect and appreciation for ‘the pioneers’. At the same time, Odelgård did several interviews with local newspapers in which he repeated his message. Odelgård had previously been involved in various processes related to conservation and preservation in the community and was considered a strong voice in such issues.
The process of making the stand at Virdavallen a listed building did not take long. Almost immediately after Odelgård's proposal was sent in, the decision was made to pause the long-standing plans to demolish the building (Länsstyrelsen, 2023). In March 2023, 1 year and 2 months after the initiative was taken, the County Administrative Board made the listed building decision. From there, the forever preservation started, and no volunteer efforts were needed anymore. Finally, in October 2024, a ceremony was held to inaugurate the stand as a listed building.
The foreverising of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill
A monument to man's power over nature
Hindås, located around 30 km east of Gothenburg, is well-known for being a recreational area with great opportunities for hiking, biking, kayaking and skiing. The branding of Hindås as an outdoor-living paradise, close to the city centre of Gothenburg, started in the early 1900s when the railway to Hindås was built with the intention that people living in Gothenburg would travel there to breathe fresh air and get physically active (Svensson, 2014). Ski jumping played a significant role in that process. In 1904, the first two ski jumping hills were inaugurated. They were placed side by side, one a little bigger than the other, and made of wood. Ski jumping was a new sport in Sweden at this time and quickly gained popularity among the masses. In the 1930s, the two original ski jumping slopes were demolished and replaced by two new ones, one in granite and wood, and one in reinforced concrete. These slopes still exist on the site. Hindås Ski Jumping Hill continued as western Sweden's most prominent ski jumping facility for the following decades (Ljunge, 2017). However, as the sport started to decline in popularity after the 1950s, so did the relevance of the two jumping slopes. In 1986, it was finally abandoned and left to decay.
Ljunge (2017) has described the emergence of ski jumping hills in Sweden and the Nordic countries in the twentieth century as a way of manifesting engineering and technical know-how. Ski jumping hills were often located in inaccessible areas and required large resources both to build and to maintain. Construction was preceded by careful studies such as wind, ground and strength calculations, and every effort was made to adapt to the natural environment. Maintaining the jumping slopes, which were heavily exposed to wind and weather, often required specialised methods. Despite the resource-intensive nature of the work, ski jumping slopes offered a way to practice sport in close contact with nature. The height allowed jumpers to reach above the treetops, and the profile of the slopes meant they could practically fly – and far too. All in all, it is fair to say that ski jumping hills, yesterday and today, manifest an anthropocentric endeavour to tame nature by displacing it to make room for man.
Curing constructalgia
In 2000, 14 years after the last jump, the first application about a listed building declaration was sent to The County Administrative Board, in which local inhabitant and building constructionist Bertil Larsson argued that the site should be preserved because it marked ‘an important element in Hindås’ development into Gothenburg's sports metropolis’ (Larsson, 2000). The application was refused due to the poor condition of the facility. As there was no money to carry out the required renovations, only minor efforts were made by volunteers to keep the facility alive in the coming years. In 2015, a foundation was set up on the initiative of the owner, who saw financial gain in preserving the ski jumping hill for tourism purposes, but also to create a monument of the history of Hindås (Erik Boströms stiftelse, 2015). The owner himself contributed a large sum of money, enough to attract other financiers. Thus, all necessary renovations could be conducted, and eventually, the County Administrative Board became interested again. In December 2022, over 20 years after the first application, the listed building declaration was finally in place.
