An article by ally taylor

This question led me down a rabbit hole of research, and what I found was both confronting and freeing.

Let’s start with what the core does. At its most functional, the core transfers force between the upper and lower body, decelerates motion in all directions at the spine (so you don’t fall over), maintains balance, supports posture, and enables us to move with coordination and intent. It doesn’t work in isolation; it works in context. It acts reflexively, adaptively, and in response to task demands, not because we consciously “brace” it every time we move. It does this in coordination with everything else, not as a standalone unit, and certainly not in a vacuum on the mat.

Yet many approaches to core training teach the opposite: stillness over adaptability, tension over fluidity. Why? Where did this come from? Things got murky in the 80s, when Panjabi’s work reframed spinal instability not as a disc-related issue (which had been the earlier thinking from Harris, McNab, and others), but as a lack of stiffness. That led to a whole era of bracing, hollowing, and rigid control. Ironically, people in pain often already present with increased stiffness, muscular co-contraction and difficulty relaxing their muscles. Not weakness. Not collapse. Panjabi
later moved away from this concept acknowledging he was wrong, but the industry of fitness and physiotherapy stuck with it – the damage was done!


The widespread narrative of a “weak core” being the cause of back pain has been repeatedly challenged in the literature. Research from Lederman, O’Sullivan, Mulholland and others has shown that people in pain often have increased muscular stiffness and guarding, not floppiness. Pain changes how we move. It downregulates speed, force output, range of motion and muscle firing sequence, the very things which are often blamed for the pain! Pain and changes to our movement do not mean we’re broken. Fear and avoidance behaviour (thanks to well-meaning but misinformed cueing) often play a bigger role than any anatomical “weakness.” The language we use matters. Telling someone they’re unstable or dysfunctional can reinforce their pain and decrease their confidence leading to less movement and a loss of capacity, creating more pain and a dysfunctional cycle.


We also need to address posture myths. A neutral spine is not a moral or
mechanical ideal; it’s simply a starting position. Anterior pelvic tilt? It’s normal for around 70% of the population. There is no perfect shape. Variability is part of being human. Posture is intrinsically linked with mood and emotion and is something we move through on the way to somewhere else, meaning the best posture is your next posture. Stretching doesn’t permanently “fix” alignment, and trying to do so can take focus away from what matters most: building confidence in movement.

All movement is neuromuscular. All exercise is core training, when it’s loaded appropriately and focused on real tasks. It’s not about training muscles in isolation, or perfect posture, or lying on your back squeezing your glutes and hollowing your abs. It’s about building capacity in real-world positions. It’s loaded carries, anti-rotation, lunges, lifts, and flows. It’s creating variability, tolerance, and trust in your body.

So maybe we need to stop saying “core training” altogether. Let’s train the skill, not just the segment. Let’s build movement confidence, not bracing obsession. Let’s stop feeding fear and start fostering capability.
And that popular question - “How do I get a six-pack?” Well, it’s part genetics, part diet, part isolated rectus abdominis work through full range… and a good dose of hope. But that has little to do with being strong, resilient, or functional in daily life.
So, let’s shift the narrative. From muscle obsession to movement intention. From stiffness to skill. From fear to freedom.

For years, fitness professionals and clients alike have been sold a story: that a strong core prevents back pain, that perfect posture is the holy grail of spinal health, and that six-pack abs are the ultimate sign of functional strength. But what if much of this is based more on myth than meaningful evidence?