By Haoran Xia
August 8, 2020
At three in the afternoon, I stood in the shade, sheltering myself from Israel’s intense ultraviolet light, waiting for a friend so we could visit a newly opened café near his apartment. Our relationship is an interesting one. He used to be my direct supervisor, about ten years older than me, but he is gentle, calm, and easy to get along with. Over time, we naturally became good collaborators at work. After I left the job, we stayed in touch, and gradually, our relationship shifted—from a simple superior–subordinate dynamic into a friendship where nothing is left unsaid.
After ordering an iced Americano and an espresso, we settled into a comfortable seat. As usual, our conversation drifted into familiar territory. “I woke up at six this morning and went to the gym. Came back, showered, and baked a cake for my boyfriend.”
Fitness seems to be one of the recurring subjects in our conversations—either I’m asking him for advice, or he’s telling me what he trained that day. But my friend is hardly the only gym addict in Tel Aviv. Among the city’s young people, sixty, perhaps even seventy percent regard fitness as their new religion. It is as if neither Abraham nor Moses can save the fate of this generation of Jewish youth—but through discipline, training, and physical exertion, their destiny might yet be rewritten.
Tel Aviv’s men, in particular, are obsessed. In alleyways and on beaches, by roadsides, and even on the filthy street beneath my apartment—so dirty that even street cats refuse to dig through the trash—you see half-naked men wearing headphones, drenched in sweat, running relentlessly, day and night. Many of Tel Aviv’s parks, beaches, and even office buildings are equipped with small gyms, designed so that fitness enthusiasts can submit themselves at any time to the torment of exercise machines. Tel Aviv is a city that never sleeps. At three-thirty in the morning, humid streets glow beneath the lights of countless bars. The people who live here seem to mirror the city itself—excited nocturnal creatures. No matter how late it is, even at dawn, young people are still out exercising.
“It’s not that everyone needs to work out,” my friend said, half-jokingly. “Look at me—I’m gay. We’re all superficial. A good body is a must.”
Perhaps the religion of fitness is not one that every young person in Tel Aviv is required to believe in. After all, within youth culture, there is still a divide between sexual majorities and minorities. Sexual minorities, having long been excluded by the dominant social order, are often desperate to locate new forms of belonging. Fitness, it seems, has become their new continent. Through sculpting a near-perfect exterior, sexual minorities gain a form of power within mainstream society—a power that protects their identity and expands their choices.
In Tel Aviv’s young and fluid social ecosystem, this power appears to have sparked a new aesthetic revolution. Sexual minorities use “fitness or non-fitness” as a filtering mechanism, sorting the city’s youth layer by layer. And those who ultimately prevail in this revolution are often its original instigators. This aesthetic revolution is brutal. Even members of the sexual majority—those less concerned with appearance—are unable to escape its reach.
“I didn’t really work out before,” another friend I met through work once told me. “But for health reasons—and because everyone else is so into it—I had no choice but to start.”
In social psychology, one of the most important theories is that of social norms: when the dominant direction of a society gradually tilts one way, the remaining members will follow, voluntarily aligning themselves with that direction. Their choices appear subjective, but are in fact shaped by objective social behavior. Fitness functions precisely as such an objective presence.
On many young people’s dating profiles, “loves sports” and “into fitness” have quietly become new dating criteria. “If a guy likes working out, that’s definitely a plus,” a friend who traveled to Israel once said. Among her dates, she admitted she often gravitated toward men with athletic builds who exercised regularly. Clearly, this aesthetic revolution has already diffused across social groups. Fitness has invisibly embedded itself into the minds and aesthetic standards of most local young people, urging them forward, telling them that working out not only brings physical and mental pleasure, but also grants dominance within the dating jungle.
So—are those who don’t exercise automatically eliminated?