Compared to the case of Virdavallen, Hindås Ski Jumping Hill faced a long process to achieve recognition and protection. The listed building declaration was celebrated at a ceremony in August 2023, a ceremony that also marked the reopening of the Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, but this time as a viewpoint and visitor centre. People who had been involved in the process were interviewed by local media, and the atmosphere was emotional. Also, the chairman of the municipal council was present and praised the initiative. I am very pleased that this has come about for several reasons. Apart from the fact that it shows a great commitment to the locality and to the development of the municipality, there has been a good consensus in politics. We made the decision after a very well formulated application for a grant. We, politicians, were in complete agreement, and it's great when politics can agree. (Smedberg, 2023)
Fear of loss
One can understand the eagerness to preserve the Hindås Ski Jumping Hill and Virdavallen emerging from a fear of losing the sites (DeSilvey, 2017; DeSilvey and Harrison, 2019). By ensuring systematic preservation in the form of registration and classification, these feelings could be counteracted and alleviated. Thus, when the decision of protection was announced, feelings of relief arose.
The idea that fear and anxiety can be cured by bureaucracy and systematisation constitutes the core of a Western conservation ideal that gained ground in the late nineteenth century. It was rooted in the growing influence of expertise and knowledge in the heritage field. Artefacts and buildings considered with high cultural and historical value were to be documented, classified and placed in a system that ensured their preservation. For heritage in the non-profit category, acknowledgment from experts, such as a listed building declaration, can be seen as the ultimate reward. The idea of professional preservation (and conservation) has been a major part of the Western mentality for over 100 years, to the extent that it almost seems that the only task of the past is to be preserved (Fairclough, 2009). One key notion of seeing the preservation of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill and Virdavallen as embedded in this paradigm is that they represent a type of heritage that is associated with strong feelings of nostalgia, constructalgia, and, consequently, fear of loss.
DeSilvey's (2017) thoughts on the fear of loss say something about the anthropocentric understanding of heritage, where human needs are paramount, which, as said, may be further enhanced in the context of ‘marginalised’ heritage that is highly driven by emotions. The question is whether foreverising them has any meaningful function in the long term, or whether it only provides relief for the moment. If there is any doubt about this, it may be useful to seek alternative understandings.
Unclear future plans
The listed building declarations of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill and Virdavallen mean that they, according to the concept of foreverism, can be relieved repeatedly (Tanner, 2023). The feelings of constructalgia can therefore be seen as cured, as the sites are now protected in their current forms. This is good news for the stakeholders who have done their best to achieve such outcomes, but also raises questions about the future. What will happen now? Who will care for these places in the future?
It is questionable whether feelings of constructalgia are inherited to a greater extent. However, a decision to declare a building a listed building is above such things as human life and emotions. Once the decision is made, emotions previously associated with the building or site cease to be relevant. Thus, it can be argued that a successful outcome means that the sentient human hands over the case to legislation and bureaucracy, which can be seen as a transaction between a human actor and a non-human or a more-than-human actor. This transaction, in these cases, is the cure to constructalgia and the way to achieve foreverism.
When interviewing the stakeholders involved in the listed building declarations of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, the healed constructalgia seems to have created a sort of void. The mission is accomplished, and the future of the ski jumping hill, despite its predictability, is unclear. This foundation still exists, and for the time being, we lease the ski jump from Hindåsgården, which is the owner of it. We will do that for a few more years. We are old now. We have done most of it. The thinking going forward is that it will basically be taken over from here. I have seen it as a security. It's here now. And that you can get help to make changes, not change, but repair and fix, when Erik and we are not here. I don't know if it's like that, but I think the county administrative board is a kind of guarantee that this will continue. You can't just go ahead and demolish it anyway. If someone decides to build a hotel up here, they'll have a hell of a time with the county council. It can't be changed – it's here now.
Off to the next thing to save
In the case of Virdavallen, which was a much faster process compared to Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, one can perhaps not see such a clear problem in pointing out the direction for the future. This became clear in several interviews that Lars Odelgård conducted after the decision was made. Once his constructalgia was cured, he immediately wanted to move on. As soon as something comes up, I will keep fighting. I will do so for as long as I can. There is a lot of commitment in the local history association, and I think it is our duty to preserve these things. (Persson and Ornat, 2022)
One problem that may arise is that the future outlined, if realised, will continue to appeal to a limited, sports-interested audience. In this case, it would mean that the future outlined by the preservation of the stand at Virdavallen is characterised by the same kind of nostalgia or constructalgia as before. As Harrison (2015) suggests, moving towards what he calls common futures, encompassing both the human and non-human, can be a way of creating alternative understandings. Such thinking challenges habitual patterns of conservation and may even question whether material preservation is the way forward.
