Mass tourism in a small world - Harrison, David e Sharpley, Richard

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Mass Tourism in a Small World

Mass Tourism in a Small World

David Harrison Middlesex University, UK and

Richard Sharpley University of Central Lancashire, UK

CABI is a trading name of CAB International CABI Nosworthy Way Wallingford Oxfordshire OX10 8DE UK Tel: +44 (0)1491 832111 Fax: +44 (0)1491 833508 E-mail: [email protected] Website: www.cabi.org

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© CAB International 2017. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronically, mechanically, by photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library, London, UK. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Harrison, David, 1941- editor. | Sharpley, Richard, 1956- editor. Title: Mass tourism in a small world / Edited by David Harrison, Middlesex   University, UK and Richard Sharpley, University of Central Lancashire, UK. Description: Oxfordshire, Wallingford, UK ; Boston, MA, USA : CAB   International, 2017. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016052948 (print) | LCCN 2017019736 (ebook) | ISBN   9781780648552 (pdf) | ISBN 9781780648569 (ePub) | ISBN   9781780648545 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Tourism. | Tourism--Management. | Tourism--Case studies. |   Tourism--Management--Case studies. Classification: LCC G155.A1 (ebook) | LCC G155.A1 M3447 2017 (print) | DDC  338.4/79104--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016052948 ISBN-13: 9781780648545 Commissioning editor: Claire Parfitt Editorial assistant: Alexandra Lainsbury Production editor: James Bishop Typeset by SPi, Pondicherry, India Printed and bound in the UK by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

Contents

Notes on Contributorsvii Section 1: Introduction

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1  Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World David Harrison and Richard Sharpley Section 2: Theoretical Approaches to Mass Tourism 2  Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending15 Julio Aramberri 3  The Morality of Mass Tourism28 Jim Butcher 4  The Political Economy of Mass Tourism and its Contradictions40 Raoul Bianchi 5  A Theoretical Approach to Mass Tourism in Italy53 Asterio Savelli and Gabriele Manella 6  Sustainability and Mass Tourism: A Contradiction in Terms?63 David B. Weaver 7  Mass Tourism and the Environment: Issues and Dilemmas75 Andrew Holden Section 3: Historical Studies of Tourism Development 8 The Dynamics of Tourism Development in Britain: The Profit Motive and that ‘Curious’ Alliance of Private Capital and the Local State85 John Heeley 9  From Holiday Camps to the All-inclusive: the ‘Butlinization’ of Tourism95 Richard Sharpley v

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10  Decline Beside the Seaside: British Seaside Resorts and Declinism105 Martin Farr 11  Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System118 Kelly S. Bricker 12  Transport and Tourism: The Perpetual Link137 David Timothy Duval Section 4: Case Studies in Modern Mass Tourism 13  Mass Tourism and China149 Chris Ryan 14  Mass Tourism in Thailand: The Chinese and Russians159 Erik Cohen 15  Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens168 Stanislav Ivanov 16  Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià181 Hazel Andrews 17  Tunisia: Mass Tourism in Crisis?191 Heather Jeffrey and Sue Bleasdale 18 From Blue to Grey? Malta’s Quest from Mass Beach to Niche Heritage Tourism200 Gregory J. Ashworth and John E. Tunbridge 19  Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean: The Mess of Mass Tourism210 Paul Wilkinson Section 5: The Future 20  Conclusion: Mass Tourism in the Future232 Richard Sharpley and David Harrison Index241

Notes on Contributors

Hazel Andrews is Reader in Tourism, Culture & Society at Liverpool John Moores University. Hazel is interested in issues of identity, selfhood and the body principally in relation to tourism and travel. Her PhD thesis was the first full-length ethnographic study of British charter tourists, which involved periods of participant observation in the resorts of Palmanova and Magaluf on the Mediterranean island of Mallorca. Hazel has drawn on this fieldwork to publish a number of journal articles and book chapters. She is the author/editor of six books including the monograph The British on Holiday published by Channel View in 2011. More recently she edited a collection titled Tourism and Violence (Ashgate, 2014) in which her own chapter included work based both on Mallorca and Menorca. Hazel is chair of the Royal Anthropological Institute’s Tourism Committee. Liverpool John Moores University, IM Marsh, Barkhill Road, Aigburth, Liverpool, L17 6BD, UK; e-mail: [email protected] Julio Aramberri is visiting professor at Dongbei University of Finance and Economics (DUFE), Dalian, People’s Republic of China. He has previously held academic positions at Hoa Sen University, Saigon, Vietnam (2009–2013); Drexel University, Philadelphia, USA (1999–2009); and Universidad Complutense de Madrid (1964–1984). Prior to that, he undertook postdoctoral studies at the London School of Economics (1971–1974). He worked for the Spanish Tourist Administration (1985–1999) where he became its Director General (1987–1990). Dr Aramberri has authored or co-authored eight books on sociological subjects and over 50 refereed articles. His Modern Mass Tourism (2010) was translated into Spanish (2012) and Chinese (2014). He is Charter Fellow of the International Academy for the Study of Tourism. Department of Tourism and Hospitality Management, Dongbei University of Finance and Economics (DUFE), Dalian, Liaoning Province, People’s Republic of China; e-mail: [email protected] Gregory J. Ashworth was educated in Geography at the Universities of Cambridge, Reading and London (PhD 1974). He has taught at the Universities of Wales, Portsmouth and, since 1979, Groningen, the Netherlands where, since 1994, he has been Professor of Heritage Management and Urban Tourism in the Department of Planning, Faculty of Spatial Sciences. His main research interests focus on the interrelations between tourism, heritage and place marketing, largely in an urban context. He is author or editor of around 20 books, 100 book chapters and 200 journal articles. He received honorary life membership of the Hungarian Geographical Society in 1995, an honorary doctorate from the University of Brighton in 2009 and was knighted for services to Dutch Science in 2011. Sadly, on 6 November 2016, shortly after this book went to the publisher, Greg died, aged 75, after a protracted illness. As John Tunbridge, his co-author, long-time collaborator and friend, writes: ‘Greg did not graciously accept the fading of the light. He worked to the vii

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end and, with the support of Angela, his wife, courageously gave his final paper at a symposium at the University of Brighton, UK, just 17 days before he died.’ Greg will be much missed by his many academic colleagues, former students and friends, along with the countless others who have benefited from his work. Raoul Bianchi is Reader in International Tourism and Development in the School of Business and Law at the University of East London. His work encompasses the geopolitics and international political economy of tourism with a particular focus on tourism, border politics and citizenship as well as issues of tourism, capitalism and development. He has a particular interest in Southern Europe and the Mediterranean and also tourism in islands and coastal regions. He has been involved in and led a range of funded research projects including ‘Mediterranean Voices’ (2002– 2006, Euromed Heritage II), and is the co-author (with Marcus Stephenson) of Tourism and Citizenship: Rights, Freedoms and Responsibilities in the Global Order (Routledge, 2014). He is currently a fellow of the Royal Anthropological Institute and a long-standing member of the Research Committee on International Tourism (International Sociological Association). School of Business and Law, University of East London, Docklands Campus, University Way, London, E16 2RD, UK; e-mail: [email protected] Sue Bleasdale is Associate Professor in the Department of Marketing, Branding and Tourism at Middlesex University. With a background in Development Studies and Geography she currently teaches Tourism Policy and Sustainable Tourism. She has a long-term interest in tourism policy as a pathway to development in Tunisia. She is currently also working on the role of stakeholder management in tourism sustainability in coastal resorts. Department of Marketing, Branding and Tourism, Middlesex University, The Burroughs, Hendon, London, NW4 4BT, UK; e-mail: [email protected] Kelly Bricker is Professor of Sustainable Tourism and Ecotourism at the University of Utah in Parks, Recreation, and Tourism. She completed her PhD research with the Pennsylvania State University, where she specialized in sustainable tourism and protected area management. She has special research and teaching interests in ecotourism, sense of place, natural resource management, and the environmental and social impacts of tourism. Kelly has conducted research on heritage tourism, the social impacts of tourism and natural resource-related tourism environments. She has researched and presented on issues in ecotourism, sense of place and natural resource management for nature-based tourism. She has published on issues such as protected areas, ecotourism certification and policy, and health and sustainable tourism relative to impacts on communities. With Rosemary Black and Stuart Cottrell, she authored and edited a book titled Sustainable Tourism & the Millennium Development Goals: Effecting Positive Change (Jones and Bartlett Learning, 2013). Most recently, she co-edited a new textbook with Dr Rosemary Black, titled Adventure Programing and Travel for the 21st Century (Venture Publishing, 2015). With partners in OARS and her husband, she developed an ecotourism operation called Rivers Fiji. She currently serves as the Vice Chair and Treasurer for the Global Sustainable Tourism Council, and on the Research and Education Council of The International Ecotourism Society. Parks, Recreation, and Tourism, University of Utah, 1901 E. So. Campus Drive, Salt Lake City, UT 84112-0920, USA; e-mail: [email protected] Jim Butcher is Reader in the School of Human and Life Sciences at Canterbury Christ Church University in the UK. He is interested in the role of leisure travel in contemporary social and political identities. Jim has written a number of books, papers and articles exploring this, including most recently: Volunteer Tourism: the Lifestyle Politics of International Development (Routledge, 2015), co-authored with Pete Smith. Other key publications include The Moralisation of Tourism (2003) and Ecotourism, NGOs and Development (2007), both published by Routledge. Jim blogs at http:// politicsoftourism.blogspot.co.uk/ and tweets from @jimbutcher2 School of Human and Life Sciences, Canterbury Christ Church University, North Holmes Road, Canterbury, Kent, CT1 1QU, UK; e-mail: [email protected] Erik Cohen is the George S. Wise Professor of Sociology (emeritus) at the Hebrew University of ­Jerusalem, where he taught between 1959 and 2000. He has conducted research in Israel, Peru,



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the Pacific Islands and, since 1977, in Thailand. He is the author of more than 200 publications. His recent books include Contemporary Tourism: Diversity and Change (Elsevier, 2004) and Explorations in Thai Tourism (Emerald, 2008). Erik Cohen is a founding member of the International Academy for the Study of Tourism. He was awarded the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) Ulysses Prize in 2012. He presently lives and does research in Thailand. Department of Sociology and Anthropology, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Israel; e-mail: [email protected] David Timothy Duval is Associate Professor in the Faculty of Business and Economics at the University of Winnipeg. David’s academic work focuses on the regulation of commercial air transport in Canada and New Zealand. He is also Senior Visiting Fellow in the School of Aviation at the University of New South Wales (Australia). Before beginning his academic career, he was with Longwoods International, a consultancy firm specializing in tourism destination marketing, visitor profiling and measuring the efficiency of tourism advertising and promotion. Department of Business and Administration, University of Winnipeg, 515 Portage Avenue, Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3B 2E9, Canada; e-mail: [email protected] Martin Farr is Senior Lecturer in Contemporary British History at Newcastle University. He has published on: political biography; government and Parliament before, during and after the First World War; the politics of strategic bombing in the Second World War; package holidays in the 1970s; and leading the Labour Party in the 1980s. He is currently writing a book entitled ­Margaret Thatcher’s World and articles on: imperial tropes in 1960s Britain; the film version of Oh! What a Lovely War; the deaths of Hugh Gaitskell and John Smith; and Barack Obama and David Cameron. He also chairs the Britain and the World Society and writes and commentates on current affairs. School of History, Classics and Archaeology, Newcastle University, Newcastle, NE1 7RU, UK; e-mail: [email protected]; twitter @martinjohnfarr David Harrison is a supporter of Chelsea Football Club and Professor of Tourism at Middlesex University. He previously worked at the University of Sussex, London Metropolitan University and the University of the South Pacific. A sociologist and anthropologist of development, with a special interest in tourism, he is author of The Sociology of Modernization and Development (Routledge, 1988), editor of several books, including Tourism and the Less Developed Countries (1992, Belhaven) and Tourism and the Less Developed World (2001, CAB International), and co-editor of several others, including The Politics of World Heritage: Negotiating Tourism and Conservation (2005, Channel View) and Tourism in Pacific Islands (2015, Routledge). He has written many peer-reviewed papers on tourism and development and has researched the impacts of tourism in the Caribbean, Eastern Europe, Southern Africa, South-east Asia and the Pacific Islands. He is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and a Fellow of the International Academy for the Study of Tourism. Department of Marketing, Tourism and Branding, Middlesex University Business School, Middlesex University, The Burroughs, Hendon, London, NW4 4BT, UK; e-mail: davidharrison53@ btinternet.com John Heeley runs his own business – Best Destination Marketing – and is a visiting fellow at Sheffield Hallam University. Reflecting a long career both as a tourism academic (1972–1989) and as a DMO (destination management organization) chief executive (1990–2011), John’s recent work aims to unite theory and practice, highlighting best practice and the factors shaping operational effectiveness. He has a related interest in the historical origins and evolution of tourism development and marketing. John has published extensively, including two authoritative texts on urban and city marketing. He has occupied senior positions in European Cities Marketing, the Tourism Society and the Leisure Studies Association, and acted as tourism advisor to the Local Government Association. His principal interests outside of work are family, travel, crime fiction, running, hill walking and Sheffield Wednesday. Best Destination Marketing, 29 Sandygate Grange Drive, Sheffield, S10 5NW, UK; e-mail: [email protected]

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Andrew Holden is Professor of Environment and Tourism and also the co-Director for the Institute for Tourism Research (INTOUR) at the University of Bedfordshire, UK. He is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and the Royal Society of Arts. His research focuses on the interaction between human behaviour and the natural environment within the context of tourism. He has published several academic texts and papers including Environment and Tourism (1st edn 2007, 2nd edn 2008, 3rd edn 2016) and Tourism, Poverty and Development (2013) all published by Routledge. He has undertaken research and consultancy projects in several countries, including Nepal, Russia, Indonesia, Turkey, Cyprus and Crete. Institute for Tourism Research (INTOUR), University of Bedfordshire Business School, Putteridge Bury, Luton, LU2 8LE, UK; e-mail: [email protected] Stanislav Ivanov is currently Professor and Vice Rector (Research) at Varna University of Management, Bulgaria. He holds a PhD degree in tourism economics from the University of Economics – Varna. Dr Ivanov is the Editor-in-chief of the European Journal of Tourism Research (http://ejtr. vumk.eu) and serves in the editorial boards of 27 other journals. His research interests include revenue management, destination marketing, tourism and economic growth, political issues in tourism and special interest tourism. His publications have appeared in different academic journals including Annals of Tourism Research, Tourism Management, Tourism Management Perspectives, Tourism Economics, Journal of Heritage Tourism, Tourism Today, Tourism, Tourism and Hospitality Research, Tourism Planning and Development, International Journal of Hospitality and Tourism Administration, Journal of Economic Studies, Journal of Southern Europe and the Balkans and South-Eastern Europe Journal of Economics. Varna University of Management, 13A Oborishte str., 9000 Varna, Bulgaria; e-mail: stanislav. [email protected] Heather Jeffrey is a lecturer in Tourism Studies at the University of Bedfordshire. Her research interests lie in qualitative methods for intercultural research, social equality, and the intersections of gender and tourism. She has carried out qualitative research in Tunisia, Argentina and Malaysia. Business Systems and Operations, University of Bedfordshire Business School, University Square, Luton LU1 3JU, UK Gabriele Manella researches the sociology of territory and the environment at the University of Bologna, where he is also secretary of Centro Studi sui Problemi della Città e del Territorio (CePCiT). He is a member of the Scientific Council of Territory section of Ais (Associazione Italiana di Sociologia) and his research interests in tourism focus on trends in seaside tourism on the Adriatic coast and, more recently, on some Italian best practices in slow tourism. Since 2008, he has been secretary of the Mediterranean Association for the Sociology of Tourism. He is also a member of the Scientific Committee for the collection Consumi, Turismo e Tempo Libero (FrancoAngeli publishing). His recent publications include Turismo, cultura e desarrollo: nuevos desafíos de la era global (co-author with Asterio Savelli in the book Desenvolvimento territorial, cultura e turismo. Uma abordagem multidisciplinar, 2015), and Due coste e un mare solo? Il turismo nautico tra pubblico e privato (in the book Contesti mediterranei in transizione. Mobilità turistica tra crisi e mutamento, 2013). Dipartimento di Sociologia e Diritto dell’Economia, Università di Bologna, Strada Maggiore 45, 40125 Bologna, Italy; e-mail: [email protected] Chris Ryan is Professor of Tourism at the University of Waikato Management School in Hamilton, New Zealand. He is also director of the China–New Zealand Tourism Research Unit based within the school, and his research has resulted in approximately 200 refereed journal articles, 16 books and other materials including governmental reports, conference papers and newspaper reports. The quality of his research has gained several research awards, and, as he commented to an immigration officer on his return to New Zealand after an overseas research trip, the chance to visit interesting places to do interesting things with interesting people, at other people’s expense! In short, he feels he is a very fortunate person. He also edits two academic journals, namely Tourism Management and Tourism Management Perspectives. China–New Zealand Tourism Research Unit, The University of Waikato Management School, Hillcrest Road (Gate 7), Hamilton 3240, Waikato, New Zealand; e-mail: [email protected]



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Asterio Savelli graduated in Political Sciences at the University of Bologna in 1973 and he is now Associate Professor of the Sociology of the Environment and Territory in the Department of Sociology. He teaches on the PhD course. His overall focus has been the transition from advanced industrial society to post-industrial society and, with regard to tourism, he examines issues relating to culture, symbols and communication, and tourism’s organizational and entrepreneurial features. He has been the secretary of CePCiT at the University of Bologna (1973–1989) and Director of Centro Studi e Ricerche per il Turismo e il Tempo Libero in Rimini (1998–1999). He coordinated two national research programmes (PRIN) on local tourist systems (2003–2004) and maritime and inter-coastal tourism (2007–2008). From 1987 until 2008 he was secretary of the Mediterranean Association for the Sociology of Tourism and in 2011 he was elected president. Among his most recent publications are Sociologia del turismo balneare (2009) and Sociologia del turismo (2012). Dipartimento di Sociologia e Diritto dell’Economia, Università di Bologna, Strada Maggiore 45, 40125 Bologna, Italy; e-mail: [email protected] Richard Sharpley is Professor of Tourism and Development at the University of Central Lancashire, Preston, UK. He has previously held positions at a number of other institutions, including the University of Northumbria (Reader in Tourism) and the University of Lincoln, where he was Professor of Tourism and Head of Department, Tourism and Recreation Management. He is co-editor of the journal Tourism Planning & Development, a resource editor for Annals of Tourism Research and a member of the editorial boards of a number of other tourism journals. His principal research interests are within the fields of tourism and development, island tourism, rural tourism and the sociology of tourism and his books include: (i) Tourism and Development: Concepts and Issues (Channel View, 2002, with David Telfer); (ii) Tourism and Development in the Developing World (Routledge, 2008, with David Telfer); (iii) Tourism, Tourists and Society, 4th edition (Elm Publications, 2008); (iv) The Darker Side of Travel: The Theory and Practice of Dark Tourism (Channel View, 2009, with Philip Stone); (v) Tourism, Development and Environment: Beyond Sustainability (Earthscan, 2009); and (vi) Tourist Experience: Contemporary Perspectives (Routledge, 2011, with Philip Stone). A further collection on tourist experiences, The Contemporary Tourist Experience: Concepts & Consequences, was published in 2012, and second edition of Tourism and Development: Concepts and Issues, was published in 2015. School of Management, Greenbank Building, University of Central Lancashire, Preston, Lancashire, PR2 2HE, UK; e-mail: [email protected] John E. Tunbridge graduated from St John’s College, Cambridge and received his PhD from the University of Bristol, after a further period as Junior Research Fellow at Sheffield University. In 1969 he arrived at Carleton University in Ottawa, Canada, where he based his career, retiring as Emeritus Professor of Geography and Environmental Studies in 2008. At various times he has undertaken visiting lecturing positions in Australia, the UK (Portsmouth) and South Africa; and since his retirement he has been Visiting Professor at Brighton (UK) and Adjunct Professor at Curtin (Perth, Australia) Universities, and he maintains informal ties with both these universities. From his early background in urban geography he pioneered a research field in heritage studies and has subsequently published extensively on heritage and its tourism, continuing in retirement. His work has included co-authorships of The Tourist Historic City (Bellhaven Press, 1990; Elsevier, 2000), Dissonant Heritage (John Wiley & Sons, 1996), A Geography of Heritage (Arnold, 2000) and Pluralising Pasts (Pluto Press, 2007), variously with Gregory Ashworth and Brian Graham. Department of Geography and Environmental Studies, Carleton University, Ottawa, K1S 5B6, Canada; e-mail: [email protected] David Weaver received his PhD in Geography from the University of Western Ontario (Canada) in 1986. He is currently Professor of Tourism Research at Griffith University, Australia, and has ­published more than 140 journal articles, book chapters and books. He maintains an active research agenda in sustainable destination and protected area management, ecotourism, and resident perceptions of tourism. Professor Weaver has published extensively in leading journals such as Annals of Tourism Research, Tourism Management, Journal of Travel Research and Journal of

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­Sustainable ­Tourism. His widely adopted textbooks include Tourism Management (5th edition, 2014) and Ecotourism (Wiley Australia, 2008), Encyclopedia of Ecotourism (CAB International, 2001) and Sustainable Tourism: Theory and Practice (Taylor & Francis, 2006). He is a Fellow of the International Academy for the Study of Tourism and has delivered numerous invited international keynote addresses on innovative tourism management topics. He has worked with organizations such as UNWTO and Pacific Asia Travel Association (PATA) as an expert advisor. Department of Tourism, Sport and Hotel Management, Griffith University – Gold Coast Campus, Parklands Drive, Southport, Queensland, Australia 4222; e-mail: [email protected] Paul F. Wilkinson HonsBA (York), MA, PhD (Toronto) is University Professor Emeritus at York University and Professor Emeritus in the Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University. He is the former President of the Ontario Research Council on Leisure, Member of the Board of Directors of the Canadian Association for Leisure Studies, and Member of the Panel on the Ecological Integrity of Canada’s National Parks. His research focuses on tourism policy and planning and on protected area management in Canada, the Caribbean, Hawaii and Indonesia, with recent publications on cruise tourism in the Caribbean and tourist behaviour related to wild dolphin swim tours in Hawaii. He has never been a passenger on a cruise ship and does not intend ever to be one. Faculty of Environmental Studies, York University, 4700 Keele Street, Toronto, Ontario, M3J 1P3, Canada; e-mail: [email protected]

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Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World

David Harrison1* and Richard Sharpley2 Middlesex University, London, UK; 2University of Central Lancashire, Preston, UK

The Emergence of Mass Tourism Large-scale tourism is not an entirely new phenomenon: its antecedents can be found in the large-scale festivals and games of ancient Egypt, Greece and Rome, in pilgrimage, which has long been a feature of the major world religions, and in spa tourism, which pre-dates Roman times and has long been established in many regions in ­Europe and North America (Towner, 1996: 53–95; van Tubergen and van der Linden, 2002). The Grand Tour of Europe, popular over much the same period, involved relatively few travellers but nevertheless had a lasting impact on places visited by tourists, on the travellers themselves, and on the culture of their home societies (Hibbert, 1987; Black, 1992; Towner, 1996: 96–138). However, consistent large-scale, systematic and regular travel for leisure purposes really only emerged in the second half of the 18th century. Impetus came in the mid-1700s from Dr  Richard Russell and other physicians who popularized the medical benefits of sea bathing (Gilbert, 1954: 56–86), thus providing an alternative to inland spas, but it was the railways, from the mid-1800s, that established mass tourism in the UK and elsewhere (Towner, 1996: 167–216) and which enabled Thomas Cook, almost by accident, to develop (though not start) package tours, later taking tourists overseas (Pimlott,

1947: 91, 168–169, 191–194; Buzard, 1993; 45–65). Increasingly, for nearly a century, holidaymakers in the developed world went on holiday en masse and small coastal communities accessible to metropolitan centres themselves became urbanized. The prominence of such resorts as Blackpool and Brighton in the UK, for instance, dates back to this time, and others soon followed, in the UK (Pimlott, 1947; Gilbert, 1954; Walton, 1978), in other parts of Europe (Corbin, 1994: 255–281) and also in the USA, as seen in the growth in the early 1800s of Atlantic City on the New Jersey coast and resorts on the California coast (Jakle, 1985: 56–62). Road improvements and technical advances in transport led to other developments. In the late 1800s, increasing numbers of enthusiasts took up cycling, though it remained popular for much longer in Europe than in the USA (Lofgren, 1999: 69). Better road surfaces, improved technology in automobile production and decreasing prices opened up the countryside to motorized transport, especially after the motor car began to be mass produced. As Jakle (1985: 270) notes, in the USA during the period between the two world wars ‘automobiling was embraced by and dominated by the masses’, leading to the transformation of the countryside, not least by increasing numbers of camping sites and motels that catered to these new

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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David Harrison and Richard Sharpley

tourists, while national parks such as Yosemite and Yellowstone came under increasing pressure to accommodate visitors (Jakle, 1985: 67–83; Lofgren, 1999: 56–64). For more than a century, then, coastal resorts and other destinations in the UK, mainland Europe and the USA catered for the leisure and entertainment needs of vast numbers of their increasingly affluent but highly differentiated populations (Pimlott, 1947; Jakle, 1985; Soane, 1993). It was undoubtedly mass tourism, but it occurred largely within national boundaries. Later, the first shoots of mass international tourism appeared in the 1920s and 1930s, some of which were state sponsored (Baranowski, 2005: 130; Dann and Parrinello, 2009: 26–30), but it was only after 1945, as Europe reaped the dividends arising from peace, increased prosperity, a widespread rise in disposable income, good communications and improvements in aircraft technology, that international leisure travel developed rapidly on a mass scale.

Modern Mass Tourism: the General Pattern In 1950, when little more than 25 million international tourist arrivals were recorded, most international trips were almost exclusively to

Europe (66%) and North America (30%), usually within the same region. By 1990, although arrivals to all regions had substantially increased, totalling nearly 440 million, the market shares of Europe and North America were 64% and 20%, respectively (Harrison, 1992a: 5; Harrison, 2001: 11). If we then fast forward to 2014, it is clear that while both international arrivals and receipts from international tourism had increased, as indicated in Table 1.1, destinations in other parts of the world had grown in importance. As economic development has occurred elsewhere, Europe’s share of international tourist arrivals of 1.133 billion has been reduced to less than 52%, that of the Americas to about 16%, while that of Asia and the Pacific (of negligible importance in 1950) is now more than 23%, and accounts for more than 30% of international tourism receipts (UNWTO, 2015: 4–5). The emergence of China as both a destination and a source of tourists is especially noteworthy. In 1978, the year it opened out to the West, it received 229,600 foreign (i.e. non-Chinese) tourists (Guangrui and Lew, 2003: 16). In 2015, 20.3 million arrived, along with 27.1 million and 4.7 million from Hong and Macau, respectively, and a further 4.8 million from Taiwan (Travel China Guide, 2016). China is now one of the world’s top destinations, attaining fourth place in the United Nations World Tourism Organization’s (UNWTO) league tables of international arrivals and third place in

Table 1.1.  International tourism arrivals and receipts: selected years, 1950–2014. (Compiled by the authors from UNWTO data.) Year

Arrivals (million)

Receipts (US$ billion)

Year

Arrivals (million)

Receipts (US$ billion)

1950 1960 1965 1970 1975 1980 1985 1990 1991 1992 1993 1994 1995 1996 1997 1998

25.3 69.3 112.9 165.8 222.3 278.1 320.1 439.5 442.5 479.8 495.7 519.8 540.6 575.0 598.6 616.7

2.1 6.9 11.6 17.9 40.7 104.4 119.1 270.2 283.4 326.6 332.6 362.1 410.7 446.0 450.4 451.4

1999 2000 2001 2002 2003 2004 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014

639.6 687.0 686.7 707.0 694.6 765.1 806.6 847.0 903.0 917.0 882.0 940.0 995.0 1035.0 1087.0 1133.0

464.5 481.6 469.9 488.2 534.6 634.7 682.7 742.0 856.0 939.0 851.0 927.0 1042.0 1075.0 1159.0 1245.0



Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World

that of international tourism receipts (UNWTO, 2015: 6). It is also the world’s fastest growing source of tourists: since 2012 its citizens have spent more than those of any other nation, in 2014 accounting for more than 13% of global tourism receipts (UNWTO, 2015: 13), in the process changing and increasing the tourism profile of several destinations visited by Chinese tourists. Currently, Hong Kong, Macau, South Korea, Thailand, Singapore, Malaysia, the USA, Vietnam, Japan and France are preferred destinations, though the Chinese are targeted worldwide as tourists. Moreover, as only about 5% of Chinese citizens possessed a passport in 2014 (Arlt, 2016: 5), at the time of writing all the evidence points to the continuation of these trends in the foreseeable future, a situation which has attracted increasing academic attention, from within and outside China, over the last decade (Harrison, 2017). Indeed, the UNWTO estimates that, more generally, by 2030 international arrivals will amount to some 1.8 billion, with tourism in emerging nations growing at twice the rate of that in advanced economies, by which time the former will have 57% of the market share of international arrivals (UNWTO, 2015: 2). Finally, it is worth noting that while international mass tourism has increased remarkably since the 1950s, so too has domestic tourism, building on a much wider base since the mid19th century. Currently, domestic trips are reported by UNWTO to number between 5 billion and 6 billion a year (UNWTO, 2015: 3), a margin of difference that suggests hugely unreliable statistics (Ghimire, 2001: 11–15; UNWTO, ­ 2013: 13–14). Nevertheless, globally domestic tourism is of major economic importance, including in many developing countries where domestic arrivals sometimes amount to more than five times those of international tourists (Ghimire, 2001; UNWTO, 2013; Harrison, 2017). Indeed, as Ryan notes in Chapter 13, this volume, in 2015 the Chinese undertook around 4 billion domestic tourism trips.

Scholarly Approaches to Mass Tourism Historians have carried out considerable research on mass tourism. Its development has

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been traced generally by Boyer (2007) while others have charted the more specific history of holidaymaking in English resorts (Pimlott, 1947; Gilbert, 1954; Walton, 1978, 2000; Travis, 1993) and elsewhere (Black, 1992; ­Hudson, 1993; Towner, 1996). There have also been important comparative studies of resort ­development in France, the USA and Germany (Soane, 1993; Berghoff et al., 2002; Borsay and Walton, 2011) while other historians and some social scientists have focused more thematically on the sea or the role of the beach – especially as a liminal, pleasure periphery – in popular culture (Shields, 1991: 73–116; Corbin, 1994; Lencek and Bosker, 1999; Urbain, 2003). Interestingly, numerous historical records exist of reactions to tourists. These include: (i) Seneca’s condemnation of drunks in the 1st century ad at Baiae (Casson, 1974: 143); (ii) disagreements over the value of the Grand Tour (Hibbert, 1987: 235–248; Black, 1992: 315–337; Towner, 1996: 96–138); (iii) the Reverend Francis Kilvert’s 1870 characterization of English tourists as ‘vulgar, illbred, offensive and loathsome’ (Plomer, 1992: 25); and (iv) Wordsworth’s objections that ‘his’ English Lake District was being threatened by excursionists from the industrial towns of Lancashire and Yorkshire, who wanted ‘wrestling matches, horses and boat races without number’ (Ousby, 1990: 192). Anticipating many modern criticisms of tourists, too, residents of late 19th-century Brighton blamed tourism for drunkenness, licentious behaviour and prostitution, asserting that working-class visitors, in particular, were of little economic benefit to the town because they carried their own food and drink with them (Gilbert, 1954: 193–196, 204–206). Criticisms of tourists in other parts of Europe took a similar (and equally modern) tone (Buzard, 1993: 37–40). Arguably, though, there has been little cross-fertilization across the boundary between historians of tourism and social scientists operating within the field of tourism studies. As Walton (2005: 2) suggests, this might be the result of stylistic and methodological differences, but other factors are also at work. For example, blessed with the benefit of hindsight, historians have generally adopted a largely neutral position, whereas non-historians considering modern tourism and its immediate impacts, especially in developing societies, have often been more judgemental (and

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possibly more anxious to distance themselves from other visitors). This was certainly evident in the 1970s when MacCannell, whose pioneering study set the standard for so much of what was to follow, once referred to tourists as ‘an expeditionary force without guns’ (1999: xxiv). Similarly, Krippendorf, an economist and environmentalist, depicted modern tourists as vainly trying to escape alienation from industrial and differentiated society, adding that while their ‘carefree and ignorant’ behaviour (1987: 43) brought them little benefit, it did great damage to their destinations, creating ‘a new and devious form of colonialism’ (Krippendorf, 1987: 56). Over the last three decades, however, scholarly attitudes towards tourism have reportedly shifted. According to Jafari (1989), they have moved from acceptance, through caution and adaptation, to a more ‘knowledge-­ based’ approach. Though somewhat simplistic – Jafari himself accepts none of these ‘platforms’ have been superseded – the knowledge-based approach frames our understanding of tourism in ‘developed’ societies. This seems evident when comparing the work of sociologists and anthropologists in the 1970s and 1980s with later studies of developed country destinations, especially in the Mediterranean. Much of the latter centred on mass tourism’s economic impacts (Segreto et al., 2009), its social and cultural features for both tourists (Andrews, 2011) and residents (Waldren, 1996; O’Reilly, 2000), and its relationship to modernity, such as in the case of Cyprus (Sharpley, 2003). Others examined the interactional spaces created by tourism (Obrador Pons et al., 2009) and how residents have reacted and adapted to mass tourism more generally (Boissevain, 1996), while McGibbon has carried out similar research on tourism’s impacts on an Austrian Alpine village (2000). Importantly, too, there have been serious efforts to address the need to manage the impact of tourism in coastal resorts in Southern Europe (Bramwell, 2004) and – of especial value, because of its comparative approach – to analyse tourism’s problematic impacts in coastal resorts across the world (Agarwal and Shaw, 2007). Over recent decades, the growth of mass tourism in European cities, some already established as destinations for centuries, has been phenomenal (Berger, 2015), bringing many undoubted economic benefits (Ashworth and ­

Tunbridge, 1990: 260). Rapid expansion in city tourism is also occurring elsewhere: Dubai, for instance, is expecting 20 million visitors by 2020, of which it hopes some 500,000 will be medical tourists (eTurboNews, 2015). Inevitably, problems have emerged, especially in some European capitals (Ashworth and Tunbridge, 1990: 254–265; Dumbrovská and Fialova, 2014; Settis, 2016), sometimes leading to a resident backlash (Keeley, 2014; Tjolle, 2014; Jones, 2016). More generally, there are clearly concerns about tourism’s environmental impacts and its contribution to climate change (Croall, 1995; Holden, 2007; Becken, 2013). For some time, there have been increasingly urgent warnings about the impacts of uncontrolled mass tourism in Venice (Settis, 2016), and Barcelona is now imposing restrictions on further tourism development, instigating a moratorium on new accommodation facilities and diverting income from taxes raised from tourism away from marketing the city to social and environmental improvement programmes (Blanchar, 2015). However, generally tourism in developed countries is considered to be an economic – even social – necessity: the Lake District welcomes visitors, Brighton is now a highly popular city, and cities across the developed world compete for international tourists. Despite numerous reservations, no one seems to be advocating that ­London, Paris, Rome, Prague or Budapest – or even Venice and Barcelona – cease being tourist attractions. Instead, one country after another, developed or developing, competes to attract yet more tourists, especially (in view of the economic upsurge of East Asia) the Chinese. Indeed, in France, one of their preferred European destinations, it has been suggested that only tourism has the ability to save the national economy (Dedieu and Mathieu, 2015), while the UK government’s 2015 Five Point Plan also makes a ­special point of attracting more Chinese visitors (Department for Culture, Media and Sport, 2015: 5). This is not to suggest that mass tourism does not raise serious concerns; however, rather than appealing for tourism to be abolished, the common reaction is to call for controls and more effective planning of tourist numbers. Arguably, tourism in the developing world has attracted much greater criticism. Again, numerous balanced studies exist, including work in Indonesia by anthropologists such as Picard



Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World

(1996) and Cole (2008) and on tourism’s role in poverty reduction (for example, Mitchell and Mann, 2010). Nevertheless, in the mid-1970s, tourism was branded ‘a corrupter of innocence’ in the South Pacific, while in Kenya it allegedly perpetuated ‘the myth of the white hunter’ and reinforced ‘colonial values’ (Turner and Ash, 1975: 165, 175). Contributors to important early volumes edited by Smith (1977) and de Kadt (1979) were clearly sceptical about tourism’s benefits, though some modified their objections over time (Smith and Brent, 2001: 7). Indeed, while local residents were largely appreciative, Smith herself was horrified when the island of Borocay in the Philippines became a tourist resort (Smith, 1992: 143–152) and later developments did little to change her opinion (Smith, 2001: 147–148). Others, following development theory, have depicted changes in theoretical orientation from modernization to dependency, neo-liberalism to alternative development and, most recently, to sustainability (Sharpley, 2009; Telfer, 2015; Harrison, 2015). Again, such chronologies can be misleading and apparently dated perceptions of tourism continue to coexist in repackaged form: modernization merged into neo-liberalism and the advocacy of trade liberalization, while dependency theory, along with its critique of capitalist (under) development (Harrison, 2014: 146–148), has contributed to environmentalism and the advocacy of sustainability and ‘­alternative’ tourism. Critics of mass tourism’s impacts in developing societies (but not, it would seem, in most developed societies) point to a series of destructive features: (i) commoditization undercuts tradition and leads to inauthenticity; (ii) jobs in tourism are unskilled and demeaning; (iii) income from large-scale (and highly capitalistic) tourism is frequently reduced by damaging ‘leakages’; and (iv) family structures and local economies are unbalanced by the search for the tourist dollar. Such criticisms can be countered (MacNaught, 1982; Harrison, 1992b: 18–31), but the focus on underdevelopment and advocacy of sustainable tourism development in developing societies remains. As an example, the popular text by Mowforth and Munt on tourism and sustainability in what they continue to refer to as ‘The Third World,’ ends with the somewhat gloomy prediction that, in a world dominated by

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capitalism and unequal power relations, change is unlikely to occur. There might be some local improvements, but all we can expect is ‘more of the same’ (Mowforth and Munt, 2016: 404). The dominance of sustainability perspectives in the study of tourism is, in itself, evidence of major dissatisfaction – at least in academic circles, but less so among practitioners – with mass tourism (which is frequently regarded as synonymous with modern tourism). Emphasis on the desirability of and benefits from ‘alternative’ tourism (in its many forms), along with sustainable tourism development, really presupposes the validity of the critique of mass tourism. Nevertheless, the usefulness of such notions as ‘sustainable tourism development’ and ‘alternative’ tourism has not gone uncontested. Some time ago, for example, Butler (1992: 44) argued mass tourism was with us to stay and that ‘alternative tourism’ was less of a panacea than often claimed, while Lanfant (1992: 112) suggested alternative tourism had ‘not broken radically with the “other tourism’’ ’ and, for Cohen (1992: 275), ‘criticism of established mass tourism appears too radical’. In fact, there is little academic consensus on the meaning of sustainable tourism development and little empirical evidence that such a concept can be usefully applied (Sharpley, 2009: 175), as revealed when focusing on social structures and cultures (Harrison, 1996: 76–82; Harrison, 2014: 148). This has not prevented Weaver from suggesting, in this book (see Chapter 6, this volume) and elsewhere (2012, 2013), that any conceptualization of sustainable tourism development must include the possibility that, along with sustainable alternative tourism, there must be a willingness to bring about sustainable mass tourism. At the same time, powerful defences of mass tourism have also emerged, including from two contributors to the present volume. Butcher (2003) has challenged portrayals of ‘the new tourist’ as morally superior to the mass tourist, arguing instead that ‘guilt-free’ mass tourism brings genuine development and opportunities to developing societies (Butcher, 2003: 134), while Aramberri makes a similar claim, provocatively asserting that, through liberal capitalism, ‘mass societies have generally put more cash in their members’ pockets, henceforth creating, among other things, an impressive growth in MMT [Modern Mass Tourism]’ (Aramberri, 2010: 7).

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The role of such writers in urging the need to address the issues of mass tourism, rather than simply subjecting it to blanket criticism, is acknowledged, as are efforts of those who have tried to create typologies of tourists. Special mention should be made here of Cohen’s (1972) categorization of tourists as ‘institutionalized’ or ‘non-institutionalized’, according to the extent they rely on others to plan their trips, and his later continuum of tourist experience, ranging from secular hedonism to the search for ultimate meaning (Cohen, 1979). His and other key contributions have been summarized by Ryan (2003: 73–88), Smith (2000) and Chen (2015), who show that tourists can be defined, inter alia, by their motivation for travel, their interests and personality types, their age or position in the life cycle, their interests, and the economic, social, cultural and environmental impacts on the places they visit. By contrast, like MacCannell (1999) and Krippendorf (1987), others have seen tourism’s changing features as a reflection of their home societies, relating ‘new tourism’ to ‘the burgeoning new middle classes of the First World’ and ‘new middle classes from the Third World, most particularly from South East Asia’ (Mowforth and Munt, 2016: 152).

Towards an Ideal Type of Mass Tourism Too often, tourism academics, non-government agencies and, in particular, aid agencies have ­ignored the ‘elephant in the room’ and focused on small-scale, ‘sustainable’ projects. As argued elsewhere (Harrison, 2015: 65–71), however, this position is untenable: (i) capitalism and international tourism are likely to continue into the foreseeable future; (ii) mass tourism will continue to be the norm; and (iii) virtually all forms of ‘alternative’ tourism will remain linked to and dependent on mass tourism, and none of them will replace it. We live in a globalized world. Correspondingly, the overall unit of analysis is a global, capitalist system involving mass production and mass consumption, within which, as the pattern of international tourist movements indicates, national, regional and international boundaries are continuously criss-crossed, for most of the time as a matter of course. As in any system,

what happens in one part has knock-on effects on others. The 1920s’ fashion for a sun tan led relatively wealthy Northern Europeans to seek the sun in the Mediterranean; later, after the Second World War, surplus aircraft, improved technology and increased disposable incomes prompted many more holidaymakers from the colder parts of Europe to leave their traditional seaside resorts (and their unpredictable weather), in favour of (cheap) sun, sea and sand in the Southern Mediterranean. In short, the rise of the Mediterranean resorts led directly to the decline of such UK resorts as Blackpool, Eastbourne and Brighton. More recent examples include the impact on tourist demand of terrorist attacks on such popular destinations as Bali and Tunisia, and the general impact of the global financial crisis of 2008–2010. A further example of globalization is the post-Second World War spread of the transnational tourist corporation (TTC), especially hospitality chains and tour operators. As ­Bianchi (2015: 328) has observed, ‘an increasingly complex and differentiated geography of tourism production, distribution and exchange has emerged, underwritten by the forces of economic globalization and market liberalization’. More recently, the influence of TTCs has spread to China, whose renminbi is sought by destinations in developed and developing countries alike. It is but one example of the fact that, irrespective of their rankings in World Bank income tables, nearly all nation states seek tourists, frequently competing with one another for visitors from both old and new markets. Indeed, with the spread of TTCs and the emergence of East and South-east Asia as sources and destinations of international tourists, it no longer makes sense to distinguish artificially between ‘development’ in the West and elsewhere. Rather, it is imperative they are seen as component and intrinsic parts of a global system (Harrison, 2015). It then follows that the continuing failure to compare historical studies of Western tourism with studies of tourism development in today’s developed and developing countries cannot be  justified. As pointed out elsewhere, ‘nearly 150 years after the introduction of package tours for large numbers of people in Europe, the debates it engendered and the processes it involved continue to be relevant’ (Harrison, 2001: 3). In  particular, the increased purchasing power



Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World

of a growing middle class, along with improvements in transport and communications, which characterized the emergence of large-scale tourism in the 19th and 20th centuries in Europe and the Americas, are similarly influential in the growth of modern tourism from and to East Asia and the Pacific. New tourism centres and peripheries are undoubtedly being formed, but the processes underlying their formation are not new (Harrison, 2017). With the above axioms in mind, we move to our analysis of mass tourism. Following Weber, we define it by noting the presence of major features which, taken together, form an ideal type, an heuristic device which facilitates comparison of social phenomena with one another and against a constant yardstick (Weber, 1949: 90–104). We consider the following features of mass tourism to be critical, though not all need be (or are likely to be) found in any one example of mass tourism; rather, in every case, there will be more or less conformity to the ideal type. 1.  There is a regular and systematic movement, involving many industries, of large numbers of people away from their normal places of residence, primarily for holiday purposes. 2.  Tourist numbers at destinations are concentrated and seasonal. 3. The major stakeholders in mass tourism – ­governments and providers of transport, accommodation and attractions – operate in order to make a profit and may benefit from economies of scale. 4.  Travel, accommodation and attractions, designed for large numbers of people, are structured and organized by specialist organizations, often with strong links across national boundaries, and often in packages. 5.  Control of key elements of the tourism industry rests outside the destinations, possibly with transnational companies. 6.  There is concern about the economic, social, cultural or environmental consequences of tourism, which may include commoditization and standardization of production, changing social structures, loss of ‘authenticity’ and environmental degradation. 7.  National and international institutions have emerged to support or oppose tourism and respond to its consequences. 8.  Impacts are contingent not only on absolute numbers of tourists, but also on the nature of

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the destination population, its prior experience of tourism, and cultural and other differences between tourist and destination resident. 9. Interaction between tourist and resident is fleeting and superficial and restricted to commercial contexts involving the provider and recipient of services. 10.  Where there are marked economic, cultural or social inequalities between tourist and resident, social interaction might be underpinned by stereotypes and/or power disparities. 11. Distinctions might be made: (i) between tourists who focus primarily on ‘nature’ (admittedly a broad term) and those whose activities occur predominantly within an urban ­environment; and (ii) between those interested primarily in hedonistic pursuits and others involved in ‘higher’ or more ‘spiritual’ activities. Nevertheless variations may well occur through what Pearce has described as the travel career ladder (TCL), and tourists’ motivation can be analysed across many typologies (and combinations of motivation and tourist types) (Pearce, 2005: 50–85). In portraying these ideal typical features as continua (Table 1.2), first, it should be noted that we have not further specified types of tourist, though other criteria are clearly possible. Indeed, the term ‘mass tourism’ covers a wide variety of travel contexts, including: (i) travellers’ motivations; (ii) the organization and underlying process of their journey; (iii) their choice of destination; and (iv) the activities they pursue on arrival. However, in some sense, tourists in virtually every typology produced by tourism scholars can be regarded as mass tourists, participating within an overall system designed to move people, en masse, cheaply, safely and quickly from one part of the globe to another. Secondly, it is recognized that several features of the ideal type might also be applied to other travellers, including the military, traders and pilgrims. Writing at a time when there is a mass movement of displaced people from the war zones of the Middle East and Africa, it should be evident that other forms of ‘mobility’ often overlap with tourism. Indeed, despite the often tragic differences, economic migrants and refugees have much in common with recreational tourists (Hannam, 2009; Amin, 2016; Pechlaner and Nordhorn, 2016).

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Table 1.2.  Mass tourism: ideal type continua. LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW LOW

Numbers of tourists and ratios to resident population Physical concentration of tourist accommodation Levels of seasonality Extent tourism is established in the region Extent tourism is for profit Local control of tourism sector Level of formal organization of tourism sector Economic impacts Social impacts Environmental impacts Opposition to tourism Intensity of tourist–local interaction Levels of social inequality between tourists and residents Extent to which interaction of tourists and locals is mediated by others (e.g. guides) Nature–urbanization Spirituality–hedonism

Thirdly, although not addressed in this foray into mass tourism, if tourism development is to be genuinely comparative across time as well as place, research methods need to be considerably refined and expanded. Tools developed by macroeconomists to assess economic processes underlying modern tourism development have been well honed (Dwyer et al., 2010) but are difficult to apply to tourism development in earlier periods. Doxey’s (1975) Irritation Index, too, is perhaps less appealing or appropriate when used to assess (if indeed it were possible) local reactions to tourism over, say, even a 50-year period. Butler’s model of the Tourism Area Life Cycle (TALC) (1980) has proved more versatile, having been used extensively to assess the social impact of increasing tourist numbers across a wide range of destinations in both developed and developing societies (Butler, 2006a, b) and, in at least one instance, has been applied to more distant historical material (Weaver, 2006). More complex concepts do exist, for example ‘carrying capacity’ and its more recent variant ‘limits of acceptable change,’ or the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development’s (OECD) core indicators for environmental performance, as applied to a Spanish mass tourism resort (Robello and Baidal, 2003). However, these are hard to apply in modern mass tourism destinations, and even more so to historical or current destinations at earlier stages of development. In addition, statistical techniques used to measure the impacts of large numbers of tourists are quite crude. Several measures used to compare concentrations of tourists at different

HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH HIGH

destinations, for example the Tourist Intensity Rate, Tourist Penetration Rate and Tourism Density Ratio (Harrison, 1992a: 12; Dumbrovská and Fialova, 2014; McElroy, 2015), provide only a rough indication of impact. Their use is neither standardized nor widespread; they rarely distinguish between high and low seasons; and they cannot take into account the many historical and cultural factors that affect the social and economic impacts of tourism on destinations. In the end, numbers are not the only factor: large numbers of tourists may be absorbed relatively comfortably, as in world cities with a long history of receiving visitors, whereas even a few visitors to destinations unaccustomed to tourists, especially those who want to understand local culture and meet local people, may be highly disruptive. We have thus refrained from polarizing small- and large-scale tourism, recognizing that ‘sustainability’ (in so far as it can be defined) is not automatically in an inverse relationship to scale: ‘large’ does not automatically mean ‘ugly’, any more than ‘small’ is necessarily ‘beautiful’ (Harrison, 2012).

