For many of us in physical education teacher education and sport pedagogy, professional associations have long been part of our academic identity. We joined early, often as doctoral students or early-career scholars, because “that’s what you do.” You present at the conference. You review abstracts. You sit on committees. You renew your membership—sometimes enthusiastically, sometimes out of habit.
But increasingly, colleagues are asking a harder question: Why am I doing this?
In a recent podcast conversation with Ben Williams (University of Melbourne) and Trent Brown (Deakin University), we explored what associational life looks like in contemporary health and physical education—and why it feels more complicated than it once did. While the discussion focused on Australian contexts, the tensions resonated deeply with experiences many of us share across the U.S., Europe, and beyond.
From Community to Cost–Benefit Analysis
One of the clearest shifts is how association membership is framed. Historically, professional associations were the space for professional learning, advocacy, and connection. They were communities. Families, even. Today, membership is often evaluated through a transactional lens: What do I get for my money this year?
If the primary benefit of membership is discounted conference registration, what happens in years when travel funds are tight, conferences conflict with family responsibilities, or institutional priorities shift? Unsurprisingly, membership declines. Increasingly, associations claim broad “reach” through newsletters, social media, and open-access resources in ways they once did through membership numbers. And increasingly, as membership revenue similarly declines, associations are being forced to consider how to diversify their revenue streams to keep the lights on.
This isn’t unique to physical education. Declining participation in unions, voluntary organizations, and professional bodies is well documented. But in our field, where service has long been tied to identity and ethics, the shift feels particularly personal.
Associations or Organizations?
Ben raised an important conceptual distinction: all associations are organizations, but not all organizations are associations. Associations imply membership, participation, and internal democracy. Organizations emphasize efficiency, branding, and revenue streams.
As associations professionalize—often out of necessity—they risk drifting toward an organizational logic that prioritizes survival over belonging. When that happens, members can begin to feel less like co-owners of a collective project and more like unpaid content producers, symbolic representatives, or customers of one service provider among many.
This tension shows up clearly in how labor is distributed. Many associations, particularly those with very limited financial resources, now rely heavily on academics to volunteer time: reviewing, presenting, serving on boards, producing position statements, and leading SIGs. Yet this labor is increasingly invisible—or undervalued—within our universities.
The Service Paradox in Higher Education
Most of us work under workload models and performance frameworks that formally recognize service. In theory, service to the profession “counts.” In practice, it often doesn’t count in the ways that matter most.
External service—especially to professional associations—frequently sits in an ambiguous space. Universities value it rhetorically but reward internal service more concretely: program meetings, accreditation work, search committees, faculty evaluation panels. As Ben and Trent discussed, service becomes the least “metricizable” part of academic work, making it easy to celebrate symbolically while sidelining materially.
The result? Many scholars—particularly those without tenure, caregiving flexibility, or institutional protection—quietly step back.
Privilege, Access, and Who Gets to Serve
Another uncomfortable but necessary question is who gets to participate in associational life. Serving on boards, attending conferences, or taking on leadership roles requires time, financial resources, and institutional support. These opportunities are not evenly distributed.
Those of us who have been able to participate fully must acknowledge that privilege. But acknowledgment alone is insufficient. Associations—and universities—need to ask how associational life can be structured so it is sustainable, inclusive, and genuinely valued.
So Why Stay?
Despite all of this, many of us continue to show up. Not because it is efficient or rewarded, but because we still believe in collective responsibility—to the field, to future scholars, and to teachers and young people in schools.
The challenge moving forward is not whether professional associations should exist, but what problems they are meant to solve now. If associations are to remain relevant, they must reimagine membership, rethink service, and rebuild a sense of shared purpose that goes beyond conferences and credentials.
The question, then, is not simply “What do I get out of this?”
It is “What kind of profession do we want to belong to?”
And perhaps more importantly: Who is being supported—and who is being left out—when we answer that question?
To cite this article: Ben Williams & Trent D. Brown (26 Sep 2025): Academic and associational life in Australian health and physical education: a collaborative autobiographical narrative inquiry of/as knotting, Sport, Education and Society, DOI: 10.1080/13573322.2025.2566239
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