Half empty or half full?
Holtorf and Ortman (2008) argue that the preservation of the past emerges from a notion about the past as fragile and irreplaceable, which is why it needs to be taken care of. Such notions align with the fear of loss, and to some extent with emotions like nostalgia and constructalgia. One way to both highlight the anthropocentric understanding of heritage and, at the same time, suggest how we can move beyond it is to think the other way around. What if we choose not to fight for the preservation of what we see as important material remains? What if we do not look at the past as fragile and instead imagine it as strong, independent and productive?
In the case of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, this experimental idea is conducted with inspiration from DeSilvey (2017: 2), who suggests that such cases can be viewed from either a ‘half-empty’ or a ‘half-full’ perspective. Hindås Ski Jumping Hill is half-empty regarding its current state as a relic from a time when ski jumping was a popular sport, but is now a dilapidated monument threatened with disappearing and taking all the memories with it. However, it can be seen as half-full if we see its current condition, the ‘ongoing decay’, as the ski jumping hill's way of manifesting its relation to the past. Its role as a ‘tool’ for humans to jump as far as possible with skis is over and has been replaced by different functions, such as being a home for plants and animals. Pictures from the site, before it was declared a listed building and restored, reveal that nature had started to take over the construction in several ways. Rain and wind had caused the concrete structure to crumble, and birds had built nests in the foundation. Its relationship with nature and animals developed over the years without humans intervening. With these events in mind, it is possible to read out new histories from the site that do not necessarily have to be about a binary relationship between either existing or not existing, but instead can welcome new understandings and new futures.
From palliative curation to extended life
The case of Virdavallen shows a different type of conservation compared to Hindås Ski Jumping Hill. Here, it is not about creating a place with a different use. Virdavallen should continue to be used, despite different interests’ conflicts. One way to broaden the views and create a new understanding is to give the site agency. Rarely do we question the fact that human life is finite, and death is inevitable. Why should the same not apply to a building or a sporting ground? What if we see the stand at Virdavallen as a living entity that, at some time, should end?
Seeing buildings as actors is common in the field of critical heritage studies (see, for instance, Harris, 1999) and is also a well-established theoretical assumption within posthumanism. However, as has been the case for the heritage of sports, it is still uncovered since the field has not been exposed to such ontological repositioning. When the listed building process started, Virdavallen's old stand was in bad condition and unsafe to use. Keeping Virdavallen alive by preserving the old stand could thus be likened to a kind of palliative curation (DeSilvey, 2017).
However, the decision to declare Virdavallen's old stand a listed building, and to foreverise it, meant that the palliative curation has transferred into a sort of extended life in the service of mankind. Becoming a listed building meant that time was conserved, and that the constructalgia was cured, but because the stand could still be used, there was also a certain amount of forward-looking. Virdavallen's stand was saved from an inevitable death and given extended, perhaps eternal, life. The decision, however, continues the Western-oriented pattern of preservation. It marks human superiority towards non-humans and maintains a situation where humans determine the fate of their surroundings.