About this Book: a Preview In this book, we have endeavoured to balance theoretical perspectives, historical approaches and case studies of specific regions. Following this introduction, the six chapters in Section 2 present a range of theoretical approaches, in which several established scholars of mass tourism build on their previous work. Aramberri (Chapter 2) and



Introduction: Mass Tourism in a Small World

Butcher (Chapter 3) focus on general features of mass tourism, with the former arguing that while tourism’s global growth has been uneven, it has benefited countries and regions with a comparative advantage in tourism resources. For ­Aramberri, mass tourism is here to stay and, rather than continually arguing about its impacts, the priority is to understand what is going on. By contrast, Butcher challenges the moral superiority often claimed by advocates of ‘alternative’ or ‘ethical’ forms of tourism, and argues mass tourism should be celebrated not only for the economic benefits it brings, but also for its role in democratizing travel and contributing to the self-fulfilment, empowerment and ‘moral autonomy’ of increasing numbers of traveller. Bianchi (Chapter 4) adopts a Marxist political economy approach. He situates mass tourism, especially in the Southern Mediterranean, in a global economic system dominated by neo-­ liberal free market ideology, where the dynamics of capital accumulation and forces of production and reproduction – the ‘logics’ of capitalism – are reflected in the differential articulation of international tourism corporations with national and local capitals and played out through political– institutional arrangements in different societies. By contrast, Savelli and Manella (Chapter 5) summarize the emergence of Italian tourism and discuss how social scientists have analysed tourism’s impacts, its technologies and forms of organization, new and (especially) urban destinations, and the regionalization of tourism and its governance that have accompanied globalization. They note that perceptions and practices of travel and tourism have changed: tourism may be a form of nomadism, an escape from self, a base for constructing new identities, a mode of self-fulfilment, and an indicator of well-being. The last two chapters in Section 2 focus more on the issue of sustainability. Weaver (Chapter 6) suggests ‘mass’ and ‘alternative’ tourism can merge in forms of enlightened or sustainable mass tourism, where economies of scale and competitively driven innovation are combined with more sensitive and ethical features of alternative tourism, and he uses evidence of best practice from protected national parks and urban beach resorts to demonstrate that mass tourism can indeed incorporate elements of sustainability. By contrast, Holden (Chapter 7) notes the problematic reciprocal relationship of

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tourism with climate change, the impacts of mass tourism on ecosystems and natural habitats, and the need for governments and planners to counter tourism’s negative consequences and promote pro-environment behaviour among tourists. Perhaps less of an optimist than Weaver, he asks how far such individual or collective tourist behaviour will occur voluntarily. The authors of the five chapters in Section 3 take a historical approach. Heeley’s (Chapter 8) very personal account of tourism development in Britain depicts how public and private capital – local authorities, the aristocracy and ‘local grandees’, railway companies and an assortment of private entrepreneurs – variously combined to bring about 19th-century urban tourism development. By contrast, Sharpley (Chapter 9) traces the process of ‘Butlinization’, showing how the operational principles of Billy Butlin, a key player in providing tourism for the masses in British holiday camps, are reflected in more recent forms of all-inclusive tourism, including cruise holidays and all-inclusive beach resorts in the Caribbean. Farr (Chapter 10), too, looks at ­British tourism, and his wide-ranging account of post-1970s’ British seaside resorts, and their depiction in film and print, reveals a narrative and perception of ‘declinism’ only partly confirmed by the realities. Some resorts clearly survived, with or without efforts to rebrand and re-present them as ‘heritage’, while others did decline, despite (sometimes half-hearted) political attempts to prioritize British seaside tourism. Bricker (Chapter 11) and Duval (Chapter 12) shift attention away from the UK. The former reviews mass tourism in protected areas managed by the National Park Service (NPS) in the USA, outlining the emergent role and administration of the NPS, and the extent and economic importance of large-scale tourism (especially through the operation of concessions). She details the continued challenges faced by the NPS in pursuing its twin (and sometimes conflicting) goals of enabling people to enjoy the parks and preserving landscapes in their natural state. By contrast and more generally, Duval addresses the links between transport and tourism, highlighting the continued tension between consumer and commercial interests, between the desire for national sovereignty and free movement, especially in air travel, and the role of international regulation, designed to control and regularize such movement.

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In Section 4, there are seven chapters on mass tourism in specific destinations. Ryan (Chapter 13) examines mass tourism in the context of China, by far the most important emerging global destination and a much-valued source of tourists, and the role of government policy in promoting tourism, including mass domestic tourism, as a form of economic development. Cohen (Chapter 14) examines Chinese and Russian visitors in Thailand, noting their different characteristics as sightseers and vacationers, respectively, the destabilizing effect of mass tourism on the image of destinations, and the impact of changing economic conditions on the volume of inbound tourism. Attention then shifts to Bulgaria and then the Mediterranean, with chapters by Ivanov (Chapter 15), Andrews (Chapter 16) and Jeffrey and Bleasdale (Chapter 17). All discuss destinations where tourism is both seasonal and highly concentrated, and all acknowledge mass tourism has brought considerable economic benefits to resident populations. However, their overall assessments are quite nuanced. For Ivanov, although mass tourism has had negative consequences in Bulgaria, and both the private sector and government could do more to make Bulgarian tourism more sustainable, he considers mass tourism to have been largely beneficial, not only economically but also socially, culturally and environmentally. Andrews is more circumspect: she acknowledges tourism’s economic advantages for Mallorca but notes, too, the disruptive impact of in-migration, the environmental degradation, water shortages, and resident and tourist ‘enclaves’. That said, she reflects that local authorities are attempting to redress these issues and that mass tourism in the island is likely to continue. A very different situation is found in Tunisia where, as Jeffrey and Bleasdale note, tourism has been promoted as a tool for economic and social development, with an explicit Westernizing ethos (reportedly appreciated by the Tunisian middle class). However, Western

tourism arrivals have plummeted since terrorist attacks and while the authors offer five possible solutions, including targeting tourists from the Middle East and emerging countries, notably China and Russia, any success will ultimately depend on the re-establishment of stability, which is likely to take time. Finally, there are two chapters on island destinations. In the first, the late Greg Ashworth and John Tunbridge (Chapter 18) describe Malta’s efforts to move from mass beach tourism to heritage tourism. However, the promotion seems to have been half-hearted, the ‘heritage’ market fickle and diverse, often blurring into beach tourism, and the messages of heritage attractions contested, while supplementary but necessary cultural attractions (e.g. gastronomy, shopping and entertainment) are unavailable. In Chapter 19, Wilkinson argues that, while employment benefits might be considerable, the financial returns from Caribbean cruise ship tourism are exaggerated, especially when one considers leakages from imports, the cost of new piers for ever-larger ships, and the use of private islands. His assessment is unequivocal: mass cruise tourism is badly managed by destinations ignorant of its complexity or its costs. It is a mess. Clearly, our coverage of the global aspects of mass tourism is somewhat uneven and the assessments of mass tourism by contributors to this book are varied. This is no surprise: they approach the issues from different theoretical perspectives and focus on different destinations at different times. Despite the alleged standardization said to characterize mass tourism, it is full of complexities and one size does not fit all. It is hoped, though, that together we have started a wider and more balanced debate about the ­nature and role of mass tourism in the ‘small world’ we inhabit, some of us as participants in a continued ‘academic romance’ (Lodge, 1984) and every one of us as global citizens in a world of increasing inter-dependence, where ‘development’ is a continuing issue for us all.

References Agarwal, S. and Shaw, G. (eds) (2007) Managing Coastal Tourism Resorts: A Global Perspective. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK. Amin, L. (2016) Lesbos: A Greek Island in limbo over tourism, refugees and its future. The Guardian, 4 March.



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Andrews, H. (2011) The British on Holiday: Charter Tourism, Identity and Consumption. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Aramberri, J. (2010) Modern Mass Tourism. Emerald, Bingley, UK. Arlt, W.G. (2016) China’s outbound tourism: history, current development, and outlook. In: Li, X. (Robert) (ed.) Chinese Outbound Tourism 2.0. Apple Academic Press, Waretown, New Jersey, pp. 3–19. Ashworth, G. and Tunbridge, J. (1990) The Tourist-Historic City. Belhaven Press, London. Baranowski, S. (2005) Radical nationalism in an international context: strength through joy and the paradoxes of Nazi tourism. In: Walton, J. (ed.) Histories of Tourism: Re-presentation, Identity and Conflict. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK, pp. 125–143. Becken, S. (2013) A review of tourism and climate change as an evolving knowledge domain. Tourism Management Perspectives 6, 53–62. Berger, R. (2015) European City Tourism Study 2015. Berger, Munich, Germany. Berghoff, H., Korte, B., Schneider, R. and Harvie, C. (eds) (2002) The Making of Modern Tourism: The Cultural History of the British Experience, 1600–2000. Palgrave, Houndmills, Basingstoke, UK. Bianchi, R. (2015) Towards a new political economy of global tourism revisited. In: Sharpley, R. and Telfer, D. (eds) Tourism Development: Concepts and Issues, 2nd edn. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK, pp. 287–331. Black, J. (1992) The British Abroad: The Grand Tour in the Eighteenth Century. Sutton Publishing, Stroud, UK. Blanchar, C. (2015) Barcelona Mayor Introduces One-year Ban on New Tourist Accommodation. Available at: http://elpais.com/elpais/2015/07/02/inenglish/1435828213_655223.html (accessed 11 May 2015). Boissevain, J. (ed.) (1996) Coping with Tourists: European Reaction to Mass Tourism. Berghahn Books, Oxford. Borsay, P. and Walton, J.K. (eds) (2011) Resorts and Ports: European Seaside Towns Since 1700. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Boyer, M. (2007) Le Tourisme de Masse. L’Harmattan, Paris. Bramwell, B. (ed.) (2004) Coastal Mass Tourism: Diversification and Sustainable Development in Southern Europe. Channel View Publications Clevedon, UK. Butcher, J. (2003) The Moralisation of Tourism: Sun, Sand … and Saving of the World. Routledge, London. Butler, R. (1980) The concept of a tourist area life cycle of evolution: implications for management of resources. The Canadian Geographer 24(1), 5–12. Butler, R. (1992) Alternative tourism: the thin end of the wedge. In: Smith, V. and Eadington, W. (eds) Tourism Alternatives: Potentials and Problems in the Development of Tourism. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, pp. 31–46. Butler, R. (ed.) (2006a) The Tourism Area Life Cycle, Vol.1: Applications and Modifications. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Butler, R. (ed.) (2006b) The Tourism Area Life Cycle, Vol. 2: Conceptual and Theoretical Issues. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Buzard, J. (1993) The Beaten Track: European Tourism, Literature and the Ways to ‘Culture’, 1800–1918. Clarendon Press, Oxford. Casson, L. (1974) Travel in the Ancient World. John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, Maryland. Chen, G. (2015) Typology, tourist. In: Jafari, J. and Ziao, H. (eds) Encyclopedia of Tourism. Springer, Basel, Switzerland. Cohen, E. (1972) Toward a sociology of international tourism. Social Research 39(1), 164–182. Cohen, E. (1979) A phenomenology of tourist experience. Sociology 13(2), 179–201. Cohen, E. (1992) Alternative tourism: a critique. In: Singh, T.V., Fish, M., Smith, V. and Richter, L. (eds) Tourism Environment: Nature, Culture, Economy. Inter-India Publications, New Delhi, pp. 269–278. Cole, S. (2008) Tourism, Culture and Development: Hopes, Dreams and Realities in East Indonesia. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK. Corbin, A. (1994) The Lure of the Sea. Polity Press, Cambridge. Croall, J. (1995) Preserve or Destroy: Tourism and the Environment. Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, London. Dann, G. and Parrinello, G.L. (2009) Setting the Scene. In: Dann, G. and Parrinello, G. (eds) The Sociology of Tourism: European Origins and Developments. Emerald, Bingley, UK, pp. 1–64. Dedieu, F. and Mathieu, B. (2015) Le Tourisme Peut-il Sauver la France? Available at: http://lexpansion.lexpress. fr/actualite-economique/le-tourisme-peut-il-sauver-la-france_1665209.html (accessed 7 April 2015). de Kadt, E. (ed.) (1979) Tourism: Passport to Development? Oxford University Press, Oxford. Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) (2015) Backing the Tourism Sector: A Five Point Plan. DCMS, London.

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Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

Julio Aramberri* Dongbei University of Finance and Economics (DUFE), Dalian, People’s Republic of China

What Does It Take To Make One Mass Tourist? If mass tourism is anything, it is a pleonasm. It definitely seems excessive to pile one substantive on top of the other for, in itself, tourism already involves the concept of mass. Tourism is not just another synonym for travel, but a historically specific portion of it (Urry, 2007) – journeying today is an activity undertaken by large numbers of people, that is, it means masses on the move. Nowadays, hundreds of millions of people engage in this behaviour and spend a significant part of their income travelling. It is in order to emphasize this fact that we call it mass tourism, or sometimes even modern mass tourism. This is a hyperbolic use to convey the idea of tourism as something that did not exist before the 1920s, though it has become an important contemporary economic and social activity that involves billions of consumers every year, and counting . . . This does not mean, of course, that only modern people do or have travelled. The term ‘travel’ applies to most types of spatial movement; accordingly, ‘travel’ has been a substantial part of social life since the earliest of times. Hunters and gatherers, for example, were in almost perpetual motion. Indeed, although collectively they numbered just a few million at any given time, proportionally they travelled in far

greater numbers than today’s tourists. For them, roaming was an essential component of life and, moreover, their main mode of production. Thus, as soon as they depleted the resources in their places of temporary stay, they would drift away in search of new feeding grounds. These two features (small absolute numbers of practitioners and travel as survival strategy) pertain to an earlier form of travel, not to tourism. Subsequently, in the centuries following the Neolithic revolution, travel became an oddity for most people. People and communities became land-bound and would seldom leave their places of residence. For the few that did travel for whatever purpose, trips over land were arduous, time-consuming and expensive. Above all, travel was extremely hazardous and so, for example, Chaucer’s pilgrims travelled with a group, for few would dare to undertake their journey alone. Contemporary tourism, however, would not exist without some fundamental developments in transportation technologies. Railways were the first innovation to pave the way to mass tourism (Urry, 1990; Urry and Larsen, 2011). Whereas the Concord Stagecoaches that roved the American West in the 1820s could accommodate just nine passengers in the cabin with a couple of others riding on top, 20 years later a testimony before the House of Commons in the UK estimated that one train could accommodate

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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Julio Aramberri

between 1000 and 1200 passengers at a time (House of Commons, 1845: 131). Trains, as well as steam navigation, thus became the two main mass transport systems of the 19th century. The motor car was later developed in the early 20th century and quickly became a preferred mode of transportation. It was in the USA that the number of cars first reached a critical mass; in 1927, the year that Ford Motor Company ceased production of its successful Model T, there were 23,133,243 cars on ­American roads (NACC, 2015). Individual cars did not, of course, have the same carrying capacity as trains, but they could move more freely on paved and even unpaved roads while trains were forced to stay on their tracks. All over the USA, cars offered enhanced mobility and personal freedom to larger and larger numbers of people who could access areas the trains could not. In this narrow sense, therefore, the USA was the initial home of mass tourism. Even in 1950s’ Western Europe, conversely, car ownership was what it had always been – a major luxury. In France, for example, there was just one car for every 12 households, and most were registered in urban areas; rural Britain was as much deprived of cars as rural France or Italy. Seemingly overnight, however, the equation changed. In the 1970s, the number of private cars rose to 11.5 million in Britain, 12 million in France (Judt, 2010: 340) and 14.8 million in West Germany (Davis et al., 2014: Table 2.3). In other words, if trains had opened the way, it was cars that made mass travel a tangible experience for millions upon millions of people in the decades following the Second World War. Mass tourism was here to stay. Railways and cars by themselves would not, however, have unleashed tourism without two other fundamental developments. First, from 1950 onwards, discretionary income (i.e. revenue available to households discounting taxes and living expenses) grew more quickly than gross domestic product (GDP) in most Western countries. During that decade, per capita GDP increased at an annual rate of 6.5% in West Germany, 5.3% in Italy and 3.5% in France. Moreover: in the two decades after 1953, real wages almost tripled in West Germany and the Benelux countries. In Italy the rate of income growth was higher still . . . By 1965, food and clothing absorbed just 31% of consumer spending in

Britain; by 1980 the average for northern and western Europe as a whole was less than one quarter. (Judt, 2010: 338)

Discretionary income increased in real terms later in other regions of the globe, such as Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Singapore. Some of this income was saved; the rest was spent on non-essential consumer goods such as tourism. Paid vacations were the second great architect of tourism. Since the 1870s, European trade unions and workers had struggled for an 8-hour working day, yet, even after this was achieved, the majority of people still worked most of the year, Sundays and public holidays excepted. In 1936, the French Front Populaire government mandated a 2-week paid vacation for the first time in history; the UK soon followed with the Holidays with Pay Act 1938. This heralded the start of a market for tourism that had not previously existed. In Europe: [r]ecreational travel . . . was not new, though it had hitherto been confined first to the aristocracy and latterly to the better-heeled and more culturally ambitious middle classes . . . [T]he tourism boom of the 1950s was different. It was facilitated and encouraged by the availability of private transport and above all by the growing number of people enjoying paid vacations . . . Leisure travel was becoming mass tourism. (Judt, 2010: 342)

Following the French and British examples, paid vacations expanded quickly after the Second World War both in length and the number of countries providing them; by 2012, paid nonworking days including both annual leave and public holidays averaged around 30–35 days in Organisation for Economic Co-operation and ­Development (OECD) countries (OECD, 2014). The main exceptions were Canada (18 days), Japan (10 days) and the USA where there are no statutory vacations. However, even there paid vacations and public holidays for full-time workers averaged 19–22 days (Ray et al., 2013). Developing countries followed suit, although ­ growth remained more sluggish in discretionary income – a barrier to tourism development. Mass tourism evolved in the USA slightly earlier than in Europe. Up until the 1920s, outbound American travellers were almost exclusively the rich and privileged. In 1895, for



Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

example, two-thirds of Europe-bound Americans travelled in first-class cabins of huge ocean liners. By 1929, however, outbound American tourists numbered around half a million, but many occupied less expensive facilities (Boorstin, 2010). Yet in a country as geographically large as the USA it was car ownership that promoted mobility for the masses starting in the 1920s and 1930s. It was in their cars that Americans of all classes went to work and to school, cars allowed millions to live in the suburbs, many had their first sexual experience in cars, and many more travelled around for pleasure at weekends and on vacation. Some indeed, such as the Joads of The Grapes of Wrath, were desperately seeking employment after the Great Depression but, nevertheless, they were car owners. Many others drove to enrich their free time. Franchises – the epitome of American hospitality inventions – also transformed eating and overnighting into a pleasant, steadfast and affordable experience for millions of increasingly mobile Americans (­Halberstam, 1993) whose discretionary income had rocketed in the 1950s. From the 1950s, it was technological ­advances, particularly in air transport, that was to dramatically reduce the time and the cost of travel (Boorstin, 2010). Nevertheless, this new industry had experienced some rocky beginnings. For consumers, flying was much costlier than railways; therefore, 85% of first adopters were either major-business people or high-income swashbucklers, and many start-up airlines went bankrupt (Bilstein, 2001). However, airplanes could not be beaten in terms of speed. In 1937, a transcontinental flight from New York to Los Angeles would take 17 hours, compared with a few days going by train. Still, air traveller numbers remained low compared with train users and, for common citizens, planes still represented more of a safety risk than trains. Consequently, in 1939 flyers were just 7.6% of the total of long-distance train users (Heppenheimer, 1997). US international air travel displayed a similarly slow upward trend (van Vleck, 2013). In 1939, Pan Am’s Dixie Clipper made its maiden flight to Europe. The plane, a four-engine Boeing B-314, carried 22 passengers, refuelled in the Azores, landed in Lisbon and reached its final destination in Marseilles. In 1955, transatlantic travel by air reached 1 million passengers, twice as many as those going by boat. In 1970, with

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5  million US international air travellers, the numbers crossing the oceans by ship had declined to 150,000 (Boorstin, 2010). Petzinger (1996) recounts how, following the end of the Second World War, Europe quickly transformed a large excess of military aircraft into tourist-packed airliners. Both scheduled and charter flights benefited. Charter flights (flying from point to point at irregular times) in particular provided millions of Western Europeans with vacations beyond their national borders and made international travel a normal routine. Western Mediterranean sun and sea destinations, especially Spain, became the playgrounds for British, German, Nordic, French and other tourists, to the loss of their former national seaside resorts (Urry, 1990). The growth in scheduled flights (usually measured in revenue passenger/ kilometre or RPK) started at a steady pace until the end of the 1970s when it increased remarkably. In 1979, it passed the 1 trillion RPK mark and then multiplied by a factor of six; by 2013, scheduled airlines carried 3.1 billion passengers. Over the years, international air traffic has outpaced domestic; in 2013 they represented 62% and 38% of air travel, respectively (ICAO, 2014). It is no surprise that, in 2014, air was the main mode of transportation for international tourism (54%), followed by cars (UNWTO, 2015). To summarize, discretionary income and paid vacations, together with the available transportation technologies, transformed tourism into what it is nowadays – a new type of leisurely behaviour engaged in by billions of people every year. Never before in history had a similar phenomenon been witnessed.

A Greatly Lopsided System Most researchers view the rapid and well-­ documented expansion of international tourism from the 1950s onwards as one of the main forces of globalization. This inference, however, does not stand up to scrutiny; globalization is a fuzzy concept and its unrestrained use has rendered it less meaningful. Nevertheless, in economic terms it can be more precisely described as a movement towards worldwide economic integration through the reduction of natural and human-made barriers to exchange and increased

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international flows of capital and labour (Wolf, 2006: 15). In the case of tourism, though, globalization requires physical displacement; therefore, it will trail behind other, more immaterial activities as a global force. In other words, as ­remarkable as the dynamics of tourism are, they cannot compare with those of finance, banking, movies, television or the Internet. This is why tourism has not achieved a high level of globalization – although it is an activity practised all over the world, it is not globalized. This seems counterintuitive. A well-known United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) graphic on the predicted development of tourism from 1950 to 2030 shows growth in leaps and bounds. From just 25 million international arrivals recorded in 1950, international tourism is predicted to have increased by a quite remarkable factor of 72 to reach 1.8 billion arrivals in 2030 (UNWTO, 2015). By 2015, international arrivals had reached the 1.2 billion mark, seemingly on track to validate this projection (UNWTO, 2016). Nevertheless, despite this apparent success story, in its full magnitude present-day tourism is far from a fundamental globalizing force. In other words, the UNWTO database on international arrivals is just that – international – leaving unaccounted the billions of travellers who do not cross any borders; that is, domestic tourists (Aramberri, 2015). This is weird statistics. Imagine how useful the ICAO (International Civil Aviation Organization) would be if they only dealt with international data (ICAO, 2015). None the less, for too many years, the UNWTO has distinguished domestic tourism with a cavalier neglect. Indeed, it was only in 2013 that domestic tourism first made a cameo appearance in the statistics, said to have reached 5–6 billion arrivals worldwide in 2012 (­UNWTO, 2013). Given the breadth of this ballpark ­figure, it has predictably remained the same since then. This ‘half-baked’ focus distorts our understanding of tourism. First, it bolsters the metonymic illusion that tourism’s dynamics – social, economic and cultural – only tally because it is international. Additionally, hiding the colossal ­dimensions of domestic tourism dispenses with any accurate view of the actual structure of tourism (Aramberri, 2010, 2013). The UNWTO’s insistence on documenting only international flows, even in the remotest places, ­creates the impression that tourism is equally

spread everywhere; that it is a fully fledged ­globalizing vector whose advance only differs in speed, higher in some countries, slower in others. Otherwise, tourism is growing uniformly everywhere. Globalization, however, means something different – integration, combined activities, synergies. Like food, tourism may indeed flourish all over the world; like food, however, it is mostly consumed locally. Therefore, its bearing on globalization is quite limited. Mining the World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) database (WTTC, 2015a), one reaches a richer and more complex understanding. Far from being global, tourism growth is evident only in some areas and tourist flows display a rigid and unequal structure. WTTC does not focus on movements of people, but on the economic weight or impact of tourism, estimating both the direct1 and the total value it adds to national, regional or world economies (WTTC, 2015b). Here we will focus on direct-impact data as they come closer to the individual consumption of tourism services, both domestic and international. A key indicator of the weight of tourism consumption is the value added per capita in each of the units studied. In 2014, tourism added value per capita in 165 countries and territories (selected under the same criteria as in Aramberri, 2013) derived from dividing their direct economic contribution to GDP (as defined in note 1) by their population in the same year. The results, duly ranked, are shown in Table 2.1. One flamboyant ‘black swan’, however, dominates and distorts the classification. Macau, a tiny Chinese island-city, generated US$47,696 of tourism-added value per capita. Its success reflects its status as the main gambling and casino centre in the world and a magnet for the millions of Chinese not allowed to bet money on the mainland. Macau’s tourism direct contribution is thus roughly seven times that of territory #2 – Aruba in the Caribbean basin, with US$7296. The weight of Macau in the total ranking would therefore bias the group’s per capita average. With Macau, it is US$1023; without it, US$738. Therefore, Macau is not included in most of the following calculations, and a notional US$735 average is used as a baseline. The remaining 164 countries and territories have been arbitrarily distributed around this average. Group #1 gathers countries over 1.5 times average (≥ US$1101); Group #2 those between

Black swan (US$47,696)

Top producers (≥ US$1,101)

Above average (US$736–1,100)

High below average (US$366–735)



Table 2.1.  Countries and territories: tourism added value per capita 2014. (Author’s elaboration on data from WTTC, 2015b.) Laggards 1 (US$365–101)

Laggards 2 (≤ US$100)

Incomea

Country

Incomea

Country

Incomea Country

Incomea

Country

Incomea

Macau

Aruba

HI

Ireland

HI*O

Belize

UMI

UMI

Vietnam

LMI

US Virgin Islands Cayman Islands Bermuda Bahamas Hong Kong

HI HI HI HI HI

HI*O HI UMI HI*O HI

Mexico Puerto Rico Fiji Malaysia Dominica

UMI*O HI UMI UMI UMI

UMI UMI UMI UMI HI

Angola UMI Laos LMI Nicaragua LMI Solomon Islands LMI Macedonia, FYROMb UMI

Iceland

HI*O

Finland Bahrain St Lucia Netherlands St Kitts and Nevis Japan

HI*O

Vanuatu

LMI

Malta Seychelles Norway Singapore Maldives

HI HI HI*O HI UMI

Panama Slovenia Israel Kuwait Lebanon

UMI HI*O HI*O HI UMI

Austria

HI*O

Antigua and Barbuda Luxemburg Qatar

HI

Cape Verde Brunei Saudi Arabia Canada Korea, Republic Trinidad and Tobago Hungary

HI

United Arab Emirates Switzerland Germany Barbados Spain New Zealand

HI*O HI

St Vincent and the Grenadines Libya Jordan Tunisia Botswana Lithuania

UMI

Paraguay

UMI

LMI HI HI HI*O HI*O

Dominican Republic Bulgaria Albania Morocco Poland Peru

UMI UMI LMI HI*O UMI

Mongolia Syria Lesotho Kenya Senegal

UMI LMI LMI LMI LMI

HI

Kazakhstan

UMI

Ukraine

LMI

HI*O

Algeria

UMI

Nigeria

LMI

UMI UMI

Sudan Swaziland

LMI LMI LMI

UMI HI*O

South Africa China

HI

Grenada Czech Republic Venezuela

HI

Russian Federation HI

Ghana

HI*O HI*O HI HI*O HI*O

Latvia Costa Rica Turkey Argentina Thailand

HI UMI UMI HI UMI

Egypt Azerbaijan Cuba Sri Lanka El Salvador

Zambia Congo Pakistan Cameroon Madagascar

LMI UMI UMI LMI LMI

19

LMI LMI LMI LMI LI Continued

Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

Country Incomea Country

Black swan (US$47,696)

20

Table 2.1.  Continued. Top producers (≥ US$1,101)

Country Incomea Country

Incomea HI*O HI*O HI*O HI HI*O HI*O HI*O HI*O HI*O HI*O

Denmark Mauritius Belgium

HI*O UMI HI*O

Country

Incomea

High below average (US$366–735)

Laggards 1 (US$365–101)

Laggards 2 (≤ US$100)

Country

Incomea Country

Incomea

Country

Incomea

Oman Chile Uruguay Jamaica Slovakia Brazil

HI HI*O HI UMI HI*O UMI

UMI LMI LI UMI UMI LMI UMI LMI LMI LMI

Tanzania Ivory Coast India Mali Nepal Uganda Haiti Comoros Rwanda Bangladesh

LI LMI LMI LI LI LI LI LI LI LMI

UMI UMI LMI LMI UMI

Gambia, the Ethiopia Benin Moldova Togo

LI LI LI LMI LI

UMI UMI UMI LMI LMI

Burkina Faso Mozambique Papua New Guinea Sierra Leone Malawi Chad Central African Republic Niger Burundi Congo, Democratic Republic of

LI LI LMI LI LI LI LI

Romania Kiribati Cambodia Colombia Belarus Honduras Namibia Guyana Armenia São Tomé and Príncipe Serbia Ecuador Guatemala Philippines Bosnia and Herzegovina Gabon Suriname Iran Indonesia Bolivia

LI LI LI

Income as per World Bank (2015): LI, lower income (< US$1,045); LMI, lower middle income (US$1,046–4,125); UMI, upper middle income (US$4,126–12,735); HI, high income (> US$12,736); HI*O, high income and Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) member. FYROM, former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia.

a

b

Julio Aramberri

Australia UK France Croatia USA Greece Italy Sweden Portugal Cyprus

Above average (US$736–1,100)



Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

1  and 1.5 times average (US$736–1100); and Group #3 those below, from 1 to 1.5 times average (US$366–735). The last group has been arbitrarily divided in two: Group #4 includes countries with direct impact of US$365–101 and Group #5 those with a contribution at or below US$100. A number of interesting features appear in the ranking. First, only 48 countries and territories exceed the average while the great majority – 116 units – remain below. If indeed all the countries considered have developed international flows as per UNWTO figures, for most the economic impact is negligible. For instance, if we start from the bottom up, in 69 countries tourism generated less than US$200 per capita. They are but nonentities as far as tourism is concerned. Accordingly, the world distribution of tourism emerges as highly lopsided. This is not surprising when one considers the two necessary conditions (discretionary income and paid vacations) for tourism development. Our list of 44 countries with the lowest tourism direct contribution coincides almost exactly with the 44 countries with the lowest incomes per capita in the world. For them, discretionary income is very low and paid vacations, if they exist, are poorly observed. For the same reason, countries with high income (HI)2 as per the World Bank (2015) classification make up the overwhelming majority of the 48 countries whose tourism ­economic contribution ranks above the US$735 average. In this group, only the Maldives, ­Mauritius, Saint Lucia and Lebanon are upper middle income (UMI) countries. HI countries, on the other hand, are exceptional among the below-­average tourism producers. Only 16 (­Brunei, Saudi Arabia, Canada, South Korea, Trinidad and Tobago, Hungary, Czech Republic, Venezuela, Argentina, Oman, Chile, Uruguay, Slovakia, Lithuania, Poland and the Russian Federation) appear among the 116 in this category (the income classification for Argentina, Russia and Venezuela may be too high for being calculated according to official exchange rates).

Tourism and Development: A Knotty Kinship However, not all of those HI, high tourism per capita producers have the same degree of

21

development. Though it has no unambiguous definition, developed usually means economies that are highly diversified and have a prominent participation of services and knowledge-based activities in their GDP. Not all HI units in the table can be considered developed. Out of the 48 above-average countries, 25 are OECD members, and OECD membership is one of the marks of high development; that is, enjoying both HI levels and highly diversified economies. Hong Kong and Singapore, though non-OECD members, also count in this group. The rest, however, includes HI economies that are not diversified or developed. Macau (our black swan), Aruba, US Virgin Islands, Cayman Islands, Bermuda, Bahamas, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, ­ Seychelles, Maldives, Barbados, Mauritius, ­ ­Bahrain, Saint Lucia, Saint Kitts and Nevis and Kuwait are not. One could make a similar case for Malta, Croatia and Lebanon. The group of the 28 highest below-average contributors shows a similar pattern. It includes 15 HI, 11 UMI and only two lower middle income (LMI). Six HI plus Mexico (UMI) are OECD countries, while the other eight HI plus the remaining 13 UMI and LMI cannot be considered developed. Therefore, the relatively high per capita income status of these last 21 countries depends on a thriving tourism sector. Development is not the key to their success, as their economies show little diversification. Tourism has been their talisman out of stagnation, as most only could add agriculture and other natural resources to their GDP. But tourism, like other blessings, is also compounded by blight, so these highly tourism-dependent economies are vulnerable to any unexpected events that may affect travel (e.g. SARS (severe acute respiratory syndrome), hurricanes, tsunamis, political turmoil). This vulnerability for many top producers of tourism services is strengthened by the weight of their foreign sector. The overwhelming majority of top producers with non-developed economies rely on international arrivals for more than 70% of their tourism GDP. This dependence reaches its peak in Macau (99% international tourism) and in the Caribbean and other islands plus small territories. Such tokens of vulnerability are not a passing trend. It is not easy to see how these tourism-heavy economies might find a substitute for or a complement to tourism given their small size and population, their

22

Julio Aramberri

limited internal demand, and their high specialization in tourism services. In high-income, developed economies, the trend reverses. They are not only HI and highly diversified; also, for more than half, their tourism industry relies mostly on domestic tourism consumption (50% or more). As tourism is both a small percentage of their economies and as their discretionary income is also higher, demand for tourism is less elastic than in less developed HI destinations, therefore less vulnerable (Fig. 2.1). Why is there this duality between high income and tourism development? Why do some less developed economies become high income while others remain mired in poverty? Some time ago, Lew (2000) wondered whether what he called tourism engines might be the explanation. Whether metaphoric or factual, his musing was accurate. Tourism does not materialize out of nowhere, nor can it be created at will or by UNWTO-sponsored master plans. In the end, the basic engine for tourism success relies on general economic development and on affluence – at home or nearby. An engine for tourism is, therefore, nothing else than a country or an economic area whose members enjoy a high level of discretionary income and significant amounts of paid vacations. This means developed economies that, as we have seen, have an important tourism sector supported by domestic sources. But their residents can and do spill over national borders to other destinations, some of them equally developed countries, others not. Such are the engines that create a high volume of domestic and international tourism demand. Therefore, the main factor for some less developed countries to reach HI levels is to be close to the engines or, putting it another way, location, location, location. 2

Location relative to what? To the engines; that is, to the most developed economies. And where to find them? Mostly in three areas of the world, each one of them with developed economies and a hinterland of attractive destinations: (i) Europe and the Mediterranean Basin (including North Africa); (ii) North America (Canada, the USA, Mexico) and the Caribbean; and (iii) East and South-east Asia. This is where the highest volume of tourism production, both domestic and international, occurs. Together, these three clusters accounted for 84% of total world tourism in 2014. These cores of developed countries and their immediate peripheries have increasingly close mutual relations and benefit most from tourist exchanges. Each cluster structures as a vast network of deeply interpenetrating economic, social and, not least, cultural links. Geographically they are not overextended and their furthermost limits can be reached easily by in-cluster transportation. If the airports of Frankfurt, Dallas-Fort Worth and Hong Kong were the notional centres for each of those zones, the most distant areas of each cluster would just be about 3000 km away and accessible by 3–4 hour (short- to mid-haul) flights. The case of Oceania where Australia and New Zealand act as the anchors or engines for the islands of the South Seas looks like a sub-­ system that adds to the bigger picture. With the Oceania mini-cluster included, the combined clusters added value reaches 86% of world tourism supply. The rest of the world (14% of all tourism production) practically does not register. Central and South Asia, most of Latin America, the Near East, and sub-Saharan Africa are, in this sense, but tourism wastelands. In conclusion, with a few exceptions (the most salient being the Seychelles and Maldives

14 34

Europe and Mediterranean Basin North-east and South-east Asia

25

North America and Caribbean Oceania 25

Rest

Fig. 2.1.  World share of tourism direct added value (2014). (Author’s elaboration on WTTC, 2015b.)



Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

archipelagos), tourism consumption (Urry and Sheller, 2004) remains huddled in these three main areas. In every one of them, a core of welldeveloped or quickly developing countries both have an impressive tourism production within their own borders and generate major tourist flows in their vicinity, whether less developed, developing or developed countries. Wherever this blend is absent, tourism hardly grows. Thus, if Brazil, with its 190 million population, had a discretionary per capita income close to the median of the European Union, the outlook for tourism development in South America would surely be more encouraging. But it is not. In a nutshell, tourism is indeed a contributor to economic globalization, but it is not and will not be its mainstay for a long time. It practically does not exist beyond those three and a half clusters. People do not easily travel beyond their national borders; when they do, tourists remain in their original continent and only a tiny minority ventures to faraway regions. Specifically, international tourism in 2014 broke down into 77.2% same-region arrivals (876 million), 20.1% other-region (227 million), and 2.7% of unknown origin. If we accept the lowest UNWTO figure for the volume of domestic tourism (5 billion arrivals), in 2014 there were a total of 6.1 billion arrivals (5 billion domestic; 1.1 billion international) and they split into 82% domestic; 14% same region; and 3.6% long haul. Thus, the widespread views of tourism as ‘North meets South’, ‘close encounters of the third phase’ (see the discussion between Dann, 1997 and Harrison, 1997), ‘consuming places’ (Urry and Sheller, 2004), ‘zombie imperialism’ (Žižek, 2012) are clichés resting on thin air. In today’s tourism, out of cluster means out of kilter.

You Ain’t Seen Anything Yet What is the shape of the future? If other economic, social and political factors remain ­constant – a long shot indeed – over the next 10  years, then tourism will grow markedly. However, its basic structure will not be too different from as it is at present. Discretionary income has of late reached emerging markets, especially the so-called BRIC

23

(Brazil, Russia, India and China) countries that experienced the world’s highest growth rates and the most dynamic economies between 2010 and 2014 (though slower growth more recently). In percentage terms, during that period total income grew 65% in Brazil, 60% in Russia and India, and a little below 60% in China (Baroke, 2015). In 2014, annual consumer expenditure per capita was US$7000 in Brazil, US$6700 in Russia, US$2800 in China and just below US$1000 in India (Baroke, 2015). It is, however, difficult to extrapolate how much the overall growth in income added to discretionary income and, in particular, to tourism consumption. Crouch et al. (2007) calculated that in Australia around 20% of extra discretionary income would be devoted to tourism activities, but even if the rule applied to the BRIC countries it would not add significantly to tourism spread except in the Chinese case because of their out-of-cluster location. However, gains are likely to come from advanced economies, even though their economic growth rate has fallen since 2008–2009. Technology and innovation will also help. Aggregate data for aviation growth until 2030 point to substantial increases in air traffic, the choice for more than half of international arrivals. In 2013, airlines transported 3.1 billion passengers and the figure will more than double in 2030 (6.4 billion), 64% of the total accounted for by international traffic. The 32 million aircraft departures registered in 2013 will rise to 59 million in 2030 (ICAO, 2014). Wide-bodied aircraft, such as Airbus A-380 (up to 600 passengers in regular cabin configurations), have already added to long-haul flows. Though brash, Air Asia’s slogan (‘Now Everyone Can Fly’) echoes both its own dizzying evolution (from 0.3 million passengers in 2001 to 44 million in 2013) and the ambitions of millions of Asian travellers (ICAO, 2013). It is with them in mind that Boeing 787 Dreamliners and Airbus A-350s will carry about 300 passengers each, bringing wide-body planes to the Asian skies in the 3000-km range flights, just to reach the outer limits of the Asian cluster. High-speed trains (HST) and their passengers barely register in UNWTO statistics as they seldom cross national borders, but they do and will contribute significantly to growth in internal tourism, domestic and inbound. Though they do not have the flexibility of airlines, they

24

Julio Aramberri

already compete favourably with short- and ­medium-haul flights in travel time and in capacity – ­the Tokyo–Osaka shinkansen, for example, may carry up to 1323 passengers (Morimura, 2012). HST may not be the answer to all traveller needs nor to transport in sparsely populated countries; however, they already are fundamental to the present Chinese and will become so in future Indian markets. Cruising is also poised for quick growth. Royal Caribbean’s Quantum of the Seas can accommodate 4905 guests and a 1500 crew, and two of these Quantum-series boats will be cruising Chinese and Asian waters (Royal Caribbean, 2016). Lastly, once technological and regulatory issues have been resolved, up to 15% of new cars sold in 2030 could be fully self-driven, meaning growth in fleets and new ways of exploring the world (Gao et al., 2016). Together, these factors will support rapid growth in tourism over the next 10 years. ­According to the WTTC, value added directly by tourism (the key market probed in this chapter) will increase from US$2365 billion in 2014 to US$3593 billion in 2025 –representing growth of more than 50%. However, this remarkable progression will simply reinforce the presently lopsided internal structure of tourism. In 2025, the three top clusters will still absorb 85% of the value added directly by the consumption of tourist services. However, there will be some important changes within them. By 2025, for example, Europe and the Mediterranean will have lost 3% of their present share and North America and the Caribbean 1%, with 3% gains to North-east and South-east Asia and 1% to the rest of the world (Fig. 2.2). China will be the main source of change over these years (see also Chapter 13, this volume). Currently there is a considerable imbalance 2

between inbound and outbound tourism in China; in 2014, inbound tourists (staying overnight) reached 55.6 million (20.8 from overseas and 34.8 from Hong Kong, Macau and Taiwan) while outbound topped 117 million with a 19.1% increase over 2013 (CNTA, 2015). At the same time, China became the top tourism spender in the world with US$164 billion (UNWTO, 2015) while receipts stayed at US$57 billion, a deficit of US$107 (TCG, 2016). Its impact on the rest of Asia can be seen in Table 2.2. Conversely, in 2014 China’s locally added value (visitor exports plus domestic consumption minus outbound expenses), already the biggest in the North-east Asia region in 2014, will become the main contributor to the 3% gain of the Asian cluster in 2025. The internal Chinese market will nearly double in the period (Table 2.3) and, together with outbound traffic, will become the top engine for tourism in the region.

Conclusion Let us summarize. Mass tourism is an innovative, contemporary form of social behaviour. Every year, billions of consumers decide to temporarily leave their usual place of residence for a period of time and to spend it in leisure or other activities (business, visiting friends and relatives, health, religious activities), all of them more and more diverse over time. Nothing similar in scale has previously occurred in human history. The evolution of tourism was abetted by some decisive innovations in transport technologies (railways and steamships) during the 19th century, but did not come to maturity until car ownership and commercial aviation expanded dramatically in the 1960s.

15 31

Europe and Mediterranean Basin North-east and South-east Asia

24

North America and Caribbean Oceania 28

Rest

Fig. 2.2.  World share of tourism direct added value (2025). (Author’s elaboration on WTTC, 2015b.)



Mass Tourism Does Not Need Defending

25

Table 2.2.  Rank of outbound Chinese tourism in East and South-east Asian destinations (2014). (Compiled by author based on data from different National Tourist Offices.) Country

Total (million)

Rank

Growth over 2013 (%)

47.2 21.3 4 6.1 2.8 0.4 1.9 0.4 4.6 0.6 1.6 1.7 0.6

1 1 1 1 1 3 1 1 1 2 4 2 4

16 14.1 4.9 40 28 −7 2 72 0 21 −10 −24 22

Hong Kong Macau Taiwan South Korea Japan Philippines Vietnam Laos Thailand Cambodia Malaysia Singapore Indonesia

Table 2.3.  North-east Asia: tourism direct added value (2014–2015). (Author’s elaboration on WTTC, 2015a, b.) Country China Japan South Korea Hong Kong Macau Taiwan Mongolia

2014 (US$ billion)

Market share 2014 (%)a

263 112 27 26 26 11 0.2

56 24 7 5 5 3 1

2025 (US$ billion) Market share 2025 (%)a 503 141 39 38 41 15 0.4

65 18 5 5 5 2 1

Values exceed 100% due to rounding.

a

Technology and innovation by themselves would not have made it possible without other influential changes. One of these was growth in discretionary income resulting from economic development and increasing affluence; another was the increasingly widespread right to paid vacation time. Both of these occurred primarily in developed economies, though unevenly. In the USA, affluence was above all a matter of private initiative. Discretionary income grew as salaries and savings did. Conversely, Western European countries provided a number of public goods (broadly, the Welfare State) via fiscal policy, allowing large numbers of people to spend their increasingly available money on individual pleasures. In both cases, however, the outcome was similar – people engaging in tourism. These economic and social trends were subsequently manifested in other geographical regions, especially East Asia. Tourism occurs in almost every corner of the world. However, its contribution to national

economies varies significantly. It is concentrated where technology, paid vacations and affluence are a part of life; that is, it has flourished mainly inside diversified and developed economies. Cars and, above all, aircraft allowed growing numbers of tourists to spill over national borders in search of new landscapes, new experiences, the exotic or, in many cases, of favourable currency rates. Often, it was cheaper to vacation internationally, either in nearby geographical areas or in more distant countries. Well-developed economies, all of them already flushed with large numbers of domestic tourists, thus created heavy travel networks and served as engines for tourism development. Tourism accordingly gels into clusters where some developed countries or areas and their peripheries interact in miscellaneous ways for mutual gain. Some countries or territories in the so-called pleasure periphery can, therefore, achieve high levels of per capita income despite

26

Julio Aramberri

their scarce natural resources and small populations. Those countries beyond these clusters, however, will for the foreseeable future only have access to a very limited share of tourism sources of income. In sum, consumers and producers,

that is, tourists and providers, will be rewarded or penalized by their comparative advantages and how they manage them. Mass tourism does not need defending; just understanding how it works should be enough.

Notes WTTC defines Direct Contribution to GDP as ‘GDP generated by industries that deal directly with tourists, including hotels, travel agents, airlines and other passenger transport services, as well as the activities of restaurant and leisure industries that deal directly with tourists. It is equivalent to total internal Travel & ­Tourism spending within a country less the purchases made by those industries (including imports)’. Total contribution includes this figure plus Indirect (private and public sector investments plus supply-chain ­effects) and Induced (spending by those directly or indirectly employed by the tourism sector) Contributions. 2  As of 1 July 2015, low-income economies are defined as those with a gross national income (GNI) per capita of US$1045 or less in 2014; middle-income economies are those with a GNI per capita of more than US$1045 but less than US$12,736; high-income economies are those with a GNI per capita of US$12,736 or more. Lower-middle-income and upper-middle-income economies are separated at a GNI per capita of US$4125. 1 

References Aramberri, J. (2010) Modern Mass Tourism. Emerald, Bingley, UK. Aramberri, J. (2013) The global tourism system: present and future. In: Mihalic, T. and Gartner, W.C. (eds) Tourism and Developments: Issues and Challenges. Nova Publishers, New York, pp. 15–56. Aramberri, J. (2015) Is Tourism Vulnerable? In: Singh, T.V. (ed.) Challenges in Tourism Research. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK, pp. 136–144. Baroke, S. (2015) BRIC Consumers in 10 Charts. Available at: http://blog.euromonitor.com/2015/05/bricconsumers-in-10-charts.html (accessed 20 September 2015). Bilstein, R. (2001) Flight in America: From the Wrights to the Astronauts, 3rd edn. Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, Maryland. Boorstin, D.J. (2010) The Americans: The Democratic Experience. Vintage Books, New York. China National Tourism Administration (CNTA) (2015) Press Release. Available at: http://en.cnta.gov.cn/ focus/travelnews/201512/t20151225_755714.shtml (accessed 20 February 2016). Crouch, G., Oppewal, H., Huybers, T., Dolnicar, S., Louviere, J. and Devinney, T. (2007) Discretionary expenditure and tourism consumption: insights from a choice experiment. Journal of Travel Research 45(3), 247–258. Dann, G.M.S. (1997) From Sussex to Suva: a reply to David Harrison. Tourism Management 18(6), 399–402. Davis, S.C., Diegel, S.W. and Boundy, R.G. (2014) Transportation Energy Data Book. US Department of Energy, Washington, DC. Gao, P., Kaas, H.-W., Mohr, D. and Wee, D. (2016) Disruptive Trends that will Transform the Auto Industry. ­McKinsey. Available at: http://www.mckinsey.com/industries/automotive-and-assembly/our-insights/­disruptivetrends-that-will-transform-the-auto-industry (accessed 26 April 2017). Halberstam, D. (1993) The Fifties. Villard, New York. Harrison, D. (1997) Barbados or Luton. Which Way to Paradise? Tourism Management 18(6), 393–398. Heppenheimer, T.A. (1997) Turbulent Skies: The History of Commercial Aviation. Wiley, New York. House of Commons (1845) Minutes of Evidence given before the Select Committee on Railway Bills. C. Roworth & Sons, London. International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) (2013) The Air Asia Story. Available at: www.icao.int/­ Meetings/Regional-Symposia/LCC-China2013/Documents/Presentations/AirAsia%20story.pdf (accessed 5 February 2016). International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) (2014) RPK Yearly Monitor. Available at: http://www.icao.int/ sustainability/Documents/Yearly-Monitor.pdf (accessed 10 December 2015).



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International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) (2015) Facts and Figures. Available at: www.icao.int/­ sustainability/Pages/Facts-Figures_WorldEconomyData.aspx (accessed 8 December 2015). Judt, T. (2010) Postwar. A History of Europe Since 1945. Vintage Books, London. Lew, A. (2000) China: a growth engine for Asian tourism. In: Hall, C. and Page, S. (eds) Tourism in South and Southeast Asia. Butterworth Heinemann, Oxford, pp. 268–285. Morimura, T. (2012) Introduction of the N700-I Bullet Train. Available at: http://www.jterc.or.jp/english/kokusai/ conferences/pdf/120113_morimura_pres.pdf (accessed 23 November 2015). National Automobile Chamber of Commerce (NACC) (2015) Facts and Figures of the Automobile Industry 1920–1930. Available at: www.railsandtrails.com/AutoFacts/ (accessed 15 December 2015). Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) (2014) Factbook 2014: Economic, ­Environmental and Social Statistics. OECD Publishing, Paris. Petzinger (1996) Hard Landing: The Epic Contest for Power and Profits That Plunged the Airlines into Chaos. Three River Press, New York. Ray, R., Sames, M. and Schmitt, J. (2013) No Vacation Nation Revisited. Center for Economic Policy and Research (CEPR), Washington, DC. Royal Caribbean (2016) Quantum of the Seas. Available at: http://www.royalcaribbean.com/findacruise/ ships/class/ship/home.do?shipCode=QN (accessed 10 January 2016). Travel China Guide (TCG) (2016) Tourism Statistics. Available at: www.travelchinaguide.com/tourism/2014statistics (accessed 3 February 2016). United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2013) Tourism Highlights. Available at: http:// www.e-unwto.org/doi/pdf/10.18111/9789284415427 (accessed 10 March 2017). United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2015) Tourism Highlights. Available at: http:// www.e-unwto.org/doi/pdf/10.18111/9789284416899 (accessed 10 March 2017). United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2016) International Tourist Arrivals Up 4% Reach a Record 1.2 billion in 2015. Available at: http://media.unwto.org/press-release/2016-01-18/international-­ tourist-arrivals-4-reach-record-12-billion-2015 (accessed 10 March 2017). Urry, J. (1990) The Tourist Gaze: Leisure and Travel in Contemporary Societies. Sage Publications, London. Urry, J. (2007) Mobilities. Polity Press, Cambridge. Urry, J. and Larsen, J. (2011) The Tourist Gaze 3.0, 3rd edn. Sage Publications, London. Urry, J. and Sheller, M. (2004) Tourism Mobilities: Places to Play, Places in Play. Routledge, London. van Vleck, J. (2013) Empire of the Air. Aviation and the American Ascendency. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Wolf, M. (2006) Why Globalization Works. Yale Nota Bene, New Haven, Connecticut. World Bank (2015) New Country Classifications. Available at: http://blogs.worldbank.org/opendata/new-countryclassifications (accessed 20 August 2015). World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) (2015a) Country Reports. Available at: https://www.wttc.org/research/ economic-research/benchmark-reports/country-results/ (accessed often during October–December 2015). World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) (2015b) Travel & Tourism Economic Impact 2015. World. Available at: http://sete.gr/media/2614/150430-economic-impact-2015.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Žižek, S. (2012) Less than Nothing. Hegel and the Shadow of Dialectical Materialism. Verso, London.