Reality, however, is not quite so ruthless. Western societies have revered “defined lines” and “robust physiques” since ancient Greece. After thousands of years of cultural sedimentation, standards of beauty have long been etched into the bones of Western youth. Perhaps fitness is not a new religion at all, but rather an extension of their pursuit of beauty. For Western men, muscularity is beauty; for Western women, curves are beauty. Fitness acts more like a catalyst—helping individuals approach aesthetic ideals and gain recognition within mainstream society. And recognition through beauty is often inseparable from a sense of social belonging.
Whether sexual minorities or majorities, both groups strive toward shared aesthetic ideals, seeking affirmation and belonging among their peers. But is recognition from others truly that important? Important enough to alter one’s daily schedule? Even one’s entire way of living?
“As long as I’m healthy, then I’m happy” another close of mine in Israel would often say. When she saw me exercising obsessively—dragging my exhausted body out for a run—she would stop me, reminding me that not everyone needs a perfect body. Such beauty is extreme, rare. What matters most, she insisted, is one’s own recognition of oneself.
The contradiction lies here: people work out desperately, on the one hand reassuring themselves that they are becoming healthier, while on the other hand craving praise and validation, flooding social media with fitness photos. So what, exactly, are we exercising for? To join a new religion and worship a new “savior” who promises transformation? To approach aesthetic standards, earn recognition, and secure a position in the dating jungle and mainstream society? Or to cherish ourselves—to care genuinely for our mental and physical well-being?
Is there a fixed boundary that defines our true motivation for fitness?
The answer, of course, differs from person to person. But regardless of the reason, one thing should remain constant: self-derived happiness ought to be the source of action.
It’s 11:30 p.m.
I still have to wake up early to train tomorrow.
Perhaps, unconsciously, I too have been swept into this aesthetic revolution.