Forgetting to remember
There is a degree of cynicism in the suggestion to neglect emotions and not to save or preserve what you consider important, which is important to address. Firstly, it is not a question of singling out someone's feelings as unimportant, but of using certain examples as parts of a preservation paradigm that should not be taken for granted. Secondly, a post-anthropocentric approach can be constructive, not only for other species but also for humans. One key notion here is that letting go is not necessarily the same as starting the process of forgetting. In fact, as Harrison (2012) argues, the process of forgetting is integral to remembering. To be able to remember, one must also select some things to forget, because it is, in fact, an accumulation of the past in the present that has led to today's situation. Several scholars (Harrison, 2012; Kammen, 1995; Terdiman, 1993) have noted that the period after 1945, the so-called late modern era, is characterised by an obsession with bringing the past into the future, often encouraged by feelings of nostalgia. This obsession is largely based on a fear of forgetting the past in times of rapid changes such as globalisation, technological development and environmental change.
Sports heritage has become widely recognised for accumulating its past. This is particularly evident in sports museums, which are often rich in artefacts and have difficulty selecting what is most important (Berg, 2022). Sports museums, which, like the heritage of sport in general, are mostly amateur-oriented, have difficulty keeping up with museum development that increasingly rewards experiences and affection over artefacts. The difficulties in letting go of the materialised past, as shown in sports museums, are likely to be transferable to what is discussed in this article, that is, the preservation of buildings and sites. Against this background, it might be relevant to also discuss the importance of letting buildings and sites slip out of people's hands as well.
As mentioned, the heritage of sports is rarely recognised by heritage authorities, which puts a lot of pressure on the volunteers who are fighting for its existence. Why should they consider forgetting, and how would it be possible to convince them to do this ‘to remember’? Although it seems like an impossible task, it may be what is needed for sports heritage to be taken seriously by heritage authorities and to become recognised, if that is the goal. It is about distancing oneself emotionally, sifting out certain parts of the past, and thus freeing oneself from ideas of saving and preserving for an unspecified future generation. As shown in this article, taking a step back might open up new futures that can benefit sports heritage, and forgetting something does not mean that everything vanishes.
Conclusion
The aim of this article has been to draw attention to the heritage of sport as part of the Anthropocene, especially given its emotional orientation, using the concepts of foreverism and constructalgia. Furthermore, the article has discussed and proposed alternative ways of thinking about the preservation of the built heritage of sport that move away from this anthropocentric worldview. The article is based on a theoretical paradigm shift that is ongoing in heritage research, where a social constructivist approach has gradually been challenged by a materialist one. The article is thus based on the idea that the preservation of sport is a way of preserving the memory of practices practised at a time when humans had a major impact on their environment. Moreover, the article has questioned conservation practices as the only way forward by instead proposing alternatives.
From the examples analysed and from previous research, sports heritage is often strongly associated with feelings of nostalgia, as well as a belief in the importance of preserving it for future generations. The foreverising of such heritage is thus a way to ‘cure’ these feelings to ensure that it would not disappear and can be relived repeatedly. In the case of the preservation of the Virdavallen stand, the athletes who used it in the past are invoked, and the stand should be preserved out of respect for them. Changing the stand, or demolishing it, would thus be disrespectful to previous generations. Constructalgia, i.e., fear of change, is thus a driving factor in the case of Virdavallen. In the case of Hindås Ski Jumping Hill, the idea of preserving for future generations is more prominent. On the question of who these generations are, or in what way they would use the facility, there is ambiguity. As it is now, the facility stands where it always has, reminiscent of times when man did everything in his power to overcome the forces of nature.
This study is based on two cases, which is a small sample that cannot tell us anything at a general level. However, the two examples can be seen as benchmarks that describe what a future might look like, and how heritage research and management can look beyond the ingrained notions of letting people's emotions rule, also in the context of marginalised heritage. In a world threatened by climate change, where built heritage is particularly vulnerable, there is a need for knowledge about how we deal with the material past and how we as humans see ourselves in relation to it. Leaving the material past entirely to its own and thus fully recognising the agency of materialities may not be a realistic option, but it is important to at least think about what it might mean to do so. In this respect, the article helps to move research forward.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This work was supported by the Brandförsäkringsverkets stiftelse för bebyggelsehistorisk forskning, Stiftelsen för Miljöstrategisk Forskning.