3 

The Morality of Mass Tourism Jim Butcher* Canterbury Christ Church University, Canterbury, UK

Introduction All modern tourism is mass tourism. Tourism as we understand it is a modern phenomenon, developed during and through the growth of mass industrial society (Zuelow, 2015). All tourism, from a cheap package deal to the most leftfield spiritual retreat, depends upon the advances in technology, wealth and freedoms of industrial society. However, not all tourism is mass tourism in a cultural sense. Some tourists self-consciously differentiate their holiday tastes from mass tourism. Holidays marketed on the basis of a masscritical aesthetic have expanded greatly in recent decades in the form of niches (Novelli, 2004). Some of these niches lay claim to being more ethical alternatives to traditional holidays, a moral form of leisure, either on the basis of their claimed benign impact upon host societies (Fennell, 2014) or through their capacity to encourage moral contemplation of the world and one’s place in it (Stavans and Ellison, 2015). Most analyses of these changes offer support for the new niches’ moral claims. Their shared premise is that mass tourism has proved intensely culturally and environmentally problematic (Goodwin, 2011; Stavans and Ellison, 2015). Academics talk of ‘alternative’ (Higgins-Desboilles, 2008) or ‘New’ tourism (Poon, 1994), often in

the spirit of claiming moral authority for the ­latest niche vis-à-vis package holidays or budget vacations. Yet this support remains intensely critical too, and its moral claims are contested (Mowforth and Munt, 2015). Ultimately, regardless of the claims made for the ethical niches, regarded as ‘alternative’, ‘responsible’, ‘community based’ and so on, they, too, are a product of modern mass society. They are, ironically and inevitably, drawn into the wider criticisms of modern society that their own advocates have levelled against mass tourism (Butcher, 2003). This chapter sketches a perspective addressing three questions: First, how did holidays ­become conspicuous moral terrain? Second, is this a progressive development? Third, is mass tourism per se – from all-inclusive packages through to volunteer tourism – worthy of celebration in moral terms? In answering the latter, I also consider the impact of recent terrorist attacks on tourists and upon the conspicuous freedom that tourism represents.

What is Mass Tourism? Mass tourism is best understood as a descriptive, morally neutral term for the growth of leisure and travel as a part of the development

*[email protected] 28

© CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)



The Morality of Mass Tourism

of modern mass society. However, it is often a loaded term, a moral comment upon modernity and those who unapologetically take advantage of the opportunities it brings (Butcher, 2003). Mass society, and the idea of the mass itself, has meant different things at different times and in different contexts (Williams, 2014). In the 19th century British society was turned upside down by the industrial revolution, urbanization and the ideas of democracy and progress associated with the Enlightenment. The masses were feared and loathed. Le Bon’s influential The Crowd theorized that the mass would easily revert to an irrational mob and undermine social stability (Le Bon, 1995, original 1895). In other contexts, the masses represented a progressive force for democracy and social transformation. For Marx, the mass, in the form of the working class, were the prospective motor force of history, the progressive class who could liberate themselves and humanity from the fetters of capitalism (Marx and Engels, 2004, original 1848). Some critics who saw the expansion of leisure travel as problematic drew upon the Romantic sentiment of the time to present its growth in negative terms (Feiffer, 1985; Brendon, 1992; Zuelow, 2015). Famously, in the UK William Wordsworth wrote a letter to the Morning Post in 1844 protesting about the extension of the railway line to Windermere, fearing the impact on the human experience of solitude once tourists started to arrive in numbers (an experience he felt could only be appreciated by the cultured). Wordsworth sought to preserve beauty from modernity. For others, criticisms of mass travel were an unqualified assertion of cultural superiority, commonly accompanied by insinuations of the racial inferiority of the lower orders, the masses. Unguarded derogatory references to tourists as ‘sheep’ and ‘insects’ betrayed this widely held view. Others celebrated the increased mobility of the masses, and the industrial progress of which this was an integral part. Thomas Cook was not only a pioneer of the modern holiday, he was also a staunch champion of leisure travel for the masses. While some of his Victorian peers viewed the newly mobile masses as unworthy and of spoiling a beauty they could not appreciate, one of Cook’s customers famously celebrated holidays for ‘the million’ who could ‘o’erleap the bounds of their narrow circle, rub off rust and

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prejudice by contact with others, and expand their sails and invigorate their bodies by an exploration of some of nature’s finest scenes’ (1856, cited in Withey, 1998: 145). He famously sold tickets up and down the country to people of all classes to travel to London to witness the 1851 Great Exhibition, an event celebrating the latest technology set to transform people’s lives, held at  the specially constructed Crystal Palace (­Brendon, 1992). Narratives of tourism as progress ran alongside those that were critical of mass tourism in cultural and environmental terms (the former sometimes expressed in terms of a person being ‘civilized’ or not). The debates surrounding tourism were not posed in terms of supposedly ethical or unethical choices – there was no ‘ethical tourism’. Clearly ideas of the mass have changed and often been contradictory. Sometimes the masses appear in social thought as object, to be shaped, guided and regulated, or prone to manipulation. Sometimes they are the subject of their own destiny, a force for progress in the face of oppressors or reactionaries. In the 1930s sociologist C. Wright Mills usefully distinguished between a mass, absorbing received wisdom through the media, and a public, able to rationally assess, respond and be part of public discussion (Wright Mills, 1956). Peter Carey’s polemical The Intellectuals and the Masses: Pride and Prejudice Among the Literary Intelligentsia, 1880–1939 provides evidence that the former view was assumed by many intellectuals of both the Right and the Left (Carey, 1992). In G.K. Chesterton’s story The Poet and the Lunatic: Episodes in the Life of Gabriel Gale (2011) the main character expresses this sentiment clearly: ‘They say travel broadens the mind; but you must have the mind’.

Mass Society and Mass Tourism Post-World War II: Stability and Optimism The post-1945 world witnessed the onset of economic growth, technological advance and the capacity of unions and social democracy to yield material improvement to the lives of the working class. By 1957 the UK’s Conservative Prime

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Minister could confidently assert that most ­Britons had ‘never had it so good’, which was also true for the majority in the West. Consumption emerged centre stage as an avenue through which people looked to improve their lives materially, and the masses were able to do so in the context of the consistent economic growth of the 1950s and 1960s often referred to as ‘the post-war boom’ (Judt, 2010). Mass society became associated with mass consumer society in the West – the ability of the majority in advanced capitalist societies to engage in conspicuous consumption, consumption based on want and desire rather than need. In many ways mass consumption defined ‘the West’, ‘the developed world’ and the other epithets used to refer to the wealthier countries. Mass consumption became increasingly associated with freedom: from toil, to experiment with lifestyle, with fashion and also with playfulness. The 1960s were iconic in this respect. As historian Tony Judt puts it, up until the 1960s workers had made things – now they bought them (Judt, 2010: 337). The development of the tourism industry in the post-World War II decades resulted from better pay, a shorter working week, greater holiday entitlement and technological development. Its growth was not only an effect of the post-war boom; it was also a contributor to it. Marshall Aid was used in some instances to promote the industry as a way of supporting Europe’s recovery (Judt, 2010: 342). In 1967 the United Nations’ International Year of Tourism was announced to promote tourism’s potential to generate trade and development and, rather more optimistically, peace and harmony. The search for the sun in the poorer but sunnier ‘pleasure periphery’ by consumers from wealthier countries involved a transfer of wealth from the centre to the periphery. Southern Spain and Malta are among the beneficiaries. However, the oft cited The Golden Hordes: International Tourism and the Pleasure Periphery (Turner and Ash, 1975) exhibits a strong tendency to interpret changes that made the periphery less peripheral and improved life chances through development in a very negative way, as its title implies. Subsequently writing on tourism from within the social sciences has witnessed a growing and now pervasive pessimism, a tendency to talk down progress and talk up problems (Butcher, 2003).

The growth in car ownership was a key aspect of more mobile and leisure oriented societies. For North American families, the car trip to natural and patriotic sites became a staple of growing middle-class leisure through the 1950s and 1960s, and throughout the developed world car ownership opened up new possibilities for leisure travel (Zuelow, 2015). As the enigmatic 1960s advertising executive Don Draper from the TV series Madmen put it: ‘Happiness is the smell of a new car’. For Europeans, the package holiday abroad became iconic. In the UK, such entrepreneurs as Freddie Laker and Vladimir Raitz were prominent among those pioneering foreign holidays as something the average family could enjoy through back-to-back charter flights. For many tourists travelling with Raitz’s Horizon Holidays or via Laker’s Laker Airways air charter operation in the 1960s and 1970s, a cheap package holiday was thrilling; their first time holidaying abroad. For more than a few it was their first trip abroad without a military uniform and a gun. There was an optimism associated with mass leisure travel in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, perhaps best articulated by pioneer of the modern back-to-back charter, Vladimir Raitz. In his co-authored book Flight to the Sun: The Story of the Package Holiday Revolution, Raitz conveys the sense of an exciting and ground-breaking mass tourism industry bringing leisure liberty to the masses. He quotes Wordsworth: ‘Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven’ (Bray and Raitz, 2002). Raitz’s sentiment is reflected in popular accounts of tourism. UK journalist Julie Burchill recently reflected on her working-class parents’ trips to Benidorm in the 1970s: a far cry from some of her own luxury haunts but joyful, friendly and a liberating break from graft and routine. She rightly points out the snobbery involved in the talking up of the niches as ethically superior and more ‘individual’ (Burchill, 2015). From a very different source, icon of travellers and the counterculture, Jack Kerouac, travel was presented as a field of possibility for the free spirited. In Dharma Bums (Kerouac, 2000, original 1958) he writes: ‘I saw that my life was a vast glowing empty page, and I could do anything I wanted.’ Given his iconic ‘traveller’ status, it is telling that Kerouac’s sentiment, if articulated today, would be regarded as rather arrogant by



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ethical travel’s many advocates. Yet for Kerouac-­ inspired backpackers the budget airlines, the epitome of travel Fordism premised upon mass production and economies of scope and scale, have proved popular. The writing of one’s own personal narrative on to that ‘glowing empty page’ should perhaps be seen as epitomizing mass tourism in similar fashion to package holidays. Kerouac and Raitz, in quite different ways and contexts, are champions of post-World War II leisure travel and the freedom it brings. This freedom was generally seen as unproblematic in ­cultural and environmental terms up until the 1980s.

The Critics of Mass Consumption and Mass Tourism This post-1945 stability and growth in the West took place at a time when capitalism, and liberalism itself, were compromised, not least through the experience of two world wars in the first half of the 20th century (Furedi, 2007). The alternative of Communism, attractive to many following World War II, yielded to the unedifying reality of Stalinism. Daniel Bell’s astute The End of Ideology: On the Exhaustion of Political Ideas in the Fifties (2000, original 1960) argued that the main ideological currents of modern society of liberalism, Marxism and conservatism appeared exhausted, with their purchase on contemporary consciousness in decline even by the 1950s. In spite of this, the 1960s was to witness ­renewed ideological divisions, their parameters informed by the Cold War, anti-colonial struggles and the capacity of the working class to achieve material gains through voting and through union organization. However, these divisions tended to take a cultural form, focusing on modernity rather than capitalism per se, and consumption rather than the basis of production (Furedi, 2007). In this vein, a variety of thinkers developed a sustained critique of post-World War II mass consumption based on its role in shifting the focal point of life from moral and political reflection of the world towards the consumption and advertising of things. This cultural critique gained ground with the demise of the politics of class (essentially a politics of contesting the

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mode of production), but none the less remained linked to competing ideologies of Left and Right. As a cultural exemplar of modernity and conspicuous consumption, it is unsurprising that the mass tourism boom came to be regarded with a degree of circumspection by some commentators and critics in the 1970s. Some, influenced by a mood exemplified by the neo-Malthusianism Club of Rome’s Limits to Growth report (Meadows et al., 1972), began to see travel as rubbing up against environmental limits, both locally and globally, while MacCannell (1999, original 1976) and Cohen (1979), as indicated below, focused on the issue of authenticity. The problematization of mass consumption was a common theme in the post-war decades in both conservative and radical thought. Daniel Boorstin in his book The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America (1997) bemoans what we might today refer to as the ‘dumbed down’ character of travel in an age of image that Boorstin argues diminishes authentic experience. He argues we see things not as they are, but as they are presented to us in keeping with contemporary tastes and comforts (Boorstin, 1997). For Boorstin, ‘[t]he traveller was active: he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive: he expects interesting things to happen to him and for him . . .’ (1997: 85). Yet the more influential criticisms of mass consumption came from the Left. Playwright and veteran of the World War I trenches (and a staunch opponent of the rise of a relativistic cultural democracy) J.B. Priestley coined the term ‘admass’, referring to the way he saw the masses shaped by advertising and consumption. For Priestley, admass kept the population fed and in work, but ‘that is all that can be said in favour of it’, the rest being ‘a swindle’, and he went on to note astutely that in the growth of a consumption-oriented society ‘You think everything is opening out when in fact it is narrowing and closing in on you’ (quoted in Fagge, 2012: 94). For the Frankfurt School of political thought, mass consumption constituted ‘cultural production’ and shaped the consciousness of the working class profoundly. The working class remained a class in itself objectively but was far less of a class for itself subjectively, and seeking betterment and selfhood in the realm of consumption negated class consciousness. Marxist

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politics had been premised on a recognition that capitalist relations of production, rather than consumption, exploited the working class and held back human liberation. By contrast, the tenor of many post-World War II radical theories, including the Frankfurt School and those that regarded themselves as ‘neo-Marxist’, tended to focus upon the role of culture and consumption in negating class consciousness and promoting political passivity. Possibly the most influential critique of mass consumption was that of the Frankfurt School’s Herbert Marcuse. In One-Dimensional Man (1992, original 1964), he argued, in the spirit of ‘admass’, that the scope of human consciousness was being narrowed by the central role of mass consumption, suggesting that consumers are not free to choose, but are shaped by the advertising industry to be cogs in the modernist machine ­rather than individuals. In being persuaded to buy happiness and fulfilment, we lose dimensions of our humanity. One-­Dimensional Man was very influential among radicals who began to see neither capitalism nor communism per se, but modernity itself, as oppressive. Indeed, the Frankfurt School implicated the Enlightenment project itself in society’s ills (Adorno and Horkheimer, 1973, original 1944). The Frankfurt School’s critique of postWorld War II capitalism was articulated through a distinctly ideological rather than moral language. It retained a focus on society, on capitalism, but viewed the realm of culture, and cultural production, as crucial. That is not to say this critique was amoral, but discussions of society and the economic system were posed in terms of class interest, sovereignty, human progress and freedom. Hence, they were distinctly political in that they were mediated through abstract and transcendental ideas that connected the individual and individual morality, via ideology, to society as a whole and to the future. The perspectives of such critics as Priestley, Marcuse and the Frankfurt School were mirrored in writing on tourism and tourists that remain influential in this field today. Two authors in particular stand out. First, US anthropologist Dean MacCannell in his The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class (1999: 15, original 1976) argued, in the spirit of Marcuse, that ‘our kind of society has the capacity to develop beyond the point where individuals can continue to have a

meaningful place in it’. He was later to describe the period as the most depersonalized epoch in history in Empty Meeting Grounds (MacCannell, 1992). Tourism could constitute a search for authenticity in a world in which capitalist social relations negated authentic human ones. He saw that this search could be in vain, as tourism itself commercializes and distorts intercultural encounters. MacCannell’s ideas were a part of the wider cultural turn in the social sciences, but also importantly highlighted the interpersonal in analyses of tourism (1992, 1999). His writing anticipated and laid the basis for an emphasis on the private, sometimes intimate character of the ethical consumption of tourism, and of the construction of meaning through tourism in general (see Minca and Oakes, 2011). Erik Cohen, in a not dissimilar vein, noted a typology of tourists in search of authentic selfhood in the 1970s, defined by the extent to which they sought to ‘spiritually centre’ themselves ­either within their own culture or in a different one (1979). At one end of a spectrum of disillusionment, ‘[t]hose most deeply committed to a new “spiritual” centre may attach themselves permanently to it and start a new life there by “submitting” themselves completely to the culture [. . .] they will desire to “go native”’ (Cohen, 1979: 190). In today’s context, when cultural politics seems to have turned in on itself, Cohen’s experimental travellers would run the risk of ­facing ­accusations of cultural appropriation. As per the Frankfurt School and Marcuse in particular, the analyses of Cohen and MacCannell were implicitly critical of society as a whole: its supposed emphasis on instrumental rationality and the role of the cash nexus in shaping and distorting human relationships. Importantly, the search for selfhood takes place through consumption and experience in the interpersonal realm – culture replaces class as the arena for political thought, and for numerous culture wars too. This shift to cultural terrain in critical thought laid the basis for the problematization of tourism as the intercultural industry and activity par excellence. However, it would be another 13 years after the publication of ­MacCannell’s The Tourist (1976) that the collapse of communism and the end of the Cold War would bring into stark relief the exhaustion (moral, political and in every other sense) of the grand narratives that had animated the



The Morality of Mass Tourism

cultural analyses of the Frankfurt School. It is those events, and the consequent crisis of political identity, that triggered the ethical turn in commentaries and analyses of tourism (Caton, 2012) and replaced an implicit political morality with an explicit championing of ethical consumption and lifestyles.

Tourism’s ‘Culture Wars’ The critiques of mass consumption sketched out above constituted an influential cultural critique of the basis of modern capitalism. They were reflected in developments in tourism culture too. An example of what could be described as tourism’s ‘culture wars’ was the Situationist-inspired graffiti outside Club Med’s offices in Paris during the May 1968 student protests: ‘A holiday in other people’s misery’. A distaste for bronzing bodies, luxury and carefree days for some, in the midst of the horror of the Vietnam war for others, inclined the protestors to see Club Med as emblematic of bourgeois, imperialist society. The graffiti was to be reprised 10 years later – more in the spirit of nihilistic anti-politics than the idealism of the 68ers – by the punk band The Sex Pistols in their hit ‘Holidays in the Sun’. The hippy trail, albeit practised by few, is iconic as an alternative, anti-mass and materialistic expression of tourist culture. Here anti-­ moderns sought spiritual understanding through travel, embracing eastern mysticism as a partial antidote to western rationalism and modernity. Despite the small number of people who undertook the hippy trail itself, its status as a cultural reference point relies on the trail as emblematic of the wider counterculture – a rejection of mainstream values of nation, family and work coupled with a willingness to experiment – ­influential among the youth (Marwick, 1999). Elsewhere, more mainstream tourism culture was changing in line with the times, sometimes with more than a hint of disdain for family and for mass culture. Historian Eric Zuelow ­describes how ‘[t]he family ideal of the 1950s was eclipsed by the culture of cool, where Peter Fonda’s Easy Rider (1969) [. . .] was hip, and the family road trip was definitely not’ (Zuelow, 2015: 172). In 1975, rock band The Who’s rock opera Tommy satirized the mass appeal of such

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UK holiday camps as Butlin’s (Zuelow, 2015). Zuelow argues ‘The Who sought to expose the emptiness of the mass culture in which individuality was subsumed in endless group activities’ (Zuelow, 2015: 173) taking place on ‘Tommy’s Holiday Camp’. Many holiday camps closed in the 1970s and 1980s (see also Chapter 9, this volume). The shift was from themes of nation, family and community, towards individuality through cool, self-consciously experiential holidays (and more recently self-consciously ethical pursuits) (on cool capitalism see Franks, 1998; McGuigan, 2009). It is a little ironic that the cultural critique of mass tourism was articulated through new travel and leisure opportunities premised upon the gains of mass production and mass society itself. It was jet technology, economies of scale and scope, and economic growth in general that underpinned the growing geographical range of tourism opportunities through which a person could nurture identity and display individuality.

Tourism’s Ethical Turn Despite the radical critiques of consumer society, and notwithstanding the growth of cool consumption of travel that sometimes reflected cultural and environmental criticism of mainstream mass tourism (Zuelow, 2015), leisure travel was generally part of an optimistic story in the postWorld War II period up to the 1980s. Tourism was not associated with ethical solutions to problems because it was not strongly associated with societies’ problems in the first place. However, in the 1980s arguments for ethical consumption become for the first time influential in political and social discourse. The idea of doing one’s shopping ethically, or buying an ethical holiday, were not at all in evidence prior to this. As a young man in the 1980s, it certainly never occurred to my friends or me that there was anything ethical or unethical in our trip to the resort of Cala Millor, Majorca, or that tourists should be considering the moral worth of where they went or what they did when there. That does not indicate a moral deficit, but simply that morality was framed differently (Blackburn, 2003). Moral debates had some ­relationship to how society was organized in the realm of production, and in this respect debates

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about political morality were articulated through a distinctly ideological vocabulary rather than one of ethical behaviour and attitudes. Conversely, leisure was time away from work, family perhaps and social commitments; you could ‘leave your cares behind’. Krippendorf ’s oft cited The Holiday Makers: Understanding the Impact of Leisure Travel (1987) is exemplary of the shift from culture as linked to wider critiques of society, to culture as interpersonal in character. Post-Krippendorf, if you followed his thinking (which the majority of academics did), you could no longer leave your cares behind. In fact, leisure travel became a vehicle for a conspicuous politics (and geographies) of care (Butcher, 2014; Butcher and Smith, 2015). Published in 1987, The Holiday Makers captured the changing moral climate: a growing sense that consumption, in this case the consumption of holidays, should directly address ethical imperatives. Krippendorf ’s book remains a watershed. It takes the emerging focus on consumption as moral terrain and applies this to tourism. It also draws on a then incipient trend, now a staple of the political landscape: the politics of individual behaviour (note that today politics is strongly characterized by state moral and policy intervention into eating, drinking, childhood, parenting, ‘happiness’ and many other areas that were in the past considered to be a part of the private world rather than the public realm of government policy). Krippendorf sets out in unequivocal terms the perceived need for tourists to think hard about where they go, what they do and the assumptions they carry, all in personal ethical terms. This was new. While mass tourism’s critics in the past may have seen it as problematic from a cultural point of view – a reflection of bourgeois society perhaps, as per the Parisian Situationist-inspired grafitiists in 1968 – Krippendorf sees forms of behaviour as directly ethical or unethical according to how far they buy into a personal project of ethical selfhood. The importance of The Holiday Makers lies in Krippendorf ’s foresight – what he set out in 1987, 10 years later had become an orthodoxy for a new movement of ethical tourism advocates seeking to morally regulate both the industry and the tourists themselves. Rather than forms of consumption being symptomatic of a morally dubious social system,

by the 1990s acts of consumption themselves are justified or unjustified in ethical terms. This is the origins of ‘the moralisation of tourism’ (Butcher, 2003) – the problematization of holidays in moralistic rather than moral terms, focusing on individual behaviour and consumption rather than any wider sense of morality. In the subsequent attempts to morally regulate tourism and tourists, people, and their lack of ethical enlightenment, are seen as the problem, and ethical tourism as the solution.

The Changed Moral Climate It is not enough, therefore, to look simply at what tourists do or did as ethical or unethical. It is important to look at what philosopher Simon Blackburn refers to as the moral climate (2003): how is morality posed in different periods and in different situations, and what shapes the relationship of the individual to moral and political questions. I have argued that the moral climate that Krippendorf articulates, and that informs discussions of tourism today, is quite different to that of 10 or 20 years before the publication of The Holiday Makers (Krippendorf, 1987). The critical analyses of tourism from the 1970s were linked to the grand political narratives of the time, narratives that served to link the individual to wider ideological projects of the Right and Left. Today, human agency has retreated back into the private realm, unable to transcend the personal and emotional (Chouliaraki, 2012). The 1980s witnessed the apparent exhaustion of the ideologies that had characterized politics previously. The post-World War II compromise between capital and labour, the Keynesian state and the Cold War had underpinned political identities. But the projects of the Left became untenable as recession undermined the former two. The rise of the New Right in the 1980s seemed to reflect a resurgent and confident free-market orientation from the Right. However, the end of the Cold War not only undermined the notion of alternatives to capitalism, but also pulled the rug from under the rhetorical project of the Right to be on the side of the free world against communism (Jacoby, 2000; Furedi, 2007). The shift towards looking at leisure travel through an overtly moral lens, mirroring the



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more general growth of ethical consumerism, is very much in the spirit of what political theorist Chantelle Mouffe refers to as the replacement of ‘Right and Left’ by ‘right and wrong’ (Mouffe, 2005). Questions around development, social change, scale, ownership, and so on, had been contested through the prism of competing narratives, each laying claim to the notion of progress. Yet the political ideologies were exhausted by the end of the 1980s, and private ethics, ­effectively right and wrong, increasingly colonized a moribund public realm. It should be noted that this process had deep roots. Hannah Arendt identified and critiqued a destruction of the public and private as distinctive spheres of human existence in her The Origins of Totalitarianism (1973, original 1950). Richard Sennett also noted the blurring of the public and private spheres to the detriment of political discourse in the 1970s (2003, original 1977). Christopher Lasch noted a growing ‘culture of narcissism’ on the left (1979), referring to the narcissistic tendency to refract political issues through a personal, psychological narrative. These prescient analyses shed light on the process through which erstwhile political issues have come to be reposed to the individual as personal, ethical projects, cut adrift from a wider political framing. More recently, Chouliaraki has analysed how the laudable private humanitarian impulse to help those suffering, in the absence of an agonistic public sphere, is reflected back on the self. This ‘post-humanitarian’ condition reinforces irony, narcissism and ultimately a stunted subjectivity (Chouliaraki, 2012). The publication of two books sharing the title The Good Tourist (Wood and House, 1992; Popescu, 2008) are indicative of Mouffe’s view reflected in something previously considered banal (from a political standpoint): leisure travel. If you want to act upon the world in which you live, the key for these authors is not to do ­politics – to join a campaign to change the world or to argue for an ideology – but to be ‘good’: buy those things and act in ways prescribed as ‘good’. What is ‘good’ is often determined by small groups of self-appointed elite ethical thought leaders. The irony here is that the rise of ethical ­debate about mass tourism corresponds to the decline of transcendental politics, the latter referring to a conception of politics as the contestation

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of the sort of world that we live in. The collapse of what Jacoby terms ‘utopias’ (2000) – future-­ oriented thinking and political ideas around how society ought to be – left the political scene and social consciousness profoundly shaped by a presentism, which in this context refers to seeing society in functionalist terms, without an agent of change. Managing the present as best one can is, apparently, the only tenable strategy. The focus on ethical consumption is evident in a host of niches that make moral claims. A good example is ‘Responsible Travel’, a wellknown brand originated in 2001 by academic and ecotourism promoter Harold Goodwin and former Body Shop marketing executive Justin Francis (along with the late Anita Roddick, a prime mover in ethical consumption with her Body Shop stores). According to their website, for these advocates of ethical holidays, responsible tourism ‘simply means holidays that care about local communities and culture as well as wildlife conservation and the environment’ (­Responsible Travel, 2013). Volunteer tourism is the latest and (for its supporters) the most ethical form of tourism. Here, leisure and consumption are not just moral terrain, but pleasure-seeking is indistinguishable from social and even political agency. Both are examples of a wider ethical tourism premised on the search for agency through lifestyle in the realm of consumption and behaviour (Butcher and Smith, 2015).

Tourism and Moral Autonomy In the light of the poverty of ethical tourism as a moral stance, I tentatively argue that mass tourism – or simply tourism – could be viewed in a much more optimistic moral light. Leisure travel plays a role in the development of moral autonomy. Travelling exposes an individual to new things, new people and new experiences. Part of the development of moral autonomy is to confront and judge situations, and to act for oneself on that basis. Making moral judgements on how to treat others, how to judge their societies and whether to judge them at all can be part of a creative process of questioning prior assumptions and opening one’s eyes to the world. Today’s ethical tourism advocacy narrows the scope for the development of moral autonomy, as it proscribes and prescribes certain types of

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travel and behaviour as ‘ethical’ and others as ‘unethical’ a priori. In this respect tourism, especially those types of tourism associated with being ethical, is over-regulated (and not under-­ regulated, as many ethical advocates claim). It is the moral over-regulation of tourism that reigns in its positive potential for the development of the morally autonomous subject. One of the beautiful things about Kerouac’s books is the sense of freedom and openness to experience of all kinds, expressed through a stream of consciousness unmediated by prior moral codes. Today’s travellers, by contrast, are encouraged to seek out organizations with the correct ethical kitemark, companies that will ­organize, advise and instil the cultural etiquette of ethical tourism. The potential for personal development is stunted the more it is formalized, organized and regulated in this way. The same applies to moralizing about package holidays and holidaymakers. Trips by young people to the coast or to cities abroad with friends are possibly as near as modern societies come to a rite of passage. The necessity of negotiating currencies, borders, new cultures, language and nightlife imposes the need to think and take ­responsibility without the fall back of parents or teachers. Cheap package holidays and budget airlines have made leisure travel much more ­affordable and continue to be very popular. Put simply, to partake of sun, sea and sand says nothing at all about one’s moral views or ethical credentials whatsoever, or about one’s capacity to contemplate moral questions. It could be that non-ethical tourists simply perceive their moral life in a different way, or that they do not hold to the stifling moral parameters of ethical tourism. Yet the above is readily dismissed as mass tourism, undifferentiated and standardized for undifferentiated and standardized people. It is as if critics of mass tourism have adopted one particular definition of ‘mass’ from the Oxford English Dictionary, ‘mass: an aggregate within which individuality is lost’. Mass tourists are ­regarded as objects propelled by voracious advertising rather than autonomous subjects.

A Moral Case for Growth? The ability to travel for leisure has been embraced wherever people have been able, through

wealth, technology and freedom, to undertake it. It is part of a universal impulse to live an enjoyable and fulfilling life. Such simple, universal and humanistic propositions are often overlooked in much modern radical thought, the latter characterized by a strong cultural relativism (Chibber, 2013). Therefore, arguments to extend the ability to enjoy leisure travel have a moral character as they universalize opportunities that currently only the minority can enjoy. Of course, the reality today is that so many have neither the material nor political freedom to be tourists – their life is dominated by toil and hardship. But the growth of Cook’s tours in 19th century Britain, and the package charter holidays and cheap ­independent travel more recently, are indicative of how, through a more developed, modern society, more people can be part of the leisure-­mobile masses. Today economic development, in China in particular, is enabling millions of people with the disposable income to join the ranks of global tourists. It is, in global terms, leading to greater equality of opportunity to travel. This sometimes seems to be greeted more with a neo-Malthusian pessimism than any sense of optimism or celebration of progress. This is in stark contrast to the rejection of transformative growth implicit in a good deal of ethical tourism’s advocacy. Ecotourism, for example, makes a moral virtue out of promising to change very little at all (Butcher, 2003, 2007), promoting a ‘symbiosis’ between people and nature (Goodwin, 2000) that borders on environmental determinism.

Morality and the Threat to Freedom Finally, it is worth thinking about a moral case for mass tourism in the light of terrorist attacks on tourists. The growth of travel for fun and enlightenment faces a major threat. Terrorism in the past tended to be directed against a state and in pursuit of national freedom. This has changed. The new Al Qaeda- and Islamic State-inspired terrorism targets liberal values of democracy and freedom. Tourists are in the frame. The attacks in Tunisia, Paris, Egypt and elsewhere have no political target as such, and reflect a narcissistic and nihilistic rejection of modernity, freedom, democracy and humanity itself.



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Yet tourism itself has long been criticized by some social scientists as a form of ‘colonialism’ (Cohen, 1972: 182; Turner and Ash, 1975: 1; Krippendorf, 1987: 50; Lozanski, 2011: 466), a part of a system of domination of the poor by the rich. Dennison Nash argues that ‘the North American vacationer who insists on fast food hamburgers, coffee with his meal, hot running water in his bedroom and the use of the English language’ is effectively adopting an ‘imperialist’ lifestyle (Nash, 1989: 39). One or two have gone as far as to suggest that acts of terrorism targeting tourists are an understandable (albeit unjustified) reaction to the modern Western society that mass tourism epitomizes. Social scientist Donald Reid, for example, regards tourism as ‘a major force in the “cancer stage of capitalism”’ (a term referring to a stage of capitalism so extreme that it is undermining such basic aspects of social development as clean water, food, shelter and education). For Reid, the ‘value structure behind global tourism’ has drained the developing world of capital, exported its own hegemonic culture, promoted greater inequality between countries and much else, none of it positive (Reid, 2003: 3). One does not have to be global capitalism’s biggest fan to know that this is a hopelessly one-sided caricature. Despite disaster and poverty in the present, the world has become better educated and better fed and, due to economic growth in China and India in recent decades especially, less globally unequal. Yet for Reid, international terrorism is a response to globalization, including its manifestation in the growth of global tourism. He states with regard to the attacks on the Twin Towers of 2001: ‘While no one can condone the carnage of the events of September 11, they must be viewed as a rejection of corporate globalization and the exploitation taking place across the globe, and not simply the actions of a few deranged individuals, as some would have us believe’ (Reid, 2003: 3). Recently, sustainable tourism champion Gordon Sillence argued in similar vein that the

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current development model will service ‘the expected 2 billion international arrivals by the year 2020, and therefore balance the books and line the bank accounts of the 1%, their bureaucratic beneficiaries and capitalist wannabees’ but that it will also ‘fuel the disillusion, hate and rage that is fermenting in those very same destinations in which we wish to spend our stress-relieving, mentally stimulating, sacred holiday time’. He adds that: ‘Those in the tourism sector – its administrators, businesses and high end clientele – need to look very closely at how their actions stimulate the sickeningly inequitable conditions that escalate into these isolated but media high-lighted violent outbursts’ (Sillence, 2016). Sillence’s association of luxury travel as a motivator for terrorism is crude and blames the unfreedoms of some on the freedoms of others. Reid’s view that the World Trade Centre attacks constitute ‘a rejection of corporate globalization and the exploitation taking place across the globe’ grossly misunderstands the anti-political and anti-human character of the recent attacks. In the not-too-distant past, internationalism meant aspiring to extend material and political freedoms universally, rather than seeing different societies as involved in a zero sum game of freedom. By contrast, in the aftermath of the 2015 Paris terrorist attacks, sociologist Jennie Bristow wrote: The cosmopolitanism with which the so-called millennials grew up, the diversity of their own communities, and their access to direct and indirect experiences of other countries at the click of a mouse or the purchase of a cheap airline ticket, stands as one of the most inspiring developments of the 20th century [. . .] How great it would be if the response [to the Paris terror attacks] was a new determination to claim the world as a truly open space, in which freedom and commitment became the rallying cries for the battle against nihilism and fear. (Bristow, 2015)

To aspire to greater freedom for oneself, and for others too, is a moral stance worthy of the name.

References Adorno, T. and Horkheimer, M. (1973) Dialectic of Enlightenment. Routledge, New York. Arendt, H. (1973) The Origins of Totalitarianism. Mariner Books, New York.

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Bell, D. (2000) The End of Ideology: On the Exhaustion of Political Ideas in the Fifties. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Blackburn, S. (2003) Being Good: A Short Introduction to Ethics. Oxford University Press, Oxford. Boorstin, D. (1997) The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America. Vintage, New York. Bray, R. and Raitz, V. (2002) Flight to the Sun: The Package Holiday Revolution. Continuum, London. Brendon, P. (1992) Thomas Cook: 150 Years of Popular Tourism. Secker and Warburg, London. Bristow, J. (2015) Millennial terrorism comes of age. In: Spiked_online, 18 November. Available at: http:// www.spiked-online.com/newsite/article/millennial-terrorism-comes-of-age/17648#.V3KLxssUXcs (accessed 28 February 2016). Burchill, J. (2015) Lie back and think of Benidorm. The Times, 24 May. Butcher, J. (2003) The Moralisation of Tourism: Sun, Sand . . . and Saving the World? Contemporary Geographies of Leisure, Tourism and Mobility series. Routledge, London. Butcher, J. (2007) Ecotourism, NGOs and Development: A Critical Analysis. Routledge, London. Butcher, J. (2014) Moralizing tourism: personal qualities, political issues. In: Hannam, K. and Mostafanezhad, M. (eds) Moral Encounters in Tourism. Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Butcher, J. and Smith, P. (2015) Volunteer Tourism: The Lifestyle Politics of International Development. ­Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Carey, P. (1992) The Intellectuals and the Masses: Pride and Prejudice Among the Literary Intelligentsia, 1880–1939. Faber and Faber, London. Caton, K. (2012) Taking the moral turn in tourism studies. Annals of Tourism Research 39(4), 1906–1928. Chesterton, G.K. (2011) The Poet and the Lunatic: Episodes in the Life of Gabriel Gale. Dover Publications, New York, p. 53. Chibber, V. (2013) Postcolonial Theory and the Specter of Capital. Verso, London. Chouliaraki, L. (2012) The Ironic Spectator: Solidarity in the Age of Post Humanitarianism. Polity, C ­ ambridge. Cohen, E. (1972) Toward a sociology of international tourism. Social Research 39(1), 164–182. Cohen, E. (1979) A phenomenology of tourist experiences. Sociology 13(2), 179–201. Fagge, R. (2012) The Vision of J.B. Priestley. Continuum, London. Feiffer, M. (1985) Going Places: the Ways of the Tourist from Imperial Rome to the Present Day. MacMillan, London. Fennell, D. (2014) Ecotourism, 4th edn. Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Franks, T. (1998) The Conquest of Cool: Business Culture, Counterculture, and the Rise of Hip Consumerism. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Illinois. Furedi, F. (2007) The First World War: Still No End in Sight. Bloomsbury, London. Goodwin, H. (2000) Tourism and natural heritage: a symbiotic relationship. In: Robinson, M., Sharpley, R., Evans, N., Long, P. and Swarbrook, A. (eds) Environmental Management and Pathways to Sustainable Tourism. Business Education Publishers Ltd, Sunderland, UK, pp. 97–112. Goodwin, H. (2011) Taking Responsibility for Tourism. Goodfellow, Oxford. Higgins-Desboilles, F. (2008) Justice tourism and alternative globalisation. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 16(3), 345–364. Jacoby, R. (2000) The End of Utopia: Politics and Culture in an Age of Apathy. Basic Books, London. Judt, T. (2010) Post War: A History of Europe Since 1945. Penguin, London. Kerouac, J. (2000) Dharma Bums. Penguin, London. Krippendorf, J. (1987) The Holiday Makers: Understanding the Impact of Leisure Travel. Heinneman, London. Lasch, C. (1979) The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations. Norton, New York. Le Bon, G. (1995) The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. Transaction, London. Lozannski, K. (2011) Independent travel, colonialism, liberalism and the self. Critical Sociology 37(4), 465–482. MacCannell, D. (1992) Empty Meeting Grounds: The Tourist Papers. Routledge, London. MacCannell, D. (1999) The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class, 2nd edn. University of California Press, Oakland, California. Marcuse, H. (1992) One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society. Routledge Classics. Routledge, London. Marwick, A. (1999) The Sixties: Social and Cultural Transformation in Britain, France, Italy and the United States, 1958–7. Oxford Paperbacks, Oxford. Marx, K. and Engels, F. (2004) The Communist Manifesto. Penguin Classics. Penguin, London. McGuigan, J. (2009) Cool Capitalism. Pluto, London. Meadows, D.H., Meadows, D.L. and Behrens, W. (1972) The Limits to Growth. Universe Books, New York.



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Minca, C. and Oakes, T. (eds) (2011) Real Tourism: Practice, Care and Politics in Contemporary Tourism. Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Mouffe, C. (2005) On the Political. Routledge, New York. Mowforth, M. and Munt, I. (2015) Tourism and Sustainability: Development, Globalisation and New Tourism in the Third World. Routledge, London. Nash, D. (1989) Tourism and colonialism. In: Nash, D. and Smith, V. (eds) Hosts and Guests: the Anthropology of Tourism. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, pp.37–53. Novelli, M. (ed.) (2004) Niche Tourism: Contemporary Issues, Trends and Cases. Routledge, London. Poon, A. (1994) Tourism, Technology and Competitive Strategies. CAB International, Wallingford, UK. Popescu, L. (2008) The Good Tourist. Arcadia, London. Reid, D. (2003) Tourism, Globalisation and Development: Responsible Tourism Planning. Pluto, London. Responsible Travel (2013) What is Responsible Tourism? Available at: http://www.responsibletravel.com/ copy/responsible-tourism (accessed 4 September 2013). Sennett, R. (2003) The Fall of Public Man. Penguin, London. Sillence, G. (2016) Tourism under attack. In: Travelmole, 12 January. Available at: http://www.travelmole. com/news_feature.php?news_id=2020223 (accessed 25 February 2016). Stavans, I. and Ellison, J. (2015) Reclaiming Travel. Duke University Press, New York. Turner, L. and Ash, J. (1975) The Golden Hordes: International Tourism and the Pleasure Periphery. Constable, London. Williams, R. (2014) Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society, 2nd edn. Fourth Estate, London. Withey, L. (1998) Grand Tours and Cook’s Tours: A History of Leisure Travel, 1750 to 1915. Aurum Press, London. Wood, K. and House, S. (1992) The Good Tourist, 2nd edn. Mandarin, London. Wright Mills, C. (1956) The Power Elite. Oxford University Press, Oxford. Zuelow, E. (2015) History of Modern Tourism. Palgrave, London.

4 

The Political Economy of Mass Tourism and its Contradictions Raoul Bianchi* University of East London, London, UK

Introduction Any attempt to consider the political economy of mass tourism (PEMT) faces two challenges. First, there is the problem of defining mass tourism. The position taken in this chapter is that all forms of tourism have been shaped by the global spread of free-market economics and conditioned by variable degrees of capitalist development and political–institutional arrangements within different societies. The ‘niche’ market is itself defined by the overall capitalist context. Secondly, there are problems in defining political economy, which has been inconsistently applied in tourism development studies. Its origins can be traced back to feudalism and the emergence of industrial capitalism, with its boundaries broadly prescribed by the study of the production, accumulation and distribution of national wealth (Gilpin, 2001: 25). However, political economy also encompasses the study of markets that shape the production of commodities and accumulation of capital (see Mosco, 1996: 27) and, through the lens of neoclassical theory and, later, neo-liberalism, has often been barely distinguished from economics; it is thus reduced to an arid, value-neutral technical tool to advise business and government on the optimum strategies for achieving profitability and

economic growth, a perspective blind to class and other power relationships that shape development practices (Mason, 2015: 161). Some have argued that the study of tourism development has been largely disconnected from questions of political economy (Steiner, 2006: 165), while political economy has often seemed to epitomize studies critical of tourism and its contribution to economic development, primarily associated with neo-Marxist theories of dependency or underdevelopment theory (Turner, 1976; Britton, 1980, 1982; Pérez, 1980; Lea, 1988: 10). There is some recent evidence this view is being reassessed (Williams, 2004; Steiner, 2006; Hazbun, 2008; Richter and Steiner, 2008; Fletcher, 2011; Mosedale, 2011; Duffy, 2013; Harrison, 2015; Lee et al., 2015; Murray Mas, 2015) but the sub-discipline nevertheless remains marginal within tourism studies. Drawing on historical materialism in the Marxian tradition (Perrons, 1999: 94–98), the focus of this chapter is on key facets of the PEMT and the industrial configurations and political– economic relations that drive the logic of accumulation and development, which, in turn, impel its expansion in today’s networked transnational capitalist economy. Nevertheless, this cannot encompass the full spectrum of capitalist diversity and configurations of mass tourism worldwide.

*[email protected] 40

© CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)



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The PEMT must thus be examined in context and not ‘read off ’ from invariant ‘laws’ of development. The discussion presented here will thus centre on the forces and relations of capitalist ­development that shape and determine the industrial logic of mass tourism as it expands, ­diversifies and settles in different parts of the globe, driven by the search for profits and the self-expansion of capital.

The ‘Industry’ of Mass Tourism and its Discontents In 2015, international tourism generated US$1.4 trillion in export earnings and, according to the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO), tourism ranks third after fuels and chemicals as a worldwide export category, ahead of food and automotive products, and in many developing countries tourism ranks as the first export sector (UNWTO, 2016). It is, therefore, ‘an important avenue of capitalist accumulation’ (Britton, 1991: 451), albeit one involving a more complex and variable set of productive arrangements and social relations than is often acknowledged. For while there is considerable corporate concentration in various tourism and hospitality industry sub-sectors, the productive arrangements of tourism are ‘organisationally but also spatially differentiated’ (Clancy, 2011: 88). Gibson (2009: 529) describes this fragmentation in terms of the ‘kaleidoscopic character of tourism capitalism’, with a wide range of services provided to different types of tourists, a situation that has led others to question whether or not tourism is an industry at all (de Kadt, 1979: x; Leiper, 2008) and which makes it difficult to identify the specific configurations of capitalist development and class relations of power that shape and determine the PEMT. Tourism is also the only ‘industry’ represented at the highest level of the United Nations system through the UNWTO, and perhaps the only economic activity considered intrinsically problematic, both environmentally and because of its alleged social and cultural impacts, differing from large-scale extractive agribusiness and manufacturing industries (which also have negative impacts) because of the sheer scale of mass tourism (see Sharpley, 2015). Cheap travel

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and the concomitant democratization of mass tourism have often been accompanied by the denigration of the travel habits of the masses (Butcher, 2003: 33–49; see also Chapter 3, this volume). In the UK, for example, travel companies have advertised holidays that avoid contact with ‘chavs’ (an allegedly feckless, violent and vulgar section of British youth) (Savill, 2009: Jones, 2012). The scale of mass tourism has arguably therefore detracted attention from the underlying conditions of accumulation that drive and configure particular political–economic formations of mass tourism, and the resultant distribution of surpluses has largely been ignored. Indeed, it has been suggested we should reject the ‘myth of a single and pervasive capitalist market economy’ (Mosedale, 2012: 195). However, many ‘alternative economies’ of niche tourism identified by Mosedale (e.g. home exchange, charitable travel and worldwide organic farm tourism) exist either parallel to or outside the principal circuits of capital accumulation, neither challenging the dominance of corporate-led, market-driven mass tourism nor indicating a determined shift towards post-capitalist tourism economies.

