Another day, another urgent report by a prestigious body of health professionals demanding that something be done about obesity. It is, they say, a medical emergency: the sky is falling in. Forgive my cynicism but, since the grandpappy of reports such as this was published by the World Health Organisation in 2000, this Henny Penny approach to fat people's health has dominated the debate. It is no surprise that one of the most popular divisions in fat studies, an emerging academic field, is dedicated to deconstructing the hyperbolic rhetoric of obesity epidemiology.

The Academy of Medical Royal Colleges report treads familiar ground. Its recommendations range from the sensible and inoffensive – such as improving hospitals' nutritional standards, or limiting fast food outlets – to the hateful and harmful. The AoMRC encourages NHS staff to pester patients about their weight in every encounter, but what fat person in their right mind would go to the doctor with a verruca, or a funny rash that might just reveal a life-threatening illness, if they know they'll get a right old finger-wagging?

The calls for expanding bariatric surgery, meanwhile, are chilling. One Pennsylvania study found that people who had this surgery died at a younger age than those who did not, and there were 440 deaths in all, after 16,683 procedures. Other reports suggest that the mortality rate is lower, but complications from surgery, including hernias, infection, pneumonia, gall-bladder failure, and other problems associated with malnutrition are common.

These interventions are ineffective – or worse – because they treat "the obese" as an abstract, pathological population instead of a group of actual people who are part of the social fabric. They consider weight loss to be the ultimate remedy for every health and social problem associated with fatness, even though it is almost impossible to maintain in the long-term for most people, including those who have undergone surgical interventions. What is sad about this is that people tend to blame themselves when weight loss fails.

Although they are well-meaning, AoMRC's proposals are not about health promotion, but contribute to a narrative of blame, punishment, prejudice, stigma and anti-fat scapegoating that is horribly familiar. The only thing that looks healthy in this context is the twinkle in the eye of the diet industry CEOs, who are laughing all the way to the bank.

Forty years of fat activism has shown that there are other ways of developing healthy populations of people with high body weights.

We Dance pioneered community-based group exercise for fat people in San Francisco in the 1980s. Run by Deb Burgard, they brought people together in a safe and supportive atmosphere, who had never felt welcomed by the dance establishment. This approach has spawned yoga classes, boxing clubs, and regular exercise groups where moves are modified to benefit larger bodies.

Fat swims, special pool sessions where fat people can train and socialise without prurient stares, were also established in California in the 1980s, and continue to proliferate, with one coming soon to London. Aquaporko, the Australian fat synchronised swimming phenomenon, emerged from this scene, and a documentary about it will have its world premiere next week at the Mardi Gras film festival in Sydney.

Other fat activist health interventions incorporate broader agendas. The radical gardener Galadriel Mozee, based in Oregon, combines food and social justice, healing and coaching projects. Then there are the fat self-advocacy and health workshops; these are usually peer-education sessions teaching skills for dealing with the type of medical finger-wagging AoMRC advocates, that actually obstructs people's access to adequate healthcare.

These projects cost next to nothing to develop and maintain and, more importantly, they don't cause any harm or extend further hatred, discrimination or stigma towards fat people. What they have in common is that they don't treat fatness as a simple equation about calories consumed and burned, but reflect the social dimensions of being fat, which are complicated. They focus on wellbeing, not on weight loss, community-building, knowledge and skill-sharing. Fat people come back to them and are invested in cultivating them because they are rewarded with improved health outcomes, increased confidence and enriched social connections.

These are the places in which fat people thrive, not on the operating table or under the beady eye of a disapproving GP. But many health professionals have yet to engage with such dynamic and empowering work. They are out of touch with what is happening because obesity has become a matter of high policy, far removed from what fat people actually want and need. If professional bodies like AoMRC are truly concerned about obesity and health, they should stop pandering to Jamie Oliver, the weight loss-industrial-complex, or any number of obesity NGOs, and start paying attention to fat synchronised swimmers, boxers, gardeners and dancers instead.