Communal bathing was a public good. Then it got hijacked by wellness culture
- Written by Jennifer E. Cheng, Researcher and Lecturer in Sociology, Western Sydney University
Bathhouses are making a wave in Australia and overseas. And it’s not an isolated trend; it reflects the broader advancement of the global wellness economy, which some reports suggest is outpacing even IT and sport in growth.
The Australian wellness sector, too, is booming. According to a report from the Global Wellness Institute, Australia has one of the world’s fastest-growing wellness economies, growing at an annual rate of 7.5% from 2019 to 2023 – with bathhouses, thermal springs, ice baths and saunas playing a key role.
Bathing together for leisure
Despite consumers’ recent heightened interest in saunas and bathhouses, these activities have a long history.
In Finland, sauna bathing – where water is thrown on hot stones to release steam – is a ritual believed to date back as far as 7000 BC.
One of the first known saunas took the form of a pit dug into the ground. In this “pit sauna”, a pile of stones at the bottom was heated with a campfire.
Sweat houses from the Bronze Age have also been found in Britain and Ireland, as well as ancient Islamic civilisations, and among Indigenous groups in Mexico and North America.
The practice of onsen (hot spring) bathing in Japan also has a history dating back more than 2,000 years.
In Australia, First Nations peoples have bathed in rock pools, waterholes, and billabongs for millennia, viewing fresh and salt water alike as vital cultural, spiritual and agricultural resources.
These ancient bathing practices stand in stark contrast to the modern bathing culture taking over our cities.
The Australian context: indecency and necessity
Sea bathing had become popular in Europe by the 18th century, prior to Australia’s colonisation. In England, Queen Victoria (1819–1901) further popularised the activity by bathing regularly on the Isle of Wight, getting changed in a wooden cart called a “bathing machine” to preserve modesty.
A 19th century engraving by British artist William Heath, ‘Mermaids at Brighton’ shows women swimming in the ocean behind their bathing machines.
Wikimedia
It was also in Britain during Queen Victoria’s lifetime that swimming for sport – as opposed to relaxation, military training or survival – became common practice. Bathing for leisure and hygiene has a much longer history than swimming for sport.
In 1810, New South Wales governor Lachlan Macquarie prohibited the “indecent and improper custom […] of soldiers, sailors and inhabitants of the town” bathing at the government wharf and dock yard in Sydney.
Subsequently, Ralph Darling, NSW governor from 1825 to 1831, had one of the country’s first private bathing houses constructed by Woolloomooloo Bay. Successive governors’ families are thought to have made regular use of the bathing house in the summers.
Melbourne City Baths opened in 1860 and remains operational today. The complex’s original purpose was to discourage people from bathing in the polluted Yarra River, which was believed to have caused an epidemic of typhoid fever. Alongside the “swimming” baths, facilities at the site originally included slipper baths (freestanding tubs) and later included Jewish mikvah (ritual) baths and Turkish baths.
A 1914 picture of the exterior of Melbourne City Baths, located on 420 Swanston St, Carlton.
State Library of Victoria
Municipal baths were a key feature of daily life in early Melbourne, as many houses had little provision for private bathing. As of 1943, hot-water systems were installed in just 2% of homes in inner Melbourne, while more than a quarter of residents were still boiling water on stove tops for bathing.
From the late 1940s, however, many homes began installing gas or electric hot-water systems. And by the early 1960s the majority of Australian households had access to running hot water for washing and bathing. This contributed to the decline of public baths.
Historically, access to public baths wasn’t equal for all. Women’s access to the Melbourne City Baths was restricted to just a few hours a day until a major redevelopment in 1904.
The facility was also initially gender-segregated and had “second-class” (working class) patrons relegated to the basement, with first class amenities on the floor above. Mixed-gender bathing was introduced in 1947.
Bathing gets a glow up
Today’s urban bathhouses are sites where water, architecture and shared experience intersect. They typically feature heated pools, cold pools, spas and steam rooms, with purported health benefits for attendees.
The efficacy of using spa-based therapy as a form of treatment is increasingly being studied in various contexts, including for post-operative recovery. Recent research has shown it to be promising, demonstrating potential in reducing inflammation, alleviating pain and promoting motor recovery.
In one study of about 500 sauna users, reduced stress, reduced muscle pain and improved sleep and social connection were among the key therapeutic benefits cited by respondents.
More research is needed to establish the full potential therapeutic uses of spa-based therapies.
Afghan locals take a bath in a traditional hamam bathhouse in Kabul in 2010. Often, residents in Muslim majority-countries will visit hamams before heading to the mosque for Friday prayers.
Mauricio Lima/AFP/Getty Images
From connection to capitalism
The current bathhouse culture taking hold in Australia and New Zealand has emerged in part, as an antidote to pandemic isolation.
Many bespoke spa facilities market themselves as spaces for reconnection – and are proving to be popular (and healthier) alternatives to pubs, bars and nightclubs.
But developing these spaces demands significant investment. Industry experts report construction costs of about A$5–6 million for bathhouses, and $3–4 million for sauna clubs. They are also expensive to operate, manage and clean – and visitors can often expect to pay hefty entry prices.
Something we already have
Despite the desirability of contemporary bathhouses, these spaces are hardly egalitarian. Their focus is turning a profit.
One could instead visit one of the existing 1,300 public aquatic centres in Australia, many of which have spa, sauna and steam room facilities. A casual visit to most of these costs A$10–$20. So why are so people forking out more than twice the amount for a luxury bathhouse?
Most public aquatic centress today offer spa, sauna and/or steam room facilities, for a fraction of the price of luxury bathhouses.
Getty Images
In 2016, writer and translator Jamie Mackay suggested bringing back public bathhouses could help combat the isolation many city dwellers face by creating spaces for people to come together. He saw bathhouses as truly public places — affordable, flexible and open to all — unlike today’s upscale spa and wellness centres.
Dalva Lamminmäki, a doctoral researcher of sauna culture at the University of Eastern Finland, observes that the resurgence of saunas sometimes neglects a core element of what makes the sauna experience meaningful: that the “sauna is a place of equality”.
Luxury bathouses, meanwhile, could be viewed as yet another case of neoliberal commercialism.
Authors: Jennifer E. Cheng, Researcher and Lecturer in Sociology, Western Sydney University
Hashtag.net.au