Mass Tourism, Capitalism and Development The emergence of international tourism as a catalyst for economic development and modernization in many ‘Third World’ states has been extensively documented (de Kadt, 1979; Harrison, 2001, 2010, 2015; Sharpley, 2015; Telfer, 2015). From the late 1950s, mass tourism was harnessed as an instrument of economic and social modernization in many newly independent ‘Third World’ countries and small island developing states (SIDS), particularly those in established trading relationships with former colonial masters. Many such states had already been extensively developed by colonial powers as suppliers of raw materials and agricultural crops, and had seen pockets of expatriate investment in hotels emerge in the major ports-of-entry late in the 19th century, while large-scale coastal mass tourism later accelerated their incorporation into the global economy. According to modernization theory, tourism facilitated the transfer of part of the surplus

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income of the developed world to developing countries, simultaneously providing pleasure for ever-increasing numbers of middle-class travellers from the West and propelling ‘developing’ countries further along the path to development (Bond and Ladman, 1980). Missing from this analysis was any recognition of the uneven trading relations and domestic class and power structures that shaped this seemingly benign exchange between destinations and tourist-­ ­ generating societies. This optimistic view of tourism was later criticized by scholars drawing upon neo-Marxist theories of dependency and underdevelopment. Rather, they argued, international mass tourism subordinated developing economies within an ‘international division of leisure’ as a ‘single global periphery’ increasingly tied to the interests of rich states (Turner, 1976: 253). For example, Britton suggested the ‘colonial space-economy’ was crucial in shaping economic and socio-­ spatial relations of inequality in Pacific Island tourism (Britton, 1980, 1982). Generally, most neo-Marxists agreed that international mass tourism had failed to contribute to ‘Third World’ economic development because of ‘monopolistic controls exerted by transnational corporations (TNCs) over the ownership and organizational structure of most countries’ mass tourism sectors’ (Brohman, 1996: 54). Despite the unequal distribution of tourism surpluses highlighted by dependency and underdevelopment theory, tourism multipliers often demonstrate high returns from tourism (Gladstone, 2005: 66). Tourism has also been noted for its low entry barriers and entrepreneurial dynamism (d’Hautserre, 2009: 340), and has commonly been regarded as uniquely able to generate business opportunities and jobs across the construction, transport, retail, food and handicraft industries (de Kadt, 1979: 11). Undoubtedly, tourism did provide many low-income states with vital foreign exchange, balance of payments surpluses, and an alternative to low-wage or subsistence agriculture and informal industrial ­sectors (Steiner, 2006: 169–170). Often, too, large-­ scale tourism development yielded wages higher than traditional agrarian occupations, not least through the boost often provided to the construction sector (Jurdao, 1990: 190). Between 1950 and 1990, international arrivals in low-income regions grew from 2.3 million

to 113.7 million (Gladstone, 2005: 56). This period also saw per capita incomes in low- and middle-income developing countries grow at an average of 3% per year between 1961 and 1980 (Pollin, 2004: 131). Despite such impressive growth rates, which later declined as many developing states succumbed to the debt crisis and structural adjustment policies imposed by the IMF (International Monetary Fund) from the early 1980s, these putative gains often occurred at the expense of the relentless drive to extend the logics of capital accumulation into these societies through policies of trade liberalization, privatization and state-subsidized financial incentives (Sreekumar and Parayil, 2002; Giampiccoli, 2007). Furthermore, as Sharpley notes, the growth in tourist numbers rarely led to wider socioeconomic development (Sharpley, 2009: 338). Although criticized for being ‘empirically invalid, theoretically inadequate and politically ineffective’ (Harrison, 2015: 57) and for reducing Third World states to the status of victims of metropolitan capitalist tourism companies, the ‘neo-colonial’ perspective countered the view that tourism inevitably enabled ‘developing’ countries to emulate and catch up the more ‘developed’ industrialized countries. It situated the analysis of uneven development within a wider framework of an integrated and unequal capitalist world economy, and raised critical questions about the monopolistic power of Western-­based tourism and hotel corporations and the unequal terms of trade that mediated flows of tourists between developed and developing country destinations. Rather than simply debating tourism’s contribution to economic development, it is important to explore the implications of this debate for conceptualizing the PEMT. That foreign-owned transnational corporations can generate higher levels of foreign revenue and pay higher wages than locally owned establishments (Harrison, 2010: 46) is not the issue; r­ather than simply calibrating the economic ­returns from tourism, focus should be on the dynamics of capital accumulation and the forces of production and reproduction that shape the industrial structure and organization of tourism and the consequences this holds for the distribution of surpluses (profits and wages). In so far as there are broad similarities in the PEMT and the integration of destination



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economies with wider flows of capital, particularly during the earlier phases of expansion and development (Lanfant, 1980; Britton, 1982), the precise organization and structure of mass tourism industries across different states was conditioned by variable institutional arrangements and conditions of capitalist development on the ground (Crouch and Streeck, 1997). Equally important is how mass tourism’s expansion after the Second World War was profoundly shaped by the relatively stable post-war geopolitical order of interdependent state-managed capitalisms, when the international political economy was underpinned by a system of fixed exchange rates linked to the Gold Standard, which facilitated technological innovation, drove productivity upwards, and stimulated unprecedented rates of economic growth averaging 3.2% per year between 1950 and 1973 in the world’s core industrial economies (Mason, 2015: 79–87). The resultant increase in per capita incomes and falling transportation costs fuelled the expansion of foreign outbound travel by a new generation of working and middle-class travellers able to afford relatively cheap overseas holidays, in the process easing the difficult economic transition of ‘developing’ countries from colonies to independent states. Few studies have considered strategies pursued by individual nation states to produce and reproduce the conditions of accumulation in the mass tourism economy in relation to both external forces as well as domestic patterns of class and institutional arrangements. In an avowedly ‘statist’ approach, though, Clancy (1998) shows how state agencies in Mexico actively mobilized state capital, land and domestic private investment to redirect tourism development towards the construction of international mass tourism enclaves on the coast. He suggests that despite the 1980s’ debt crisis, which forced the sale of state-owned assets and led to inward foreign investment in mega-resort enclaves around the country, a pattern of hotel and resort ownership emerged in which the ‘possibility of Mexican private sector participation’ was neither hindered nor foreclosed by the arrival of foreign chains (Clancy, 1998: 16). Hazbun (2008) and Richter and Steiner (2008) also emphasize how political agencies in North Africa shaped the flow of domestic, transnational and state capital into and from the

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tourism sector, and affected distribution of the ensuing surpluses or rents. In Tunisia, since the 1970s, after two decades of state-led tourism development, the state encouraged both domestic and foreign private investment to expand and restructure its mass beach resort infrastructure in response to changing external conditions (­Hazbun, 2008: 34–35; see also Chapter 18, this volume). By contrast, contrary to the oft-held view that tourism in low-income states is necessarily dominated by transnational capital, from the 1980s, in Egypt economic liberalization and the selective opening to foreign capital both ­stabilized the economy, bringing it back into surplus, and bolstered the power of Egypt’s authoritarian regime (Steiner, 2006). Such studies go beyond mere description of the state’s role in developing mass tourism infrastructures and show how states sought to construct alliances with different combinations of domestic and foreign capital to mobilize resources and capital for tourism development. Debates regarding the merits of tourism and economic development were not restricted to the ‘developing’ countries in the Global South. The package holiday dates back to early 19th century initiatives in the UK, including some by workers’ organizations , as well as Thomas Cook (Barton, 2005), and in the late 1930s holiday camps were developed, especially by Billy Butlin. Later, in the 1950s, Club Méditerranée, founded as a non-profit association in Paris by two veterans of the wartime resistance, was to revolutionize the mass package holiday model and launch it as a key driver of capital accumulation in the Mediterranean and beyond (Furlough, 2009; see also Chapter 9, this volume). Between the late 1950s and the crises of the mid-1970s, post-war mass tourism across the Mediterranean littoral led to entirely new urban forms, but while large-scale resort enclaves and urban conurbations encompassed myriad different scales and types of firms, they nevertheless exhibited broadly similar patterns in the political economy of their mass tourism industries. Mass tourism in the Mediterranean was based on a relatively simple formula: a standardized, lean production system with integrated package tour operators, based in tourist-­ generating countries, able to compile basic elements of a holiday package (namely, flights, accommodation, local transit and excursions) and

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sell them cheaply to tourists (Löfgren, 1999: 195). Employing minimal staff, and owning few productive assets in the destinations, tour operators controlled the principal distributional channels and could therefore gain favourable contract terms by forcing suppliers to reduce costs (Buhalis, 2000; Hazbun, 2008: 15–16). Small-scale local hoteliers and independent apartment owners, who might have borrowed heavily on the expectation of forever rising demand and/or continuous asset price inflation, thus often struggle to maintain profitability and and sometimes face the constant the constant threat of exclusion from package tourism markets altogether by failing to negotiate terms favourable to the tour operators. In the early 2000s, the rise of online travel agencies (OTAs) and web-based booking firms began to partially reconfigure these relationships, allowing small-scale, independent suppliers to contract directly with tourists. However, such specialist independent operators as formerly UKbased Laskarina Holidays and Tapestry, both of which went out of business in 2006, could not withstand the rise of online booking and the tough competitive conditions of Mediterranean mass market tourism (Skidmore, 2006). In addition, ongoing consolidation among major ­European tour operators made it increasingly difficult for small, independent tour operators to secure seating capacity on key Mediterranean charter routes (UNCTAD, 2007: 126). More recently, too, low-cost carriers, which in 2012 accounted for 37% of seat capacity in the European Union (EU), made significant inroads into mass tourism markets (ICAO, 2016). Nevertheless, despite the considerable market penetration by low-cost carriers, in some destinations dependent on mass beach tourism, for example the Canary Islands, 80% of the market is still monopolized by a few mass market tour operators (Blázquez, 2016: 7). OTAs are nevertheless multi-billion dollar corporate giants able to control suppliers and consumers alike through selling access to a wide portfolio of tourism products and services. Booking.com, a leading online booking firm founded in 1997, is owned by parent company Priceline, whose market value in 2015 was US$68 billion (Moore and Thompson, 2015). Booking.com alone accounts for 41% of Europe’s €44 billion market for air travel and hotel bookings, considerably more than the market share of ­

some of the largest tour operators. Meanwhile, in Hawai’i and elsewhere in the USA, OTAs have exploited this market dominance as an online relay between thousands of accommodation providers and consumers to enlarge their profits by collecting occupancy taxes from consumers at market rates while calculating their tax liabilities at discounted wholesale prices (King, 2015). Clearly, tourism development in the European south, and elsewhere, has facilitated the integration of local economies into wider networks of corporate influence and capital flows but the power of large tour operators and the new digital intermediaries should not be exaggerated. Despite the influence of both state and foreign capital in the construction of hotels and tourist accommodation, and the oligopsonistic powers exercised by north European tour operators and OTAs, a diversity of capitals and ownership arrangements are found in mass tourism destinations in the Mediterranean and, indeed, elsewhere. At various times over the past 60 years, different capitals, encompassing state finance, private domestic capital of different scale, migrant remittances, overseas including diaspora capital and, finally, foreign aid have provided the investment capital for the construction of hotels, resorts and infrastructure for the tourism sectors in Greece and Spain (Newton, 1996; Leontidou, 1998). At the same time, mass tourism development also led to the emergence of a new stratum of small-scale entrepreneurs from the ordinary peasant and fishing classes, small merchants and return ­migrants (Kousis, 1989; Kenna, 1993; Zarkia, 1996). In addition, a new upwardly mobile class of capitalist tourism entrepreneurs and hoteliers emerged from an earlier generation of petty capitalists to amass substantial business fortunes rivalling those already controlled by an earlier generation of wealthy hoteliers. Grecotel, for example, part of the Daskalantonakis Group, grew from a small Cretan family business started in 1976 to encompass a portfolio of 31 hotels and resorts (Dritsas, 2009: 62–64). Nevertheless, most tourism and hospitality related enterprise in Greece overwhelmingly consists of small, often family-owned firms, comprising less than ten rooms (Dritsas, 2009: 63). The role of small-scale local investors in the construction and leasing of apartments to tour operators has also been significant in the Canary



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Islands (Bianchi and Santana Talavera, 2004; Macleod, 2004; Santana Turégano, 2007) and in other small-scale island economies (Hampton and Christensen, 2007: 1007). In Spain, while there are some parallels with Greece, there is also a significant contrast in the scale and external strategic orientation of their major domestically owned transnational hotel groups (Jacob and Groizard, 2007). Of these, five (Sol Meliá, NH, Riu, Barceló and Iberostar) are among the world’s largest hotel groups, with a particularly strong presence in Latin America and the Caribbean (Murray Mas, 2015: 276). In particular, Mallorca, which about half a century ago was predominantly rural, with a relatively poor population, is currently home to several mega-corporations whose origins lie in the close ties cultivated with the Franco dictatorship by the island’s patrician families, who manage and control an extensive global portfolio of resorts and hotels (Buades, 2009; see also Chapter 16, this volume). The character of mass tourism in Spain, in particular its two main archipelagos, owes much to the breakup of landed estates and the construction of cheap, high-rise, relatively low-grade tourist accommodation in densely packed units along the littoral (Buswell, 2011: 67, 138). Direct state financing, the acquisition of strategically placed, land-based assets along the littoral, and access to cheap labour moving from the fields into construction and tourism, was essential for the early cycles of ‘primitive accumulation’ which kick-started the dynamics of capitalist tourism development here and across southern Spain and the Canary Islands. More recently, while there have been attempts by regional governments to curb urban expansion and despoliation of the environment in the name of ‘sustainability’, an alliance of regional and national politicians, the media, domestic business lobby and sections of academia has forged a tight consensus that negates any sustained critique of the constant growth and expansion of a corporate–capitalist model of tourism development (Blázquez et al., 2011: 12–13). Trade surpluses and advances in living standards generated by mass tourism in southern Europe are undeniable, but they conceal the underlying weaknesses and inequalities in the PEMT. In 1970s’ Spain there was a determined switch from hotels to self-catering, followed in

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the 1990s by a further strategic shift towards ‘niche’ and residential tourism as a means of sustaining the accumulation of capital. However, with neither a strong industrial sector nor a systematic determination to expand the service sector, there has been a reinforcement of a rentier model of tourism development driven by an insatiable thirst for profits in banking, construction and real estate speculation (Charnock et al., 2014). The accompanying urbanization has diverted scarce capital and resources from productive investment and innovation in new technologies and management practices, degraded coastal and marine ecologies, and increasingly intensified the use and organization of resources as tourism has become more specialized (Hof and Blázquez-Salom, 2015). This has largely benefited a loose alliance of regional authorities, regional banks and property-development companies at the expense of productivity growth and balanced territorial development, and culminated in the recent financial collapse and collapse in living standards (López and Rodríguez, 2011). Descent into recession was aggravated by the introduction of the euro in 1999 which removed any recourse to competitive currency devaluation as a means of sustaining the competitiveness of cheap, mass package tourism. Since then, nearly two decades of strategic government intervention aimed at a more constrained, sustainable model of tourism has failed to alter the fundamentally speculative, rentier nature of Spanish and indeed, Greek ­capitalism, which are based on anticipated ever-­rising asset values rather than productive and innovative investments in tourism enterprise.

Mass Tourism, Global Capitalism and the Dialectics of Scale By the early 1990s, a consensus had grown among ‘green’ academics and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that the ‘crisis’ of mass tourism and the destructive consequences of large-scale resort development on coastal and other fragile environments could be solved by a new model of sustainable, small-scale, locally run tourism development (Sharpley, 2015: 429). The emphasis continued, fuelled by unease at the alleged ‘economic invasion of vulnerable countries

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by multinational corporations’, accompanied by the growth of independent, ethical travel, along with NGO-led campaigns against large-scale and/ or corporate mass tourism (Pattullo, 2006: 13) and the contrasting portrayal of small-scale, locally run tourism businesses as more in tune with local cultures and ecologies, which would also ensure the economic benefits of tourism remained within the local community (Dahles, 1997; ­Ateljevic and Doorne, 2000; Sofield, 2003). Others have been more circumspect about the material benefits small and medium-sized tourism enterprises (SMTEs) and ‘alternatives’ to mass tourism can offer low-income societies (Aramberri, 2010: 323; Harrison, 2010, 2012). Indeed, Aramberri (2010) forcefully promotes domestic and international mass tourism as an expression of capitalist modernity and a force for progress. However, debates over the relative merits of ‘mass’ versus ‘alternative’ tourism reveal a theoretical weakness in tourism development studies. Arguments tend to centre on questions of scale (of tourism enterprise and resort infrastructure) and (the morality of) tourist behaviour, and often ignore issues of power, ownership and political economy. While Butcher, for example (2003: 7), rightly derides the ‘constant denigration of mass package tourism’ and the concomitant exaltation of all manner of allegedly environmentally benign and culturally benevolent ‘niche’ tourisms, there is a danger in conflating variable and diverse relations of tourism production in binary scale pitting [large-scale] ‘mass’ tourism against [small-scale] ‘alternative’ tourism values. As Fletcher (2011) and Duffy (2015) have shown, such labels conceal the forces of accumulation and relations of production behind a façade of supposedly alternative, niche tourisms. Rather than focusing on the scale of tourism or tourist behaviour, analysis should centre on the dynamic interactions of the forces of accumulation driving the expansion and restructuring of destination and resort economies and the specific configurations of class and power determining the logics of surplus distribution that are of fundamental importance for the PEMT. For example, the assertion, the assertion that ‘the Tenerife and Spanish economies have benefited greatly from tourism’ (Butcher, 2003: 11) is so generalized that it is impossible to contest. It also downplays the environmental damage and enclosure of waterfront lands and public space

resulting from large-scale resort development across the Mediterranean (Boissevain, 2004) and indeed elsewhere (Hodal, 2013; Langenheim, 2016). Additionally, it ignores the class relations of power and the forces of accumulation that drive the expansion and govern the industrial configurations of mass tourism in specific localities and the increasingly vocal responses of citizens and public authorities alike to such phenomena (Angulo, 2016; Fernández, 2016). From a political economy perspective, small-scale tourism development and enterprise are not intrinsically preferable to large-scale developments, and to laud the former is simply to foreground scale over class relations of power and the logics of surplus extraction. Nevertheless, even capitalist firms may be governed by different values as well as logics of surplus extraction and distribution. SeaCanoe, for example, run by maverick activist–entrepreneur John Gray in Phuket, Thailand, is more than a mere ‘alternative’ low-impact means of experiencing the limestone sea caves of the Andaman Sea; rather, it is a vehicle for environmental activism, operated on more equitable lines than other private ecotourism operators and ‘green’ imitators in the area (Shepherd, 2002). Cultural differences may also influence cross-border business transactions between tourism SMTEs, and exacerbate misunderstandings and conflicts between foreign wholesalers and local suppliers (Scherle, 2004). Aggressive competition among destination-based firms is also accentuated by low entry barriers and the highly diverse nature of commerce in tourism economies, allowing numerous small-scale entrepreneurial initiatives to emerge (Gibson, 2009: 528). Nor should we expect small businesses to ignore the potential for profit making or circumvent environmental legislation to expand their business. As Briassoulis notes (2003: 106), local capitalists and developers may resist attempts by public authorities to curb urban development and introduce conservation measures and, once established, SMTEs may accumulate sufficient capital to become larger ‘corporate-based businesses’ and expand beyond the destination in which they emerged (Briassoulis, 2003: 108). Despite a valid counter to the critique of tourism TNCs and their allegedly negative influence on economic development (Harrison, 2010), increased reliance upon foreign companies to



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construct or operate luxury resorts can accentuate precarious working conditions and inequality (Lee et al., 2015). Large-scale TNCs may also exercise their considerable market power to influence the domestic regulatory environment, secure privileged access to public space and purchase commodifiable assets at knock-down prices (Buades, 2009: 69–72; Holden, 2011: 110). They may not be omnipresent monoliths exercising monopoly control over all areas of tourism (Reid, 2003: 27–38), but globalization has been accompanied by an intensification of capitalist social relations enabling TNCs to pursue strategies of growth, territorial expansion and industrial consolidation on a global level, supported by policies aimed at optimizing the conditions for capital accumulation (Harvey, 2006: 25–29). In the Caribbean, for example, some states have enacted strategies of trade liberalization and privatized publically owned assets, thus intensifying a dominant spatial model of tourism built on the ‘gated, security guarded, even fortified, private enclave of the all-inclusive resort’ and accelerating the growth of new property developments and real estate speculation (Sheller, 2009: 196). The global expansion of mass tourism is no mere consequence of globalization; rather, it is a sluice through which capital can flow in search of new and more profitable avenues of accumulation. Following the 1990s deregulation of financial systems in the advanced capitalist economies, speculative finance and the expansion of consumer credit have assumed greater significance as ways of sustaining corporate profitability and economic growth (Lapavitsas, 2009). Thus, while tourism industries are characterized by diverse forms of proprietorship, profound changes in neo-liberal capitalism have precipitated a shift towards new and more complex models of investment in the hotel and resort sectors, driven by a range of new corporate and financial actors (Levy and Scott-Clark, 2008). One consequence has been to further distance employees from a ‘shifting coalition of investors’, for whom such investments represent little more than a convenient vehicle for profit making (Grossman and Greenfield, 2006: 5). Following the global recession of the 1970s, which brought an end to the state-managed capitalisms of the post-war period, and the ensuing debt crisis of the 1980s, indebted states in Latin America, Africa and Asia introduced a swathe

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of neo-liberal reforms. One result was to use tourism to channel surplus capital into hotels and mega-resort development, spurred on by falling oil prices in the 1980s (Blázquez et al., 2011: 6). For Barceló, a Balearic-based hotel and resort TNC, the saturation and declining profitability of mass beach tourism in the Balearics was a spur for its aggressive expansion into the Caribbean and Latin America, channelled through a web of real estate investments and offshore companies which enabled it to maximize profits and minimize its tax burden (Buades, 2009: 103–111). The proliferation of new financial investment vehicles, namely real estate investment trusts [REITs] and private equity funds (ILO, 2010: 30–31), has also induced a shift towards luxury real estate and resort developments as mobile capital from emerging markets has entered circulation in both existing and new destination economies (Urquhart, 2013). Mass (package) tourism has been lauded by some academics and commentators as a progressive and democratizing force enabling ordinary working families to travel (Butcher, 2003; Aramberri, 2010; Cosslett, 2015). While this has certainly been the case, this ignores the political–­ economic forces that have enabled the continued expansion of mass travel, premised upon the simultaneous cheapening of travel products and expansion of consumer debt in the advanced capitalist democracies. Putting aside the unique experience of China, which nevertheless conceals stark contradictions of its own (Pollin, 2004: 132–137), the growth of mass travel in Western societies, travel has taken place against the backdrop of stagnant or falling wages that has occurred since the 1980s in Western Europe and the USA (Glyn, 2007: 116–117), while public outcry greets any apparent hindrance to travel (Bianchi and Stephenson, 2014: 75). However, the sense of entitlement to untrammelled freedom of travel rests upon a premise which is contradictory to neo-­ liberalism: that we can all consume and participate in travel without any concomitant rise in real wages (Mason, 2015: 17). This ‘ideology of cheapness’ is a fundamental organizing principle of globalized neo-liberal capitalism (Varoufakis, 2015: 124) and one that has been accelerated by the steady advance of the digital economy in which OTAs and price comparison search engines help to further reinforce the idea that cheap travel is a right and not a privilege (Pollock, 2013).

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Conclusion: the Political Economy of Mass Tourism and Post-capitalist Futures? In this analysis, technical and a-theoretical debates on the role of mass tourism in economic development have been eschewed for a political economy of mass tourism focusing on the contradictions and tensions inherent in the various configurations of capitalist production and institutional arrangements that drive and shape the industrial logics of mass tourism ­development. While the critique of mass tourism development has emphasized the scale and reach of corporate enterprise and degrees of foreign ownership, such factors may be exaggerated. Large TNCs and consortia tend to be concentrated at  the ‘high’ end of the market, SMTEs exist throughout different sub-sectors of the global tourism industries, and small-scale domestic private capital is locally significant in many mass tourism destinations. Furthermore, as many large firms prefer non-equity modes of proprietary control over direct ownership, levels of foreign direct investment in tourism remain low relative to other industrial sectors (Endo, 2006). A focus on scale and/or the origins of capital often serves to divert attention from the actual locus of power within the contemporary PEMT and, more precisely, from the processes of capital accumulation and class relations of power that determine and shape specific configurations of mass tourism development. Capitalist tourism enterprise coexists and/or collaborates with diverse domestic and foreign, public and private, ownership structures, and capitalistic forms of ownership are found at all levels of tourism enterprise. Different degrees of industrial concentration of international hotels, airlines and cruise-ship companies have developed alongside specialist niche travel companies and independent small to medium-sized enterprises that are more or less integrated through a variety of different equity and non-equity relations with TNCs. Equally significantly, even as mass tourism shifts from the beach to the city, the PEMT remains deeply intertwined with the construction and real estate sectors. The fuzziness of mass tourism’s industrial parameters and the

opacity of ownership are accentuated by increasingly complex and global models of financing in the tourism and hospitality industries. Consequently, strategically placed firms continue to capture the lion’s share of revenue from tourism, while new concentrations of power among the loosely articulated networks of financiers and investors are deeply embedded in the global architecture of mass tourism. In an absence of robust democratic restraint on the expansion of markets and corporate power, mass tourism opens up new frontiers for profitable investment and intensifies the existing exploitation of resources (namely, by commoditizing public space and exploiting tourist infrastructure as real estate assets) in established destinations, thus sustaining the expanded reproduction of capital. Mass tourism, at the very least in its modern European and North American incarnation, is arguably premised upon a false promise of abundance and the myth of perpetual consumption. Claims that it is a profound democratizing force, while partly true, conceal the ­inequalities and inefficiencies inscribed in the architecture of destination political economies and gloss over the decline in living standards and the spiralling of household debt that has fuelled mass tourism’s continuous growth. D ­ igital capitalism has opened up new frontiers of accumulation as online intermediaries and peer-to-peer tech companies make deep inroads into traditional tourist markets, but far from demonstrating a new ‘sharing’ or ‘collaborative’ capitalism, and socially and territorially redistributing tourism revenues, the growth of OTAs has accentuated corporate concentration and tax avoidance. In addition, the proliferation of peer-to-peer platforms appear to signal a shift towards a new and more aggressive phase of ­relentless commoditization of social relations as formerly ‘non-productive’ assets enter the circuits of capital accumulation. As labour itself is eviscerated from the very process of value ­creation through digitization and automation, and private lives enter more deeply into the realm of self-­ commoditization and micro-­entrepreneurship, the battle lines between capital and labour in the mass tourism industries will continue to shift and be transformed, just as new alignments of inequality and power will no doubt



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emerge. It is incumbent upon political economists to provide a coherent explanation and critique of the new and emergent configurations of mass tourism as it continues to unfold across

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different societies and evolve into new corporate formations, and to connect their analyses to pathways towards non-exploitative forms of tourism development.

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5 

A Theoretical Approach to Mass Tourism in Italy Asterio Savelli* and Gabriele Manella Università di Bologna, Bologna, Italy

Introduction The focus of this chapter is mass tourism in Italy. First, we consider leisure policies during Fascism, a period which was fundamental to the introduction of mass tourism in Italy. Secondly, we examine the boom from the 1950s to the 1970s, showing how mass tourism became the dominant model, and stressing some impacts on territory and local population. Thirdly, we discuss the first signs of crisis of this model since the 1970s, when Italy lost its international leadership, though some local businesses were able to withstand this crisis. Finally, we highlight some changes in tourism arising from globalization: (i)  the role of new technologies; (ii) opportunities for local communities; (iii) the increasing importance of sustainability; and (iv) new social meanings attributed to tourism. Special attention will be paid to the EmiliaRomagna coast, where mass tourism is most dense and most visible, thus epitomizing the Italian variant of this model. In addition, we compare tourism trends in Italy to other Mediterranean countries, a core research focus for the Mediterranean Association for the Sociology of Tourism (AssMed), whose activities are frequently mentioned in this chapter.

The Rise of Mass Tourism in Italy: the Years of Fascism One of the foundations of mass tourism is undoubtedly the welfare state. As Dielemans ­ (2010: 15–16) has noted, the legal entitlement of paid vacations was introduced by many countries early in the 20th century, with France leading the way in 1936. Something similar was introduced in Italy in 1927, but the implementation was very slow and it was not extended to all the categories of workers. Along with such preceding factors as national unification in 1861 (resulting in greater security and less bureaucracy when travelling), the development of rail and sea transport and general economic and welfare improvements, this made holidays possible for a much wider range of social classes, as did increased numbers of travel agents and tourist guides (Berrino, 2011: 38). The first wave of mass tourism occurred in the late 19th and early 20th century and was concentrated around the circuit of heritage cities: Rome, Florence, Venice and Naples. However, some seaside destinations also emerged; Livorno was probably the first on the Tyrrhenian coast, while Rimini and Venice were the first on the Adriatic, and such sun and beach destinations

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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provided more ‘ludic’ activities than the earlier more exclusive and elitist spa and thalassotherapy holiday centres (Berrino, 2011: 172). Mass tourism really gained momentum in Italy, though, in the 1920s and 1930s. In 1924, for the first time, there were more than 1 million international arrivals, reaching 4 million arrivals and 14 million overnight stays in 1938. Domestic arrivals also increased, from 2,950,000 in 1921 to 5,450,000 in 1923. The domestic and international peak was in 1939, with 84  million arrivals and 408 million overnights (Vaccaro, 2001: 47). Moreover, national policies facilitated the growth of mass tourism. Governments often emphasized the importance of spending free time in a ‘productive’ and ‘healthy’ way, and Fascist policies, especially, stressed the value of knowing the country and its culture. These policies had several aims: (i) mitigating class conflict; (ii) controlling political and social movements; and (iii) constructing a new national identity (De Grazia, 1981: 8, 206). The most important Fascist institution was probably the Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro (OND) (National Recreational Club). Established in 1925 to organize the free time of workers, OND initiatives were numerous and included, in 1937, the promotion of some 50,000 marches involving 3 million participants (Vigilante, 2014: 13–14). Other activities included the spread of cinemas throughout the country (the ‘Saturday theatre’) and the promotion of sporting events. Tourism was a core part of these policies and OND encouraged developments in the national artistic and cultural heritage and expanded the role of previously existing clubs and tourist companies, for example the Italian Touring Club (for car owners and cyclists) and the Italian Federation of Hikers, which were founded in 1892 and 1911, respectively (De Grazia, 1981: 207). The treni popolari (popular trains) were another Fascist institution to promote mass tourism. They started in 1931 by providing discounts to enable groups to spend one or more days with the OND in a social setting. Departures and arrivals were accompanied by bands, flags and speeches to celebrate the solemnity of these moments. They grew rapidly. In 1932, for example, 84 trains left Florence with about 70,000 passengers. Maritime and mountain associations were another element of Fascist tourism policy. Promoted by the Opera Nazionale Balilla (a youth

organization), they included camping sites and the Houses of Youth of the Italian Littorio (buildings for sport and other activities for young people). Health services became a ‘propaganda machine’ through which the Fascist regime demonstrated its commitment to the working class (Pedicone, 2012: 79). Such policies had been absent from many Italian regions before being introduced by the Fascist authorities (De Grazia, 1981: 213). Similarly important changes were also occurring in the architecture and urban planning at holiday resorts. One evident example was the Romagna coast, where increasing numbers of small hotels and other forms of holiday accommodation were springing up.

The Boom of Mass Tourism After the Second World War: the 30 Glorious Years The war almost completely destroyed Italian tourism. From 1939, for example, international arrivals dramatically decreased from 4 million to less than 200,000 in 1941–1942, and no more statistical data were produced until 1947 (Vaccaro, 2001: 48–49). There was then a resurgence, however, and by 1951 previous records were exceeded, with 27,300 facilities (12,600 hotels and 14,700 guest houses) and 569,000 beds (455,000 in hotels and 114,000 in guest houses). There were 16.5 million arrivals (12.1 domestic, 4.4 international) and 49.6 million overnight stays, of which 37.4 million were domestic and 12.2 million were international. In addition, there were 800,000 arrivals and 2.2 million overnight stays in camping sites and youth hostels. These trends continued in the following years. From 1958 until 1963 there was an economic boom, and the Italian growth rate reached a level unsurpassed during the whole post-war period. This was reflected in the growth of tourism: in 1960, Italians taking overseas holidays totalled 5 million, increasing to 11 million in 1965, while the country was increasingly motorized, with car ownership increasing from 700,000 in 1954 to 5 million in 1964 (Berrino, 2011: 263). Basically, Italy developed mass tourism by adapting pre-existing structures. However, the



A Theoretical Approach to Mass Tourism in Italy

huge increase in demand led to destinations emerging from nothing. This was especially evident on the northern Adriatic coast during the 1950s and 1960s, and Bibbione, Lido di Jesolo and Riccione are examples (Berrino, 2011: 259). As a consequence of these developments, academics, especially economists and geographers, started to pay more attention to tourism’s causes and impacts (Savelli, 2011: 6). Catelli (1976: 183–194), for example, linked the rise of mass tourism to changes in rural areas, stressing that the latter could not avoid rationalization and alienation. ‘Escaping the city’ was a common feature of holidays but the result was not a rediscovery of country life and rural culture, and even less an enhanced respect for nature. Rather, as in urban areas, the trend was towards environmental degradation and increased consumerism. Along similar lines, Martinelli (1976: 79–104), one of the first Italian sociologists to work on these topics, considered mass tourism the result of a rationalization process which occurred at the workplace, reflecting a strong sense of individual alienation which, he felt, was often unconscious and permeated all aspects of private life. Instead of finding relaxation and fulfilment in the affective sphere, people tended to replicate the mechanisms of the labour market and performed their roles according to the routines followed in factories and offices. More generally, the growth of mass tourism was reflected in the collective imaginary of holidays, which were increasingly marked by a focus on five Ss: sea, sun, sand, sex and spirit (alcohol). These elements became the most important features of tourist experience and have been effectively described by Urry (1995), who noted how the ‘romantic gaze’ was being replaced by the increasingly autonomous ‘collective gaze’ (1995: 150). The importance attributed to mass tourism in Italy is also seen in advertising posters, postcards, songs and films of the period. Berrino, for example (2011: 264), analyses the hedonism and absence of rules in the holiday portrayed in Risi’s 1962 film Il Sorpasso (The Easy Life), while Gabbianelli (2012: 71) focuses on Risi’s 1965 L’ombrellone (Weekend Italian Style), featuring the Adriatic coast and an opening scene with all the symbols of seaside mass tourism: rows of parasols, masses of sunbathing and swimming tourists, and traffic jams. The coast has become a theatre, where tourists perform; public and private spaces

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merge, and everything is part of a ritual that ­requires fun, brightness, socialization . . . and love affairs. Sociologists also studied the patterns of tourist accommodation that were emerging. Benini and Savelli (1986: 46–53), for example, highlighted changes in accommodation on the Romagna coast, where seaside mass tourism had existed since the end of the 19th century and through the period of Fascism. Until the 1950s, small hotels and pensions (guest houses) predominated, and were characterized by strong family structures and entrepreneurial cooperation, informality and direct relations with customers. At this time, social relations with tourists took precedence over meeting the more formal requirements of hospitality and service (Gori, 1992: 101–107). Tourist demand was so high that no planning seemed to be needed; however, transnational corporations (TNCs) made an important contribution in attracting international tourists, especially from northern Europe (Benini and Savelli, 1986: 27–28). In the 1960s, the pattern changed and Romagna, increasingly promoted by travel agencies and tour operators, became well known internationally and attracted thousands of tourists from Central and Northern Europe. As a consequence, medium-­sized hotels became the most common accommodation facility, but local ownership and management remained the dominant model. After the boom, however, when the growth of supply surpassed the growth of demand, these organizations tended to provide independent packages and tourist products, even in areas that were outside traditional circuits. As a consequence, they ‘broke free’ from local supply conditions and a sort of ‘mutual distrust’ emerged. On the one hand, because of logistical difficulties and limits of competitiveness, TNCs invested less in Italian mass tourism; on the other hand, local entrepreneurs snubbed TNCs and increasingly chose to concentrate on their own target customers (Benini and Savelli, 1986: 41–42).

The Crisis of Mass Tourism and Some Responses During the ‘30 Glorious Years,’ tourists sought ‘sun and sea’ and wanted to be together at the

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same place at the same time, thus strengthening the sense of belonging to mass society. However, in the 1970s, when sun and sea were no longer enough, there was a period of crisis. The weakness of the Italian tourist system emerged. Characterized by inefficiency and disparity, unable to enhance its resources or develop regional integration, it lacked competitive pricing and could offer only standardized products (Berrino, 2011: 268). If we look at the data, however, the number of Italians on holiday increased for all those years: 13.2% of the national population in 1959, 21% in 1965, 26.3% in 1968, 31.2% in 1972, and 35.4% in 1975. A similar trend occurred in employment in tourism, apart from a decrease in 1970–1971 (Aniest, 1979). In short, the crisis was concentrated in the international sector. First, more and more competitors emerged: in 1950, the first five countries that were international tourist destinations ranked according to the number of tourists they received had 73% of international arrivals, but this fell to 43% in 1970 (Confindustria, 2005). Secondly, there was a clear decrease in demand from northern Europe (especially the UK and Scandinavian countries) and the USA. As a consequence, tour operators invested less in Italy and more in such other Mediterranean countries as France, Spain and Greece (Commission of the European Communities, 1985: 127–128). Historians and sociologists addressed the causes, focusing first on limits on the supply side and, secondly, on the inability of rigid Italian tourism to adapt to change, continuing to be concentrated on the summer segment. In 1978, for example, 52.8% of national and international overnights were still concentrated in July and August (Confindustria, 2005). They also noted the negative impacts of mass tourism on the environment, which affected the attractiveness of many places. The journalist Indro Montanelli used the term Rapallizzazione – inspired by land consumption in Rapallo (Liguria) – to describe the trend, which was common elsewhere on the Italian coast, from the Adriatic Sea to the Gulf of Naples (Legambiente, 2013). Once again, the case of Romagna is instructive. Some sociological studies identified two entrepreneurial responses to the crisis of mass tourism. One response to changes in the tourism market, where income was reducing in line with the decrease in tourist arrivals and

average occupancy (Battistelli, 1993: 69–72, 231), was to leave tourism and invest in real estate. This was detrimental to tourism as it reduced the available expertise and encouraged speculation (Benini and Savelli, 1986: 46–57). A second response was to address supply problems by modernizing tourism services and developing a stronger public–private collaboration, leading to a more articulated image of the ­Romagna coast. In the 1980s and 1990s, the 15 km of the Rimini coast became an ‘entertainment machine’, with about 1500 hotels, 100 nightclubs, 400 restaurants and 250 pizzerias, along with such new attractions as theme parks, swimming pools and sport facilities. At the same time, the core attraction remained: 6500 cabins on the beach, 40,000 beach parasols, 150,000 deck chairs and sun beds, and more than 200 lifeguards (Berrino, 2011: 278). Savelli linked these changes in Romagna to broader social trends (1989: 301–349), charting the decline of social pressure to conform and, in its place, the growth of more differentiated behaviour, where the focus was on new experiences, new places and new people. Tourists now needed to differentiate themselves from others and had to choose how to behave in the new environment. In analysing mass tourism, Italian sociologists drew on other traditions. Perrotta, for example (1985), introduced Riesman’s historical comparative analysis of stakeholders, who were directed by tradition, self-directed or other-­ directed. She also utilized the work of Dean MacCannell and Erik Cohen, using the former’s insights on encounters of tourists and residents and on the search for authenticity, and the latter’s categorization of tourists according to the organization of their experience and the level of alienation they experienced from their ‘centre’, their home society. By contrast, Savelli (1989: 205–230) considered the work of Knebel and Boyer, focusing on their comparative historical analysis of tourist behaviour and the social structures that generated it. The transition from industrial to post-industrial society, in particular, was fundamental to what was happening in Italy in the 1980s. Savelli also referred to the work of Boorstin (1961), Enzensberger (1965) and Morin (1965), stressing the relevance of such critical factors as the ‘trivialization’ of holidays. The sense of discovery and the ‘unusual’ decreased, and it was



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felt mass tourism made people passive. Tourists had ceased to be ‘travellers’ and became, instead, part of the tourist system, merely reproducing the circuit without internalizing what they visited. Trivialization also affected the local population, which became more and more acquiescent to operators and travellers’ tastes. Finally, another milestone in tourism studies in the 1980s was the activity of the AssMed, most of whose members were Italian sociologists. As mass tourism developed in the 1950s and 1960s, new motivations for holiday taking emerged, and new approaches to understand them were required. At the same time, trends in Italian tourism were perceived to have much in common with tourism in other European countries and, indeed, with the entire Mediterranean region. Consequently, at its eight conferences (from 1987 to 2014), the association compared development in Mediterranean cities and regions, and sought to link them with broader trends in culture, social life and economic globalization. Of course, initially ‘the Mediterranean’ was incomplete: political and cultural divisions were still strong and they cut off much of the eastern and southern countries. As a consequence, the first AssMed studies focused only on Italy, France, Spain, Malta, Greece and Portugal. However, all these countries shared the sun and the sea as basic elements, and an attraction capacity that was unrivalled anywhere else in the world (Boyer, 2004: 33–34).

Mass Tourism in the Global Age: the Role of the City and the Region From the 1990s, Italian sociologists became increasingly interested in globalization and its impacts on tourism. Nocifora (2008) noted a transition from standardized and homogenized mass tourism to a more open and differentiated context, in which new technologies enabled tourists to navigate sources of information and make more informed choices of destinations. Highlighting the repetitiveness and monotony of work in Fordist society and the harshness experienced by workers within and outside the work environment, Lelli, too (1989: 92), pointed to the role of new technologies in enhancing communication skills of tourism stakeholders, providing

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them with critical resources and facilitating creativity in the search for new opportunities to establish and promote new tourist products. As a consequence of such developments, unexpected opportunities emerged for many regions. In a global market, any place is a potential tourist destination, competing with those already established. Tourism spaces thus expand from traditional tourist venues – the beach, mountain or heritage city – into their hinterlands and the new maritime regions (Savelli, 2008). Such processes were central topics at two AssMed conferences held in Bologna (1987) and Cervia (1991) which showed that, after many years of merely providing staff for the hospitality sector, the vitality, uniqueness and communication skills of local communities were increasingly significant resources in tourism destinations (Guidicini and Savelli, 1988, 1992). New forms of regional tourism organizations also emerged, bringing together local stakeholders on the one hand and, on the other hand, tourists and tour operators. It seems that for small destinations to develop and promote their resources and become competitive in the global market, they need to be integrated within a wider tourist region (Manella, 2008). Such issues provided the focus for discussion at the AssMed conference ‘Local and Global in Tourism: Forms of Aggregation and Communication Networks’ in Ravenna in 2001 (Savelli, 2004a, b), which confirmed yet again that while the Mediterranean region can indeed provide sun and sea, and an escape from the everyday, it is also able to exploit its immense natural, artistic and cultural heritage (Bonomi, 1993: 193). This was further confirmed at the AssMed conference ‘Mediterranean Tourism beyond the Coastline: New Trends in Tourism and the Social Organization of Space’, held at Thessalonica in 2005, where alternative forms of tourism (centred on the environment, sport and cultural activities) were emerging away from the Mediterranean coast to satisfy increased demands for ‘authentic’ places and ­ experiences (Iakovidou, 2007; Savelli, 2008; ­ ­Coccia and d’Annuntis, 2012: 14). As the transition from industrial to post-industrial culture continued, traditional destinations continued to attract visitors. On the Romagna coast, for example, the mass tourism model continued, but new entrepreneurial strategies also emerged to accommodate the changing

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tourist markets, with innovative attempts to promote local characteristics and to incorporate a wider geographical region as the tourist centre (Savelli, 2008). Elsewhere, Cocco and Minardi (2008) argue, the Adriatic coast, despite internal differences, can be considered a single region and, indeed, a miniature of the Mediterranean Sea (2008: 10–11). Once a border separating different economic and social systems, the Adriatic Sea now links different regions and facilitates the discovery of a common heritage. The Adriatic Ionian Euroregion, officially formed in 2006 as an initiative of 28 local and regional actors, further reinforces this dimension, with the development of intercoastal tourism and mobility linked to the system of ports (Savelli, 2008: 251–252). Cities, too, have been rediscovered both as desirable living areas and as tourist destinations. For Martinotti, the two were linked. There were new urban populations of residents and commuters, and many city users came to the city for purposes of consumption and to access services and facilities. They were flanked by metropolitan businessmen who came to the city to work but who also enjoyed the social contacts, the culture and the consumption opportunities the city provided (Martinotti, 1993: 137–152). Similarly, Amendola sees ‘urban renaissance’ as a reaction to 50 years of standardization and industrialization (1999: 71–78), involving an increasingly popular new image of the ‘tourist city’, which is not simply a collection of tourist products but, rather, an integrated system, valued as a unique context with many attractions. If Romagna was the symbol of mass tourism on the seaside, urban tourism and its changes were particularly evident in the ‘industrial triangle’, the area bounded by Milan, Turin and Genoa. In Milan, the transition from the industrial to post-industrial has been more gradual, and tourism has made use of the dynamic image that characterizes this city – an image also exploited by tourism business and the fashion industry (Martinotti, 2004: 75–83). By contrast, in Turin and Genoa the transition is not yet complete; according to Martinengo and Savoja, for example, Turin is no longer associated with the car industry but has yet to develop an alternative image (2003: 201). As elsewhere, hallmark events have led to urban transformation. Italian examples include the naming of Genoa as European Capital of

Culture in 2004, and the Winter Olympic Games in Turin in 2006. Such events – which were in themselves tourist attractions – provided not only a huge opportunity for growth and change but also a major challenge, for these cities needed to preserve their genius loci and the social and cultural fabric they had accumulated over the centuries (Guala, 2007: 172). The role of the city as a tourist attraction has been a core topic at AssMed conferences, especially in 2011, at Sassari-Alghero, where the focus was on ‘Tourism Mobility between Crisis and Change. Mediterranean Cities and Contexts’. Presentations focused on the links of tourism with urban transformation, the merits and disadvantages of these changes, opportunities for cooperation and development around city networks, trends of inter-coastal tourism, and the subjective representation of tourist space for those who ‘sell’ and those who ‘buy’ the image (Fadda, 2013; Tidore, 2013).

Attention to the Environmental Impact of Tourism While many Italian studies showed the potential of territory and local communities, others paid attention to the negative environmental impact of tourism. As indicated earlier, the mass model which dominated for several decades and is still strong in many parts of the country, has now reached extremely unsustainable levels of land consumption and pollution. This challenge, for tourism and humanity in general, has been addressed by Italian sociologists, in particular at AssMed’s Estoril 1995 conference, ‘Tourism and the Environment’, where ‘environment’ was widely defined to include not only natural resources, but also the social environment, with positive and negative impacts of tourism, cultural heritage and symbols of memory and local identity (Savelli, 1997). Consequently, Italian academics have examined tourism’s role in land consumption and pollution, illegal constructions and the destruction of cultural heritage. Among them, Romita has looked at length at ‘undetected’ tourism in Calabria, where ad hoc, informal construction of second homes (often outstripping official tourism) has escaped monitoring



A Theoretical Approach to Mass Tourism in Italy

and evaluation, with the result that neither the positive nor negative impacts, both of which might be extensive, have been properly documented. Research also indicates that while tourists might ‘bond’ with the natural environment, their relations with the local community were relatively weak (Romita, 1999: 13; Romita, 2007, 2008: 103–132; Romita and Perri, 2011). Similarly, Pieroni investigated illegal buildings on the Calabria coast, concluding they not only damaged a valuable tourism resource, but also represented a heightened risk for residents. In particular, he criticized the ambivalence of local governments which, through their permissiveness and lack of control, encouraged this illegal practice (Pieroni, 2008: 73–101). By contrast, Savelli examined sustainable development policies in Romagna, and their potential impact on local entrepreneurship. He concluded that seaside tourism, which greatly contributed to unsustainable mass tourism, was losing its dominant position under challenge from more flexible holiday patterns, with less focus on buildings and infrastructure and more emphasis on tourists’ mobility across networks, routes and regions, which was greatly facilitated by increased communication and access to information (Savelli, 2008: 159–174). A further issue considered even more connected to the mass tourism model is the need to protect tourist sites from excessive numbers of people. According to Ciacci (1997), who examined tourism’s impact on heritage cities, the impact of mass tourism on the cultural experience is definitely negative. When crowds congregate in places that need to be appreciated in space and silence, the experience becomes depersonalized and alienating, and what should be admired and internalized becomes a mere collection of things (Ciacci, 1997: 241). At a more theoretical level, Nocifora pointed out that tourism’s destruction of the environment is possible because local communities lose their identification with territory, leaving room for alternative identification processes invented by media (2008: 10). He stressed, however, that people are increasingly becoming aware that priorities need to change. Similarly, Pieroni and Romita (2003) detect an increased appreciation of the environment that accompanies cultural tourism. For some people, this might be seen merely as a compromise resulting from the gravity

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of the situation, but for others it entails a radical critique of a tourism development model based on endless growth and perception of the need for a more satisfying quality of life and social relations (Pieroni and Romita, 2003: 13–14).

New Social Meanings of Tourism Italian sociology has also considered new ways of experiencing and perceiving travel and tourism, most of which arise in the transition from an industrial to a post-industrial era, and several writers draw parallels of tourists with nomads, as well as other kinds of travellers. For Ferrarotti (1999), the model of mass holidays as a social achievement or an indicator of well-being is rejected; rather, they are frequently an escape from everyday life. In a world where everybody travels, people do so not to find themselves but to escape from themselves. In this sense, Ferrarotti suggests, travel is an indicator of distress. Everything is mobile, nomadic and unpredictable, and to escape this situation we must accept the presence of, and coexist with, other cultures, because no single way of life is self-sufficient or superior (Ferrarotti, 1999: 51). Bonadei (2004) takes a similar view, in that the modern world is one of more or less organized interstices, which are often in conflict with one another, and individuals are themselves constantly mobile, with possessions – sleeping bags, credit cards, cell phones or laptops – that signify membership of a ‘nomadic population’. Although we try to personalize everything, however, the frequent result is a standardization of activities and modes of consumption, which then acts as a base from which tourists further construct their own identities and their own deviations from the dominant norm (Bonadei, 2004: 143–146). Ferrari (2004: 143), too, focused on the relation between travel and tourism. She identified in tourism the same fascination we feel enjoying art, stressing that we live in a world where the burden of everyday needs is decreasing, with more opportunity for enjoying freedom, a variety of leisure experiences and cultivating our aesthetic sensibilities. Tourism thus becomes fundamental to experiencing the world without suffering the drudgery of the everyday

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and increasing our knowledge and expanding our imagination. By contrast, Lavarini (2005) focused on obstacles and setbacks that characterize holidays: (i) the queues to park the car; (ii) delays in train and aircraft schedules; (iii) time spent in ports and airports; and (iv) unexpected events caused by bad weather or accidents. All these moments, however, can be re-evaluated as opportunities for discovery, communication and entertainment. They stimulate the ability to improvise in a world where technology and professional organization tend to stifle any surprise and every risk. Such elements also shift the focus from the destination we want to reach to the journey we need to make to get there – a change in orientation fundamental to the concept of slow tourism, as slow travel might be considered the only way to really discover places and people, whether close to home or far away (Lavarini, 2005: 228–230). Another area of study concerns the condition of otherness of many people who move around cities, suburbs and shopping malls. Such is the case of flâneurs, or casual strollers, for example (a term Nuvolati has taken from 19th century literature and from Walter Benjamin), who became an archetype of modern urban experience (Nuvolati, 2006: 7–9). He focused on contemporary travel experiences in postmodern society, where a sense of loss is increasingly accompanied by perceived isolation and impersonality, and emphasized the persistent desire to create new senses of place, both of where we live and to where we travel. Flâneurs, perhaps, are the last true nomads, living outside the rules in order to interpret the real order of things. New approaches to tourism figured prominently at the 2014 AssMed conference, ‘Tourism and Quality of Life: Food, Land, Identity, Good and Bad Practices’, held at Arcavacata di Rende. In particular, well-being and the quality of life were seen to be increasingly interconnected to everyday life and tourism. Such connections, however, are presented in a myriad of forms and themes. Some enhance specific aspects of territory, such as gastronomic capital, while others exploit the potential of a region through collaboration and by promoting an integrated image on the global tourism market. And new challenges emerge in the re-composition of spheres

which characterize what we call the postindustrial, as when an intense and widespread mobility seems to reabsorb what previously appeared as separate.

Conclusions: Passing Over . . . and Keeping On With Mass Tourism Mass tourism has existed in Italy since the end of the 19th century, experiencing a boom and then bust trajectory during Fascism before its resurgence over ‘30 glorious years’ from the 1950s to the 1970s. Since then, there has been an extended period of crisis but mass tourism remained, albeit becoming less concentrated on individual destinations and more regionally focused, with the result that tourism (and responses to the crisis) become more organized and integrated. Initially, the driving force in Italian mass tourism was small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), especially family businesses, and tourism development was ad hoc and unplanned. Later, larger businesses emerged, but many SMEs have adapted to the new situation. Significantly, from the outset, mass tourism in Italy was strongly based on SMEs and local partnerships; apart from during the boom period of the 1950s and 1960s, the role played by TNCs has been a minor one. Those who first studied the development of Italian tourism focused less on the underlying causes of tourism, or tourists’ origins and motivations, than on models of hospitality and tourism’s impacts on destinations. For several decades, when tourist arrivals were increasing spontaneously, it seems the priority was not to understand the causes but to organize their reception. Italian sociologists have also paid attention to the role of local communities in the global market. If they were initially seen as irrelevant, they are now a resource to be defended and promoted. More recently, too, debate has turned to the nature of tourist motivation. As we have seen, studies increasingly emphasize new social meanings of tourism, focusing variously on the desire for authentic relations, the need for slow travel, environmental sustainability, the rediscovery of the city as a tourist attraction, and the importance of tourism for individual and collective well-being and quality of life.



A Theoretical Approach to Mass Tourism in Italy

Today, sociologists of tourism in Italy try to capture the opportunities of globalization, in order to support a wide range of activities by local communities and entrepreneurs. New regional dimensions are emerging and, across the Mediterranean, the sea has become a unifying factor for, rather than a barrier between, different systems. As we have seen through AssMed conferences, more and more competitors have

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emerged in Mediterranean tourism, with a corresponding increase in international and transnational cooperation in the region. The nature and diffusion of networks involving the sea, coast and hinterland are key elements in sociological analysis, as are emerging, integrated regions that reflect and cater for new forms of tourism that reject collective tourist models in favour of those catering more to individual tourist needs.

References Amendola, G. (1999) Il turismo urbano e le politiche per il cittadino. In: Colantoni, M. (ed.) Turismo: Una Tappa per la Ricerca. Patron, Bologna, Italy, pp. 81–100. Aniest (a cura di) (1979) La statistica e il turismo. Proposte per una razionalizzazione dei metodi di rilevazione. Atti del XIII Convegno Nazionale di Studi sul Turismo dell’ANIEST – Associazione Nazionale Italiana Esperti Scientifici del Turismo, Aniest, Perugia, Italy. Battistelli, F. (1993) Il modello Rimini tra crisi e mutamento. In: Nocifora, E. (ed.) Il Turismo Mediterraneo come Risorsa e come Rischio: Strategie di Comunicazione. Seam, Rome, Italy, pp. 227–236. Benini, E. and Savelli, A. (1986) Il Senso del far Vacanza. Motivazioni e Strutture del Turismo Postmetropolitano. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Berrino, A. (2011) Storia del Turismo in Italia. il Mulino, Bologna, Italy. Bonadei, R. (2004) I Sensi del Viaggio. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Bonomi, E. (1993) Le identità molteplici, i disagi e le virtù. In: Nocifora, E. (ed.) Il Turismo Mediterraneo come Risorsa e come Rischio: Strategie di Comunicazione. Seam, Rome, Italy, pp. 189–194. Boorstin, G. (1961) The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-events in America. Harper & Row, New York. Boyer, M. (2004) Livello globale, livello locale, due tipi di strategia e di comunicazione. In: Savelli, A. (ed.) Turismo, Territorio, Identità. Ricerche ed Esperienze nell’area Mediterranea. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy, pp. 30–35. Catelli, G. (1976) Turismo agricolo e società industriale. In: Stroppa, C. (ed.) Sviluppo del Territorio e Ruolo del Turismo. Clue, Bologna, Italy, pp. 183–194. Ciacci, M. (1997) Fra universalismo e particolarismo: il turismo nelle città d’arte. Sociologia Urbana e ­Rurale 52/53, 235–242. Coccia, L. and d’Annuntis, L. (eds) (2012) Oltre la Spiaggia. Nuovi Spazi per il Turismo Adriatico. Quodlibet, Macerata, Italy. Cocco, E. and Minardi, E. (eds) (2008) Immaginare l’Adriatico. Contributi alla Riscoperta Sociale di Uno Spazio di Frontiera. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Commission of the European Communities (1985) The Tourism Sector in the Community. A Study of Concentration, Competition and Competitiveness. Office of the Official Publications for the European Communities, Luxembourg. Confindustria (2005) Per un Progetto Paese sul Turismo. Centro Studi Confindustria, Rome, Italy. De Grazia, V. (1981) Consenso e Cultura di Massa nell’Italia Fascista. L’Organizzazione del Dopolavoro, Latera, Rome-Bari, Italy. Dielemans, J. (2010) Benvenuti in Paradiso. Dietro le Quinte del Turismo di Massa. Mondadori, Milan, Italy. Enzensberger, H. (1965) Una teoria del turismo. In: Enzensberger, H. (ed.) Questioni di Dettaglio. Feltrinelli, Milan, Italy, pp. 66–89. Fadda, A. (2013) Da Costa a Costa. Identità e Culture per un Turismo Integrato in Sardegna. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Ferrari, M. (2004) Come si Diventa Turisti. Teorie e Indagine Empirica sui Comportamenti Turistici. Cuec, Cagliari, Italy. Ferrarotti, F. (1999) Partire. Tornare. Viaggiatori e Pellegrini alla Fine del Dillennio. Donzelli, Rome, Italy. Gabbianelli, A. (2012) Esplorazioni cinematografiche. In: Coccia, L. and d’Annuntis, L. (eds) Oltre la Spiaggia. Nuovi Spazi per il Turismo Adriatico. Quodlibet, Macerata, Italy, pp. 69–71. Gori, G. (1992) Quando il Mare Brucia. La Mandragora, Imola, Italy.

