In building tourism back better, let’s not forget to decolonise it.
There’s no doubt that tourism has been one of, if not the, hardest hit industry by the COVID-19 pandemic. And with the industry on pause, and many of its impacted employees having time on their hands, it is no surprise that there has been a plethora of articles describing the different ways in which tourism might be able to #buildbackbetter. You might therefore ask if we need another one? Well, maybe. Two of the most frequently discussed problems with tourism have been its intensive carbon footprint, and overtourism. Having worked in international tourism for the past twelve years, I have seen growing discussion of these themes over that time, which is a good thing. But despite working in tourism, my studies have been in humanities, particularly archaeology and history. And engaging with archaeologists, museum professionals and academics over the shutdown period, I have seen much talk of decolonisation in those sectors. This is a conversation which I have noticed missing from the discourse on building tourism back better. I therefore suggest that we need to consider tourism’s colonial problem alongside overtourism and carbon.
Just as many museum collections and archaeology have their roots in colonial exploration, so too does tourism. As European empires colonised new regions of the world, people from the colonising power began to travel to collect trading goods, with tourists following not far behind. As Randy Malamud says, “both tourism and imperialism involved voyages of discovery, and both tended to leave the people who were ‘discovered’ worse off than before.” These days, tourists travel to escape everyday life and responsibilities. But we often do this by intruding upon the lives of others, who don’t have the option to escape from their everyday life. In Terri Hasseler’s analysis of tourism adverts for Caribbean islands, for example, she describes how advertising shows pristine landscapes, ‘exotic’ experiences, and if local people are present, they are in the role of ‘smiling natives’ welcoming or waiting on the tourists. In servile roles, in other words. Sean Smith performed a similar analysis of Instagram influencers, finding similar themes of exoticism, and cultural appropriation, which he described as embedding the idea that tourism destinations are available for the tourist to ‘take’ rather than lived in spaces. When locals are pictured, they are icons of exoticism, which the influencer is using to try to give their travels the notion of authenticity. Where they are not pictured, it is to give the impression that the landscape is empty and pure, and available to be enjoyed by the travellers. A terra nullius, to use colonial language. This is especially true for small island nations where images are of tropical fantasies — of palm trees, white sand, and crystal waters, without any reference to the cultural identity of the local inhabitants. Traditional arts and crafts have also been subjected to colonialism, modified, faked or invented for tourists, and causing young people to disengage from their culture, seeing it as “stuff tourists buy”, making people feel exoticised and devaluing their cultural identity.
And all this is before we get to cultural imperialism, meaning you can find the comforts of home (McDonalds, Starbucks, Hilton hotels) in most corners of the globe. Or, as Christopher de Bellaigue points out in this piece in the Guardian, the fact that tourism infrastructure privileges the outsiders, with water being diverted away from local needs to golf courses, or roads paved as far as hotels and tourist attractions but not to local schools or clinics. This privilege is afforded to those who are wealthy enough to afford a plane ticket, and who belong to a nationality that enables them to be granted a visa. Privilege which has typically come about as a result of colonialism, with those from colonial powers usually being wealthier and having a mobility derived from that colonial network.
A lot of this is rationalised by the economic benefits that tourism can bring. But does tourism actually bring these benefits? Much tourism revenue is subject to ‘leakage’, where profits from tourism are repatriated to the country which owns the hotel or service, rather than staying within the local community. Joseph Mbaiwa, in reviewing tourism policy in Botswana, says that in general, over 70% of tourism revenue in developing countries ‘leaks’ out to developed countries. Further, he says that only 11% of tourism companies in Botswana pay tax locally. This is due to the fact that these companies have head offices overseas, and bookings and payments are completed in the country of the company’s head office, rather than locally. So, while tourism has the potential to redistribute wealth, it is not currently fulfilling this potential. Tourism does bring jobs, but in developing countries they tend to be low-paid jobs, with managerial positions instead given to ‘expatriate’ workers. This further entrenches colonialism and leakage in the system. But it doesn’t need to be this way. Perhaps the industry could look at developing an accreditation scheme to help consumers, agents and tour operators identify locally owned businesses? Or governments need to look into quota systems for international businesses to employ local people at all levels of foreign-owned businesses, as well as some kind of trainee programs to ensure that skills are being transferred to local populations.
Focusing on domestic tourism industries may be another option in decolonising tourism. Domestic tourism has the advantage of not only being more resilient to international shocks (global pandemic, anyone?) but may also result in better equality across the sector. As Joseph Mbaiwa says in the case of Botswana, the policy of attracting higher-paying foreign customers effectively locks local citizens out of their own tourism industry. The World Travel and Tourism Council also highlight benefits of developing domestic tourism such as decreased seasonality, greater distribution throughout the country, and providing a better foundation for the industry, as well as providing incentive for local people to invest in the industry and help to protect heritage sites. Building domestic tourism can also help to bridge cultural gaps within a society, and may resultingly enhance the economic and social benefits from international tourism. Could focusing on domestic tourism also decrease colonialism, particularly in arts and crafts for example, and provide a more authentic experience for foreign travellers who do choose to visit and travel in the same way that domestic tourists do? It may also help to support local communities on the periphery of tourism if foreign travellers are, for example, consuming more local food, rather than eating imported food.
While tourism is on pause, there has been much discussion about how we can improve the sector from an environmental and overcrowding standpoint. But we also need to improve it for local people whose lands we are visiting, and ensure that we are respecting them and their culture, and that they have equal access to the infrastructure and economic opportunities that tourism can bring. Much of the current inequality has arisen through long histories of colonialism, and so it is appropriate that we now consider how we can decolonise tourism in our efforts to build back better so that everyone can benefit.