In China, where the East Eight Time Zone sleeps soundly, another aesthetic revolution is underway. But this one seems to require far less effort—because with the help of technology, everything has become effortlessly attainable.
So what, then, is the new religion of China’s young genegration?
还是当代年轻人无法避免的审美革命？
作者：夏浩然
二零二零 八月八日
下午三点，我站在树荫下躲避以色列强烈的紫外线，等着朋友和我一起去他家附近新开的咖啡店。和他的关系，说来有趣，他曾是我的直属上司，比我年长10岁左右，不过他待人平和，相处起来十分轻松愉快，在工作中自然而然成为了很好的工作伙伴。在我离职后，我们也一直保持着联系，渐渐地，我们的关系从过去单一的上下属同事变为了无话不说的好友。
点了一杯冰美式和一杯浓缩咖啡后，我们坐在一个比较舒适的沙发座上。和往常一样，我们开始了日常交流，“我今天六点起床去了健身房，回来洗了澡，然后帮我男朋友做了蛋糕。”健身似乎成为了我们每次对话的主要内容之一，不是我找他取经，就是他主动开始说他今天练了什么。不过，我的朋友并不是特拉维夫健身俱乐部里的唯一会员，特拉维夫的年轻人里，十分之六，甚至十分之七的人都视健身为他们的新宗教，仿佛先知亚伯拉罕或者莫西都已无法拯救他们这一代犹太年轻人的命运，但通过努力健身、运动，他们的命运则会得以改变。
特拉维夫的男生们，尤其疯狂。在大街小巷里，在海滩上，在马路边，甚至是在我楼下脏得连野猫都不愿翻垃圾桶的街道里，你都能看到半裸的男生，戴着耳机，汗流浃背，无论日夜地跑步。特拉维夫不少公园，海滩甚至在办公室里，都特意修建了小型健身房，让热爱健身的人们能够随时随地享受健身器械的折磨。特拉维夫是一座不夜城，凌晨三点半，湿热的街道都被大大小小酒吧的灯光笼罩着。居住在特拉维夫的人们也似乎跟这座城市一样，变成了兴奋的夜行动物，无论多晚，甚至是凌晨，街上都有运动的年轻人。
“也不是说每个人都需要健身。你看我，一个gay，我们都很肤浅的，身材必须得有啊。”我的朋友以自嘲的口吻说道。或许健身宗教并不是每个特拉维夫年轻人所需要信奉的，毕竟在年轻人群体里，也分性多数与性少数。而性少数群体，则会因为曾经长期遭受主体社会的排挤，而迫切寻找新的归属地。健身，似乎成为了他们的新大陆。通过健身，拥有一个比较完美的外形，性少数群体在主体社会里拥有了高于他人的权力，运用这份权力保护他们的身份，同时也让他们有了更多选择。在特拉维夫这个年轻的社会里，这份权力似乎开起了一场新的审美革命，性少数群体以“健身或者不健身”作为评判标准，对该社会里的年轻人进行层层筛选，而最后在革命中获得胜利的，往往也是革命的发起者。这场审美革命异常残酷，对外貌不那么在乎的性多数群体，也无法逃脱这场革命。
“我以前不怎么健身。不过为了身体健康，而且大家都那么热爱，我也不得不开始了。”工作中认识的另一个朋友曾经这样告诉我。社会心理学中有一个非常重要的理论是社会规范，指的是当社会主体逐渐往一个方向倾斜时，剩余的社会成员也会自主的往同一方向发展。他们的自主选择看似主观，其实受到了社会客观行为的影响。健身则是这么一个客观存在。在不少青年男女的约会软件简介上，“爱运动，爱健身”也逐渐成为了新的约会准则。“如果一个男生爱运动的话，那肯定是个加分项。”跟我一同前往以色列的朋友这么跟我讲道。在她的约会对象当中，她告诉我她时常会选择身材健硕，爱运动的男生。很明显，这场审美革命已经成功扩散至各个群体。健身已经无形地渗入至当地大部分年轻人的思想和审美标准当中，鞭策着年轻人，告诉他们，健身不仅能够让你身心愉悦，同时能够让你在约会丛林中，占领主导地位。那不爱健身的人会被自动淘汰掉吗？
现实也并非这样残酷。从古希腊时期便崇尚“线条美，健硕美”的西方社会，在几千年的文化沉淀里，对于美的评判标准已经深入西方年轻人的骨髓。或许健身并不是他们的新宗教，而是他们对美的一种追求，对于西方男性而言，健硕是美，对于西方女性而言，曲线是美，健身更像一个催化剂，帮助他们实现对美的追求，从而让自己在主体社会得到认可。得到美的认可，往往也是社会归属感的一部分。无论性少数群体还是性多数群体，双方都通过努力在向美的标准靠近，同样，也一度在同龄阶层中追寻一种来自他人的归属感。但是来自他人的认可和社会归属感就那么重要？重要到改变作息？甚至改变生活规律？“我自己开心就好。我健康。”同样来自于和我一同前往以色列的朋友。在发现我疯狂运动，拖着疲惫的身躯外出跑步时，她会劝阻我，说道并不是每个人都必须拥有完美身材，那样的美是极限的，也是少数的，最重要的是自己对自己的认可。
矛盾的是，大家都在拼命地健身、运动，一方面安慰自己锻炼了身体，健康有了保障，另一方面也渴望着他人的赞美和认可，放肆地在社交媒体上发各种健身照，那么，我们究竟是为了什么在健身？是为了加入这个新宗教去信奉新的“救世主”从而改变生活？是为了向美的标准靠近，得到他人认可，在约会丛林和主体社会中占有一席之地？还是珍爱自己，为了自己的身心健康而努力？在这三者之间，有没有一个恒定的界限来规划我们健身的根本原因？答案肯定是因人而异的，但无论哪种原因，自我的幸福感才应该是行动的来源。
晚上十一点半。明早还得早起锻炼。或许冥冥中我也被迫加入这场审美革命。
东八区熟睡的中国，也在经历一场审美革命。不过这场审美革命似乎不需多少努力，因为在科技的帮助下，一切都显得轻而易举。中国年轻人的新宗教又是什么呢？