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Guala, C. (2007) Mega Eventi. Modelli e Storie di Rigenerazione Urbana. Carocci, Rome, Italy. Guidicini, P. and Savelli, A. (eds) (1988) Il Mediterraneo come sistema turistico complesso. Sociologia Urbana e Rurale 26 (Special issue). Guidicini, P. and Savelli, A. (eds) (1992) Gruppi e strutture intermedie locali, per una reimmaginazione del sistema turistico. Sociologia Urbana e Rurale 38 (Special issue). Iakovidou, O. (ed.) (2007) Mediterranean Tourism beyond the Coastline: New Trends in Tourism and the Social Organisation of Space. Ziti, Thessaloniki. Lavarini, R. (2005) Viaggiatori. Lo Spirito e il Cammino, Hoepli, Milan, Italy. Legambiente (a cura di) (2013) Salviamo le Coste Italiane. Legambiente, Rome. Lelli, M. (1989) Tempo e turismo nella Sardegna postindustriale. Sociologia Urbana e Rurale 28, 89–101. Manella, G. (2008) Fascia costiera e aree interne nelle politiche locali. In: Savelli, A. (ed.) Spazio Turistico e Società Globale. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy, pp. 233–253. Martinelli, F. (1976) Sviluppo dell’urbanesimo e aumento del tempo libero dalla villeggiatura di élite al turismo di massa. In: Stroppa, C. (ed.) Sviluppo del Territorio e Ruolo del Turismo. Clue, Bologna,Italy, pp. 79–103. Martinengo, M. and Savoja, L. (2003) Memoria e Fiction nel Turismo Urbano. Guerini, Milan, Italy. Martinotti, G. (1993) Metropoli. La Nuova Morfologia Sociale delle Città. Il Mulino, Bologna, Italy. Martinotti, G. (2004) Urbs hospitalis [Visitors in the city]. In: Savelli, A. (ed.) Città, Turismo e Comunicazione Culturale. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy, pp. 75–83. Morin, E. (1965) Vivent les vacances. In: Morin, E. (ed.) Pour une Politique de l’Homme. Éditions Du Seuil, Paris, pp. 221–225. Nocifora, E. (2008) La Società Turistica. Scriptaweb, Naples, Italy. Nuvolati, G. (2006) Lo Sguardo Vagabondo. Il Flâneur e la Città da Baudelaire ai Postmoderni. Il Mulino, Bologna, Italy. Pedicone, E. (2012) Le colonie marine. In: Coccia, L. and d’Annuntis, L. (eds) Oltre la Spiaggia. Nuovi Spazi per il Turismo Adriatico. Quodlibet, Macerata, Italy, pp. 79–81. Perrotta, R. (1985) Aspetti sociologici del turismo. Promozione del Turismo e Formazione Manageriale 8, 119–144. Pieroni, O. (2008) Paesaggi, ecomostri ed intervento politico-amministrativo. Una indagine sul degrado e l’abusivismo lungo le coste calabresi. In: Beato, F., Nocifora, E., Pieroni, O., Romita, T. and Ruzza, C. (eds) Tracce di Turismo Sostenibile. Centro Editoriale e Librario dell’Università della Calabria, Rende, Italy, pp. 73–101. Pieroni, O. and Romita, T. (eds) (2003) Viaggiare, Conoscere e Rispettare l’Ambiente. Verso il Turismo ­Sostenibile. Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli, Italy. Romita, T. (1999) Il Turismo che non Appare. Verso un Modello Consapevole di Sviluppo Turistico della Calabria. Rubbettino, Soveria Mannelli, Italy. Romita, T. (2007) Sustainable tourism: the environmental impact of ‘undetected’ tourism. Tourismos: An International Multidisciplinary Journal of Tourism 2(1), 47–62. Romita, T. (2008) Stigturismo. Autorganizzazione ed interazione sociale attraverso l’uso dall’ambiente. In: Beato, F., Nocifora, E., Pieroni, O., Romita, T. and Ruzza, C. (eds) Tracce di Turismo Sostenibile. ­Centro Editoriale e Librario Università della Calabria, Rende, Italy, pp. 103–132. Romita, T. and Perri, A. (2011) The D.I.Y. tourist. Tourismos: An International Multidisciplinary Journal of Tourism 6(2), 277–292. Savelli, A. (1989) Sociologia del Turismo. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Savelli, A. (ed.) (1997) Turismo e ambiente. Atti del terzo convegno Mediterraneo di sociologia del turismo. Sociologia Urbana e Rurale 52/53 (Special issue). Savelli, A. (2004a) Città Turismo e Comunicazione Globale. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Savelli, A. (2004b) Turismo, Territorio. Identità. Ricerche ed Esperienze nell’Area Mediterranea. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Savelli, A. (ed.) (2008) Spazio Turistico e Società Globale. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Savelli, A. (2011) I percorsi della sociologia del turismo in Italia. Rivista di Scienze del Turismo 1, 5–43. Tidore, C. (ed.) (2013) Città Mediterranee nello Spazio Globale. Mobilità Turistica tra crisi e Mutamento. FrancoAngeli, Milan, Italy. Urry, J. (1995) Lo Sguardo del Turista. Il Tempo Libero e il Viaggio nelle Società Contemporanee. Seam, Formello, Italy. Vaccaro, F. (2001) Turismo di massa: le vicende di un secolo testimoniate da un osservatore statistico. In: Berrino, A. (ed.) Per Una Storia del Turismo nel Mezzogiorno d’Italia. XIX–XX Secolo. Istituto per la Storia del Risorgimento Italiano, Naples, Italy, pp. 45–56. Vigilante, E. (2014) L’Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro. Tempo Libero dei Lavoratori, Assistenza e Regime Fascista 1925–1943. il Mulino, Bologna, Italy.

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Sustainability and Mass Tourism: A Contradiction in Terms? David B. Weaver* Griffith University, Southport, Queensland, Australia

Introduction In certain academic and ideological corners it remains dogmatic to equate mass tourism with unsustainable tourism, thereby rendering the idea of sustainable mass tourism a contradiction in terms. An associated conceit is that sustainability is the province of ‘alternative tourism’ and allied smaller-scale manifestations of tourism that deliberately eschew the principle and traits of massification. It is argued in this chapter to the contrary that sustainable mass tourism is not only not a contradiction in terms, but rather the largely unrecognized normative form of sustainable tourism. Affiliated contentions hold that all tourism, even if it does not resemble ‘mass tourism’ at the local level, exists as part of a single increasingly globalized mass tourism system, and that there are innate characteristics of massification that facilitate the attainment of sustainable outcomes. The chapter begins by outlining a three-dimensional model as to what fundamentally constitutes the ‘sustainability’ in sustainable tourism, however the latter is conceived. The next section then examines the evolution of sustainable tourism from initial contexts of mass tourism/alternative tourism polarity to repositionings of increased convergence. Enlightened mass tourism is presented as the logical culmination of amalgamation. Heavily visited protected

areas and urban beach resorts are subsequently investigated as localized manifestations of mass tourism that appear to increasingly embody the ideal of sustainable or possibly even enlightened mass tourism.

Sustainability Essentialism To inform the discussion it is necessary to initially outline a basic three-dimensional model of what is essentially entailed by sustainable tourism. There are additional criteria that could be used to classify different manifestations and dimensions of sustainability, but this provides a simple platform applicable to all types and intensities of tourism, upon which other criteria can be added as warranted in diverse planning and management contexts. First, and conventionally, sustainability is situated at the confluence of concurrent economic, environmental and sociocultural impact sets, occupying the socalled ‘triple bottom line’ (Elkington, 1997). Core but often conflicting indicators include per capita income, local revenue generation and employment creation, healthy and viable local ecosystems, and satisfied residents (Bell and Morse, 2008). Even more fundamental and reflecting perhaps the collective longer term impact of those indicators is high quality of life and the

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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human happiness this generates (Andereck and Nyaupane, 2010; Uysal et al., 2012). Once dismissed as a quaint aberration confined to remote Bhutan, the concept of ‘gross national happiness’ now attracts serious academic and governmental scrutiny, deservedly given its accommodation of cultural relativism and the reality that ever higher per capita incomes – the neo-liberal gold standard of human development – do not neatly correlate with higher levels of happiness (Di Tella and MacCulloch, 2008; Bates, 2009). The second and increasingly conventional dimension considers the concurrent spatial realms of the local and non-local. It is logical in tourism planning to prioritize localized basic impacts such as water quality and traffic congestion, as these ‘intensity perspective’ effects (Høyer, 2000) have immediate ramifications for resident quality of life and happiness, and can be more easily observed, measured, monitored and remediated. Subsequently, and as much as possible, planning and management informed by the precautionary principle should address global issues like climate change which may eventually manifest locally as sea level rise or increased incidence of extreme weather (Scott, 2011). Local initiatives that reduce congestion and fossil fuel emissions from traffic and hotels will have a cumulative positive effect on global warming, but these should be augmented by carbon offsets and other actions that help to mitigate emissions from tourist transit (Gössling, 2011). In the less conventional third dimension, sustainability is denominated according to the degrees of sustainability that can be pursued, styled here as ‘sequential sustainability gradations’ that build innovatively on Weaver (2006). The ‘easiest’ and most immediate form of implementation is status quo sustainability, which is simply maintenance of the current situation. In practical terms this entails arresting any further decline of the selected indicators, and especially those already situated in unsustainable territory. Once these have been stabilized, equilibrium sustainability (not included in Weaver’s original proposal) should be implemented to focus on reversing those declines until they can be repositioned within sustainable thresholds. Aspirational sustainability (‘enhancement’ sustainability in the original model), subsequently, focuses on moving all indicator values as much as possible and continually along trajectories of further improvement,

thereby fostering ever-increasing happiness, biodiversity, revenue, etc. As to whether sustainable tourism is an outcome or a process – an important consideration in underlying planning and management (Sharpley, 2000) – one can argue that status quo and equilibrium sustainability constitute initial outcomes, since they aspire to achieve specific sustainability threshold goals. The aspirational sustainability that follows is an ongoing process since the improvement in indicator performance is continual and open-ended (Weaver, 2014a).

Mass Tourism and Alternative Tourism Sustainability, however currently conceived or structured, emerged formally in the 1990s as a dominant theme in tourism development discourses (Saarinen, 2006; Weaver, 2006). In the earlier ‘latent sustainability’ period, these discourses were dominated by two competing perspectives. The earliest was a sector-specific manifestation of modernization theory that focused after 1950 on mass tourism development as the desired (i.e. sustainable) destination option, simple linear logic dictating that ever-increasing tourism, if permitted by the dictates of supply and demand, would generate ever-increasing revenue and prosperity, especially for developing countries (Sharpley, 2000). A more critical perspective emerged in the 1970s as the environmental and sociocultural costs associated with this largely unregulated growth became more apparent (Harrison, 1992), though evident less perhaps in the corridors of industry or government than in the ivory towers of academia where the ideas of dependency theory were inspirational to many tourism-focused social scientists (Hills and Lundgren, 1977; Britton and Clarke, 1987). Increased scale, for many, meant increased costs, perhaps exponentially so (­Rodenburg, 1980; Jenkins, 1982). The articulation of ‘alternative tourism’ as a more appropriate option for destinations soon followed (­Dernoi, 1981; Holden, 1984), with ‘good’ characteristics of (for example) community control, authentic attractions and small scales of operation championed against ‘bad’ mass tourism’s corporate control, generic attractions and large scales of operation (Butler, 1990).



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Following the formal conceptual introduction of sustainable tourism (i.e. the ‘salient sustainability’ period), it was inevitable that the advocates of alternative tourism would soon reconfigure this polarity so that the latter was identified unequivocally with ‘sustainable tourism’ and mass tourism with ‘unsustainable tourism’ (Clarke, 1997). Advocates on the mass tourism side also began to adopt the rhetoric of sustainable tourism, abetted by the neo-liberal sensitivities of the Brundtland Report which popularized the parent construct of sustainable development (WCED, 1987). They did not, however, make any countervailing claims as to the unsustainability of alternative tourism, which seems to have received barely any recognition at all. Indeed, Weaver (2014b) contends that there is long-standing disconnect between the enthused attention to alternative tourism within some academic circles and its negligible uptake in the real world, which from early on has severely impeded its credibility as a competitor with mass tourism for the sustainability high ground. Increased convergence As reflected in this lack of traction, the possibility that marginalized alternative tourism could ever offer a serious challenge to mass tourism seems at best both naïve and compromised, even in contexts such as underdeveloped peripheries and protected areas where its applicability seems logical. Accordingly, some academic discourses have discerned and/or advocated for depolarized engagements that negotiate respective strengths and weaknesses. By the early 1990s, for example, there was already growing support for the idea that mass tourism could be sustainable and alternative tourism unsustainable (Butler, 1990), with Weaver (2000) proposing ‘sustainable mass tourism’ as one of four destination development ideal types. Mass tourism and alternative tourism, in this perspective, are sustainable or unsustainable not by merit of their inherent characteristics but by the scientifically informed destination planning, product development and management strategies that are brought to bear (Jafari, 2001). Hunter (1997) complements this repositioning by identifying ‘weak’ manifestations of sustainable

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tourism that pertain to heavily modified settings and existing mass tourism contexts where ‘strong’ biocentric and sociocultural indicators are not relevant or practical. Clarke (1997) further contributed to the depolarization argument by positioning mass and alternative tourism not as a dichotomy but as tendencies along a continuum where each usually incorporates some characteristics of the other, and in increasingly convergent ways. The question of whether sustainable mass tourism is a contradiction in terms, then, can be partly resolved by debunking the two myths, as per the polarities perspective, that alternative tourism: (i) is inherently sustainable; and (ii)  holds a monopoly on sustainability within the sector. Contentions for unsustainable alternative tourism are diverse (Butler, 1990; Smith and Eadington, 1992; Jafari, 2001), and summarized by Weaver (2014b) as a matter of unrealistic and unrealized expectations. These include the view that alternative tourism is too small and unstable to make a significant contribution to local economic development or quality of life (Butler, 1990), and that small local communities lack the resources and skills to compete in attracting and satisfying a sufficient flow of visitors over the longer term. All too commonly, ‘community-based tourism’ evaporates once the support of (ironically) dictatorial sponsoring organizations is reduced or withdrawn (Butcher, 2007). The possibilities of intra- or inter-­ community friction over the distribution of benefits and costs have also been documented (Ranck, 1987), with the existing elite often reinforcing its dominance through privileged participation (Blackstock, 2005). Conflicts also arise between local residents and visitors, as with backpackers intruding excessively and disruptively into the community backstage (Cohen, 1987), and with elitist volunteer tourists motivated more by ego satisfaction, resumé enhancement and social media engagement than altruism or commitment (Wheeller, 1993; Guttentag, 2009; Coghlan and Gooch, 2011). The second contention, that alternative tourism holds no monopoly on sustainability, is supported by countervailing evidence for sustainable mass tourism, which also more directly ­addresses the issue of whether the latter is a contradiction in terms. A core dimension is the role that economies of scale and rational business

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dictates can play in achieving sustainable outcomes. In the environmental realm, larger hotel corporations are actively implementing and expanding ecologically friendly initiatives such as: (i) linen and towel reuse programmes; (ii) large-­ scale recycling; (iii) water conservation initiatives; and (iv) bulk purchasing of energy efficient lights and ‘green’ cleaning products (Bohdanowicz, 2006). Socioculturally, support for charity through donations, outreach and fundraising, is widespread, along with the provision of education and training for locals (Weaver et al., 2013). Notwithstanding the noble rhetoric embodied in accompanying corporate social responsibility policies, these initiatives are mostly pursued for pragmatic short- or medium-term financial reasons, including the increasing cost-effectiveness of constructing ‘green’ hotels (Bohdanowicz, 2006). This has prompted Weaver (2007) to reflect that such deceptively enlightened measures are a matter of opportunistic paradigm nudge (i.e. adaptive adjustments to the existing dominant worldview) rather than fundamental paradigm shift. Accordingly they constitute part of an ‘organic’ path to sustainable mass tourism, wherein they are consistent with underlying neo-liberal tenets and ultimately entail rational strategic responses to rising input costs and other perceived business challenges (Weaver, 2012). A related challenge concerns changing public attitudes. Compared with the 1960s, the general public (at least in the advanced economies of North America, Western Europe and Oceania) exhibits consistently high levels of concern about climate change and other major environmental issues (Lorenzoni and Pidgeon, 2006). However, parallel feelings of confusion and disempowerment are widespread and give rise to low prioritization of those issues as well as reluctance to make any inconvenient but ­necessary behavioural changes (Miller et al., 2010). This may help to explain why consumers still rarely base their leisure tourism purchase decisions on product adherence to rigorous sustainability criteria but are generally happy to participate in low-risk personal environmental actions such as towel reuse (Goldstein et al., 2008) or making small payments to offset travel-related carbon emissions (Brouwer et al., 2008). This veneer environmentalism complements and ­ reinforces the opportunistic environmentalism of industry, ­

and constitutes perhaps a parallel process of ‘consumer behavioural nudge’ that will also help to gradually push the sector to higher levels of sustainability engagement.

Enlightened mass tourism Concerns related to this industry and consumer focus on opportunistic environmentalism (or opportunistic social activism in the  case of community engagement) include the slow pace of change and possibilities for regressive corporate action, should, for example, fossil fuel prices fall or revenues decline to levels that trigger termination of charitable activity and alternative energy retrofits. It follows that stronger duty of care fundaments are warranted to ensure swifter progress and due consideration in times of crisis for the interests of the environment and society. Such fundaments are a core philosophical attribute of alternative tourism, which therefore must be ­returned to the present discussion. Building on the logic of alleged convergence, Weaver (2014b) discerns a culminating logic of amalgamation between mass and alternative tourism, arguing that the latter has never functioned autonomously if considered from the perspective of the entire tourist experience. Early on, Pearce (1992) noted that alternative tourism could not exist but for the transit services provided by large carriers, and to those one could now add the Internet and financial transaction networks. To contend then that it is an alternative to mass tourism is like contending that a fingertip is an alternative to a torso, rather than the structurally specialized (if philosophically differentiated) niche appendage it is within a single globalized mass tourism system. In what is characterized as the ‘growth paradox of success’, Weaver (2014b) describes the tendency of policy makers and planners in demand-robust niche destinations such as Bhutan and Dominica to actively reinforce their connections to this system and pursue strategies of sustainable tourism growth, abandoning earlier formal affiliations with ‘alternative tourism’. These deliberate transformations, in theory, occur along a proactive ‘incremental’ path that entails the periodic



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raising of carrying capacity thresholds to accommodate subsequent increases in international tourist visitation (Weaver, 2012). To better ensure that mass tourism outcomes in any sort of destination are invested with appropriate duty of care fundaments, Weaver (2014b) advocates for the adoption of an ‘enlightened mass tourism’ framework that optimally formalizes the fusion of mass and alternative tourism. The result is inevitably ‘mass tourism’ since the more intensive economies of scale of the tourism system are maintained, but mass tourism that is ‘enlightened’ by the philosophical contributions of alternative tourism. Strategically, this can be realized through a resolution-based dialectical approach that (ironically) uses the initial polarities as necessary starting points that position mass tourism as thesis and alternative tourism as antithesis; enlightened mass tourism is the asymmetrical synthesis that results when the best qualities of each (e.g. economies of scale and competitively driven innovation for mass tourism, and ethical imperatives and compassion for alternative tourism) are distilled and fused. How such amalgamation might be spontaneously or deliberately unfolding in the contemporary tourism sector is presently illustrated in the context of heavily visited protected areas and urban beach resorts.

Protected Areas The world’s public protected areas accommodate about 8 billion visits (though not all from tourists) per year (Balmford et al., 2015), most of it accounted for by the small minority of entities that are heavily visited because they are not only attractive but accessible, well serviced, and/or close to large concentrations of population and tourism. The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) Category II protected areas (National Parks) among these in particular have dual mandates to protect representative biodiversity and accommodate compatible recreational and educational activity. Potentially disruptive to mandate equilibrium, however, is steadily increasing visitation, a pattern associated with expanding population and demand as well as growing dependency on

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­ isitor-derived revenue as public funding lanv guishes (Eagles et al., 2002; Eagles, 2014). ­Visitation growth, therefore, is paradoxically associated with greater financial but lesser environmental security.

Conflict, coexistence or symbiosis Budowski (1976) describes three potential ­visitor–park relationships. First, conflict occurs where visitation growth corroborates the paradox and induces unsustainable environmental outcomes; visitors here are an inherent threat wherein more visits, notwithstanding associated increases in revenue, equate with more unsustainability. Second, coexistence results when the overall effects of visitation are ecologically neutral. This scenario, consistent with the ‘equilibrium’ mode of sustainability, underlies conventional park planning and management attitudes that still see visitors as potential threats, but necessary and manageable ones. Ambivalent ‘take it or leave it’ attitudes towards visitors (Eagles, 2014) are embodied in popular strategies such as ‘Leave No Trace’ (McGivney, 2003) that seek to minimize and erase as much of the non-­ indigenous human footprint as possible through rigorous policing and monitoring within strictly designated activity zones and times. Symbiosis, finally, occurs where visitation results in improvements to biodiversity and other ecological indicators. As such it positions visitors as opportunities and is related to the ‘aspirational’ mode of sustainability. This scenario is presumed to be elusive, confined perhaps to the small cohort of visitors who devote time to tree planting and other forms of on-site or off-site park activism through dedicated ‘Friends’ organizations (Eagles, 2002). Aspirational sustainability outcomes, ­accordingly, are isolated. Sustainable mass tourism, at least in the equilibrium mode, is thus already widely evident in high visitation National Parks because of the dominance of the coexistence relationship, which among other effects ensures that most space within individual parks is zoned for ‘low intensity’, ‘non-mechanized’ or similarly benign purposes. Lawton (2001) characterizes this as reflecting a ‘95/5 rule’ where most (e.g. 95%) of visitors are happy to confine their park visit to a

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small ‘service oasis’ (e.g. 5%). The great challenge moving forward is to attain aspirational sustainability outcomes through symbiosis on a larger and more diffuse scale, which requires changed behaviour from the great majority of visitors with little apparent inclination to plant trees or remove invasive weeds. Possibilities for such mobilization, though likely in more modest forms if they are to potentially involve all visitors, are discernible in the literature. Propst et al. (2003), for example, note strong volunteering proclivities in American society, including in outdoor recreation settings. This participation is partly motivated by awareness of underlying environmental and social issues, and there is evidence that this awareness can be elevated through appropriate attraction interpretation and other education and media that foster transformative learning (Coghlan and Gooch, 2011). Orams (1999) found in this respect that desirable changes in attitude and intention occurred in mainstream tourists exposed to well-designed interpretation during feeding encounters with wild dolphins. Further evidence for the possibilities of mass mobilization is provided by Australia’s Lamington National Park, which protects remnant subtropical rainforest but is threatened by proximity to the urban conurbation of greater Brisbane and the tourism-infused Gold Coast. Surveying hard-core ecotourists (the minority) as well as casual visitors wandering not far from well-serviced trailheads (the majority), Weaver (2014b) found scope for substantially increased involvement in deep activism, with 8% ‘enthused’ to participate (but not currently participating) in tree planting and other focused onsite activities. Perhaps more tellingly, another 75% were variably interested in softer park enhancement activities, and especially ‘opportunistic’ enhancement activities, such as removing litter, reporting unusual activity and confronting misbehaviour, that can be performed as an appendage to usual bushwalking visits. Similar proclivities were identified earlier in Lamington (Weaver and Lawton, 2002) among the guests of two on-site ecolodges. The more recent survey indicates that those 83% of visitors could form the basis of mass activism at various levels, even though most exhibited the same lack of knowledge and unwillingness to make substantive changes in personal behaviour as identified by Miller et al. (2010).

To facilitate aspirational sustainability outcomes in line with enlightened mass tourism, Fennell and Weaver (2005) have proposed the formation of the ‘ecotourium’ (a neologism of ecotourism and auditorium) as a parallel protected area designation appropriate for existing heavily visited parks. Here, a mandate to motivate and mobilize the entire array of park visitors to ‘perform’ satisfying park enhancement activities would complement existing mandates to protect biodiversity and accommodate complementary recreational and educational activity. As per the dialectics of enlightened mass tourism, attendant strategies need to recognize ethical and altruistic visitor motivations – including assurances that their participation is ‘making a difference’ – that are more strongly evident in the ‘enthused’, but also self-interested motivations like having fun and socializing that are more strongly reflected in the latent opportunistic majority (Pearce and Coghlan, 2008; Weaver, 2015). To conventional protected area managers accustomed to conservative coexistence-oriented planning/management regimes and assumptions of an inverse relationship between visitation numbers and environmental sustainability, the prospect of not just accommodating and managing but encouraging several million visitors per year may alarm. However, it is likely that most enhancement activity would be confined to the service oases that most visitors prefer to frequent, leaving most of the park in the relatively undisturbed states preferred by the few hard-core visitors erroneously characterized as ‘alternative tourists’. Indirect on-site and off-site activity such as fundraising and bequests, and revenue from large-scale visitation, would moreover help to keep those areas in their semi-wild state.

Urban Beach Resorts Waikiki, Magaluf, Atlantic City, the Gold Coast and other high-density urban beach resorts have been praised as examples of successful large-scale development in otherwise economically disadvantaged regions, but also excoriated as the notorious exemplars of unsustainable contemporary mass tourism and the unfortunate culminations of the tourism area life cycle



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(Jones, 1986; O’Hare, 2007). Displays of excessive hedonism and dramatic crime lend weight to the critique, but whether these ill reputations are still deserved, or indeed ever were, is a legitimate question. For the historical perspective, urban beach resorts fundamentally are no different than other urban concentrations developing in specific types of location for resource extraction, manufacturing, military support, the servicing of surrounding agricultural hinterlands and other specialized purposes. Like urban beach resorts, all face specialized ‘mega-­constraints’ such as resource depletion, factory offshoring, base closures and shrinking farm populations that suggest similar ‘life-cycle’ processes and unsustainable outcomes. However, none have faced the same opprobrium from critics that their beachfront sisters endure. It may be that their perceived decadence renders the latter less important and worthy, and like Sodom more deserving perhaps of divine punishment.

Arenas of opportunity Yet, like other specialized cities, urban beach resorts have a history of adapting and enduring. Of course they have faced serious and even existential challenges, often of their own doing, but those circumstances – especially when reaching crisis state – arguably induce a realignment of these threatened places into ‘arenas of opportunity’ where planners and managers are compelled to formulate and implement appropriate responses beyond the opportunistic environmentalism described earlier. Such impulses are abetted by contemporary trends in tourism planning that emphasize destination resilience (Becken, 2013), crisis and disaster engagement within chaos contexts (Ritchie, 2004), and destinations as complex adaptive systems (Schianetz and Kavanagh, 2008). An illustration is the municipality of Calviá (which includes M ­ agaluf) on the Spanish island of Majorca, where responses to repeated and increasingly severe ­carrying capacity crises included: (i) adoption of a Local Agenda 21; (ii) prohibitions on the conversion of hotels to apartments; (iii) restrictions of new hotels to three-star level or higher; (iv) creation of more green space; and (v) demolition of defunct, poorly sited or aesthetically

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­ nappealing high-rise buildings (Aguiló et al., u 2005; Dodds, 2007; see also Chapter 16, this volume). Constructive adaptations, evident also in Waikiki (Sheldon and Abenoja, 2001) and more modestly perhaps in long-established British seaside resorts such as Brighton and Bournemouth (Knowles and Curtis, 1999), mean that many people continue to regard these cities as rather pleasant places to visit. Weaver (2012) describes these situations as reflecting an ‘­organic’ path to sustainable mass tourism which indicates that unsustainability itself may be ultimately unsustainable in destinations because of the adaptations it necessitates. Indeed, the concept of enlightened mass tourism itself can be situated as a potential adaptation, arising as it does from scrutiny of the product-mature Gold Coast (Weaver, 2014b). Many people, seemingly, also regard urban beach resorts as rather pleasant places to live, based on higher than average population growth tendencies. Speculation like this reminds us that the need to consider the issue of sociocultural sustainability, as denominated from the perspective of local residents, is a core attribute of enlightened mass tourism and allied philosophies. Substantial empirical evidence demonstrates that residents of beach resort cities are not unduly discontented with, angry or anxious about the leisure tourism in their communities. Sheldon and Abenoja (2001), for example, found that residents of Waikiki are very satisfied with their quality of life. Weaver and Lawton (2013) in a survey of 880 Gold Coast residents revealed high tolerance levels for Schoolies Week, a contentious annual event where tens of thousands of teenagers gather to celebrate the end of their secondary education; only 18% were unequivocally opposed. Many stated that the Gold Coast was a tourism city and that such activities, as long as they were reasonably contained, were compatible with good resident quality of life. Even more prevalent was the view, indicative of social exchange theory, that the occasional negative social impacts of Schoolies Week were outweighed by its positive effects on the local economy. Similar dynamics were found in the late 1990s by Fredline and Faulkner (2000) in support of Gold Coast Indy, a then major annual motor sport event held in the streets of Surfers Paradise, the main leisure tourism neighbourhood of the Gold Coast. In similar contexts, Daytona Beach residents were revealed

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by Jackson (2008) as favourably disposed towards various mass tourism events, including NASCAR racing and student spring break activity (with clear similarities to Schoolies Week), the latter of which just 26% of respondents preferred to have discontinued. Aside from social exchange dynamics per se, these generally tolerant attitudes may indicate processes of self-selection wherein those who do not like or otherwise cannot cope with intensive activity eventually opt to move to a quieter place, while yet others move to suburbs such as Surfers Paradise precisely because they like being proximate to the amenities and vibe of the mass tourism industry. Partial relocation adaptations are reflected in Schoolies Week respondents who wrote that they simply avoided Surfers Paradise during peak activity periods or timed their out-of-town holidays accordingly. In general there is much evidence that positive attitudes and overall quality of life do not necessarily decline as tourism development increases (Andriotis and Vaughan, 2003), even in the small but very heavily visited communities in the hinterlands of major beach resort cities which Getz (1993) classifies as a type of ‘tourist shopping village’. Illustrative is the Gold Coast hinterland ‘hyper-destination’ of Tamborine Mountain, where 8000 permanent residents hosted more than 500,000 mainly excursionist visitors per year in the late 1990s (Weaver and Lawton, 2001). Again, generally strong resident support for local tourism does not mean that negative impacts do not occur or are not unacknowledged, but rather that they tend to occur (as with highly visited protected areas) within a small ‘hotspot’ frontstage (a variant of the 95/5 rule noted above in protected areas) and can be negotiated effectively through personal adaptation or ameliorated through appropriate community planning and management.

Conclusion The dialectics as embodied by Weaver (2014b) in enlightened mass tourism have actually existed as a ‘grand dialectic’ that has structured the evolution of tourism discourses since the 1960s, when the thesis of market-led massification dictated the development of most destinations. In the 1970s

an antithesis of regulation and growth curtailment emerged in response to the perceived contradictions of mass tourism, culminating in the articulation of alternative tourism as a more appropriate development option. It was perhaps inevitable that ‘sustainable development’ and its derivative ‘sustainable tourism’ (distilled in this chapter as the aspirational attainment of increased human quality of life and happiness) would be claimed in the early 1990s by advocates of both camps. Perhaps equally inevitable has been the subsequent convergence of mass and alternative tourism as the strengths and weaknesses of each have become increasingly apparent and negotiated, and their polarized positions increasingly untenable. Enlightened mass tourism situates as a culminating amalgamation which clearly positions the resultant synthesis as mass tourism in recognition of the latter’s inherent advantages and pervasive reality. Heavily visited protected areas and urban beach resorts have been used to illustrate the emergent reality of sustainable mass tourism and the potential of its ideal culmination of enlightened mass tourism. In both spatial contexts it must be noted that most direct impacts are associated with the very high concentrations of direct tourism activity that occur within service oases or other small frontstage spaces, which leaves the extensive backstage relatively unscathed even in hyper-destinations. These concentrations can and certainly have incurred various environmental and social costs, but these seemingly tend, when they reach crisis states, to induce adaptation and adjustment by planners and managers (i.e. an ‘arena of opportunity’) rather than despair and abandonment. Paradoxically, the very fact of concentration, and the economies of scale they entail, greatly facilitates the adaptations, which especially in beach resorts combine and overlap with the towel reuse programmes, alternative energy conversions and other ongoing opportunistic environmental initiatives that occur in any case as adaptive paradigm nudge. Further evidence of progress and promise is found in the permanent and transient human components of such destinations. Residents of urban beach resorts have been revealed in many studies to be favourably disposed towards local tourism, although with qualifications that indicate social exchange dynamics and personal



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­djustment strategies. Accordingly, local resia dents – and especially as regards their views on the contribution of tourism to their quality of life and happiness – are fundamental indicators of sustainability whose behaviour and perceptions ought to figure more widely in tourism planning and management deliberations. Visitors to these resorts may be more problematic stakeholders given the probable correlation between their happiness and the satisfaction of harder core hedonistic motivations, but even here the pervasiveness at least of environmental concern if not activism as a societal norm is grounds for optimism and a basis for establishing ethical beachheads. In protected area contexts, the legacy of modern management and monitoring, aside from formal containment in higher intensity zones, has been pervasive equilibrium sustainability that has minimally moved the visitor from inherent threat to a position of neutrality. Although symbiosis is still confined to a few park ‘friends’, research does reveal robust potential for mass participation – assuming that managers and planners are conducive to the attendant innovations – that could position visitors more broadly as an opportunity to achieve aspirational sustainability. The increased articulation of concepts such as sustainable and enlightened mass tourism

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will combine with the growing prevalence of prototypes and best practice to facilitate the broader sustainability of urban beach resorts and heavily visited protected areas. These dynamics, however, are not confined to these two contexts. In rural or semi-rural settings removed from beach resorts and their hinterlands, it appears similarly that growth in tourism activity does not lead to more negative attitudes among residents (Látková and Vogt, 2011; Lee and Weaver, 2014). This may owe in part to much lower intensities of leisure tourism, lower tourist-­ to-host ratios, and concentrations of high intensity tourism in periodic events. However, it is also likely (as with small Caribbean and South Pacific islands) that managers and residents in these communities generally regard a robust tourism economy as a desirable alternative or supplement to unstable primary and manufacturing sectors. At the time of writing, Australia demonstrated this uncertainty with low commodity prices that have destabilized the mining sector, and with the continuing decline of rural service towns facing relentless depopulation and production uncertainty in their farming hinterlands. A growing tourism industry, under these circumstances, will surely be regarded by many residents as at least an indirect source of ­increased quality of life and happiness.

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Lee, Y.-H. and Weaver, D. (2014) The tourism area life cycle in Kim Yujeong Literary Village, Korea. Asia Pacific Journal of Tourism Research 19(2), 181–198. Lorenzoni, I. and Pidgeon, N. (2006) Public views on climate change: European and USA perspectives. Climatic Change 77(1–2), 73–95. McGivney, A. (2003) Leave No Trace: A Guide to the New Wilderness Etiquette, 2nd edn. The Mountaineers Books, Seattle, Washington. Miller, G., Rathouse, K., Scarles, C., Holmes, K. and Tribe, J. (2010) Public understanding of sustainable tourism. Annals of Tourism Research 27(3), 627–645. O’Hare, D. (2007) Not another Waikiki? Mobolizing topophilia and topophobia in coastal resort areas. In: Ruan, X. and Hogben, P. (eds) Topophilia and Topophobia: Reflections on Twentieth-century Human Habitat. Routledge, London, pp. 185–201. Orams, M. (1999) Marine Tourism: Development, Impacts and Management. Routledge, London. Pearce, D. (1992) Alternative tourism: concepts, classifications, and questions. In: Smith, V. and Eadington, W. (eds) Tourism Alternatives: Potentials and Problems in the Development of Tourism. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, pp. 15–30. Pearce, P. and Coghlan, A. (2008) The dynamics behind volunteer tourism. In: Lyons, K. and Wearing, S. (eds) Journals of Discovery in Volunteer Tourism: International Case Study Perspectives. CAB International, Wallingford, UK, pp. 130–143. Propst, D., Jackson, D. and McDonough, M. (2003) Public participation, volunteerism and resource-based recreation management in the US: what do citizens expect? Society and Leisure 26(2), 389–415. Ranck, S. (1987) An attempt at autonomous development: the case of the Tufi guest houses, Papua New Guinea. In: Britton, S. and Clarke, W. (eds) Ambiguous Alternative: Tourism in Small Developing Countries. University of the South Pacific, Suva, Fiji, pp. 154–165. Ritchie, B. (2004) Chaos, crises and disasters: a strategic approach to crisis management in the tourism industry. Tourism Management 25(6), 669–683. Rodenburg, E. (1980) The effects of scale in economic development: the case of Bali. Annals of Tourism Research 7(2), 177–196. Saarinen, J. (2006) Traditions of sustainability in tourism studies. Annals of Tourism Research 33(4), 1121–1140. Schianetz, K. and Kavanagh, L. (2008) Sustainability indicators for tourism systems: a complex adaptive systems approach using systemic indicator systems. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 16(6), 601–628. Scott, D. (2011) Why sustainable tourism must address climate change. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 19(1), 17–34. Sharpley, R. (2000) Tourism and sustainable development: exploring the theoretical divide. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 8(1), 1–19. Sheldon, P. and Abenoja, T. (2001) Resident attitudes in a mature destination: the case of Waikiki. Tourism Management 22(5), 435–443. Smith, V. and Eadington, B. (eds) (1992) Tourism Alternatives: Potentials and Problems in the Development of Tourism. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia, Philadelphia. Uysal, M., Perdue, R. and Sirgy, M. (eds) (2012) Handbook of Tourism and Quality-of-Life Research. Springer, London. Weaver, D. (2000) A broad context model of destination development scenarios. Tourism Management 21(3), 217–224. Weaver, D. (2006) Sustainable Tourism: Theory and Practice. Elsevier, London. Weaver, D. (2007) Toward sustainable mass tourism: paradigm shift or paradigm nudge? Tourism Recreation Research 32(3), 65–69. Weaver, D. (2012) Organic, incremental and induced paths to sustainable mass tourism convergence. Tourism Management 33, 1030–1037. Weaver, D. (2013) Protected area visitor willingness to participate in site enhancement activities. Journal of Travel Research 52(3), 377–391. Weaver, D. (2014a) The sustainable development of tourism: a state-of-the-art perspective. In: Lew, A., Hall, M. and Williams, A. (eds) The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Tourism. Wiley Blackwell, Chichester, UK, pp. 524–533. Weaver, D. (2014b) Asymmetrical dialectics of sustainable tourism: toward enlightened mass tourism. Journal of Travel Research 53(2), 131–140. Weaver, D. (2015) Volunteer tourism and beyond: motivations and barriers to participation in protected area enhancement. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 23(5), 683–705.

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Mass Tourism and the Environment: Issues and Dilemmas Andrew Holden* Institute for Tourism Research (INTOUR), University of Bedfordshire Business School, Luton, UK

Introduction The approach taken in this chapter to understand mass tourism is not to interpret it as a definitive entity but as a dynamic one in the spirit of Sharpley’s (2000) observation that all tourists may be considered as mass tourists as they are a part of the mass leisure phenomenon. The relationship of mass tourism with the natural environment is similarly recognized as an evolving one that reflects changing constructs and philosophies of our position relative to nature. That the natural environment is essential to tourism as a key attraction and for the provision of required resource and ecosystem services is axiomatic. However, how we judge the acceptable thresholds of the trade-off of the use the environment for tourism is less transparent and will depend upon readings of nature and the values we place on it. Thus, our sense of connectedness to nature will be influential in shaping our understandings of the issues and dilemmas of the interaction of mass tourism with the environment. While our reading of nature informs how we define what are issues and dilemmas, similarly our beliefs and understandings of what constitutes natural environments are highly influential for our choice of tourism destinations. Although by the late 19th century Karl Marx was bemoaning the loss of the nature that had preceded human

history (Soper, 1995), and the widespread environmental impact of anthropogenic activity led Giddens (1999: 27) to refer to the ‘end of nature’ by the end of the 20th century, recreational tourism relies to varying degrees upon constructions of unspoilt and unsullied nature as an attraction. Stereotypical images of packaged mass tourism have at a minimum a reliance on sun, sea and sand, while ecotourism and nature tourism rely upon constructs of wilderness and nature located in places free of human interference. Subsequently, when discussing the issues and dilemmas of mass tourism and the environment, it is necessary to consider that we are interpreting not only scientific facts but also cultural and philosophical constructs of nature. A key tenet of the discussion also concerns the spatial dimensions of mass tourism’s impacts upon nature. During and since the epoch of the 1950s to the 1980s, the period most readily definable as the heyday of international mass tourism according to the principles of Fordist economics, the geographical boundaries of tourism have expanded to the earth’s peripheries. This expansion has resulted in concerns about tourism’s environmental impacts in remote places that include the Arctic, Antarctic and Galápagos islands, but also a recognition that tourism may sometimes be used for nature conservation. While these concerns are being expressed in new geographical

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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locations, they are representative of a tradition of disquiet over tourism’s environmental impacts that have been traditionally focused at the destination level. Yet, the mobility of billions of people based upon a carbon-centric system has now given rise to anxieties of mass tourism’s contribution to global warming and climate change at a global spatial level. The challenge of climate change encompasses economic and ethical dimensions that are common to many environmental issues and dilemmas. Issues of social justice, including the negative externalities of the pursuit of hedonism having most impact upon the world’s poor, the unsustainable use of natural resources being detrimental to the economic opportunities of future generations, and the right of nature to an existence being threatened by anthropogenic activities, have as much application to tourism as for any other consumer activity. Environmental concerns of the behaviour of tourists traversing spatial levels are a theme inherent to many of the issues of mass tourism’s interaction with nature that are evaluated in the rest of the chapter.

Climatic Stability and Ecosystem Services: a Reciprocal Relationship with Tourism Paradoxically, probably the most prominent contemporary environmental challenge for mass tourism originates from the mobility of the hundreds of millions of people who participate in it. Mass recreational tourism depends on climatic constancy for the stability of the framework of the biosphere that houses the weather systems and ecosystems which the industry rests upon. The formula of a combination of sunshine and warm ambient temperatures, alongside good quality beaches and ocean waters for sunbathing and swimming, a persuasive one as a reason for participating in mass tourism. The two most numerically significant flows of international tourists from northern Europe to the Mediterranean and from North America to the Caribbean (World Tourism Organization, 2003) rely upon this climatic predictability and stability. Alongside coastal areas, mountain environments in several regions of the world have also developed mass tourism industries focused on winter-sports

that are similarly reliant on the predictability of regular snowfall in the winter season. Alongside the climatic stability that creates the natural attractions of tourism, the ecosystems of which they are a part also provide a range of other services for the tourism industry and destination communities. Beside the maintenance of the visual aesthetic quality of the environment that is a prerequisite for mass tourism, these services also provide essential quality of life functions including freshwater provision, biodiversity habitats and the regulation of droughts and floods (Duralappah, 2004). Similar to agriculture and fisheries, tourism may therefore be understood as one of the foremost climate-dependent industries. An evident dilemma for the tourism industry is that the climatic stability upon which it depends is threatened by global warming and climate change. While the scientific certainty of the causes and effects of climate change cannot be exact, threats to tourism include: (i) rising sea levels that will increase rates of inundation; (ii) coastal and beach erosion; (iii) low-lying small islands including the Maldives and the Pacific Isles placed at risk of submergence; (iv) changes to precipitation patterns with reduced snowfall in mountain areas; (v) water supply problems such as those in the Mediterranean Basin will be exacerbated; (vi) loss of biodiversity and wildlife; (vii) destruction of coral reefs as a consequence of increases in ocean temperatures and acidification; and (viii) an increase in the magnitude, frequency and risk of extreme climatic events including storms and sea surges (World Tourism Organization, 2003; IPCC, 2014). Although the level of intensity of how these changes will be manifested depends upon the ultimate increase in the average global temperature, they pose a significant threat to the established tourism industry in most regions of the world. For example, reduced snowfall in mountain areas will directly challenge the sustainability of the ski industry, loss of biodiversity and wildlife will be detrimental to safari tours, while the destruction of the coral reefs would mean the loss of major natural tourist attractions and their accompanying markets, including both mass and niche ones such as diving. While climate change poses a threat to the sustainability of tourism in many regions of the world, tourism’s relationship to climate change is one of reciprocity, with tourism making an



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i­ncreasing contribution to total global greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. The root cause of this is the reliance for mass transit on carbon-centric transport systems which account for 75% of tourism’s total carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions, with aviation accounting for 40%, car transport 32% and 3% from other forms of transport, particularly cruise ships (OECD, 2015). Of the remaining 25% of tourism’s CO2 emission, 21% originated from accommodation suppliers and 4% from the activities of tourists (OECD, 2015). For an activity that is participated in by individuals for typically 2 weeks of the year, tourism generates a sizeable carbon footprint contributing approximately 5% of total global CO2 emissions but possibly up to 14% when radiative forcing is taken into account (i.e. the warming caused by CO2 and other GHGs) (UNEP, 2015). Expressed in terms of national outputs of CO2, tourism would be the fifth biggest polluting country in the world (OECD, 2015). Over the next 25 years it is projected that in a business-as-usual scenario, GHG emissions from tourism will double, leaving the industry at odds with the legally binding Paris Agreement at the Conference of the Parties (COP) 21, to limit the rise in the global average surface temperature to below 2°C compared with pre-­industrial levels. To achieve this will necessitate a reduction by 2050 in the level of global GHG emissions by 50% compared with their 1990 levels (UNEP, 2015). A critical challenge for tourism is that technocentric innovation has to date been unable to find an ultimate solution of how to reduce total GHG emissions proportionate to the rise in demand for air travel. Technological advances have made aircraft 70% more fuel efficient than in the 1970s and 20% more efficient than 10 years ago (IATA, 2016), while the improved use of air space through better air traffic control management can also help with fuel economy, and alternative non-carbon-based aviation fuels including biofuels are being developed. However, despite these technological and management innovations, the rapidly increasing demand for air travel outstrips the gains made and total GHG emissions continue to rise. The search for technological solutions may also produce unexpected negative economic and environmental externalities. For example, the production of biofuel crops, such as sugarcane for ethanol, necessitates a transformation of land use, typically the removal of rich

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biodiverse ecosystems or an alternative use of agricultural land. The latter case may result in an increase in food prices if basic foodstuffs such as wheat and rice become scarcer as a consequence of decreased production, an effect that would be felt most severely by the world’s poorest peoples. If demand for aviation continues to grow, which is highly probable, biofuels could not offer a long-term solution as increasing quantities of land would be required for their cultivation at the cost of the growing of foodstuffs. The increasing demand for air travel traverses cultural boundaries seeming to occur wherever economic growth creates the optimum market conditions. The International Air Transport Association (IATA) has forecast a 31% increase in global air passengers during 2013–2017, reaching 3.91 billion in 2017, with China accounting for 24% of the new passenger growth (IATA, 2015a). By 2034 it is anticipated that passenger numbers will reach 7.3 billion, with China as the world’s largest passenger market (IATA, 2015b). Alongside the growth in passenger numbers, another evident trend is for long-haul travel and a preference to visit remote and peripheral locations as people seek to experience different places. The statistical analysis of passenger numbers also reveals the inequalities in the geographical and social distribution of air travel. While China is becoming a significant player in the market, a large share of the existing GHG emissions originate from a comparably small share of long-haul trips originating from economically developed countries (UNWTO-­ UNEP-WMO, 2007). An analysis of the UK aviation market in 2013 estimated that 70% of the total flights are taken by only 15% of the population, while 57% of the population took no flights (New Economics Foundation, 2015). Demand in the aviation market is also propagated by low prices, with it being estimated that 60% of lowcost air travel is ‘induced’; that is, there is no specific reason for travel other than the low price (Nilsson, 2009).

Incremental and Cumulative Resource Usage The addition of extra flights and passengers that are contributing to rising levels of GHG emissions

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from aviation is characteristic of the incremental and cumulative growth of tourism resulting in the negative environmental impacts that challenge its sustainability. Although tourism’s contribution to climate change is a global challenge, issues of the levels of natural resource usage and the negative environmental impacts generated by mass tourism have primarily been of concern at the spatial level of the destination. These negative consequences were already being noted in diverse locations by the 1960s, including ecological imbalances in Tahiti (Milne, 1988), and the effects of aesthetic, noise and air pollution across southern Europe (Mishan, 1969), while Goldsmith (1974) referred to the disfiguration of Hawaii by skyscrapers in the early 1970s. One of the most poignant criticisms of mass tourism in this period comes from Turner and Ash (1975: 127): ‘As a mass movement of peoples, tourism deserves to be regarded with suspicion and disquiet, if not outright dread.’ While the balance of these original concerns of mass tourism often focused on subjective interpretations of mass tourism, especially the visual ‘blight’ of aesthetic pollution from overdevelopment in destinations, they highlighted the incremental and cumulative changes of tourism development. These early apprehensions of land-use change, ecosystem imbalance, overcrowding and pollution remain as valid today as they did 40–50 years ago. Tourism development will inevitably mean changes in the aesthetic appearance and ecosystem functions of places. These pressures are apparent in coastal regions that are the most popular geographical areas for mass recreational tourism and which may have their landscapes transformed by it. These changes may threaten the functioning of ecosystem services that are essential to the ecological balance and human well-being. For example, wetlands, which perform vital ecological functions including the provision of a rich habitat that is comparable in its biodiversity to rainforests and coral reefs, also act as carbon-storage areas and provide flood control measures by absorbing abundant amounts of rainwater and discharging it to adjoining areas in a slow and measured way, have been reclaimed for development (EPA, 2015). Over half of the world’s wetlands have disappeared since the 1990s, with tourism development being a significant contributor alongside other forms of commercial development and agriculture (WWF,

2016). Similarly, the rich biodiversity of coral reefs that make them attractive to mass and niche tourism markets can also be threatened by tourism development. These threats include: (i) their mining for building materials for use in tourism construction; (ii) inadequate sewage disposal measures to deal with human waste resulting in eutrophication; and (iii) the behaviour of local people and tourists who may trample or break off coral (Mieczkowski, 1995; Goudie and Viles, 1997; Sherwood, 2006; Holden, 2016). Not only does coral reef destruction endanger its essential functions as a habitat of rich biodiversity, a protector of coasts from storms and tsunamis and as an abundant provider of fish for human consumption, but it also threatens the sustainability of a destination’s tourism industry that relies upon it as a primary attraction. Alongside ecosystem and habitat loss, tourism may place great strain on other natural resources, especially water, as accommodation and auxiliary services development in a destination create high levels of extra demand. Facilities such as hotel swimming pools combined with the high consumption lifestyle demands of tourists, can result in water shortages and the degradation of water supplies, alongside the generation of greater volumes of waste water. For example, the encouragement of mass tourism development in Bali from the early 1970s, with a rapid increase in facilities since the 1990s, has caused water scarcity. The economic dominance of the tourism sector is illustrated by its use of an approximate 65% of the island’s water supply, resulting in a redistribution of water from agriculture to tourism and from locals to tourists, who use ten times more water than local people. The economic effect of this shift has been experienced by rice farmers for whom the lack of water has meant being able only to plant rice once a year as opposed to twice a year (Bachelard, 2012; Cole, 2012; Widiadana, 2012). The heavy use of water has led to a decrease in the water table level with an accompanying salt water intrusion into aquifers, land subsidence and deterioration in water quality (Cole, 2012). Thus, akin to climate change, while biodiversity loss and resource issues as outcomes of tourism development may be understood as environmental challenges, they are also ones of political ecology, where the poor are typically marginalized in power struggles over access to resources.



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The Commons and Eco-taxes Resource overuse, pollution, natural capital depletion and an increasing contribution to global warming suggest that there are environmental limits to the way mass tourism is currently practised. The growth in demand for tourism as it is embedded into global consumer lifestyles, with recorded international arrivals having risen from 25 million in 1950 to 1186 million in 2015 with a prediction to reach 1800 million by 2030 (UNWTO, 2016), suggests that tourism’s impacts on the natural environment will become more geographically widespread and intense. The spatial dynamic of the mass movement of peoples for recreational tourism between home and destination environments places a heavy reliance on resources that lack ownership or enforceable legal controls to restrict access, making them subsequently available for common use. The zero cost for the user of these common pool resources (CPRs) places them at threat from being overused and degraded, with the exploitation of the resource by one person reducing the benefit for another (Ostrom et al., 1999). Typical CPRs used for tourism include the oceans, the atmosphere, beaches, coral reefs, wetlands and mountains. In his seminal essay ‘The tragedy of the commons’ that reflects the economic issues of CPRs, Hardin (1968) depicted a scenario of the over-grazing by cow herders of a shared commons area in pursuit of their own self-interest and private gain, ultimately leading to an unsustainable use of the commons. While subsequent criticism has been made of the assumption of a finite carrying capacity depicted by Hardin, as technological innovation and environmental design and management may be used to overcome this, as highlighted in the context of aviation the totality of a technocentric solution cannot be guaranteed. A tragedy of the commons caused by an unsustainable use of a natural resource that leads to its demise or a range of negative externalities, as in the case of climate change, raises issues of how tourism stakeholders, including governments, the private sector and tourists, respond to these environmental challenges. Possible responses embrace economic and ethical dimensions that necessitate a change in the behavioural interaction of stakeholders with nature to provide a solution to environmental issues. From

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an economic perspective, environmental problems arise as a consequence of market failure to reflect the full social costs upon society of the benefits gained through private consumption (Willis, 1997; Helbling, 2012). This may subsequently be corrected by the internalization of environmental costs into the prices of tourism products, according to the philosophy of the ‘polluter pays’ principle (PPP) (i.e. that those causing damage to the environment should bear the costs) (Pearce, 1993). Within PPP, it is usual for government to impose taxation on the polluters with the aim of righting existing environmental problems and mitigating against future ones. However, the use of environmental taxation in tourism has had little application and when its imposition has been attempted has met with vehement opposition from stakeholders. A prominent example was the decision taken by the government of the Balearic Islands, consisting of Majorca, Menorca and Ibiza, key places for mass tourism development in Spain. Subsequent resource issues including water shortages, pollution and a loss of general environmental quality led the government to introduce in 2002 an eco-tax on tourism of €1 per tourist per day. The tax revenues were to be used for investment in environmental improvements in the existing resort areas and other environmental projects, including the regeneration of parkland, replanting of fruit trees and building of cycle lanes. The eco-tax was met with opposition from the private sector, including small and medium-size enterprises and international tour operators, both of whom feared reduced demand following the tax’s introduction, which was what happened as tourist arrivals fell by 1 million in the first year. The subsequent elections in 2003 were won by the conservative Popular Party whom directly passed legislation to scrap the tax (Dafydd, 2003; ­Pietrasik, 2003; Westwood, 2003). The case of the eco-tax in the Balearics raises several issues of how to respond to the negative environmental impacts of mass tourism. It illustrates the profound challenges of attempting to internalize into the market system the negative environmental externalities caused by tourism, even at a seemingly low rate of €1 per person per day. Packaged mass tourism has been constructed according to Fordist economic principles of low cost and high demand with a consequent price

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elasticity that is highly sensitive to a price increase. Tourists thus have the choice to either stay away or find proxy destinations at a more competitive price. It also demonstrates the difficulties of the task of attaining a collective approach to the mitigation of environmental problems of mass tourism, in this case contradicting the commonality of purpose to save the commons often depicted by critics of Hardin (1968). In democratic constitutions composed of political parties with divergent environmental philosophies within which decisions can be reversed according to economic circumstance, the emphasis for change would appear to rest with the consumer market. That is, in the absence of market support for an environmental tax the industry is unlikely to support its introduction. Yet, tourism would seem to be a consumer activity that either falls outside the radar of association with environmental problems or is so pleasurable and cherished that it is almost impossible to voluntarily relinquish.

Ethical and Pro-environmental Behaviour Issues The rejection of environmental taxation according to the PPP in the case of the Balearics raises questions over our relationship to nature, including whether we have responsibilities to the environment and our willingness to pursue pro-environmental behaviour as consumers and tourists. This ethical relationship embraces both human and non-human aspects, as alongside the loss of habitats and harm to individual species, natural resource depletion also denies economic opportunities to present and future generations. This loss of economic opportunity will be experienced disproportionately by the poor who have a greater reliance on natural ecosystems for their livelihoods and well-being than people living in economically developed countries. Ethical questions about mass tourism’s relationship with nature are not restricted to climate change and natural resource usage; they also arise from more direct interactions between tourism and wildlife. For example, should we be concerned that wildlife can have their eating and breeding patterns disrupted by too many minibuses and tourists crowding around them

on the plains of the Serengeti? Does a tourist paying US$50,000 to buy the right to kill a lion that resides in a national park in Zimbabwe raise issues of morality and ethics? These examples relate to real situations concerning tourism’s interaction with wildlife. While the first situation in the Serengeti may be viewed as a problem of overcrowding and overcapacity, it also has a behavioural dimension. Beside the issue of quantity, the reason for the crowding of the animals is associated with drivers of the minibuses wishing to provide enhanced opportunities for tourists to take quality photographs by being in close proximity to the animals. While against park regulations, the drivers are aware they will earn enhanced tips from the tourists through provision of these photo opportunities. Given a seeming inability of the park authorities to enforce environmental regulations and coerce drivers not to encroach too close to the animals, an alternative solution needs to be employed. This could be through the encouragement of the tourists to adopt pro-environmental behaviour by highlighting the negative impacts of encroachment on the health of the wildlife. If the tourists are informed and aware of the distress caused to the animals, the issue becomes an ethical one of the empathy they have for the animals and their willingness to forego opportunities for unique photographs, by requesting the driver not to go too close to the wildlife. To date there is little evidence that the mass tourism market is willing to enter into pro-environmental behaviour, especially when this entails an opportunity cost of a loss of pleasure. A dilemma of tourism is that it appears to be a lifestyle domain within which consumers are less willing to adopt environmentally responsible behaviour (ERB) than in other areas of life. While we may be willing to engage in ERB at home, for example separating out our waste for recycling purposes, walking instead of taking the car or buying organic produce, there is a seeming reticence to the pursuit of pro-environmental behaviour associated with tourism. Even if buying a holiday that is marked by its ethical credentials, such an act of responsible consumption may result in a sense of absolution from any further sense of environmental duty while in situ on holiday (Sharpley, 2013). This reluctance to change behaviour in the knowledge that its pursuit is environmentally damaging is evident



Mass Tourism and the Environment: Issues and Dilemmas

in attitudes to aviation and climate change. Although the research of people’s attitudes on this relationship is not copious, there are several empirical studies that point to a cognitive dissonance between an awareness of how aviation contributes to climate change and a willingness to take action to fly less and adjust vacation-­ taking patterns (Becken, 2007; European Union, 2008; Hares et al., 2010; Opinium Research, 2015). In the majority of the studies, from a range of lifestyle options that could be selected to behave in a more environmentally responsible manner, flying less or taking fewer holidays proved to be the most unpopular choice. Yet, given the collective national governments of the United Nations pledge in the Paris Agreement of 2015 to limit the rise in the earth’s average global temperature by reducing GHG emissions, it is likely that our vacation-taking behaviour will have to change to meet emission reduction targets. The travel patterns of those living in the economically developed countries of the world may have to be modified considerably, especially according to the principles of contraction and convergence that requires a disproportionately large emissions reduction in these countries to permit a growth in GHG emissions in developing countries (Dubois et al., 2011). This could necessitate a shift in transport modes, for example from plane to train, and a selection of destinations to visit that are geographically closer to home (Peeters and Dubois, 2010). Such a radical shift in travel behaviour will also raise issues of social equity, as Dubois et al. (2011: 104) phrase it: ‘who can travel, for how long, using which transport mode, why, and how comfortably’.

Conclusion This chapter has not attempted to provide a comprehensive account of the environmental impacts of mass tourism, which are already well charted in the tourism studies literature (e.g. see Mathieson and Wall, 2006; Holden, 2016), but to evaluate the issues and dilemmas of its relationship with the natural environment. We live in a time when individuality is valued over the mass (Vainikka, 2013) and while mass tourism according to Fordist principles of standardization

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may not be as popular as previously, the popularity of tourism and accompanying global mobility has never been so high. The absence of a definitive measure of when tourism transcends into ‘mass’ means that it will remain a social construction as much as an actual entity. It is the action of the individual or, more precisely, many individuals that give rise to the incremental and cumulative effects of mass tourism that transform it into issues and dilemmas of environmental concern. Thus, what commences as individuality, with time may become mass, a theme poignantly highlighted by Wheeller (2005) utilizing the analogy of the ‘thin edge of the wedge’, related to concerns in the context of ecotourism of initial small numbers of tourists becoming a much larger quantity with the passage of time. A central issue is therefore how tourism stakeholders respond to the character of the individual collectiveness that characterizes mass tourism. What should mass tourism seek to achieve in its relationship with the natural environment, if indeed anything? The hedonistic tradition will remain a central one but the extraordinary growth of mass tourism ensures that the responses to this question run much deeper than purely satisfying the desires of tourists. Should the relationship seek sustainability? The concept of ‘sustainable mass tourism’ has been mooted by Weaver (2012) as the desired outcome by stakeholders of an evolutionary process of reform of the relationship between tourism and nature (see also Chapter 6, this volume). Weaver (2012) recognizes the degree of environmental sustainability, whether weak or strong, remains uncertain and the spatial issue of mobility and transport within the tourism system remain more problematic to respond to. The use of mass tourism applied in the context of Sharpley’s (2000) interpretation of all tourists being a part of the mass leisure phenomenon also presents opportunities to provide experiences to (re)connect people to nature given that over half of the world’s population now live in metropolitan areas (United Nations, 2015). The rapid pace of urbanization of the world’s population has led to concerns of a global society that is progressively disconnecting from nature, as people become less reliant on their immediate environment to meet their needs, in turn posing threats to environmental sustainability and physiological and psychological

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well-being (Kaplan and Kaplan, 1989; Louv, 2005; Defra, 2011; RSPB, 2013). The popularity of visiting nature also offers opportunities to provide nature with an economic value in a conserved state. Finances from tourism revenue streams to support establishment of protected areas and their management are important in many countries. Economic calculations of the worth of ecotourism may help protect biodiverse areas from other more environmentally destructive types of economic development. For example, in 2007 in Uganda the rich biodiversity of the Mabira rainforest ecosystem was placed under development pressure by the Sugar Company of Uganda (SCOUL) who desired to use 7100 ha of the total 22,000 ha area to grow sugarcane for the production of ethanol as a biofuel (Sapp, 2013). Economic calculations suggested that ecotourism was worth substantially more than biofuel production per hectare, making a strong economic case for the development of the ecotourism industry and the rejection of biofuel production. Mass tourism has also been identified by the United Nations and World Bank as having a key economic role to play in a move away from the brown towards the green economy, one that is characterized by being low-carbon, resource-­ efficient and socially inclusive (UNEP, 2011a). This recognition is based on the global economic importance of tourism and how it may conserve natural capital within a sustainable development paradigm. Yet simultaneously key environmental

challenges relating to the character of tourism consumption have also been identified by the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) that may threaten the place of tourism in the green economy (UNEP, 2011b). These embrace many of the negative environmental impacts of tourism including: (i) resource usage; (ii) increasing global mobility and demand for tourism; (iii) the use of energy-intensive carbon-­ based transport systems with an accompanying growth in GHG emissions; (iv) a consumer trend of long-distance travel for shorter periods of time; (v) excessive water consumption; and (vi) damage to the earth’s biodiversity. This list acts as a poignant reminder that the issues and dilemmas of mass tourism are both created and constructed by humans. They are also an aide-memoire that behavioural changes in the practices of tourists are required alongside technological innovation to reduce the negative environmental impacts of mass tourism. These changes would include those relevant to travel and transport choices as outlined earlier in the chapter as advocated by Peeters and Dubois (2010) and Dubois et al. (2011) and also embrace the encouragement of tourists’ pro-environmental behaviour in destinations. It is difficult to envisage that mass tourism will be able to escape such alterations towards pro-environmental behaviour indefinitely. More uncertainty remains, however, over the extent to which these changes will be taken voluntarily or to which coercion through government policy will be necessary.

References Bachelard, M. (2012) Relentless Tourism Spawns Trouble in Paradise. Available at: http://www.traveller.com. au/relentless-tourism-spawns-trouble-in-paradise-2j0bd (accessed 6 December 2015). Becken, S. (2007) Tourists’ perception of international air travel’s impact on the global climate and potential climate change policies. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 15, 351–368. Cole, S. (2012) A political ecology of water equity and tourism: a case study from Bali. Annals of Tourism Research 39(2), 1221–1241. Dafydd, I.A. (2003) Tourists face island tax costs. Available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/wales/1432283. stm (accessed 23 February 2016). Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) (2011) The Natural Choice: Securing the Value of Nature. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/ file/228842/8082.pdf (accessed 25 January 2016). Dubois, G., Peeters, P., Ceron, J.P. and Gössling, S. (2011) The future tourism mobility of the world population: emission growth versus climate policy. Transportation Research Part A: Policy and Practice 45(10), 1031–1042.



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Duralappah, A. (2004) Exploring the Links: Human Well-being, Poverty and Ecosystem Services. United Nations Environment Programme and International Institute for Sustainable Development, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) (2015) Why are Wetlands Important? United States Environmental Protection Agency. Available at: http://www.epa.gov/wetlands/why-are-wetlands-important (accessed 29 February 2016). European Union (2008) Attitudes of European Citizens Towards the Environment. Special Eurobarometer, European Commission, Brussels. Giddens, A. (1999) Runaway World: How Globalization is Reshaping Our Lives. Profile Books, London. Goldsmith, E. (1974) Pollution by tourism. The Ecologist 4(2), 9–10. Goudie, A. and Viles, H. (1997) The Earth Transformed: An Introduction to Human Impacts on the Environment. Blackwell, Oxford. Hardin, G. (1968) The tragedy of the commons. Science 162, 1243–1248. Hares, A., Dickinson, J. and Wilkes, K. (2010) Climate change and the air travel decisions of UK tourists. Journal of Transport Geography 18(3), 466–473. Helbling, T. (2012) Externalities: Prices Do Not Capture All Costs. International Monetary Fund. Available at: http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/fandd/basics/external.htm (accessed 23 February 2016). Holden, A. (2016) Environment and Tourism, 3rd edn. Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) (2014) Climate Change 2014: Synthesis for Policy Makers. IPCC. Available at: http://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/assessment-report/ar5/syr/AR5_SYR_FINAL_ SPM.pdf (accessed 26 July 2016). International Air Transport Association (IATA) (2015a) New IATA Passenger Forecast Reveals Fast-growing Markets of the Future. IATA. Available at: http://www.iata.org/pressroom/pr/Pages/2014-10-16-01.aspx (accessed 6 March 2016). International Air Transport Association (IATA) (2015b) Airlines Expect 31% Rise in Passenger Demand by 2017. IATA. Available at: http://www.iata.org/pressroom/pr/Pages/2013-12-10-01.aspx (accessed 28 July 2016). International Air Transport Association (IATA) (2016) Operation Fuel Efficiency. IATA. Available at: http:// www.iata.org/whatwedo/ops-infra/Pages/fuel-efficiency.aspx (accessed 2 February 2016). Kaplan, R. and Kaplan, S. (1989) The Experience of Nature: A Psychological Perspective. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Louv, R. (2005) Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder. Atlantic Books, London. Mathieson, A. and Wall, G. (2006) Tourism: Change, Impacts, and Opportunities. Pearson Education, London. Mieczkowski, Z. (1995) Environmental Issues of Tourism and Recreation. University Press of America, Lanham, Maryland. Milne, S. (1988) Pacific tourism: environmental impacts and their management. Paper presented to the Pacific Environmental Conference, London, 3–5 October. Mishan, E.J. (1969) The Costs of Economic Growth. Penguin, Harmondsworth, UK. New Economics Foundation (2015) A Fairer Way to Fly. Available at: http://www.neweconomics.org/blog/ entry/a-fairer-way-to-fly (accessed 10 March 2016). Nilsson, J.H. (2009) Low cost aviation. In: Gössling, S. and Upham, P. (eds) Climate Change and Aviation. Earthscan, London, pp. 113–129. Opinium Research (2015) Climate special: the survey. Observer Tech Monthly 3 March, 16–21. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) (2015) Climate Change and Tourism Policy in OECD Countries. Available at: http://www.oecd.org/cfe/tourism/48681944.pdf (accessed 22 February 2016). Ostrom, E., Burger, J., Filed, C., Norgaard, R. and Policansky, D. (1999) Revisiting the commons: local ­lessons, global challenges. Science 284, 278–282. Pearce, D. (1993) Economic Values and the Natural World. Earthscan Publications, London. Peeters, P. and Dubois, G. (2010) Tourism travel under climate change mitigation constraints. Journal of Transport Geography 18(3), 447–457. Pietrasik, A. (2003) Balearics Defend Scrapping Eco Tax. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/ travel/2003/jul/19/travelnews.ecotourism.guardiansaturdaytravelsection (accessed 10 March 2017). Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) (2013) Connecting with Nature. RSPB. Available at: http:// www.rspb.org.uk/Images/connecting-with-nature_tcm9-354603.pdf (accessed 9 March 2016). Sapp, M. (2013) Revisiting Mabira, Five Years On. Available at: www.sugarinfo.co.uk/elements/products/607/ FridayColumn180113.pdf (accessed 26 March 2016).

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Sharpley, R. (2000) Tourism and sustainable development: exploring the theoretical divide. Journal of Sustainable Tourism 8(1), 1–19. Sharpley, R. (2013) Responsible tourism: whose responsibility? In: Holden, A. and Fennell, D. (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Tourism and the Environment. Routledge, Abingdon, UK, pp. 382–391. Sherwood, K.L. (2006) Global Coral Reef Portfolio. International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) – The World Conservation Union, Gland, Switzerland. Soper, K. (1995) What is Nature? Culture, Politics and the Non-Human. Blackwell, Oxford. Turner, L. and Ash, J. (1975) The Golden Hordes: International Tourism and the Pleasure Periphery. Constable, London. United Nations (2015) World Population Prospects: The 2015 Revision, Key Findings and Advance Tables. United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs/Population Division. Available at: http:// esa.un.org/unpd/wpp/publications/files/key_findings_wpp_2015.pdf (accessed 10 February 2016). United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) (2011a) Green Economy: Why a Green Economy Matters for the Least Developed Countries. UNEP, Châtelaine, Switzerland. United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) (2011b) Towards a Green Economy. United Nations Environment Programme, Châtelaine, Switzerland. United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) (2015) Impacts of Tourism. Available at: http://www.unep. org/resourceefficiency/Business/SectoralActivities/Tourism/FactsandFiguresaboutTourism/­ ImpactsofTourism/tabid/78774/Default.aspx (accessed 15 January 2016). United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2016) UNWTO Tourism Highlights: 2016 Edition. UNWTO, Madrid. United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO)–United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)– World Meteorological Organization (WMO) (2007) Davos Declaration: Climate Change and Tourism, Responding to Global Challenges. Second International Conference on Climate Change and Tourism, Davos, Switzerland. Vainikka, V. (2013) Rethinking mass tourism. Tourist Studies 13(3), 268–286. Weaver, D. (2012) Organic, incremental and induced paths to sustainable mass tourism convergence. Tourism Management 33, 1030–1037. Westwood, B. (2003) Spanish Islands Drop Eco-Tax. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/727626/ Spanish-islands-drop-eco-tax.html (accessed 10 March 2017). Wheeller, B. (2005) Ecotourism/egotourism and development. In: Hall, C.M. and Boyd, S. (eds) Nature-Based Tourism in Peripheral Areas. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK, pp. 263–272. Widiadana, R.A. (2012) Tourism Industry Responsible for Water Crisis in Bali. The Jakarta Post, 5 September. Available at: http://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2012/09/05/tourism-industry-responsible-water-­crisisbali-expert.html (accessed 20 June 2015). Willis, I. (1997) Economics and the Environment: A Signalling and Incentives Approach. Allen and Unwin, St Leonards, UK. World Tourism Organization (2003) Climate Change and Tourism. World Tourism Organization, Madrid. World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF) (2016) Threats to Wetlands. WWF. Available at: http://wwf.panda.org/ about_our_earth/about_freshwater/intro/threats/ (accessed 28 February 2016).

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The Dynamics of Tourism Development in Britain: The Profit Motive and that ‘Curious’ Alliance of Private Capital and the Local State John Heeley* Best Destination Marketing, Sheffield, UK

Blackpool is one of the wonders of the world. It is a triumph of the commercial instinct of Lancashire, applied to providing pleasure, health and varied amusement of the masses. Spas and Health Resorts of the British Isles (Luke, 1919: 273) This once famous resort of royalty and fashion (Brighton) may now, through the literal as well as metaphysical levelling of the railroad, be fairly entitled to the appellation of the Marine Metropole . . . Gay loiterers of pleasure, and donkey parties, regiments of schools, and old bathing women, literary loungers, who read out of doors, and stumble against lampposts in interesting passages – these, and a host of other peripatetic humanities, make the beach populous between Hove and Kemp Town . . . With regard to inns, taverns, hotels, lodging and boarding-houses, nowhere are they more numerous than here, their excellence of accommodation of course varying with price. Bathing establishments, too, are almost as numerous, while, for amusements there is no provincial town in the kingdom that can offer such a variety . . . of expedients for killing our common enemy – time. Bradshaw’s Descriptive Railway Hand-book of Great Britain and Ireland (Bradshaw, 2012 (original: 1863): 56, 58)

Introduction Why and how does tourism development happen? What shapes and otherwise conditions its scope and content? Who and/or what provides the touchstone to tourism development and the wherewithal to sustain it? When and how do places in which people live and/or work become destinations? In short, what are the dynamics of tourism development (or destination development, as some might wish to term tourism development)? Arguably, and somewhat curiously, the mainstream academic literature on tourism fails to provide a straightforward, coherent, valid and generally accepted answer to this most fundamental set of questions, and to the process I have chosen to call the dynamics of tourism development. Such a shortcoming is all the more remarkable inasmuch as just such an answer is presaged in a pioneering tourism text published as long ago as 1947, namely Pimlott’s The Englishman’s Holiday: A Social History. John Alfred Ralph Pimlott wrote this wonderfully insightful and well-written book in his spare time while working at a senior level in the British civil service. In doing so, one of his central aims was to help the reader understand why seaside resorts

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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and inland spas had developed so rapidly in Britain throughout the Victorian, Edwardian and inter-­ war periods, to the point where holidaymaking now represented a ‘cult’, pandering to the ‘masses’ (Pimlott, 1947: 238, 268). As a mass phenomenon, Pimlott saw tourism as exerting an important influence on the lives of the people – as ­holidaymakers on the demand side of the equation, and as entrepreneurs, investors, traders and residents on its supply side. Specifically, in relation to the dynamics of tourism development, Pimlott rounds off his introductory preamble to The Englishman’s Holiday in this way: ‘the story we are trying to tell’, he says, gives an answer to the question ‘why Brighton and ­Blackpool?’ (Pimlott, 1947: 12). The remainder of this chapter is taken up with revisiting The Englishman’s Holiday and, in particular, Pimlott’s demand and supply model of tourism development as adumbrated by him 70 years ago, elucidating upon its key characteristics and its enduring – though far from obvious – contemporary relevance. In a final, concluding section, I  speculate as to why – within the now expansive field of tourism studies – the dynamics of tourism development appears to be a much-­neglected subject.

accommodation, catering, retail, attractions and amenities. In this way, and across the length and breadth of Britain, existing settlements were enlarged and new ones created. To exemplify the tourism development process, consider Buxton’s development as a spa resort. A 19th century guide summarized it as follows: [Buxton’s] means of accommodation began to be too small for the number of visitors. In 1780, therefore, the foundation for the Crescent, etc., were laid, and from that time forward, the town has continued rapidly to enlarge, and many very important public buildings and improvements have been made throughout the town. (Black and Black, 1885: 45)

The Crescent acted as catalyst for what grew into a new town (Lower Buxton), comprising promenades, baths, churches, hotels, boarding houses and railway station, all of it in the early years provided by the private sector and all of it sited at a lower elevation to the original settlement (renamed Higher Buxton). The cost of the ‘flagship’ Crescent buildings was financed by the fifth Duke of Devonshire from revenues earned from ‘his Grace’s copper- and lead-mine properties in the neighbourhood’ (Alderson, 1973: 45). In Buxton, the local authority began to play a significant role in tourism development following the inception of a local board for the town in 1858. The board did everything within its then Tourism Development According limited powers and responsibilities ‘to render to Pimlott the town pleasant and attractive’, attending to important infrastructural works such as In The Englishman’s Holiday, Pimlott traces the drainage, street widening and the like (Black and evolution of tourism demand and supply in diverse Black, 1885: 49). Masterminding the introduction and operdevelopment contexts, from the ‘great’ European cities forming the Grand Tour, to the purpose-­ ation of a large, ‘flagship’ amenity was, however, built spa and seaside resorts of the Victorian and well beyond the powers, means and capabilities Edwardian periods, through to post-war holiday of a local board. So it was that in 1872, the Buxcamps. He demonstrates how ‘spectacular’ and ton Improvement Company (and not the local ‘vast’ increases in tourism demand (Pimlott, authority) raised monies by subscription to meet 1947: 239) emanating from Britain’s towns and the £30,407 of cost involved in developing a prescities throughout the 19th and 20th centuries tigious park, pavilion and concert hall (Black provided an impetus at a local level for tourism and Black, 1885: 45–46). In this case, the private development to occur. The vast bulk of such investors forming the company were prepared, development took the form of seaside resorts albeit reluctantly, to forego a direct commercial and, to a lesser extent, inland spa towns. At this return, for this was an inherently unprofitable local level, private sector interests and local project. None the less, these public-spirited indigovernment authorities responded to the seem- viduals invested their monies in the anticipation ingly ever-expanding volume of demand by devel- of indirect benefits to their businesses from the oping facilities and services across transport, additional visitors they felt would be drawn to



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the town by the presence of a top-class garden, pavilion and associated concert hall. As ever, his Grace was the lead investor, but the rank-and-file subscribers were local businessmen and traders. Interestingly, towards the end of the 19th century, the local authority in Buxton – now a fully-­ fledged corporation – was able to assume responsibilities for the town’s iconic but loss-making park, pavilion and concert hall. Moreover, the council took over the running of the principal bathing establishments from the private sector and, in 1903, opened another ‘flagship’ facility, namely, the Buxton Opera House. The evolving role of local government during the 19th century, and how this was intimately related to the functioning and profitability of private sector investments and operations, is critical to any understanding of the dynamics of tourism development, and is something to which we shall return in due course. In Britain, aristocratic influences were often central to the 19th century development of ‘select’ (i.e. middle-class) British spa and seaside resorts such as Buxton, Bexhill, Eastbourne, Bournemouth, Southport and Cromer. In such instances, the local grandee owned much of the land available for development and, in the absence of a local authority willing to make the necessary investments, would typically initiate ‘flagship’ attractions as well as supporting basic and costly infrastructural works. Even when a comprehensive nationwide system of local authorities was put in place towards the end of the 19th century, local grandees in the ‘select’ resorts invariably occupied a dominant position in respect of their governances, enabling them to continue to influence and more or less direct the process of resort development (Cannadine, 1980: 299–320). Indeed, one local grandee (Lord Suffield), recounting in his memoirs how towards the end of the 19th century he had spearheaded the creation of Cromer as an up-market seaside resort, could boast that ‘it is entirely owing to me that Cromer is big enough to have a Council of any description’ (cited in Heeley, 1980: 283). Elsewhere, and more commonly, less unified land ownership and the resultant plethora of interested parties (investors, builders, local government, hoteliers, retailers, ordinary residents and so on) meant that a single, controlling influence was more or less absent. This was the case, for instance, in Margate, Great Yarmouth,

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Southend and Blackpool and, partly as a result, these and other resorts tended to gear themselves to ‘an increasingly plebeian’, working-class market (Walton, 1983: 113). In Blackpool, the ‘flagship’ amenities and attractions were either developed by local entrepreneurs and investors (e.g. the town’s iconic Tower, piers and Winter Gardens) or fell within the ambit of an increasingly influential and well-resourced local authority. Hence, Blackpool’s equally iconic annual illuminations programme and its extensive 7-mile long promenade, not to mention the town’s parkland and tramway system, were all municipal ventures, albeit loss-making ones. There is a real sense, then, in which the dukes of Devonshire literally ‘made’ Eastbourne (Cannadine, 1980: 382), while a medley of interested parties representative of the local public and private sectors spawned Blackpool and other working-­ class resorts. Interestingly, in a handful of resorts, segregation by class took place from within as ‘posh’ and ‘popular’ districts arose to cater to middle- and working-class audiences, respectively. Scarborough, with its communal and gregarious northern ‘end’ contrasting with its refined and fashionable southern one, was in this way ‘able to accommodate different social classes in almost compartmentalized fashion’ (Walvin, 1978: 125). The essence of Pimlott’s demand and supply model of tourism development, then, is one in which growing demand, cleaved by social class (i.e. the desire and ability to afford a ‘select’ or ‘plebeian’ tourist experience), elicits responses to perceived commercial opportunities on the part of local entrepreneurs, developers, operators, residents and the governmental organizations representing them. In a memorable few lines, Pimlott had this to say about the people typically involved, and the dominant motive which spurred them into action: Landlords, tradesmen, builders and architects, town councillors and local government officials, hotel and boarding house keepers, all had their contribution to make . . . Most of them were practical men, who did not look beyond the possibilities of personal profit, and men of education and vision were exceptional among them . . . they were most of them good business men who set out to give the public what they thought it wanted. (Pimlott, 1947: 115)

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In Pimlott’s view, this amalgam of interests formed a most ‘curious’ alliance of the local private and public sectors (Pimlott, 1947: 245). To better understand the nature of this alliance (and why Pimlott chose to regard it as ‘curious’), it is important to elaborate upon its modus operandi.

The Modus Operandi of Tourism Development – Private Profits and Direct and Indirect Gain As illustrated by the above quote, Pimlott viewed the profit motive as triggering the process of tourism development. Here, we must distinguish between direct and indirect gain – a distinction about which Pimlott himself might arguably have made more. In respect of direct gain, private capital as represented by the entrepreneurs, developers and operators naturally went in pursuit of business turnover gains and, ultimately, return on investment. To take just one example, we can once again quote Lord Suffield as he reflects on his masterminding of Cromer’s development as a ‘select’ Victorian and Edwardian resort: Then I turned my attention to Cromer and Overstrand, where there was, as yet, nothing to attract visitors . . . The land now occupied by the golf links was nothing but a sandhill . . . I turned it into a links . . . Now it brings in £400 a year. (cited in Heeley, 1980: 271)

A crucial constraint besetting 19th century tourism development, however, centred upon how to finance essential loss-making infrastructure and superstructure. As demonstrated earlier in the case of the development of the Buxton gardens, pavilion and concert hall complex, private capital was occasionally forthcoming to finance loss-making ‘flagship’ attractions. In such instances, the rationale for investment was that the facilities and services being provided were indispensable to the attraction of visitors and their subsequent spending, so that indirectly an increase in business turnover would be forthcoming. In a similar fashion, throughout the greater part of the 19th century a range of private sector interests – local grandees, railway companies and individual investors – stepped into the breach in order to provide loss-making infrastructure and superstructure. Early resort development on

the East Lincolnshire coast was, for instance, made possible almost entirely by railway companies which bought the land, drained it, paved it, serviced it with public utilities, and then promoted it (Pearson, 1968). Such investments, however, were entered into fitfully and reluctantly by private capital and represented at best a partial, ‘sticking-plaster’ solution to the financing of unproductive infrastructural and superstructural tourism development (Walton, 1983: 128–155). Indeed, until the late 19th century, the absence of someone or other willing to shoulder the responsibility for developing commercially unproductive facilities was sufficient to restrain the growth of a resort like Worthing (Brookfield, 1952) or cause projected holiday township developments to founder completely, as was the case with one such proposal on the Norfolk coast at Mundesley (Heeley, 1980: 287). Increasingly, therefore – and as witnessed in respect of the Buxton garden, pavilion and concert hall – responsibilities for the provision of these loss-making aspects of tourism development were assumed by local government authorities, especially from the late 19th century onwards as a newly formed national system of local government took advantage of burgeoning urban rateable values in the resorts to access large-scale borrowing (Heeley, 1980: 407–411). The assumption of responsibility for aspects of infrastructural and superstructural development by the local authority was not without controversy and even antipathy. The capital and revenue outlays incurred in supplying and operating ‘flagship’ attractors and fundamental infrastructure nearly always resulted in losses owing to the low or non-existent margins with which they were associated (which, of course, lay at the back of the private sector being so reluctant or unwilling to fund). Indeed, proposals by local authorities to provide new attractions and infrastructure were sometimes dropped in the face of opposition from residents not directly engaged in the local tourist trades and/or from tourism businesses who felt in some way or another threatened by the new venture. In this way, projects such as a winter garden facility at Brighton never saw the light of day (Lowerson and Myerscough, 1977: 43). Increasingly, however, the arguments for intervention won out over those against them. In so doing, tourism-minded local authority



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leaders reiterated the same principle that public-spirited private investors had given voice to in former times (as exemplified earlier in relation to the Buxton Improvement Company). That is, the provision of loss-making infrastructure and superstructure was integral to the success of the destination because indirectly it conferred net benefits when account was taken of the additional visitors attracted and the resultant expansion locally in business turnover, employment and prosperity – what we might now refer to as ‘multiplier effects’ and ‘additionality’. The principle of indirect gain neatly took the emphasis away from ‘loss-making’ towards ‘loss-leading’, affording the local state a powerful rationale with which it could intervene and cement a mutually beneficial relationship with the destination’s private sector interests. In turn, and spurred into action by the profit motive, this unleashed the process we are here calling the dynamics of tourism development. In the resorts, the emergent late 19th and early 20th century role of local government in tourism development not only embraced the supply of ‘flagship’ leisure facilities and basic infrastructure such as roads, sewage, drainage, refuse collection, policing and sea defences. It also included a plethora of regulatory activities (see below), as well as what we now refer to as destination marketing. In respect of the latter, Blackpool set the pace following its fortuitous acquisition in1878 of powers enabling it to levy a two penny rate specifically for the purposes of mounting advertising campaigns to promote the destination (Heeley, 2015: 21–22). Just how integrated and all-encompassing local government interventions had become by the end of the 19th century, and how effectively they complemented and aided the functioning of the private sector, is revealed by briefly charting Cromer’s development as an up-market East coast ‘watering place’ (Heeley, 1980: 280–284; Warren, 2012). In Cromer, the tourism development process was initially private sector-led, beginning with the arrival from Norwich of a few wealthy ‘second homers’ buying or letting houses in the village towards the very end of the 18th century. Thereafter, there unfolded a gradual and piecemeal establishment of lodging houses, as well as a bath-house (1814) and bathing machines (1836). Over the period 1850–1870, further

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and equally sporadic development came in the form of an inn and a clutch of smallish seafront hotels (Warren, 2012: 11–12, 16–17). With the arrival in 1877 of a railway link courtesy of the East Norfolk Railway Company, a building boom occurred which was to last for more or less a quarter of a century, in effect fashioning a new township either side of the road connecting the railway station to the seafront. In respect of the local private sector, the erection of large cliff-top hotels became a striking part of this new landscape, notably an enlarged Hotel de Paris and the Metropole opened in 1891 and 1893 respectively, while elsewhere boarding houses and apartments sprouted up alongside residential terraces, catering outlets and shops – even the town’s principal church underwent a fundamental revamp in 1885. The Cromer Water Company sunk wells to supply the town and visitors with water (1882) and, as we have seen already, Lord Suffield (the first chairman of the railway company) financed the Royal Cromer Golf Course (1887), as well as a similar facility at nearby Overstrand (1895). Prior to the building boom mentioned above, local government involvement in tourism had been more or less confined to sea defence works (1846) but, in the wake of the railway connection, the Cromer Local Board (1884) and its successor – the Cromer Urban District Council (1894 onwards) – began systematically to ‘refresh the parts left behind’ by the private sector. In respect of tourist superstructure, ample parkland was provided as well as facilities for tennis, bowls and croquet, but the ‘flagship’ facility was the seafront promenade which was topped off in 1901 with an elegantly designed pier complete with bandstand and theatre, at a cost to the municipality £10,000. The local authority, meanwhile, geared virtually all its infrastructural services to meeting the needs of the town’s ‘select’ and long-staying/high-spending holidaymakers, who, at this time, included the likes of Empress Elizabeth of Austria (estranged wife of Franz Joseph), the Prince of Wales (a friend of Lord Suffield), Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle and Lady Randolph Churchill accompanied by her young son Winston. Pimlott reminded readers of the Englishman’s Holiday that no less a guidebook than Baedecker had dubbed Cromer ‘the English Étretat’, such was the image of exclusivity to which the

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resort aspired (Pimlott, 1947: 178). Accordingly, the local authority put in place the very best infrastructure; not only planning extra capacity to meet seasonal demands, but also providing to the highest possible standards of service delivery so as to afford its visitors an appropriately salubrious, sedate and ‘respectable’ urban environment. This concern with standards is evident across street cleaning, refuse collection, toilets, gas, water (the latter service supplied following a municipal buy-out in 1902 of the Cromer Water Company), sewerage, drainage, electricity, policing and fire-fighting. All the above services were supplied by the local authority with the town’s visitors and its tourist businesses uppermost in mind (Heeley, 1980: 282– 284), epitomized in ‘Cromer’s own Sergeant Lovick, officer in charge of the police station’, acting as bodyguard to Empress Elizabeth for the duration of her 2-month stay in the town (Warren, 2012: 20)! Cromer’s Medical Officer of Health took punctilious care to ensure that the highest standards were maintained, ensuring, for example, that the clothes of newly arrived foreign waiters were disinfected. In addition, accommodation enterprises where overcrowding was deemed to be taking place were prosecuted, while new hospital and mortuary accommodation was justified on the grounds that this was essential for the image and standing of a ‘select’ seaside resort receiving significant numbers of wealthy, convalescing visitors (Heeley, 1980: 282–283). The Urban District Council (UDC) in Cromer commenced destination marketing activities in 1902, marked by the production of a comprehensive town guide detailing ‘things to do’ and places to stay. In collaboration with the railway companies, posters began advertising the resort as Poppyland. In wishing to attract ‘only the best summer company’, the UDC also undertook a wide range of regulatory activities designed to ‘protect’ the town’s affluent staying visitors from various ‘undesirable’ elements whose common denominator was the desire to deter the low-­ spending, lower-class day excursionist from visiting the town. Legitimized in by-laws and enforced by the local police force, the UDC therefore waged war against itinerant traders, ‘loitering’ youths making ‘offensive remarks to unprotected ladies’, and nude bathers, while outlawing anything remotely popular and plebeian such as camera obscura and refreshment tents

(Heeley, 1980: 284). Only after much debate and procrastination did the UDC provide a public toilet facility. At the same time and – in the meanest of spirits – the Council charged a penny for entry to the prestigious, beautifully tiled lavatories it had erected on the promenades; not to raise revenue, but in order to dissuade trippers from using a service provided for the town’s ‘select’ visitors (Heeley, 1980: 284). In rationalizing the case for these multifarious lines of involvement, investment and associated financial commitments (as exemplified directly above), the standard argument advanced by local governments representing tourism destinations became one of indirect gain and the attendant ‘wider’ commercial and economic returns to the community on whose behalf the local authority in question was acting. Giving evidence in 1900 to a Parliamentary committee of enquiry into municipal trading, the following remarks made by the Chairman of the Harrogate Wells and Baths Committee embody in classic, pristine form the principles of direct and indirect gain: although we have a loss directly in working the undertakings, the indirect gain to the town in attracting an additional number of visitors is sufficient to compensate us for any direct loss on the establishments. Of course, as a corporation we can do that, whereas under private companies it would be impossible. (cited in Heeley, 1980: 210)

The ‘undertakings’ referred to above by the Chairman of the Harrogate Wells and Baths Committee included the Royal Baths and Winter Gardens, opened in 1887 at a cost of ‘close on a million pounds sterling’ (Luke, 1919: 79). The ‘flagship’ Royal Baths and Winter Gardens, alongside other municipal investments and operations such as the Kursaal concert hall and the town’s trademark gardens and floral displays, served not only to symbolize Harrogate’s rise to pre-eminence as a Victorian and Edwardian spa resort. These self-same local government activities – later to embrace destination marketing as well as the provision and operation of a ‘leading-­ edge’ convention centre – exemplified how the dynamics of tourism development hinged upon a mutually supportive and beneficial alliance of the local private and private sectors. The ‘undertakings’ set up and managed by the local



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­ uthority traded at a loss, but through the a additional visitors attracted they served ultimately to boost business turnover in the town, especially among the prime beneficiaries of tourism spending such as hotels, restaurants and shops. In turn, these self-same enterprises paid their rates and were a major source of income for the local authority, as well as employment for many of its townspeople. In this way, a virtuous circle was obtained in which the activities of the local state went ‘hand in glove’ with the private sector – a perfect embodiment of the spirit and purpose of late Victorian and early Edwardian capitalism.

An Enduring, Yet Somewhat Camouflaged Partnership Arrangements under which the local state ‘refreshed the parts left behind by’ the commercial sector were very much the norm in the seaside resorts and inland spas whose genesis and ongoing development Pimlott was so keen to explain. At the time he was writing, these alliances of private capital and the local state, tailored to meet the bespoke requirements and needs of individual destinations, were innovatory and more or less unique. For elsewhere (i.e. in non-tourist areas), democratically elected local authorities were hesitant about sponsoring and subsidizing specific sectors of the local economy. Precisely because they were so special, Pimlott elected to use the adjective ‘curious’ to describe those partnerships of the local public and private sectors which had arisen in seaside and spa towns to drive forward destination development. ‘Curious’ as they may be, these partnerships continue to transform places into tourism destinations. For instance, the author’s appraisal of the post-war dynamics of tourism development in five leading city destinations (Glasgow, Barcelona, Birmingham, Gothenburg and Dublin) highlights in each case a ‘grounding in local-level public–private partnership’ (Heeley, 2011: 59). An identical theme of public–private partnership emerges in respect of the dynamics of tourism development in post-war York, albeit in this case tempered by a local state whose commitment to the tourist industry has at times been less than full-on (Heeley, 2011: 101–117).

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That said, one major line of discontinuity between the ‘then’ of 1947 and the ‘here and now’ of 2017 concern (for want of better words) identity and visibility. In the seaside resorts and inland spas examined by Pimlott, the existence of the public–private alliances advancing tourism development was as palpable as the outcomes of their endeavours were visible. As he wrote The Englishman’s Holiday in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the resorts Pimlott had so carefully researched were by then more or less devoted commercially and economically to tourism. In each resort, it was relatively easy to identify the principal private and public sector players, even though the alliances themselves had been (and always will be) quintessentially spontaneous couplings of the local state and private capital. Similarly, the ‘bricks and mortar’ outcomes of what had been achieved by working together were strikingly evident. It would have been nigh on impossible for any serious commentator writing in 1947 to be oblivious to the new resort landscapes which had emerged, and to the underpinning organizational arrangements which had brought them into being. Contrasting 1947 with 2017, however, a significant loss of identity on the part of the alliances and visibility in respect of outcomes is evident. Four complex and interacting forces are at work here. First, the spa and seaside resorts themselves have declined in popularity as tourism destinations, and typically they now have more diversified economic structures majoring on commuting and retirement migration. Second, local authorities nowadays cover larger geographical areas, large parts of which may have little or no tourism potential or appeal. Third, financial cutbacks and the current austerity regime have created a reluctance on the part of some local authorities to engage in discretionary destination marketing and development activities. Fourth, and most importantly, much the greater part of post-war tourism development in Britain has been centred geographically on the country’s three capitals, its former industrial heartlands who almost to a city or town have turned to tourism to help boost their flagging economies, and its so-called ‘­heritage towns’ (York, Oxford, Canterbury and so on). Whether in capital, industrial or heritage settings, post-war tourism developments have been ‘grafted’ on to already significant settlements

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in a largely unproblematic and routine manner. Even where contentious issues have arisen (e.g. the creeping conversion of residential properties to hotel uses in certain London boroughs, and tourist access to the University of Cambridge), it is noteworthy how the municipal campaigns which characterized the 1970s and 1980s, which aimed to control and otherwise ‘manage’ tourism so as to reduce ‘externalities’, have now all but disappeared (Heeley, 1987: 46–50). While post-war urban tourism development in capital, industrial and heritage contexts has been sizeable and often transforming, it has at the same time been a more or less ‘quiet revolution’, absorbed in an evolutionary manner, with its underpinning alliances of the public and private sector being omnipresent and powerful, while at the same time going largely unrecognized and understated. To sum up, Pimlott’s demand and supply model of tourism development, as described and elucidated upon above, accords with how (for good or bad) the free-market economies of Western-liberal countries operate; people demand certain goods and services (or ‘experiences’ in marketing-speak) and firms and enterprises respond accordingly in order to generate profit and returns on the capital they have expended. Tourism, as such, differs from other industries only inasmuch as the customer as tourist travels to a place to consume his/her ‘experience’. As a result, the destination has special needs which cannot readily be met by private enterprise, demanding some form or other of support and subsidy from the public sector – hence Pimlott’s ‘curious’ alliances of the local state and private capital. In the tourism destinations whose existence Pimlott sought to ‘explain’, we have chartered in this chapter how the respective roles and responsibilities of the local public and private sectors evolved during the 19th century, crystallizing at a point early in the 20th century where they were sharply delineated and mutually beneficial. As Pimlott put it: ‘Each side in this curious partnership is essential to the other’ (Pimlott, 1947: 245). Though nowadays, for reasons spelled out above, the ways in which private capital and the local state work together to underpin and provide a dynamic to tourism development may be more difficult to discern, we should not take this to mean that such arrangements are any the less meaningful or important. It remains

the case that the dynamics of tourism development everywhere (past and present) hinge on the local public and private sectors coming together to exploit commercial opportunities, forging purposeful working alliances to achieve that gloriously utilitarian purpose of providing people with what they want. Pimlott first sensitized us to this 70 years ago in The Englishman’s Holiday, and ever more will it be so.

Tourism Development as a Curious Case of Academic Neglect? Somewhat surprisingly, Pimlott’s demand and supply model receives scant expression in the mainstream academic literature on tourism development. Setting aside Pimlott and the works of one or two other historians inspired by him (notably Walvin, 1978; Cannadine, 1980; ­Walton, 1983; and Mullen and Munson, 2009), the academic literature as a whole appears to this author reluctant to address the issue of how and why urban tourism development occurs. Five main reasons for such a neglect suggest themselves: 1. The fact that the partnerships of the local public and private sectors which underpin the tourism development process lack the ‘visibility’ and ‘demonstrability’ issues referred to and discussed above. 2. History/historians occupy a marginal position in the study of tourism development. Indeed, one historian opines that tourism studies ‘has remained inhospitable to History’ and refers to associated ‘mutual suspicions’ (Walton, 2015: 37). Nevertheless, tourism development clearly is an historical process. Destinations do not grow or decline overnight and, hence, an understanding of the dynamics of tourism development must perforce be obtained through historical description and analysis – which is why the best routes to that understanding are still to this day to be found in Pimlott’s The Englishman’s Holiday and Walton’s (1983) The English Seaside Resort. 3 . Tourism as a domain of study is biased towards regional/national/international level impacts and policy issues, as opposed to those occurring at the local scale. 4. Inasmuch as the academic literature on tourism does concern itself with local level matters,



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academic enquiry is preoccupied with planning and associated economic development/public participation/sustainability agendas. The latter mistakenly imply a tourism management role for the local public sector which is out of all proportion to what it is actually capable of achieving. At the local scale, the limits to what public policy interventions in tourism can achieve are all too apparent in terms of will, resourcing, techniques and expertise, as laid bare in two seminal and evergreen contributions to the literature (Eversley, 1977; Young, 1983). 5. In the main, tourism academics are uncomfortable with ‘mass’ tourism (the logical and inexorable outcome of the private sector giving the public what they think it wants and seeking personal profit at the same time) in terms of both its dominant cultural expressions (camper vans, ice cream and fish and chips, stag and hen weekend breaks) and its ‘negative’ economic, social and environmental impacts. Hence, instead of focusing on tourism development as a process masterminded by Pimlott’s ‘curious’ and commercially motivated partnerships of the local private and public sectors, tourism academics turn their attention instead to appraising the above expressions and impacts, and to discussing how these might best be ‘managed’ in the name of some or other communal ‘good’. In this way, the literature eschews describing and explaining the real-life process of tourism development, concentrating instead on the normative evaluation and ‘management’ of the aforesaid expressions and impacts. The cumulative effect of 1–5 above is that the mainstream academic literature on tourism development seriously distorts and misleads. It underplays how ordinary people (as consuming tourists and as businesses and councils supplying

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services) are the driving force behind tourism development, while overplaying the role of the public sector as an overarching and beneficent ‘manager’ of tourism flows and tourism industry development. As a consequence, tourism development is neither described nor explained in terms of those socio-economic forces shaping it in the real world, that is, on the one hand the size and nature of demand and, on the other hand, the form and content of the supply-side responses forthcoming from private sector interests and local government bodies. Perusing academic papers and books past and present on the subject of tourism development, I am struck by a deep-seated failure to ‘tell it like it is’. The dominant and overtly normative paradigms currently operative within tourism studies crystallized during the 1980s (Heeley, 2011: 89–90), and a book chapter from a voluminous ‘state-of-the-art’ set of readings from that decade is indicative of the chronic failure within these paradigms to explain and otherwise come to grips with the reality of tourism development and what it is as opposed to what it ideally might be (viz. Travis, 1989: 487–498). Though ostensibly about destination development in ‘theory’ and ‘practice’, and replete as it is with concepts, jargon, obtuse diagrams and evaluation schemata, the book chapter in question leaves the reader none the wiser as to the dynamics of tourism development. It does not begin to answer the fundamental ‘why destinations’ question raised by Pimlott at the commencement of his masterly text, and nowhere in its 21 pages is there a reference to the profit motive and ‘commercial instinct’ (reference the quote heading up this chapter) which imbues the dynamics of tourism development. The time is ripe, I feel, for paradigmatic change.

References Alderson, F. (1973) The Inland Resorts and Spas of Britain. David & Charles, Newton Abbot, UK. Black, A. and Black, C. (1885) Blacks Guide to Derbyshire: Its Towns, Watering-places, Dales and Mansions. A. & C. Black, Edinburgh, UK. Bradshaw, G. (2012) Bradshaw’s Descriptive Railway Hand-book of Great Britain and Ireland. Old House, Borley, Oxford. Brookfield, H.C. (1952) Worthing: a study of a modern coastal town. Town Planning Review 23(2), 145–156. Cannadine, D. (1980) Lords and Landlords: The Aristocracy and the Towns 1774–1967. Leicester University Press, Leicester, UK.

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Eversley, D. (1977) The ganglion of tourism: an unresolvable problem for London? London Journal 3(2), 202–205. Heeley, J. (1980) Tourism and local government with special reference to the county of Norfolk. PhD thesis, University of East Anglia, Norwich, UK. Heeley, J. (1987) The problematics of urban resort development. Journal of the Scottish Association of Geography Teachers 16, 45–50. Heeley, J. (2011) Inside City Tourism: A European Perspective. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Heeley, J. (2015) Urban Destination Marketing in Contemporary Europe: Uniting Theory and Practice. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Luke, T.D. (1919) Spas and Health Resorts of the British Isles: Their Mineral Waters, Climate, and the Treatment to be Obtained with a Section on Curative Institutions. Adam & Charles Black, London. Lowerson, J. and Myerscough, J. (1977) Time to Spare in Victorian England. Harvester Press, Hassocks, UK. Mullen, R. and Munson, J. (2009) The Smell of the Continent: The British Discover Europe 1814–1914. Macmillan, London. Pearson, R.E. (1968) Railways in relation to resort development in East Lincolnshire. East Midland Geographer 40(30), 281–295. Pimlott, J.A.R. (1947) The Englishman’s Holiday: A Social History. Faber & Faber, London. Travis, T. (1989) Tourism destination area development (from theory to practice). In: Witt, S. and Moutinho, L. (eds) Tourism Marketing and Management Handbook. Prentice Hall, London, pp. 487–498. Walton, J.K. (1983) The English Seaside Resort: A Social History. Leicester University Press, Leicester, UK. Walton, J.K. (2015) Tourism and history. In Cooper, C. (ed.) Contemporary Tourism Reviews, Volume One. Goodfellow Publishers, Oxford, pp. 31–56. Walvin, J. (1978) Beside the Seaside: A Social History of the Popular Seaside Holiday. Allen Lane, London. Warren, M. (2012) Cromer: The Chronicle of a Watering Place. Poppyland Publishing, Cromer, UK. Young, G. (1983) Tourism: Blessing or Blight? Penguin, Harmondsworth, UK.

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From Holiday Camps to the All-inclusive: the ‘Butlinization’ of Tourism Richard Sharpley* University of Central Lancashire, Preston, UK

Introduction Launched in November 2009, Royal Caribbean’s Allure of the Seas is the world’s second largest cruise ship. Measuring 362 m (1187 ft) long – some 5 cm longer than her sister ship Oasis of the Seas, and 2.5  m shorter than the recently launched Harmony of the Seas – and with a gross tonnage of 225,282, her 16 passenger decks provide accommodation and facilities for a maximum of more than 6000 guests, catered for by a crew of around 2500 (Avid Cruiser, 2016). However, it is not only the sheer size of the ship that is remarkable. Unlike more conventional monolithic designs, the Allure’s superstructure comprises two long blocks running the length of the ship with a long ‘canyon’ running between them. This open space is utilized for a variety of entertainment and recreational facilities, most notably what is referred to as the Boardwalk, one of seven so-called ‘neighbourhoods’ on the ship. Occupying almost a third of the length of the canyon, the Boardwalk is a recreated seaside promenade complete with ice cream and candy parlours, a hot dog stand, a traditional carousel and entertainment including an aqua theatre and six-deck-high climbing walls. Putting it another way, the Boardwalk offers the ultimate postmodern tourist experience – a ‘hyperreal’ (Eco, 1995), recreated seaside promenade that is

out of time and space, a mobile seaside promenade that is actually at sea. At the same time, however, the Allure of the Seas or, more precisely, the experience the ship provides, can also be thought of as a contemporary, albeit highly sophisticated, manifestation of that most traditional, culturally modern form of tourism, namely, the holiday camp (Dawson, 2011). Originating in the late 19th century, the concept of the holiday camp is, at least in the UK, most closely associated with Billy Butlin who, having opened his first camp at Skegness on the west coast of England in 1936, over the next 30 years developed ten holiday camps, including one in Ireland and one in the Bahamas. Butlin was, of course, neither the first nor the only holiday camp operator; as Elborough (2010: 137) observes, Butlin himself ‘admitted he did not invent the holiday camp. Nor were the ones he established quite as unique or revolutionary as . . . he liked to maintain.’ Arguably, however, he transformed the way in which holidays were both produced and consumed in the mid-20th century. Not only did he create what is now referred to as the all-inclusive, an increasingly popular form of holiday-taking (according to McVeigh (2014), the demand for all-inclusive holidays has grown by more than a third over the last decade), but also he established ‘a new cult, Butlinism, [which] came to mean not simply

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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holidaying in a Butlin camp, but the whole idea of holidaying en masse, paying a weekly fee and getting everything provided’ (Ward and Hardy, 2016: 57; see also Pimlott, 1947: 250). In short, Butlin transformed the culture of holidaying in post-war Britain. The traditional Butlin’s holiday camp experience has long been consigned to history, remembered only by those old enough to do so, or in books, pictorial records (e.g. Braggs and Harris, 2006; Endacott and Lewis, 2011; Tait, 2012) and in playful representations such as the BBC’s Hi Di Hi aired during the 1980s (Walton, 2000: 38). Nevertheless, the model developed by Butlin endures. In other words, Butlin not only established the concept of the all-inclusive; as Braggs and Harris (2006: 108) observe, ‘The Butlin’s camp was a miniature seaside resort. It sought to create a fantasy world for its residents within its perimeter.’ He also developed a specific, arguably Fordist, approach to the supply of the mass tourism experience that continues to define the production and consumption of many forms of contemporary tourism, not least those offered on an all-inclusive basis. This chapter, therefore, traces what might be referred to as the ‘Butlinization’ of tourism, suggesting that the concept first established by Butlin in the 1930s remains fundamental to tourism today and that, implicitly, that the cult of ‘Butlinism’ continues to thrive, albeit in increasingly diverse and sophisticated forms.

Holiday Camps: The Butlin’s Model The Butlin name became and, arguably, remains synonymous with the British holiday camp; there are currently three Butlin’s-branded holiday resorts in the UK located at Skegness, Minehead and Bognor Regis, although not only are they operated as a subsidiary of Bourne Leisure Limited but also they bear little resemblance to the original camps. However, as noted above, Butlin did not ‘invent’ the concept of the holiday camp and nor was he the only one to build a successful holiday camp business. Harry Warner, for example, opened his first camp at Hayling Island on the south coast of England in 1931, 5 years before Butlin opened his first camp, and by the 1960s he was operating 14 camps around

the UK. Interestingly, the company he founded, now Warner Leisure Hotels, is also owned by Bourne Leisure. Soon after the end of the Second World War, Fred Pontin also opened his first camp on the site of a former US army base; eventually building an empire of some 30 sites, he became, with Warner and Butlin, the third major operator of holiday camps in the UK although, uniquely, he also saw the early potential of cheap holidays to the Mediterranean, establishing Pontinental Holidays in 1963. The concept of the holiday camp, however, pre-dates the large-scale commercial operations of Butlin, Warner and Pontin. As Ward and Hardy (1986) observe in their seminal history of the British holiday camp, organized camping holidays (in tents) were becoming popular by the beginning of the 20th century, primarily under the auspices of youth movements such as the Boys’ Brigade and the Boy Scouts. The first official Scout camp occurred in 1907 and ‘by the 1930s, more than a million boys and girls in Britain were members of the movement at any one time, and virtually all of them had experienced camp life’ (Ward and Hardy, 1986: 7). Similarly, political, religious and other social groups established summer camps, perhaps the best known being the Caister Socialist Holiday camp which, in the early 1900s, hosted up to 1000 people a week, the campers sleeping under canvas and enjoying self-organized events such as dances or debates (Ward and Hardy, 1986: 15). A number of other so-called ‘pioneer’ camps were established at this time although the first true commercial holiday camp – though similar to the Boys’ Brigade and Scout camps, male only – in the UK is widely considered to be Cunningham’s Camp which was set up on the Isle of Man in 1894 (see also Braggs and Harris, 2006: 113–114). According to Drower (1982), Cunningham’s immediately provided many experiences that were later to be a feature of Butlin’s camps, including communal eating, organized entertainment and an emphasis on fun, all for an all-in price. Accommodation was, however, initially only in tents although by the 1930s these had largely been replaced by dormitory or bungalow accommodation. Nevertheless, tents remained a feature of the camp until the site was requisitioned in 1939 and subsequently sold for redevelopment in 1945.



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Thus, by the mid-1930s there existed in the UK the culture of organized holidaying in camps of various kinds. Some espoused strong moral or religious values – the Boys’ Brigade was, for example, a Christian organization; similarly, reflecting Joseph Cunningham’s Presbyterianism and his belief in the temperance movement, Cunningham’s Camp maintained a no alcohol or gambling policy through until its closure. Others were developed in response to the growing popularity of outdoor leisure activities, while purpose-­built resorts or ‘holiday camps’ had been established that bore little resemblance to traditional (tented) campsites. Moreover, many of these existing camps operated on a model similar to that subsequently adopted by Butlin, offering accommodation in standardized units, mass catering and mass entertainment. What Butlin did, however, was to transform the concept of the holiday camp. While many of the existing pioneer camps were developed on strong moral, social or political foundations, thereby contributing in one way or another to the moral and social fabric of the nation, Butlin prioritized a sense of relaxation, escapism and hedonism, of literally being on holiday, in the holiday camp experience. As Ward and Hardy (1986: 57) explain: The difference was that Butlin added to the formula [of the holiday camp] the panache of his long experience as a showman . . . the glamour of the same kind of luxury that was found in the super cinemas of the 1930s, and the thrill of seeing entertainers and sporting celebrities whose names were household words.

In short, Butlin not only popularized the holiday camp but also made it both socially acceptable and highly attractive, particularly to large numbers of middle-class holidaymakers who, following the Holidays with Pay Act 1938 which finally accorded all employees in the UK the right to 1 week’s paid annual holiday, were seeking ways of enjoying their new-found paid leisure time. In so doing, he laid the foundations both for his own highly successful business and for the future development and expansion of the holiday camp/all-inclusive concept. The story of Billy Butlin and his holiday camps is well documented in the literature, not least in his autobiography (Butlin and Dacre, 1998) but also elsewhere (e.g. North, 1962; Endacott and Lewis, 2011). A detailed review of

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the development of Butlin’s holiday camps is beyond the scope of this chapter although, drawing on Ward and Hardy’s (1986) text, a number of key points can be identified that point to their success. First, from his early days as a stallholder in an amusement park he learned the benefits of running a business on the basis of high turnover and lower margins, a philosophy that continues to underpin the operations of most large-scale tour operators and, of course, of all-inclusive providers. Specifically, he discovered that by making it easier to win a prize at his hoop-la stall (essentially, investing in what the customer wanted – to win) he would attract more customers; compared with his competitors he had higher costs but also many more customers and, hence, higher turnover and profits (Ward and Hardy, 1986: 59). It was for this reason that plans for his first holiday camp in Skegness included sufficient accommodation for up to 1000 people, for more than at any other existing camp other than Cunningham’s discussed above, along with numerous features to attract visitors. These included dining and recreation halls, a swimming pool, a theatre and gymnasium, a boating lake, tennis courts, bowling and putting greens and cricket pitches. In short, he provided a complete resort experience – accommodation, food and drink and entertainment – on a mass scale within an enclosed, managed site, although as Braggs and Harris (2006: 110) observe, all ‘features were designed to create an atmosphere of luxury’. Second, he marketed his holiday camps as an all-inclusive experience at a predetermined and pre-payable cost (although extras, such as bar drinks, were not included), an evident benefit to potential customers with limited disposable incomes. According to Ward and Hardy (1986: 61), in early 1936 he advertised holidays in his newly built camp, including ‘three meals a day and free entertainment from 35 shillings to £3 a week, according to time of the season’. The entertainment was not, of course, ‘free’; the costs of providing all recreation and entertainment facilities were absorbed in the overall price paid by his customers, but the concept of offering something ‘free’ was born, and was immediately successful. Indeed, the Skegness camp was fully booked throughout almost all its first season and, for its second year of operations, was further developed to accommodate up to 2000 people

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a week. Interestingly, the tactic of marketing ‘free’ goods or services continues to be popular, particularly in all-inclusive packages which, for example frequently offer ‘free’ soft drinks or local beers with meals. Third, Butlin quickly realized that his customers needed encouragement to enjoy themselves; they needed to be organized. The campers: ‘had all the facilities they could want. All they had to do was to go ahead, arrange their days as they wished and have the time of their lives; but they did no such thing’ (Ward and Hardy, 1986: 62). Consequently, the famous ‘Redcoats’ were born. Commencing with an impromptu performance by one of Butlin’s associates (who, on the second occasion he did so, wore a distinctive red blazer and white trousers), Redcoats were employed specifically to entertain the campers, encouraging them to talk with each other, to join in group activities and so on – they were there, simply, to help the campers have fun. Undoubtedly, the need for the Redcoats reflected the era in which Butlin started operating his camps. Not only were people unused to going on holiday and, hence unused to entertaining themselves away from home but also, for the majority of his customers who came not from the working but middle classes, holidaying en masse was arguably countercultural. Thus, the promise of an all-inclusive experience where accommodation, food and entertainment was provided and, significantly, organized was undoubtedly attractive; the holiday camp and, in particular, the Redcoats acted in loco parentis (quite literally in the case of the chalet-patrol which allowed parents to leave their young children asleep in the evenings). In other words, Butlin’s camps offered the opportunity for campers to immerse themselves, albeit temporarily, in a liminal world of fun and luxury, free from normal, day-to-day responsibilities and decision making. Despite their immediate popularity, the development of Butlin’s camps attracted criticisms not dissimilar to those directed at contemporary all-inclusive or ‘enclave’ tourism operations (Freitag, 1994). In particular, concerns were raised that few if any benefits would accrue to the towns in which the camps were situated, although such fears proved to be unfounded and Butlin encountered little opposition in building his business. Indeed, following the end of the Second World War (during which his two existing

camps at Skegness and Clacton were requisitioned for military use), Butlin added a further eight holiday camps to his portfolio, including one in Ireland and one in the Bahamas, and by the end of the 1940s it was estimated that one in 20 British holidaymakers went to a Butlin’s camp (Ward and Hardy, 1986: 75). Key to Butlin’s commercial success was his adoption of an essentially Fordist approach to supplying the holiday camp experience. As already noted, he had long recognized the potential benefits of running his business on the basis of high volumes and low margins, and adapting Fordist production methods allowed him to provide relatively low-cost holidays profitably to large numbers of people. As Murray (1989) explains, Fordism, a term used to describe the system of mass production and consumption in the modern industrial era, was based upon four principles: (i) standardized products; (ii) mechanization; (iii) workers performing a single task; and (iv) the production line that brought the task to the worker. Characterized by high set-up costs but low unit costs, the success of Fordist production was dependent upon economies of scale, long runs of standardized products, a willing workforce and perhaps most importantly, a mass market eager to consume mass-produced, standardized products. It is a simple task to transpose the concept of Fordism to Butlin’s holiday camps. His set-up costs were relatively high but providing a standard product (chalet accommodation, large-scale catering and so on) and with willing customers travelling to his camps to consume experiences on site, he was able to benefit from significant economies of scale to offer mass-produced experiences (with a hint of luxury) at affordable prices. Putting it another way, Butlin produced and supplied holidays as an early manifestation of what Ritzer (2004) has famously referred to as ‘McDonaldization’. According to Ritzer (2004: 12), the success of the McDonald’s fast food chain lies in four characteristics that define many other businesses and services in contemporary society: ‘it offers consumers, workers and managers efficiency, calculability, predictability and control’. Butlin’s camps were efficient from the perspective of both production, inasmuch as the needs of large numbers of holidaymakers could be met relatively easily and cheaply through economies of scale, and consumption – for the



From Holiday Camps to the All-inclusive

campers, it was an efficient means of experiencing a complete week’s holiday. Moreover, that experience was ‘calculable’; customers knew how much the week’s all-inclusive holiday would cost (and, perhaps compared it with the costs of self-arranging a holiday), while the costs of running the camps was easily calculable. For campers, the experience was, by and large, predictable; when buying a week’s holiday at a ­Butlin’s camp, holidaymakers knew what they were going to get. Indeed, it was in that predictability of experience that the attraction of a ­Butlin’s camp was arguably to be found. And the camps were able to control the entire holiday ­experience, both tangibly through the limited range of products and services provided on a mass scale and, perhaps, more ‘softly’ though the work of the Redcoats. As Braggs and Harris (2006: 113) suggest, the campers, ‘it was assumed, were used to regimentation in their day-to-day lives . . . ­Butlin’s style of holiday provided the regimentation that they had become used to at work in their leisure as well.’ That camp life was regimented and controlled was to some extent confirmed in movies of the time, such as Holiday Camp (1947), while the fact that many post-war camps were re-developed military camps perhaps further enhanced their regimented ‘feel’. Ward and Hardy (1986: 81), for example, observe how early post-war visitors to Butlin’s camp at Filey shared it with RAF (Royal Air Force) recruits. And undoubtedly, it was in part the perceived regimentation of a Butlin’s holiday camp that ultimately contributed to their decline (and that of the British seaside resorts more generally) from the 1960s onwards although, of course, a number of other factors were influential, not least increasing competition from Mediterranean package holidays (Williams and Shaw, 1997). However, increased personal mobility – for example, the number of private motor cars on Britain’s roads increased from roughly 2 million in 1950 to around 18 million by 1990 (Department of Transport, 2011) – and culturally induced shifts in consumption (Lury, 2011) also contributed to the growing demand for more diverse and individualistic forms of tourist experience. In short, Butlin’s (and, indeed, Warner’s and Pontin’s) holiday camps became a victim of changing times; the business was sold in 1972 and the three surviving Butlin’s-branded resorts offer holiday experiences more in keeping

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with contemporary demands. Nevertheless, as suggested earlier, although the traditional holiday camp no longer exists, the model developed by Butlin not only persists, but has also underpinned the development of numerous and diverse tourism products or experiences, from so-called inland resorts to cruise tourism on mega-ships such as the Allure of the Seas referred to in the introduction to this chapter. As discussed in the brief examples below, these contemporary forms of tourism share two characteristics. First, they operate a refined version of mass production– consumption as developed by Butlin and, second, to a lesser or greater extent they offer all-inclusive holidays, a concept that, as the following section suggests, was adapted and advanced on an international scale by Club Mediterranée (Club Med) from the 1950s onwards.

Club Med: Transforming the All-inclusive Experience? According to the company’s website, ‘As the inventor of the ‘all-inclusive’ holiday concept, Club Med has been reinventing the alchemy of happiness since 1950’ (Club Med, 2016). That Club Med ‘invented’ the all-inclusive does not, of course, stand up to scrutiny; as already discussed, that honour goes to Billy Butlin although, somewhat pedantically, Issa and Jayawardina (2003) argue that neither were strictly all-inclusive given that some services at Butlin’s had to be paid for in cash while, until more recently, Club Med guests ‘had to use plastic beads as currency to purchase drinks and other services’ (Issa and Jayawardina, 2003: 167). Nevertheless, there is no doubting the influence of Club Med in the evolution of the all-inclusive concept; not only has it acted as linchpin between the original 1930s’ holiday camp concept and contemporary manifestations of the all-inclusive, but arguably the Club Med name remains synonymous with all-inclusive holidays. Moreover, with 70 villages in 40 countries and, overall, more than 1.2 million customers for its diverse services, Club Med is the world’s largest such operator (Club Med, 2016). The company has, however, had to adapt and evolve in order to remain successful. It was founded in 1950 as a not-for-profit enterprise

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when Gérard Blitz, a former Belgian water polo champion, established a low-priced holiday village for his club’s 2300 members at Alcudia on the Balearic island of Mallorca (see also Chapter 16, this volume). Blitz’s intention was to provide an escape from the ‘daily grind of life in postwar Europe’ (Referenceforbusiness, 2016), yet accommodation in this first village was in US Army surplus tents and guests helped with cooking and cleaning. Nevertheless, the emphasis was on fun and community spirit, the club catering primarily for singles and young couples, and the concept of the holiday village quickly became popular. Consequently, Blitz joined forces with Frenchman Gilbert Trigano (who had supplied tents for the original village) and together they opened the first permanent Club Med village in Salerno, Italy, in 1954. Again, accommodation was simple – tents were superseded by straw huts and washing facilities were communal – but with Trigano acting as managing director, the business expanded rapidly. Further summer villages were established around the Mediterranean and in 1956, the diversification of the Club commenced with the opening of its first ski resort in Leysin, Switzerland. In 1961, the Rothschild Group invested in Club Med, effectively becoming its owner and, with this additional financing, expansion continued. The first non-Mediterranean village was opened in Tahiti in 1965 by which time the business boasted 14 summer villages and 11 winter resorts and, in the same year, diversified for the first time into cruise holidays. This venture was, however, unsuccessful and it was not until 1990 and the launch of Club Med 1, the world’s then largest sail-powered cruise ship, that the concept of the floating holiday village was successfully developed. In 1963, Gilbert Trigano became chairman and chief executive of Club Med, leading its continuing successful development through to the early 1990s. By this time, not only had it become a global phenomenon but also it had shifted its focus from singles/young couples to the family market. At the same time, however, it was facing increasing competition from newer, more sophisticated holiday village/all-inclusive operations. Attempts to further diversify into a more general leisure services company proved unsuccessful and, following changes in ownership (e.g. the French hotel group Accor was the major shareholder in the mid-2000s while in 2015, it was bought by the Chinese conglomerate Fosun,

suggesting future developments will inevitably focus on developing the potentially lucrative Chinese market), Club Med has more recently re-focused on its core holiday village product, albeit with an emphasis on quality. For example, the luxury Finolhu Villas complex was opened on a private island in the Maldives in 2015; each of the 52 villas has a private pool and personal butler. The company is also developing new ‘Zen Oasis’ areas in some of its resorts. For adults only, these offer relaxing ‘zen’ bedrooms and pools, yoga centres, wellness bars and so on. In short, Club Med now seeks to offer what is described as ‘personalized all-inclusive luxury’ (Skift, 2015: 16). Of particular significance to this chapter, Club Med follows two principal philosophies established by Butlin in his original holiday camps. First, a Club Med holiday is sold as all-­ inclusive; accommodation, food, facilities, sports activities and entertainment are all included in the price, as are (as a recent change in policy) premium alcoholic drinks that previously had to be purchased with pre-paid beads or tokens. And second, continuing the original ethos of relaxation and escapism, Club Med uniquely offers a contemporary and extended version of the Butlin Redcoat; Club staff are referred to as Gentils Organisateurs (GOs) – or genteel organizers – and guests as Gentils Members (GMs) (although Club Med no longer operates on a not-for-profit club basis, each guest still pays an annual membership fee). The role of the GO is essentially to enhance the guests’ holiday experience, to make it more fun. Hence, the GOs eat and play with GMs, teaching them sports and, in the evenings, encouraging them to participate in evening shows and dances that are standardized across all resorts. And of course, offering a complete holiday experience within the confines of the holiday village, Club Med is, in most respects, no less ‘McDonaldized’ than a Butlin’s holiday camp. Club Med, then, took the original all-inclusive holiday camp model, refined and adapted it to changing market demands and, at the same time, established concepts and standards that have been emulated and further developed by other organizations, though still following the fundamental organizational characteristics of the holiday camp. These vary from simple hotel-­ based holidays on an all-inclusive basis – interestingly, First Choice, a large UK-based tour operator that is part of the giant TUI group,



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scale. In 1997, the first village, now renamed Center Parcs, was opened in Belgium, followed in 1987 by the first of five Center Parks resorts to be developed in the UK. Located in Sherwood Forest near Nottingham, this comprised 700 stone-built villas, six restaurants, four retail outlets and an extensive range of indoor and outdoor sport and leisure facilities based around a 20-m high subtropical swimming dome. Following its immediate success, a second Center Parcs was opened in Elveden Forest in Suffolk in 1989. With 650 villas, this cost about £75 million to develop, the high cost (at that time) mainly arising from the incorporation of the Park Plaza concept, where both the subtropical Example 1: The Inland Resort swimming centre and all other amenities are enclosed under a giant dome. The third UK Center Though successful, the early holiday camps in Parcs resort was opened in Wiltshire in 1994, the UK and the holiday villages that were subsefollowed by one in Bedfordshire. The fifth, near quently developed around the world, such as the Lake District National Park, was an existing Club Med, suffered a significant limitation; their resort complex acquired from Oasis in 2002. business was (and remains) weather dependent Center Parcs inland resorts, now operating and, hence, seasonal – though it should be noted in Holland, Belgium, France, Germany and the that it was witnessing cold, miserable holidayUK, are highly successful. Offering both shortmakers with nothing to do that originally inbreak and longer holidays, they enjoy high occuspired Butlin to develop holiday camps with inpancy rates (in the UK, around 95%) and aldoor facilities. However, since the 1980s, a novel though not strictly all-inclusive (prices include concept, the inland resort, has evolved to overrent of villas/cottages plus entry to the subtropcome this challenge. Essentially a postmodern ical water centre; other services and activities are manifestation of the holiday camp, being both paid for in addition; moreover, guests can choose temporally and spatially de-differentiated from to either self-cater or eat in restaurants on site) the traditional coastal-based summer season they are, in essence, modern holiday camps based camps and villages (Sharpley, 2008), inland on the Butlin’s model. They are enclosed sites proresorts in Europe, specifically the Center Parcs viding all necessary facilities and activities; cars concept, evolved gradually over time, acquiring must be left outside and bicycles can be hired to incrementally the characteristics of a mass-­ travel around the site and most visitors stay produced/consumed holiday experience. within the resort for the duration of their stay. In 1953, the Dutchman Piet Derksen Accommodation and other facilities are provided opened his first sports store, Sporthuis Centrum, on a mass scale, hence economies of scale, and alin Rotterdam, going on to build a chain of though visitors engage in a largely independent 17 stores. Fifteen years later, he bought an area experience, that experience is predictable (the reof forest where his staff could go on camping sorts enjoy a significant level of repeat business) holidays but soon the tents were replaced by and controlled – guests have choices, but those luxury cottages and the short-break inland are limited by what the resorts offer. holiday village was born. Additional ‘Sporthuis Centrum’ villages soon followed: in the third, opened in 1971, the cottages were located Example 2: The Luxury All-inclusive alongside a lake with facilities for water-based Beach Resort activities; and in 1980, the first village to include a village centre with shops and, significantly, a covered ‘subtropical swimming paradise’ opened. Arguably, the region of the world currently most This village also comprised 600 chalets, hence closely associated with the concept of the offering the inland resort experience on a mass all-inclusive holiday is the Caribbean. Certainly, offers all its holidays on an all-inclusive basis only – to purpose-built enclave resorts. Moreover, some destinations, such as Mauritius (Naidoo and Sharpley, 2015) and the Dominican Republic (Cabezas, 2008), are renowned for their primarily enclavic, all-inclusive tourism sectors. However, for the purposes of this chapter, two examples serve to demonstrate the extent to which ‘Butlinization’ has underpinned contemporary tourism products and, by implication, the continuing popularity of experiences first offered by Butlin’s camps.

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as Issa and Jayawardina (2003) suggest, not only is it ‘generally accepted that the all-inclusive and cruise businesses are the most vibrant, dynamic and fastest growing sub-sectors in the tourism industry in the Caribbean’ (p. 167) but also all-inclusives have ‘revolutionised and have made a major impact on the concept of hospitality service in most Caribbean countries’ (p. 168). The tourism sector in many Caribbean islands is dominated by all-inclusive operations and, most significantly, a number are widely perceived to offer highly luxurious or exclusive tourist experiences. Indeed, it is claimed that 48 of the world’s top 100 all-inclusive resorts are located in the Caribbean (Issa and Jayawardina, 2003; also Telfer and Sharpley, 2016: 233). In other words, the basic principles of the holiday camp have been re-worked to provide tourists with an experience that is far removed from that of the ‘campers’ in the mid-20th century; the business model, however, is essentially the same. A number of companies are associated with all-inclusives in the Caribbean region, such as Superclubs and Allegro Resorts, although perhaps the most widely known brand is Sandals. When Gordon ‘Butch’ Stewart opened his first Sandals resort at Montego Bay in Jamaica in 1981, the concept of the all-inclusive already had a foothold on the island with government-owned resorts at Negril Beach and Ocho Rios; in fact, Stewart’s company, ATL, was contracted to supply kitchen appliances and air conditioners to the Ocho Rios resort (Sandals, 2016). Nor did he ‘invent’ the couples-only concept (Sandals resorts, as one of five brands under the Sandals Resorts International umbrella, remain for couples only); the resort that opened in Ocho Rios in the late 1970s operated the same restriction. However, with a focus on quality, he bought an old hotel at Montego Bay and set about creating new standards of luxury for the all-inclusive market, as well as offering a truly all-inclusive experience. Whereas previously, ‘all-inclusive’ typically meant accommodation, meals and some entertainment at a set, pre-paid price, from the outset Sandals all-inclusive deals included airport transfers, premium drinks, gourmet meals, all sports activities and even tips. Moreover, the level of luxury provided exceeded that in traditional resorts hotels: Stewart created the on-property specialty restaurants with high culinary standards and

white-glove service. Sandals Resorts also was the first Caribbean hotel to offer Jacuzzis and satellite television service, the first with swim-up pool bars and the first to guarantee that every room is fitted with a king-size bed and a hair dryer. (Sandals, 2016)

Since 1981, the company has expanded to include 24 properties across seven countries in the Caribbean. In addition to the original Sandals brand which continues to promote ‘romantic luxury for two’ in 15 resorts, since 1997 all-­ inclusive family holidays have been offered by three Beaches Resorts. In addition, two Grand Pineapple Beach Resorts are aimed at a more budget-conscious market, while Fowl Key private island resort and Jamaica Villas offer all-inclusive in luxury villa accommodation. It is the Sandals brand, however, that is arguably the most ‘extreme’ development of the holiday camp concept. The resorts still comply with Ritzer’s (2004) four characteristics of ‘McDonaldization’ – the experience is undoubtedly calculable, predictable and controllable and although the resorts operate on ‘economies of scope’ (i.e. the overall costs of production decline as the number of products increases) as opposed to economies of scale, they are efficient in terms of both production and consumption. However, at a typically advertised price of more than £3000/US$4300 per person for seven nights, few if any customers would consider themselves to be enjoying a contemporary, albeit highly luxurious, version of a mass holiday camp experience. Yet, in essence, that is precisely what Sandals resorts provide.

Conclusion Undoubtedly, the British holiday camp in general and Butlin’s camps in particular are now, perhaps, remembered nostalgically as something rather old fashioned and quaint, a throwback to the early days of mass organized holidays untainted by the influence and professionalism of the modern travel and tourism sector and by the needs of an increasingly experienced, sophisticated and demanding travelling public. Yet as this chapter has attempted to demonstrate, neither the foresight and entrepreneurship of Billy Butlin nor his influence on the subsequent development of tourism should be underestimated.



From Holiday Camps to the All-inclusive

Simply stated, he established an efficient, controllable (and profitable) means of providing predictable yet enjoyable holidays to large numbers of people that has since been replicated in numerous and diverse ways. Key to his success was attracting large numbers of customers to a site where all their needs could be met cost-­ effectively through employing principles of mass production though, at the same time, injecting an element of luxury and hedonism. This allowed him to develop the concept of the all-­inclusive – paying a set price in advance for most, if not all, services – which itself proved attractive to holidaymakers at the time and which, as observed earlier in this chapter, is an increasingly popular contemporary approach to tourism p ­ roduction

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and consumption. Not only are many ‘traditional’ package holidays now being offered on an all-inclusive basis (including flights, transfers and most if not all accommodation, food/drink and activity/entertainment costs) but also, as this chapter has discussed, the original concept of the holiday camp has been refined and diversified into not only holiday resorts of varying scale and degrees of luxury, but also into inland resorts, cruise holidays (the cruise ship being a floating holiday village) and many other forms of tourist experience. Hence, the mass tourism model introduced by Butlin persists to this day and, implicitly, innumerable tourists continue to engage in ‘Butlinism’ although most would not recognize (or admit!) it.

References Avid Cruiser (2016) Allure of the Seas Ship Review. The Avid Cruiser. Available at: www.avidcruiser.com/ cruise-reviews/big_ship/royal-caribbean-cruise-line/allure-of-the-seas/ (accessed 11 April 2016). Braggs, S. and Harris, D. (2006) Sun, Sea and Sand: The Great British Seaside Holiday. Tempus Publishing, Stroud, UK. Butlin, Sir B. and Dacre, P. (1998) The Billy Butlin Story. Robson Books, London. Cabezas, A. (2008) Tropical blues tourism and social exclusion in the Dominican Republic. Latin American Perspectives 35(3), 21–36. Club Med (2016) Club Med History. Available at: http://www.clubmed-corporate.com/?cat=189 (accessed 18 May 2016). Dawson, S. (2011) Holiday Camps in Twentieth-Century Britain: Packaging Pleasure. Manchester University Press, Manchester, UK. Department for Transport (2011) Transport Statistics Great Britain: 2011. Department for Transport. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/8995/vehicles-summary. pdf (accessed 17 May 2016). Drower, J. (1982) Good Clean Fun: The Story of Britain’s First Holiday Camp. Arcadia Books, London. Eco, U. (1995) Faith in Fakes. Minerva, London. Elborough, T. (2010) Wish You Were Here: England on Sea. Sceptre, London. Endacott, S. and Lewis, S. (2011) Butlin’s: 80 Years of Fun! The History Press, Stroud, UK. Freitag, T. (1994) Enclave tourism development: for whom the benefits roll? Annals of Tourism Research 21(3), 538–554. Issa, J. and Jayawardina, C. (2003) The ‘all-inclusive’ concept in the Caribbean. International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management 15(3), 167–171. Lury, C. (2011) Consumer Culture, 2nd edn. Polity Press, Cambridge. McVeigh, T. (2014) All-inclusive boom leaves local workers and tour operators out in the cold. The Observer, 8 March. Available at: www.theguardian.com/travel/2014/mar/08/all-inclusive-holidays-travel-ethical-tourism (accessed 25 April 2016). Murray, R. (1989) Fordism and post-Fordism. In: Hall, S. and Jaques, M. (eds) New Times: The Changing Face of Politics in the 1990s. Lawrence & Wishart, London, pp. 38–53. Naidoo, P. and Sharpley, R. (2015) Community perceptions of the relative benefits of enclave tourism and agritourism: the case of Mauritius. Journal of Destination Marketing and Management 5(1), 16–25. North, R. (1962) The Butlin Story. Jarrolds, London. Pimlott, J. (1947) The Englishman’s Holiday: A Social History. Faber & Faber, London. Referenceforbusiness (2016) Club Mediterranée SA – Company Profile. Available at: http://www. referenceforbusiness.com/history2/46/Club-Mediterran-e-S-A.html (accessed 10 March 2017).

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Ritzer, G. (2004) The McDonaldization of Society, Revised New Century edition. Pine Forge Press, Thousand Oaks, California. Sandals (2016) Sandals Resorts International. Available at: www.sandals.co.uk/about (accessed 19 May 2016). Sharpley, R. (2008) Tourism, Tourists and Society, 4th edn. Elm Publications, Huntingdon, UK. Skift (2015) The Evolution of the All-Inclusive Resort: Special Report. Skift.com. Available at: http://sete.gr/ media/2633/150507-skiftreport-clubmed-the-evolution-of-the-all-inclusive-resort.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Tait, D. (2012) An Illustrated History of Butlin’s. Amberley Publishing, Stroud, UK. Telfer, D. and Sharpley, R. (2016) Tourism and Development in the Developing World, 2nd edn. Routledge, Abingdon, UK. Walton, J. (2000) The British Seaside. Holidays and Resorts in the Twentieth Century. Manchester University Press, Manchester, UK. Ward, C. and Hardy, D. (1986) Goodnight Campers! The History of the British Holiday Camp. Mansell Publishing Ltd, London. Williams, A. and Shaw, G. (1997) Riding the big dipper: the rise and decline of the British seaside resort in the twentieth century. In: Shaw, G. and Williams, A. (eds) The Rise and Fall of British Coastal Resorts: Cultural and Economic Perspectives. Mansell, London, pp. 1–18.

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Decline Beside the Seaside: British Seaside Resorts and Declinism Martin Farr* Newcastle University, Newcastle, UK

Introduction On 4 August 1973, a fire broke out on Clacton Pier. Despite having been built in 1871 and of wood, it survived. Not all piers around Britain, or their presiding authorities, were so supportive. In 1970, Clevedon Pier collapsed and Eastbourne Pier was partly destroyed. In 1971, Bangor Pier was closed. In 1973, Rhyl Pier was demolished and Brighton’s Palace Pier was hit by a 70-t barge that had been demolishing part of it; in 1975, its West Pier was condemned. In 1976, Margate Pier was closed on safety grounds and, in 1978, washed away. In 1976, Southend Pier burnt down. In 1977, Morecambe West Pier washed away and New Brighton Pier was demolished. In 1978, Hunstanton Pier washed away and Herne Bay Pier collapsed. And in the summer of 1979 – a season of some significance in post-war British history – the National Piers Society was established, too late for R ­ edcar Pier which was closed the following year and then demolished. On his coastal tour of 1970, Anthony Smith ruminated on how ‘a resort without a pier is somehow amputated’ (Smith, 1972: 249). Reflective articles in newspapers and magazines strained for variations on ‘end of the piers’ shows adding to the general despondency. National lassitude –1973 was a year of existential

threats (fuel, inflation, nationalism), hardship and crisis, reinforced in cultural registers – mutated for some into a condition to which others gave a name: declinism (Barnett, 1972; Henderson, 1979). A declinist could fixate on piers as a metaphor for the state of the nation in much the way that a historian of tourism might on Richard Butler’s tourism model published in the same year that Redcar Pier was condemned (Butler, 1980). Coastal erosion was more than merely geological: respect for institutions and the rule of law provoked moral panics, such as over gambling or youth delinquency, while the ‘costa geriatrica’, and the electoral success of protest parties, demonstrated that party politics could be liminal in more ways than simply providing venues for political conferences. The seaside is important for any island, even when that island had not pioneered both tourism and the economic development that made tourism possible. The 19th- and early 20th-century vigour of an island nation – the world’s pre-eminent maritime power – determined to overcome the relentless resistance of the elements and devise even greater exposure to the sea, contrasted with one later content to oversee a process of decline, terminal or otherwise. An increasingly straitened Admiralty decreed that ‘one of the most effective recruiting lures’ were visits by warships to ‘seaside resorts [and therefore] to be given highest priority’ (TNA ADM/1/28723).

*[email protected]; twitter@martinjohnfarr © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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1973 was the year tourism peaked in British seaside resorts, what Edmund Gilbert described a decade before as that ‘peculiarly English contribution to the urban geography of the world’ (Gilbert, 1965: 246; ODPM, 2006). Thereafter, social and economic factors loosened the structures of mass tourism; day trips and overnight stays became the norm, holiday accommodation became cheap housing which encouraged urban social problems, and the decline of the industrial working class unpinned the collective aspect of recreation. Mass tourism at British seaside resorts was made possible through mobility – rail – but extra mobility with the rise of car ownership and affordable plane travel first freed tourists from constraint, and then threatened to carry them off altogether to sunshine. A declinist link between the rise of short-haul Mediterranean resorts and the fall of British seaside resorts was long asserted (Winocour, 1974; BTA and ETB, 1989; BURA, 2007). Moreover, unlike the rest of British tourism, that to the seaside was almost wholly domestic in origin, compounding the consequences of the exodus; international visitors to London showed little inclination to spend a day at Jaywick. Seaside resorts existed in both a material and an imaginative sense; indeed, readily lent themselves to this impression (‘Piece by piece, the British seaside was coming apart’: The Sunday Times, 23 April 2006). Anecdote ‘informed’ discussion, with commentators imbued with generational, social class or regional prejudices, extrapolating from resorts of their acquaintance, and discerned through the unerringly distorting lens of childhood memory. British seaside resorts – Albert Demangeon’s ‘curious class of parasite towns’ (1927, quoted in Gilbert, 1965: 246) – were always used to fluctuations, given how seasonal was their appeal, but this felt to many as decline. Resorts in the 1970s offered largely inter-­war provision in resorts where the tourist plant was often clearly Victorian, doing nothing to appeal to the young (The Times, 8 F ­ ebruary 1974). Time would be required to recognize the benefits in balancing ancient and modern. Seaside resorts had always ‘suffer[ed] from a presumption of knowledge and understanding’ (ODPM, 2006: 93). In 1965, Gilbert warned that ‘mere census figures’ were misleading and that ‘[i]t is a very difficult matter to measure the tourist industry with real accuracy’ (Gilbert,

1965: 244). It was not until 1969 that the country’s principal holiday region was subject to a visitor survey (British Travel Association, 1969). And even then the methodology was somewhat less than scientific: a paper questionnaire, which ensured the widest possible sample with the recipient invited to ‘post it to us’. Seaside resorts were disadvantaged by factors quantitative (a gaping information gap), chronological (slow change over a long period), and political (no unionized industrial defence) (Walton and Browne, 2010: 29). The information gap where impression reigned has since been filled, both by immediacy, in the form of surveys and reports, with Steve Fothergill and Christina Beatty prominent, and by reflection, in the form of geographies and histories, such as through the pioneering work of Edmund Gilbert and John Walton. The annual British Home Tourism Survey may have been ‘designed to provide a comprehensive description of tourism’ (BTA, 1978: 3) but modern – often stakeholder – research utilized a much wider range of sources, including disaggregated official figures from regional development agencies, borough and district councils, and national assemblies (Beatty et al., 2010). Seaside towns were the last of Britain’s ‘problem areas’ to be properly studied (Beatty and Fothergill, 2003: 9). Given that resorts were in large part 19th-century developments, their history was first considered. Just as tourism was recognized as a subject of history, so it was recognized as a subject of government, an industry, in which the state came to accept a role ‘setting the broad policy grain in which all towns and cities can achieve an urban renaissance’ (UK Government, 2007: 1). It was an industry (or, as one minister responsible put it, ‘not one industry’: Tony Crosland, 30 April 1968, TNA CAB/129/137) deserving of policy attention, and the surge in analysis informed policy development. There was even a handbook to help policy practitioners (Walton and Browne, 2010). Nevertheless, unlike in leisure studies, tourism studies continued to be under-considered in terms of policy, policy history (Richards, 1995) and contextually (Shaw and Williams, 1997). As in other areas of tourism studies, economics, business studies and, increasingly, sociology, cultural geography and anthropology have dominated discourse: much was largely ‘present-­minded’ (Walton, 2009: 783). Seaside resorts can serve



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as a case study in policy making in an age of mass consumption, of how institutions processed behaviours, how an industry was recognized, and then how it might – indeed whether it should – be controlled. British seaside resorts offer a useful example of tourism development, because they were often presented as being the opposite: decline. In considering the experiences of British seaside resorts there may be merit in a melding of the historical, the cultural and the political.

The Historical In 1973, councillors in Clacton decided to establish a Geriatric Action Group. Fretful of the resort’s growing reputation, they wanted an end to in-migration of the old (Daily Mail, 28 February 1974). Assessed 40 years later their action was not conspicuously successful: Clacton was ‘a friendly resort trying not to die, inhabited by friendly people trying not to die’, a notably incendiary report concluded during a by-election in which the constituency would elect the country’s first Member of Parliament (MP) for the UK Independence Party (UKIP), a party born of declinism (The Times, 6 September 2014). Conjoined though they were by the Boundary Commission, there had always been differences that separated Clacton from nearby Frinton: Frinton had no pier, cinema, amusement park, tea stalls or ice cream, but plenty of ‘snooty’ people; Mr Bleaney holidayed there. Though ‘[g]uarded like a prison, inside’, Clacton’s Butlin’s camp ‘is an emporium of spectacular pleasures’. In contrast to the more incremental nature of resort development, Clacton was of the post-war age: the camp practises what planners in the outside world are only just thinking about. Pedestrians are separated from traffic, shopping concourses are under cover, the town centre has a wide range of entertainment, and the chalets are clustered round open space community areas. (Hughes-Stanton, 1966)

Along the coast, Southend had always been a resort for day-tripping Londoners but between the 1950s and 1970s tourism had declined by 73%, leading, eventually, to S-SHAPE: Southend-­ Seafront, High-street and Pier Enhancements (Southend-on-Sea Borough Council, 2001). During the 1970s, the core businesses in Margate

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had disappeared and a ‘spiral of decline’ set in, as it did in Hastings (Powell and Gray, 2009: 16; Forte, 2009). Such concerns were not unrelated to levels of affluence. There were no Clactonian repercussions when Eastbourne’s MP referred to it as the ‘costa geriatrica’ (HCD, 1 November 1974, c589). Eastbourne had presented itself as ‘sun trap of the south’ in 1947, and then ‘sun trap and showplace of the south’ in 1979, while Worthing was ‘the largest and most successful permanent British settlement of self-financing retired people in the world’ (Gosling, 1979). With the three largest seaside resorts the contrasts were greater. ‘[P]undits reckoned’, in the 1970s, that ‘there could be a place for premier division resorts like Brighton, Bournemouth and Blackpool, with their conferences a place for all south coast towns with foreign language schools’ (Gosling, 1978). Brighton and Bournemouth not only had language schools but also developed their own universities, with the study of tourism prominent. Brighton’s attraction as an extendedstay resort had been threatened by Gatwick Airport and Newhaven Port, but the direct train line to Victoria Station proved to be as crucial as that to Waterloo was for Bournemouth. The conference trade encouraged the Brighton Centre in 1977 and the Bournemouth International Centre in 1984. The archetype of the British seaside resort – indeed the world’s first – fared less well. The largest train station in the country to be closed by Richard Beeching, Chairman of the British Railways Board, was Blackpool Central, in 1964. In 1973, Blackpool Corporation was warned that former holidaymakers were going elsewhere and only the over-45s were returning (The Guardian, 4 December 1973a). Consortia were replacing family businesses, day trippers replacing overnighters, the Golden Mile was ‘ripped to pieces’ and the ‘developer and the tarter-up are at work . . . Blackpool . . . has lost the purpose for which it was built and is struggling to adjust to the loss’ (The Guardian, 8 September 1973b). Blackpool Airport’s first scheduled flight was in 1946, and the rise in air travel fed a desire to develop capacity and facilities into the 1960s (TNA CUST/49/5292). The opportunity – and danger – of budget flights in 2005 meant Blackpool International was ‘the fastest growing regional airport in the UK’ (Blackpool Gazette, 16 March 2007). Blackpool’s rail link to London was terminated in 2003. In 2014, the airport closed.

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‘[T]he question of the difficulties of our seaside holiday resorts’ was raised in Parliament in 1948; one major concern in that earlier Age of Austerity was petrol rationing, as it would be again in 1973 (HCD, 25 March 1948, c3361; TNA CAB/129/173/8). Three phases to the development of British seaside resorts have generally been identified: the 19th-century medicinal and palliative bathing beach with attached social promenade; the mass seaside holiday replete with carnivalesque transgressions from social norms; and contemporary struggle to compete with the lure of somewhere warmer overseas. Summerland, at Douglas, had been the modern prototype of creating the lure of somewhere warmer at home: the indoor resort. Two days before the Clacton Pier fire, 2 August 1973, Summerland burnt down and 50 people were killed (The Economist, 11 August 1973). An early experiment, Rhyl’s 1902 indoor Venetian Lake, had been destroyed by fire in 1907; the resort would have to wait until 1980 before ‘bringing the seaside inside’ with Sun City (Gale, 2001: 223–224). Sandcastle Waterpark in Blackpool and others eventually followed. Southend’s Kursaal amusement park, by some estimations the world’s first, built in 1901, was demolished in 1975. In 1973, the closure of Scarborough Baths was announced. Mass seaside tourism had much more been a matter of development than decline for its first century when declinism would have been a fanciful notion, Joseph Chamberlain and his existential worries notwithstanding.

The Cultural For all that the series owed to Donald McGill, it was only in 1973, after 24 films, that there was a seaside ‘Carry On’. Carry on Girls, set in grey, sodden, terminal, ‘Fircombe’, was partially filmed on the already partially closed Brighton West Pier. It managed the dual feat of drawing on seaside resort tropes while also marking the terminal decline in the quality of the series: it was the first without Charles Hawtrey, who was drinking himself to death along the coast at Deal (which had by then gone through two piers and was on its, brutalist, third). The controversial – and comically catastrophic – attempt to arrest Fircombe’s decline was through a beauty pageant.

Many actual resorts could be identified by their combination of the carnivalesque and the commonplace, liminality and prurience. One record was Martin Parr at New Brighton in 1985; ‘Old’ Brighton had always possessed ‘a sense of sin round the edges’ (Tinker, 1970). Thus, ‘Mr and Mrs Smith’ still checking in decades after the Matrimonial Causes Act 1937 had relieved the necessity for such subterfuge. Brighton meant crime (Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock (1938, 1947, 2010), Neil Jordan’s Mona Lisa (1986)), seasonality (David Leland’s Wish You Were Here (1987), Matt Thorne’s Tourist (1998)), juvenescence (Pete Townshend’s Quadrophenia (1973, 1979), Julie Burchill’s Sugar Rush (2004, 2005–2006), and the life journey itself: from innocence to experience (Richard Attenborough’s Oh! What a Lovely War (1969), and, unintentionally, Fatboy Slim’s Big Beach Boutique I and II (2001, 2002)). Though none had so wide a register as Brighton, seaside resorts, whether in Britain or ‘Medland’, for some observers staged an imperial fantasy, most forcibly in the summer of 1982 when the Falklands conflict could be seen (in Jonathan Raban’s Coasting and Paul Theroux’s conterminous Kingdom by the Sea) to have revivified the national spirit. Seaside resorts offered a garish garnish on national decline: just as 1973’s 3-day week proved to be a boon, in 1982 Thatcherite deindustrialization gave a fillip to the resorts which benefited from the ‘redundancy payment blow-out’ (The Sunday Times, 27 January 1974; Financial Times, 23  August 1982). The following summer, Morecambe and Southend ensured that ‘[t]wo weeks of relentless inactivity can still be had at knockdown prices – a godsend to the poor’ (Marxism Today, August 1983). In heading for the seaside, the tourists ‘have “escaped” to a place that offers them their understanding of what it is to be British’, as Hazel Andrews put it, one ‘based on the imaginings of a romanticized past in which Britain was great’ (Andrews, 2011: 240). Acute social disadvantage, higher claimant rates and lower hourly earnings were not the only reasons a party dedicated to UK ‘independence’ became popular. One response to decline was the embracing of heritage culture and the appreciation of how establishing a sense of place and time could enhance – even constitute – its appeal. Morecambe was not only the rainiest resort, but its beach



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faced north. Its tourism, worth £46 million in 1973, had declined by 86% by the time that the Queen unveiled a statue of Eric Morecambe as part of the TERN project (ADC, 1993). There was Damien Hirst in Ilfracombe and Tracey Emin in Whitstable, Banksy at Weston-super-Mare and Antony Gormley at Crosby; The Portas Review highlighted the Turner Contemporary in Margate as an example of culturally induced footfall (Portas, 2011: 19), while the Centre for Entrepreneurs posited what enterprise had done for Hastings, Bournemouth, Scarborough and Littlehampton (CFE, 2015). Some resorts emphasized history, others modernity: in 1966 Morecambe decided it was ‘gay and go-ahead’ (Gosling, 1978); in 1977 Bridlington wanted a development grant precisely to make a virtue out of continuity (The Times, 8 July 1977). In 1970s Blackpool, Scarborough and Brighton, James Walvin saw historical continuity as more striking than the obvious changes in buildings and styles (Walvin, 1978: 165). In the 1960s and 1970s, Rhyl Urban District Council felt the burden of its own Victorian and Edwardian tourism plant, and after it demolished its pier, demolished the town’s other attraction, the Pavilion Theatre (Gale, 2001: 322). Regeneration through high quality buildings and open spaces could, however, be seen at Bournemouth Square and Brighton’s Van Alan Building (English Heritage/CABE, 2003). Morecambe had its Midland Hotel, Scarborough its Spa and Bexhill its De La Warr Pavilion; Whitby drew on its associations with Dracula and Captain Cook and was deemed in 2006 the best seaside resort in the country (Whitby Gazette, 12 May 2006). Margate’s Dreamland originally opened in 1920 and was taken over by Thanet Council as the ‘UK’s original pleasure park: re-imagined’ (Dreamland Margate, 2016). Blackpool was nominated as a United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) World Heritage Site, to predictable derision: the contention that seaside resorts might possess an architectural, archaeological or industrial significance often being treated as patronizingly as the very notion of ‘mass tourism’ itself (Farr, 2013). It was a ‘mind-set that sees Blackpool as the antithesis of heritage’ (Walton, 2009: 136). Plans for a supercasino in Blackpool stimulated a moral panic and the idea was abandoned,

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but Blackpool Task Force, led by the North West Regional Development Agency, planned longterm regeneration. Unlike in Brighton, where the zone of liminality went deep into the town, developers felt that the regeneration of Blackpool ‘has to focus on the seafront’, thus the Tower Festival Headland, promoting both nature and nurture in building sea defences recalling the original dunes of the seafront: ‘a purposefully “no-brow” design’. ReBlackpool carried out Blackpool council’s Masterplan for the ‘People’s Playground’ in the Blackpool Historic Townscape Characterization Project. No more explicit forging of cultural heritage and regeneration could be imagined than Blackpool’s 2200 m2 Comedy Carpet of acts to have performed there (Acuity Programme Management, 2007; Blackpool Council, 2013; LDA, 2014). It manifested how resorts were not just represented by culture but also staged it: in the Winter Gardens (1878), the Opera House (1889) and The Grand (1894), as well as on the piers (1863, 1868, 1893). Particularly during their summer season, seaside resorts remained venues of live entertainment, but increasingly from those known from TV. The spatialized liminal zone was ever a potential carnival, with contrarieties evident to travel writers – ‘This hideous promenade was “The Golden Mile”!’ (Theroux, 1983: 213). In the summer of 1978, tourists to Blackpool could visit its Louis Tussaud’s wax museum, and meet ‘the real’ Gypsy Rose Lee (Gosling, 1978); up the coast, Morecambe, wet, north-facing beach and all, could offer only a John Tussaud, albeit one pairing Liberace and Alec Douglas-Home.

The Political In 1973, both the Labour Party and the Conservative Party annual conferences were held in Blackpool. At the former, in protest at the poor pay of staff there was a boycott of a place sacred to any party conference: the bars. ‘Isn’t Blackpool appalling, loathsome . . .?’ Alan Clark wondered during the latter. ‘Impossible to get even a piece of bread and cheese, or a decent cup of tea; dirt, squalor, shanty-town broken pavements with pools of water lying in them – on the ­Promenade’ (Clark, 2000: 33 (diary entry for 13 October 1973)). Both parties were

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back in Blackpool in 1975, by which time bar staff had been unionized – but Margaret Thatcher was Conservative leader (Benn, 1989: 68, 442 (diary entries for 4 October 1973 and 28 September 1975, respectively)). Mid-century there was great competition between Blackpool, Brighton, Bournemouth, Eastbourne, Scarborough, Margate, Torquay, Morecambe and Harrogate to attract political conferences. By 1973, only one resort was big enough to accommodate the parties. Blackpool’s Winter Gardens and the Norbreck Castle complex could each hold 4000 delegates; there were, however, only 900 hotel rooms with private baths (The Guardian, 13  ­ September 1973c). Blackpool’s being cut off entirely from direct intercity rail transport was one factor in the ruinous end of its political conference tradition (Blackpool Gazette, 3 O ­ ctober 2013). Another was that bread and cheese was served in Manchester and Birmingham. Politics and the seaside may appear inimical: one the conscience of modern life, the other the release from it (a duality depicted in Carry on at Your Convenience (1971), also filmed at Brighton). But they were linked. Holidaying with Mediterranean plutocrats did so much damage to Tony Blair that his successors embraced the staycation, with obligatorily awkward photoshoots on windswept promenades. Declinism, too, related to aspects of the nation which could be seen at the seaside: hard to measure in real, but very apparent in political, terms. By then, as far as the seaside was concerned, for Labour resorts were conference venues more than they were constituencies. The larger seaside resorts (with no significant industrial and, therefore, organized labour base, and an older demographic) were predominantly Conservative: both Blackpool seats, and those of Bournemouth, Scarborough, Clacton and Thanet. Only the general elections of 1945 and 1997 saw, temporary, changes. The distinction between national and sub-regional government was heightened by the 1973 reorganization of local authorities, which impacted on the resorts: policy and infrastructure decision fell between the old and the new authorities which frantic spending of surplus capital did little to allay (HCD, 5 April 1973, cc129–30). Communal provision and collective endeavour meant that local government was always important to seaside resorts. Identities and

markets being so important, authorities could maintain, or change, the character of a resort. Morecambe suffered through amalgamation with Lancaster, and Thanet was an inchoate compound including Ramsgate, Broadstairs and Margate. The pairing of Hove and Brighton produced enough social tension for its own sitcom: the one the embodiment of senescent orthodoxy, the other the ‘LGBT capital of Britain’. Redevelopment and regeneration became live political issues, such as in the Regency areas of Bognor and Brighton, monuments to hypochondria from when Britain was great. In-migration accompanied immigration, in particular from 2005’s A8 accession states and crucially important for the hotel sector; holiday homes and second homes also registered as being politically sensitive. Politically liminal concerns meant that in 2016 Brighton had the only Green, and Clacton the only UKIP, MPs, and resorts received the attention of the conservative Social Justice Foundation, advocate of the Big Society, which brandished Rhyl, Margate, Clacton, Blackpool and Great Yarmouth as case studies in ‘Broken Britain’ (CSJ, 2013). The Ministry of Tourism Act 1973 never reached the statute book (Ministry of Tourism, 1972). Parliamentary time was not made available for what would have been the final reification of the industry. As a matter of government concern, tourism had always been treated as an aspect of trade: as a Balance of Payments issue and therefore one of attracting foreign visitors. Tourism came to be seen as an instrument of development, for both regions and resorts, and invisible trade export for the country (Visit Britain, 2013). It was in another year of crisis, 1926, that the first organization, ‘Come to Britain’, was established; in 1928 the Travel Association of Great Britain received government support through the Board of Trade, remaining active until 1939 when more pressing matters obtained. In part to address the issue of decline, the British Travel Association was renamed the Travel and Industrial Development Association. Funding was almost gestural; a ‘direct planning approach to the task of ensuring that the holiday industry will be adequate to the post-war needs of the population’ had been taken even during the war, given the damage caused by both British and German governments, in the forms of defence works and



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air raids. Even then it was clear that the ‘holiday industries are of considerable and growing economic importance’ but also, and percipiently, that ‘[m]easurement is difficult .  .  .’ (TNA HLG/71/78). Britain: Destination for Tourists – the 1944 ‘Pinney memorandum’ – applied the mentalité of the war – organization – to the peace in calling for a government agency. The British Tourist and Holidays Board was formed in 1947 with the British Travel Association as its tourist division, and Parliament had a Resorts Committee, variously prefixed by ‘Coastal’ or ‘Tourist’ or ‘Holiday’. The 1960s’ development of regional associations brought numerous schemes and awards by those who would later be called stakeholders. In 1947, a new town resort was even considered, given that government recognized by the end of the war four-fifths of the occupied population was entitled to a paid holiday (TNA HLG/71/78). Peace and affluence brought behavioural panics centred on seaside resorts. Gambling was a moral panic long before the supercasino row; delinquency another. Seaside hooliganism erupted as an issue after Whitsun weekend disturbances in Clacton in 1964, such assertively youthful vitality a test of the waning authority of the septuagenarian Premier Alec Douglas-Home (TNA PREM 11/4692). Richard Beeching had been charged with ‘modernizing’ the traditional artery of seaside resorts, the railway, just as package holiday tourism was taking off. Beeching’s ‘axe’ remained contentious for 50 years; Douglas-Home thought it best not to close any resort lines until after the 1964 holiday season, which was to be his last as Prime Minister (TNA CAB/195/23, CM (64) 5). Research indicated that tourism could be one of Britain’s major sources of foreign currency, but that the steady growth in the outward flow of traffic by British people abroad pointed to the dangers to the resorts and tourist trades, as well as the national economy, in Britain adopting a completely laissez-faire attitude (BTA, 1976). The Government supported the 1967 Holiday in Britain Campaign, after consulting the British Travel Association, which confirmed ‘Britain’s got a lot of coastline and lots of seasides’ (British Travel Association, 1968). Domestic holidaymakers were central: ‘there must be no lack of opportunity for them to holiday here as comfortably and as enjoyably as they would abroad’, so Tony Crosland introduced the

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Hotel ­Development Incentives White Paper (TNA CAB/129/137). Despite the profession that ‘[t] ourism covers an enormous range of economic and social activities of great interest to Parliament and the public. It is much more than an industry’ (HCD, 27 February 1969, c1941), the Development of Tourism Act 1969 was halfhearted state organization: it was only ever ‘to be introduced if time is available’ (TNA CAB/129/138). It created statutory tourist boards and improvement of amenities, grants and loans to encourage hotels, government powers to introduce statutory classification, registration and grading of accommodation. If the first objective of a tourism policy was tourist promotion, the second ‘is tourist development’, Crosland said. ‘Promotion by itself is not enough: we also have to provide the facilities and the accommodation which tourists want’ (HCD, 27 February 1969, c1942). The Act required assessment and investigation of provision, so unprecedented that it was not clear which department was responsible (TNA EW/7/961). The British Tourist Authority (BTA) replaced the British Travel Association in 1970, and implementation fell to a Heath Government which, though enamoured of planning generally, was averse to registration, and proposals for hotels compulsorily to display prices came up against ‘fears on the implications of this proposal for Conservative held seats in tourist areas’ (TNA PREM/15/1419). There would be grants and loans for hotel construction, extension and re-equipment (TNA FV/57/22). The realization that tourism could also contribute ‘towards improving the social environment’ contributed to its being subjected to the vogueish Programme Analysis and Review (PAR) resource management system since ‘[o]nly Government is in the position to co-ordinate national and regional cost–benefit studies of tourism’ (TNA FV/57/21). The Act had established a Public Sector Management system for tourism, and the 1973 PAR involved all departments with expenditure impinging on tourism, and considered how far the development of tourism should be subordinated to wider development objectives (TNA CAB/184/453). The analysis would define the government’s objectives, to the concern of bodies created in 1969 (TNA FV/57/21). It would not be the last source of tension between government and the institutions of policy (TNA CAB/184/453).

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The Act was a ‘mild piece of legislation but crucial because of the precedents it is setting’ (The Sunday Times, 24 August 1969), yet one of its shortcomings was held to be that there was no ministry. Rather than greater statutory authority there was registration of services and facilities; rather than a ministry there was the Tourism Coordinating Committee. George Young felt ‘this absence of coordination, of overall responsibility’ is the worst thing about UK tourism (Young, 1973: 177–178). Challenged on this point, Churchill had refused to appoint such a minister, and when they were established it was usually a Minister of State at the Board of Trade (HCD, 14  March 1945, c225). Tourism could have been a responsibility of the Department of the Environment so as to provide a better understanding of its consequences, reflecting nascent public concerns. In 1973, Scarborough was revealed as being one of the worst resorts in disposing of sewage at sea (its council responding that ‘since the visitors create most of the sewage, the rate-­payers cannot be expected to underwrite its proper treatment and disposal’; The Sunday Times, 8 July 1973). The ‘car age’ that prompted planning for beach provision away from established resorts, also contributed to concerns that the seaside was becoming overdeveloped; ‘industrialists are fully conscious of the desirability of preserving the beauty of the coastline’, the Confederation of British Industry (CBI) declared, ‘but they believe that the economic needs of the country must be paramount’ (Countryside Commission, 1969, 1970). Without a reason for government to support it per se, ‘support for tourism must therefore derive from the belief that this is one way to pursue overall Government objectives’, essentially economic, as part of an industrial policy (TNA FV/57/22). State intervention in tourism was no more universally accepted subsequently than it was in other areas. Government reviews in 1970 and 1974 agreed on regional policy as being a driver, but the market-orientated challenge to national decline fractured this consensus in tourism as it did elsewhere. Sir Keith Joseph had opposed the Development of Tourism Bill on the grounds that it ‘heaped on the tourist industry burden upon burden’ when all that was required was Government to provide ‘a suitable economic context [so] the industry should be able to look after itself ’ (HCD, 27 February 1969, c2042). In the

space of 2 months in 1979, a Labour government’s plans for interdepartmental provision of support for tourism became a Conservative government’s incentivization of private development (TNA CAB184/453; TNA FV/81/7). In 1985, Thatcher moved tourism from Trade to Employment; Pleasure, Leisure, and Jobs: the Business of Tourism duly emphasized the ‘wealth creation potential of the tourist industry’ (Young, 1990: 148–151). There was a lessening of institutional control: a general antipathy to spending and quangos meant tourist investment incentives were suspended, and the 1969 bodies narrowly avoided abolition. At least as regards tourism, the state had retreated from organization to provision for the consequences of market failure, not unlike the prelapsarian night-watchman state, another application of Victorian values as a panacea. Much less than there being a single department for tourism, tourism functions were outsourced to the private sector and government interest in regeneration then as subsequently being limited to jobs. Where tourism had been considered to be part of the Department of the Environment, and became part of Trade, in 1992 it was yoked with National Heritage. 1997 brought a new, ‘third’, way between organization and the market, and a report on tourism in which seaside resorts were prominent (DCMS, 2003). The Blair Government accepted that seaside towns were the least understood of Britain’s ‘problem areas’, but rejected suggestions for greater policy coordination, or for a national (English) tourism strategy (UK Government, 2007: 7–8). The English Tourism Council nevertheless addressed the issue in that way (ETC, 2001), while the Seaside Towns Research Project, in 2003, was the first comprehensive examination of economic change: since the 1970s, rather than declining as had been ‘thought’, there had actually been employment growth – in-migration unbalanced labour markets more than job losses or foreign holidays. The picture was mixed, but no serious decline in tourism had happened. Seaside resorts that were one-­ industry towns, despite the relative decline of a few, had adapted more easily than those of the industrial north, outperforming the national economy. ‘The summer core holiday trade is not what it was in the 1950s or 1960s’, but ‘towns have avoided the worst consequences of economic specialisation’ (Beatty and Fothergill, 2003: 105).



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In 2007, finally, MPs investigated seaside resorts within the national policy context. They looked at their diversity and commonality of experience with many interconnected problems. Their report recommended economic diversification and regeneration, and that physical considerations such as isolation, sea defences and the impact of climate change, an increasingly ageing demographic and transient populations should be the focus of a national policy (rather than strategy), and that, as ever, more information was needed (HCCLG, 2007b). The Blair Government’s response so dissatisfied the industry that it formed the Coastal Communities Alliance: the Brown Government duly reconsidered and, rather than a policy, set a strategy with the disbursement of Seaside Town Grants (DCLG, 2010). Debate throughout would be informed by benchmarking studies (Beatty et al., 2008, 2011). There was concern about the regeneration of smaller resorts, which suffered a unique form of decline (ETB, 1990: 5). Industry reports contributed to the sense of crisis, and Seaside Resorts Initiative demanded ‘urgent action’ to prevent ‘irrecoverable decline’ (BRADA, 1990). MPs devised three categories: ‘performing well’ (including Bournemouth and Worthing); ‘maintaining’ (Brighton, Scarborough and Eastbourne); and ‘declining’ (Blackpool, Morecambe, Whitby, Thanet and Clacton) (HCCLG, 2007a: 14–15). Blackpool was bottom, comfortably the most deprived resort in a 2013 Office for National Statistics survey which found that larger seaside resorts had greater levels of deprivation than the rest of the country. The most deprived larger towns were Blackpool, Clacton, Hastings, Ramsgate and Margate and, of the mid-sized, Bridlington, Morecambe and Redcar; larger towns were generally worse-off (ONS, 2013). The Cameron Coalition introduced the Coastal Communities Fund in 2011 and, indeed, post2010 trends suggested that the latest Age of Austerity had been endured despite fears that leisure spending would be the first to be cut (Beatty et al., 2014). Rather than being a consumption to be deferred, because of a high income elasticity of demand, people actually took more holidays, benefiting British seaside resorts through day trips and short breaks (Fothergill, 2015). The seaside tourist industry directly supported 210,000 jobs across the economy, yet the Coalition’s policy statement did not mention the

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seaside (DCMS, 2011). In 2015, a new collective, the Tourism Alliance, called for ‘a holistic Government programme’ for seaside resorts (Tourism Alliance, 2015: 10). Just as had been the case in 1973, ‘[a]nalysis of the effects of Government tourism policies will not be easy’ (TNA FV/57/21).

Conclusion The summer of 1973 was Edmund Gilbert’s last. In his mid-century account of Brighton, he marvelled at how the ‘mighty treks of British citizens to the coasts of their island now occur with a majestic rhythm’ (Gilbert, 1954: 7). After his death, the rhythm was increasingly syncopated and seaside resorts commonly presented as ghost towns (The Independent, 14 August 2009; Western Morning News, 29 March 2014; Daily Mail, 31 March 2014; The Herald, 21 August 2015). Seaside resorts were ‘a high volume, low value, highly seasonal, low reinvestment market, which met the relatively simple expectations of the time’, and the times changed; ‘[i]t would be truly depressing if another 30 years on from 1975 domestic tourism had not moved on, just like every other aspect of life in Britain has done’ (ODPM, 2006). Declinism was really only, even at its most refined, structured pessimism, an outlook the liminal, seasonal, seaside resort encouraged. Rather than being in a mortal condition through foreign holidays, tourism was a large and growing industry, in part due to an active stakeholder sector and increasingly responsive politicians. Since 2000, employment in seaside towns increased every year (Beatty et al., 2010: 10), and trips to the seaside in 2015 had increased over 10% on those in 2014 (The Guardian, 14 May 2016). The tropes still had utility, particularly when marginal communities were also marginal constituencies (Eastbourne Pier burnt down in 2014, occasioning a personal visit by both the Prime Minister and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, with a promise to rebuild. In the 2015 General Election their party won the seat it had lost in 2010.) The impression was accurate, with resort communities tending to be older, sicker, less diverse and more economically insecure, features accentuated by the general improvement in the economic performance of

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cities after the 2008 recession. Tourism policy has been more concerned with production than consumption: in jobs and local economic activity rather than the needs of tourists. Tourism was only ever one aspect of seaside towns, and sometimes not even a major one, yet it was the needs of tourists and how they may be met elsewhere that required policy to be reconsidered. Seaside resorts adapted and diversified, reorienting towards other sources of revenue, but challenges they faced fluctuated as did the tension between regulatory and market responses. Government conceptions of regeneration have tended to focus on jobs rather than in understanding and developing a resort’s history and heritage, its identities and traditions. Tourism, always having been low wage, was not thought by all necessarily to be fundamental to regeneration. Having pioneered seaside tourism through a concatenation of circumstances to which the state occasionally contributed, as the ancillary benefits of tourism became apparent – and interested parties more vocal – the sustaining of the model was felt to require a more interventionist approach. This approach was nevertheless d ­ ependent ultimately on the disposition of popularly elected governments, and tourist policy came to act on many of the impulses felt elsewhere in public policy. One was the society of the increasingly discriminating consumer. In 1973, Anthony Smith’s coastal tour yielded The Good Beach Guide. Studies of British seaside resorts often begin with Blackpool; some end with it. The levels of employment derived from tourism in Blackpool remained unmatched by any industrial or service cluster in the country, but the town’s problems were also peerless. It weathered the end of ­political

conferences much less well than did Brighton or Bournemouth: Blackpool was (emphatically) of the north and the others of the south, which betrayed other, deeper, imbalances. Though Blackpool’s were the very qualities that had generated the demand for mass tourism in seaside resorts, they also made for resorts’ 21st-century predicament: the absolute constraint on space and, in terms of transport, resorts were the end of the line, whether defined by Richard Beeching or Richard Butler. The declinist notion of the terminal decline of seaside resorts had been addressed, if not always necessarily heeded. This is why representations and impressions of the seaside contributed to a narrative of decline, because like declinism itself, it was a self-replicating projection, a cognitive bias, and counter-developmental. Policy responses, certainly since 2003, contradicted it; perceptions may take longer. That children had experienced the seaside remained the most reliable factor in their frequenting it as adults, but those experiences could also inform perceptions of decline. Yet overall, numbers of holidays increased, and with them all the seasonality, wildly varying public tastes and fashions, demographic disjunctions, invented traditions; the subliminal liminal. In the 3 years before 1973 MPs had discussed tourism for three and a half hours (HCD, 12 December 1972, c401). Forty years on there were evidence-sized gaps in knowledge no longer. Opened in 1872, Hastings Pier was closed in 1999, partially reopened in 2007, closed in 2008, and burnt down in 2010. After concerted public and political pressure and a £14 million redevelopment it reopened in April 2016. Whatever else there may have been, there had at least been a development in understanding.

References Acuity Programme Management (2007) 365: Blackpool’s Regeneration Plan. Acuity Programme Management Ltd, Merseyside, UK. Andrews, H. (2011) The British on Holiday. Channel View, Bristol, UK. Association of District Councils (ADC) (1993) Making the Most of the Coast. ADC, London. Barnett, C. (1972) The Collapse of British Power. Eyre Methuen, London. Beatty, C. and Fothergill, S. (2003) The Seaside Economy: the Final Report of the Seaside Towns Research Project. Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK. Beatty, C., Fothergill, S. and Wilson, I. (2008) England’s Seaside Towns: a ‘Benchmarking’ Study. Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK.



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Beatty, C., Fothergill, S., Gore, T. and Wilson, I. (2010) The Seaside Tourist Industry in England and Wales. Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK. Beatty, C., Fothergill, S. and Wilson, I. (2011) England’s Smaller Seaside Towns: a Benchmarking Study. Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK. Beatty, C., Fothergill, S. and Gore, T. (2014) Seaside Towns in the Age of Austerity. Centre for Regional Economic and Social Research, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK. Benn, T. (1989) Against the Tide: Diaries 1973–1976. Hutchinson, London. Blackpool Council (2013) Blackpool Town Centre Strategy. Blackpool Council, Blackpool, UK. Blackpool Gazette (2007) Blackpool Gazette (Blackpool, UK), 16 March. Blackpool Gazette (2013) Blackpool Gazette (Blackpool, UK), 3 October. British Resorts and Destinations Association (BRADA) (1990) UK Seaside Resorts: Behind the Façade. BRADA, Sheffield Hallam University, Sheffield, UK. British Tourist Authority (BTA) (1976) The British Travel Association 1929–1969. BTA, London. British Tourist Authority (BTA) (1978) British Home Tourism Survey 1972–1974. English Tourist Board, London. British Tourist Authority (BTA) and English Tourist Board (ETB) (1989) Activities by the British on Holiday in Britain. National Opinion Poll Market Research. BTA/ETB, London. British Travel Association (1968) Holiday in Britain 1967. British Travel Association, London. British Travel Association (1969) A Study of Tourist and Holiday Facilities in South-West England. British Travel Association, London. British Urban Regeneration Association (BURA) (2007) Annual Seaside Lecture Report. BURA, London. Butler, R.W. (1980) The concept of a tourist area cycle of evolution. The Canadian Geographer 24(1), 5–12. Centre for Entrepreneurs (CFE) (2015) From Ebb to Flow: How Entrepreneurs Can Turn the Tide for Britain’s Seaside Towns. CFE, London. Centre for Social Justice (CSJ) (2013) Turning the Tide: Social Justice in Five Seaside Towns. CSJ, London. Clark, A. (2000) Diaries: Into Politics, 1972–1982. Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London. Countryside Commission (1969) Coastal Recreation, Special Study Report Volume 1. Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO), London. Countryside Commission (1970) Coastal Heritage, a Conservation Policy. Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO), London. Daily Mail (1974) Daily Mail (London), 28 February. Daily Mail (2014) Daily Mail (London), 31 March. Department for Communities and Local Government (DCLG) (2010) Strategy for Seaside Success: Securing the Future of Seaside Economies. DCLG, The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) (2003) Tomorrow’s Tourism: a Growth Industry for the New Millennium. DCMS, The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) (2011) Government Tourism Policy. DCMS, The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Dreamland Margate (2016) Available at: http://www.dreamland.co.uk/ (accessed 11 January 2016). English Heritage/Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment (CABE) (2003) Shifting Sands: Design and the Changing Image of English Seaside Towns. English Heritage/CABE, London. English Tourism Council (ETC) (2001) Sea Changes: Creating World Class Resorts in England. ETC, London. English Tourist Board (ETB) (1990) The Future of England’s Smaller Seaside Resorts. ETB, London. Farr, M. (2013) The lacunae of heliosis: package holidays and the long 1970s. In: Farr, M. and Guégan, X. (eds) The British Abroad Since the Eighteenth Century, Travellers and Tourists. Palgrave Macmillan, Basingstoke, UK, pp. 117–136. Financial Times (1982) Financial Times (FT) (London), 23 August. Forte, A. (2009) Seaside towns in transition and the discourse of tourism in urban regeneration: the case study of Hastings. PhD thesis, University of Brighton, Brighton, UK. Fothergill, S. (2015) Seaside towns in an age of austerity. Paper presented at Development Studies Association Tourism Research Seminar, Royal Anthropological Institute, London, 12 October. Gale, T. (2001) Late twentieth century cultural change and the decline and attempted rejuvenation of the British seaside resort as a long Holiday destination: a case study of Rhyl. PhD thesis, University of Wales, Cardiff, UK. Gilbert, E.W. (1954) Brighton: Old Ocean’s Bauble. Methuen, London. Gilbert, E.W. (1965) The holiday industry and seaside towns in England and Wales. In: Baumgartner Heinz, Lothar Beckel, Fischer, H., Mayer, F. and Zwittkovits, F. (eds) Festschrift Leopold G. Scheidl Zum 60 Geburtstag, 1 teil. Verlag Ferdinand Berger & Sohne Ohg, Vienna.

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Gosling, R. (1978) Morecombe. Illustrated London News, 25 November, pp. 97–100. Gosling, R. (1979) Eastbourne. Illustrated London News, 27 January, pp. 51–53. Henderson, N. (1979) Foreign and Commonwealth Office Diplomatic Report 129/79, 31 March 1979. House of Commons, Communities and Local Government (HCCLG) (2007a) Coastal Towns: the Government’s Second Response. HC 69. The Stationery Office (TSO), London. House of Commons, Communities and Local Government (HCCLG) (2007b) Coastal Towns, Second Report of Session 2006–7. HC 351. The Stationery Office (TSO), London. House of Commons Debates (HCD) House of Commons Debates, Fifth Series. Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO)/The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Hughes-Stanton, C. (1966) Beside the same seaside. Illustrated London News, 6 August, pp. 19–21. LDA (2014) Tower Festival Headland. LDA Design’s Case Study. Available at: http://www.lda-design.co.uk/ projects/tower-festival-headland-blackpool-2/ (accessed 3 May 2016). Marxism Today (1983) Marxism Today (London), August. Ministry of Tourism (1972) House of Commons Bill 68, 1972–3. 8 March 1972. Ministry of Tourism, UK Government, London. Office of National Statistics (ONS) (2013) A Profile of Deprivation in Larger English Seaside Destinations. ONS. Available at: http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/dcp171766_324196.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Office of the Deputy Prime Minister (ODPM) (2006) Housing, Planning, Local Government and the Regions Committee Coastal Towns, Session 2005–06, II: Written Evidence (BRADA memorandum, CT42). HC 1023-II. The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Portas, M. (2011) The Portas Review: an Independent Review into the Future of Our High Streets. Department for Business, Innovation and Skills, London. Powell, D. with Gray, F. (2009) South East Coastal Towns: Economic Challenges and Cultural Regeneration. David Powell Associates, London. Richards, G. (1995) Politics of national tourism policy in Britain. Leisure Studies 14(3), 153–173. Shaw, G. and Williams, A. (eds) (1997) The Rise and Fall of British Coastal Resorts: Cultural and Economic Perspectives. Mansell, London. Smith, A. (1972) Beside the Seaside. Allen and Unwin, London. Southend-on-Sea Borough Council (2001) Gateway Town Centre Strategy. Southend-on-Sea Borough Council, Southend-on-Sea, UK. The Economist (1973) The Economist (London, UK), 11 August. The Guardian (1973a) The Guardian (London), 4 December. The Guardian (1973b) The Guardian (London), 8 September. The Guardian (1973c) The Guardian (London), 13 September. The Guardian (2016) The Guardian (London), 14 May. The Herald (2015) The Herald (Glasgow, UK), 21 August. The Independent (2009) The Independent (London), 14 August. Theroux, P. (1983) The Kingdom by the Sea: a Journey Around the Coast of Great Britain. Hamish Hamilton, London. The Sunday Times (1969) The Sunday Times (London), 24 August. The Sunday Times (1973) The Sunday Times (London), 8 July. The Sunday Times (1974) The Sunday Times (London), 27 January. The Sunday Times (2006) The Sunday Times (London), 23 April. The Times (1974) The Times (London), 8 February. The Times (1977) The Times (London), 8 July. The Times (2014) The Times (London), 6 September. Tinker, J. (1970) Brighton – a sense of sin round the edges. Illustrated London News, 4 July, p.23. (TNA ADM) Admiralty papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA CAB) Cabinet Papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA CUST) Board of Customs and Excise papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA EW) Department of Economic Affairs papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA FV) Department of Trade and Industry papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA HLG) Ministry of Housing and Local Government papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. (TNA PREM) Prime Minister’s Office papers. The National Archives (TNA), London. Tourism Alliance (2015) The Tourism Briefing 2015. Tourism Alliance, London.



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UK Government (2007) Government Response to the CLG Committee Report on Coastal Towns, Cm 7126. The Stationery Office (TSO), London. Visit Britain (2013) Delivering a Golden Legacy: a Growth Strategy for Inbound Tourism 2012–2020. Visit Britain, London. Available at: https://www.visitbritain.org/sites/default/files/vb-corporate/Documents-­ Library/documents/Britain_Growth_%20Strategy%20_inbound_Golden_Legacy_2012_to_2020.pdf (accessed 5 December 2016). Walton, J.K. (2009) Prospects in tourism history: evolution, state of play and future developments. Tourism Management 30(6), 783–793. Walton, J.K. and Browne, P. (eds) (2010) Coastal Regeneration in English Resorts. Coastal Communities Alliance, Lincoln, UK. Walvin, J. (1978) Beside the Seaside. Allen Lane, London. Western Morning News (2014) Western Morning News (Plymouth, UK), 29 March. Whitby Gazette (2006) Whitby Gazette (Whitby, UK), 12 May. Winocour, J. (1974) Beside the seaside. Illustrated London News, 31 August, pp. 4–7. Young, G. (1973) Tourism: Blessing or Blight? Penguin, Harmondsworth, UK. Young, L. (1990) The Enterprise Years. Headline, London.

11  Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

Kelly S. Bricker* University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA

Introduction This chapter provides an overview of mass tourism as it relates to the National Park Service (NPS) in the USA. This includes a synthesis of concession policies and procedures of the US NPS and a focus on the quality, variety and type of service delivery for visitors. In addition, the benefits and impacts of tourism within the NPS are discussed, with a focus on some of the most visited National Parks within the system.

Establishment of the NPS Established in 1916, the mission of the US NPS is ‘to conserve the scenery and the natural and historic objects and the wildlife therein to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such a manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations’ (NPS, 2015a). The Organic Act of 1916, now known as the National Park Service Act, is often considered one of the first efforts at sustainable use of landscapes (O’Brien, 1999; McCool and Bosak, 2016). It provided two important ground-­ breaking ideas. First, it established terms for the people of the USA to enjoy parks; and secondly, it established criteria for the ‘preservation’ of

landscapes in their natural state, in perpetuity (O’Brien, 1999: 1). This seemingly dual mandate has presented different challenges throughout the history of the NPS. In particular, protecting parks in earlier times meant protecting landscapes from commercial exploitation, while protecting parks today also includes preserving them from tourism (O’Brien, 1999; McCool, 2016). Values to ecosystems, society and visitors The NPS and its associated landscapes, monuments and cultural and historic sites currently support many important values to society. Some of these values were unintended at the original formation of the NPS. Times were different–the population was smaller, public values were different, climate change was unrecognized, and technology less advanced. Perhaps one of the most important factors is the preservation of ecosystems and habitat. As O’Brien (1999: 3) laments: ‘it is becoming evident that we should have paid more attention to the “ordinary” landscapes such as prairie, coastal lagoons, marshlands, and hardwood forests, which might be more important [ecologically] than spectacular landscapes like mountains’.

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Parks have also become refuges for wildlife, species that have experienced decreased habitat, including migratory corridors and associated ecosystem support (O’Brien, 1999; McCool, 2016). Watershed protection, including free-flowing rivers, intact riparian vegetation and soil protection all add to unpolluted watersheds and healthy freshwater supplies for millions today (O’Brien, 1999). Indeed, many benefits from the preservation of ecosystem services (including clear water, air, soils and habitats) that parks and protected areas now provide, which create immeasurable benefits to society, were not considered paramount in 1916. However, in part, such benefits arise from the preservation of areas of wilderness, which account for more than half of the land managed by the NPS. According to the Wilderness Act of 1964: A wilderness, in contrast with those areas where man and his own works dominate the landscape, is hereby recognised as an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain. (NPS, 2015b: 1)

The Wilderness Act established the National Wilderness Preservation System to ‘secure for the American people of present and future generations the benefits of an enduring resource of wilderness’ (NPS, 2015c: 1). Wilderness areas provide not only ecological benefits, but also protect cultural and historical resources and places of personal reflection, redemption, contemplation and renewal (Eagles and McCool, 2002). Parks also have other benefits: (i) they provide places beneficial to physical, social and emotional health (Eagles and McCool, 2002; Townsend et al., 2015); (ii) they promote recreation and education (O’Brien, 1999; Eagles and McCool, 2002); (iii) they protect native people and their lands (Eagles and McCool, 2002); and (iv) they facilitate business, profit and economic development (Eagles and McCool, 2002; McCool, 2016).

Public land-managing agencies On behalf of all Americans, the federal government manages nearly 640 million acres, or 28% of the 2.27 billion acres of the total land

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within the USA (Vincent et al., 2014). There are four land-managing agencies which are responsible for the majority of federal lands utilized for recreation and tourism. Three agencies are located within the Department of Interior and include: (i) the NPS (managing 84.4 million acres); (ii)  the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) (managing 247.3 million acres); and (iii) the Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) (managing 89.1 million acres) (Vincent et al., 2014). The United States Forest Service (USFS) (managing 192.9 million acres) is housed within the Department of Agriculture. Most federal land is located in the western states and Alaska. In addition, the Department of Defense administers 14.4 million acres in the USA consisting of military bases, training ranges and more (Vincent et al., 2014). Numerous other agencies administer the remaining federal acreage. The lands administered by the BLM, USFS, FWS are managed for multiple uses relative to preservation, recreation and development of natural resources, yet each has a distinct mandate. The BLM, for example, has a multiple-use mandate, including energy development, recreation, grazing, wild horses and burros and conservation (Vincent, et al., 2014). The USFS manages for multiple uses and sustained yields of various products and services, including recreation, timber harvesting, grazing, watershed protection and fish and wildlife habitats. Most of the USFS lands are designated national forests. The FWS manages primarily to conserve and protect animals and plants. The National Wildlife Refuge System includes wildlife refuges, waterfowl production areas and wildlife coordination units (Vincent et al., 2014). While 96% of the federally managed land is under the management of these agencies, there are a few other federal agencies that are host to recreational pursuits as well. These include (Vincent et al., 2014):

•

US Army Corps of Engineers: The Corps operates more than 450 water resource development projects in 43 states. They are mandated to promote the use of project lands and waters while conserving the natural environment. This includes forestry, fish and wildlife management, archaeology, soil conservation and other ecological disciplines.

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Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA): Initially designed for flood control, navigation and electric power generation, the TVA system of dams and reservoirs has become an increasingly popular source for outdoor recreation. This system includes 30 lakes with more than 1000 square miles of water surface and 11,000 miles of shoreline in seven states. Bureau of Reclamation: The bureau manages, develops and protects water and related resources in an environmentally and economically sound manner in the interest of the American public.

State parks Another government venue for protection of natural and cultural heritage are state parks. There are over 6600 state park sites in the USA covering 14 million acres of land (Walls, 2009). State parks, which provide venues for visitors to engage in historical, cultural and natural sites managed at the state versus federal levels, serve ‘two and a half times as many visitors as the National Park System with only 16 percent of the acreage’ (Walls, 2009: 1). As demonstrated, there are many agencies and state park venues that protect natural and cultural heritage within the USA. However, the NPS is uniquely situated within a dual mission of preservation and enjoyment. While the dual mission remains one of the traditional hallmarks of the US NPS, people nowadays ascribe many different values and meanings to parks and protected areas, including economic ones. As O’Brien suggests, they are top tourism attractions, and ‘it would be hard to think of a way to extract a greater monetary benefit from developing the resources of any park than the tourist dollars that flow into it now’ (1999: 5). Nevertheless, such benefits are not without challenges. As McCool (2016: 102) reflects: a variety of driving forces and contextual changes (e.g., population growth, changing public values, evolving philosophies about governance, etc.) have led to an increasingly contentious decision-making environment for recreation and tourism development, to

decisions that are more complex, to situations where the stakes are higher, and to growing scrutiny and accountability in protected area planning.

According to Buckley (2009: 1), parks and protected areas are not only: reservoirs of biodiversity, sources of ecosystem services, such as breathable air and drinkable water . . . they are also human political constructs under ever-increasing pressures from growing human populations and resource demands . . . visitors may bring them political capital to survive.

These ideas and challenges associated with tourism growth will be discussed below. However, first, it is important to understand the NPS system and the many units the NPS comprises.

The NPS system Celebrating 100 years of their existence, the NPS within the USA has 412 multiple units, covering more than 84 million acres, and is found in every state, the District of Columbia, American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands (NPS, 2016a). These promote the many purposes and values associated with places important to American society and beyond, including historic sites, lakeshores, battlefields, monuments, National Parks, seashores, recreation areas, scenic rivers and trails, and the White House (see Table 11.1). Over time, new areas are added, either through an Act of Congress or through presidential designation, which occurs through the use of the Antiquities Act, which allows the president to designate a site as a national monument (NPS, 2016a).

NPS Tourism and Visitation The NPS system receives a significant number of visitors every year and, in some NPS units, it might be considered mass tourism. In 2015, the NPS received a total of 307,247,252 national and international visitors and, over



Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

the past decade, most NPS units have seen an increase in visitor numbers. However, statistics are poor and while visitors are tracked at NPS entrance gates, specific information on where they reside (nationally or internationally) is not available. That said, as indicated below, other statistics on international travellers to the USA suggest that a primary motivation of their visit is indeed to go to parks and protected areas and historic sites.

The significance of international visitation International travel is a significant economic driver in the USA. In 2014, the nation accounted for 15% of all global receipts from

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international travel, well ahead of Spain and France, and, 6.6% of all international tourists, second only to France. That year, international visitors to the USA reached 75 million (ITAIA, 2014) (Table 11.2). The US Department of Commerce International Trade Administration creates annual profiles of leisure tourism in the USA and, while not specific to NPS units, interest in historical locations, National Parks and monuments, cultural/ethnic heritage sites, camping/hiking and environment/eco excursions is clearly on the rise. Indeed, the fourth highest activity of international leisure tourists was visits to National Parks and monuments (Table 11.3). No less than 39% of those surveyed visited National Parks and monuments, as well as historic sites. Hence, NPS units play a significant role in international tourism in the USA.

Table 11.1.  Comparison of visitation to National Park Service (NPS) units 2005–2015. (NPS, 2016b.) Visitation park type summary International Historic Site National Battlefield National Battlefield Park National Historic Site National Historical Park National Lakeshore National Memorial National Military Park National Monument National Park National Parkway National Preserve National Recreation Area National Reserve National River National Seashore National Wild and Scenic River Park (Other) a

2005

2015

Percentage change

na 1,493,340 1,789,570 9,768,310 26,661,547 4,001,782 28,510,267 5,050,109 22,267,264 63,717,291 31,726,660 2,638,047 46,845,003 67,235 4,283,832 14,725,557 1,114,220 8,828,717

12,557 1,908,042 2,970,208 9,971,634 30,518,957 4,131,668 40,542,647 4,546,993 24,888,632 75,290,221 29,557,215 3,348,168 46,230,396 105,289 4,460,768 18,706,214 1,330,776 8,496,857

na 22% 40% 2% 13% 3% 30% –11% 11% 15% –7% 21% –1% 36% 4% 21% 16% –4%

a

na, Not available.

Table 11.2.  International visitors to the USA (2014). (From ITAIA, 2014.) Country and rank 1. Canada 2. Mexico 3. UK 4. Japan 5. Brazil

Visitors 23.0 million 17.1 million 4.1 million 3.6 million 2.3 million

Country and rank 6. China 7. Germany 8. France 9. South Korea 10. Australia

Visitors 2.2 million 2.1 million 1.7 million 1.5 million 1.3 million

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Table 11.3.  Selected top international leisure travellers’ activity participation while in the USA. (From ITAIA, 2014.) Activity (multiple responses)

2014 (%)

Shopping Sightseeing Experience fine dining National Parks/monuments Historic locations Cultural/ethnic heritage sites Camping/hiking American Indian communities Environmental/eco excursions

91 83 40 39 30 17 5 5 4

The Impacts of Budgeting and Economics In 2016, the National Park Service will celebrate 100 years as steward of the nation’s most cherished natural and cultural resources. As the keeper of 405 park units, 23 national scenic and national historic trails, and 60 wild and scenic rivers, NPS is charged with preserving these lands and historic features that were designated by the nation for their cultural and historic significance, scenic and environmental worth, and educational and recreational opportunities. Additionally, NPS further helps the nation protect resources for public enjoyment that are not part of the National Park System through its financial and technical assistance programs. (NPS, 2016c: 1)

The NPS’s budget is appropriated by Congress. For 2016, the Centennial year, Congress appropriated the following: (i) a 4%, $94 million increase for park operations; (ii) an increase of $5 million for park operations for staff, maintenance and wildlife protection; (iii) $15 million for the Centennial Challenge1 programme, which will be matched by at least $15 million in private dollars for projects throughout the USA; (iv) a 40% increase ($55 million) to address the maintenance backlog at National Parks; (v) nearterm budget relief and funding extensions for endangered Heritage Areas, which help communities to protect nationally significant historic resources; (vi) an increase of $9 million for the Historic Preservation Fund; (vii) $300 million for the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative;2 and

(viii) an 80% increase in Everglades restoration funding (NPCA, 2016a; NPS, 2016c). With this expansive reach across the USA, the NPS has a large impact on economies and surrounding communities nationwide. For the past 25 years, it has been tracking its economic activity within park gateway communities (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015). The most recent report, for 2014, summarizes and measures: (i) economic contributions, or the gross economic activity associated with the National Park visitor spending within a regional economy; and (ii) economic impacts, which represent the net changes to the economic base of a regional economy that can be attributed to the inflow of new money to the economy from non-local visitors (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015: 1). For each of these metrics, there are four types of regional economic effects (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015: 3):

• • •

•

jobs, measured as annualized full- and part-­ time jobs that are supported by the NPS visitor spending; labour income, including employee wages, salaries and payroll benefits, and incomes of sole proprietors supported by NPS visitor spending; value added, as measured by the contributions of NPS visitor spending to the gross domestic product (GDP) of a regional economy. Value added is the difference between the amount an industry sells a product for and the production cost of the product; and economic output, as measured by the total estimated value of the production of goods and services supported by NPS visitor spending. Output is the sum of all intermediate sales (business to business) and final demand (sales to consumers and exports).

The NPS defines an economic region as ‘all counties contained within or intersecting a 60-mile radius around each park boundary’3 (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015: 3). In 2015, the NPS system received over 307,247,252 national and international visitors, with visitors spending $15.7 billion in local gateway regions. The contribution of NPS visitor spending to the national economy was 277,000 jobs, $10.3 billion in labour income, $17.1 billion in value added and $29.7 billion in output (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015).



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Visitor spending

Jobs

According to the 2014 report, a significant portion of the estimated spending occurs outside the park and in local communities and regions (Table 11.4). For example, the proportion of total NPS visitor expenditure on lodging (camping and hotel/motels) outside parks, which is 66.9%, is significantly higher than their spending on concessions within parks, which is 6.3%.

The social and economic impact of visitor spending in NPS units is reflected in employment statistics (see Table 11.5). In 2014, the $15.7 billion spent by NPS visitors in local gateway community regions when visiting NPS units had a substantial impact on the labour force nationally (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015). Tourism to NPS units contributes to employment primarily

Table 11.4.  National Park Service (NPS) visitor spending by visitor segment 2014. (Adapted from Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015.) Visitor segment Local day tripa Non-local day tripb NPS lodgec NPS campgroundd Motel outside parke Campground outside parkf Otherg Total

Total spending ($ millions, 2014)

Percentage of total spending

Average spending per party per day/night (2014)

$925.4 $2,473.4 $542.6 $435.6 $9,565.8 $922.1 $824.0 $15,688.9

5.9% 15.8% 3.5% 2.8% 61.0% 5.9% 5.3% 100%

$40.72 $88.23 $402.71 $128.61 $276.66 $123.45 $41.34 $133.56

Local visitors who visit the park for a single day and leave the area or return home. Non-local visitors who visit the park for a single day and leave the area or return home. c Non-local visitors who stay at a lodge or motel within the park. d Non-local visitors who stay at campgrounds or backcountry camping sites within the park. e Non-local visitors who stay at motels, hotels or bed and breakfasts located outside of the park. f Non-local visitors who camp outside of the park. g Non-local visitors who stay overnight in the local region but do not have any lodging expenses. This segment includes visitors staying in private homes, with friends or relatives, or in other unpaid lodgings. a b

Table 11.5.  Impact of National Park Service (NPS) visitor spending on the US labour force – 2014. (Adapted from Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015.) Sector Direct effects Hotels, motels and bed and breakfasts Camping and other accommodation Restaurant and bars Grocery and convenience stores Gas stations Transit and ground transportation services Other amusement and recreation industries Retail establishments Total direct effects Secondary effects Total effects

Jobs

Labour income ($ millions, 2014)

Value added ($ millions, 2014)

Output ($ millions, 2014)

48,359

$1,783.0

$3,080.1

$4,805.7

5,558

$159.2

$248.6

$386.7

60,614 4,644

$1,372.2 $143.0

$1,847.3 $205.9

$3,183.3 $313.0

2,674 7,760

$98.2 $364.5

$129.5 $767.8

$202.5 $1,153.6

26,279

$626.9

$901.8

$1,603.4

17,850 173,738 103,222 276,960

$405.7 $4,952.7 $5,350.1 $10,303.0

$453.1 $7634.1 $9,418.5 $17,053.0

$708.1 $12,356.3 $17,339.3 $29,695.0

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in service industries, with the highest job numbers found in restaurants and bars (60,614), hotels, motels and bed and breakfasts (48,359), and amusement and recreation industries (26,279 jobs) (see Table 11.5). Overall, visitation to National Park designated units hold the highest visitation numbers of any park unit in the system (compared, for example, with National Historic sites or Battlefield units within the NPS), with a 2015 record of over 75 million visitors (see Table 11.1). The top six most visited National Parks in 2015 are noted in Table 11.6 and will be further utilized as examples of local economic and social impacts. Particular attention is paid to expenditure incurred on non-local and local visits, its impacts, and the elements of sustainability involved in the parks’ concession structure.

visitors to the park are locals, their economic impacts are also low.

NPS concessions Another aspect of economies and tourism services within the NPS is concessions. The NPS concessions programme is run under the NPS Commercial Services Programme, which is primarily responsible for visitor services in the National Parks authorized by concessionaire contracts, commercial use authorizations and leases. According to the NPS (2016d: 1), a concessions operation is a way of: providing commercial visitor services such as food, lodging, and retail through a third party (concessioner) within a national park. These services, provided through the use of concession contracts, must be necessary and appropriate for visitor use and enjoyment. Concession contracts are generally valid for 10 years or less but can extend for as many as 20 years. Concession contracts specify the range of facilities, accommodation, and services types the concessioner agrees to offer. The rates the concessioner can charge for these services are approved by the National Park Service and must be comparable to those under similar conditions outside the park.

Impacts of selected National Parks When exploring the expenditure and contributions of visitors to the most highly visited National Parks in the system, the economic contribution of non-local visitors generally increases as visitor numbers increase (Table 11.7). The only exception is Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado. Although considered the third highest visited National Park, the number of jobs it provides is relatively low compared with other top visited parks, the most likely explanation for which is the lack of concessions (specifically lodging) within the borders of the park, with the primary development of lodging and food services located in Estes Park, Colorado. In addition, because most

The NPS also employs other tools to manage commercial operations, for example, Commercial Use Authorizations (CUAs), which allow private businesses to develop small-scale commercial activities. The business: (i) must be appropriate for the park; (ii) must have a minimal impact on

Table 11.6.  Most visited National Parks (NPs) in 2014 and 2015. (Adapted from NPS, 2016a.) Total number of visitors Park name/statea Great Smoky Mountains   NP, TN Grand Canyon NP, AZ Rocky Mountain NP, CO Yosemite NP, CA Yellowstone NP, WY/MT Zion NP, UT

2014

2015

Average visitation over 5 years

10,099,276

10,712,674

9,772,261

522,426.88

4,756,771 3,434,751 3,882,642 3,513,484 3,189,696

5,520,736 4,155,916 4,150,217 4,097,710 3,648,846

4,712,375 3,397,673 3,905,769 3,528,256 3,089,008

1,201,647.03 265,795.20 761,347.50 2,219,790.71 147,237.02

Gross area acreage

AZ, Arizona; CA, California; CO, Colorado; MT, Montana; NP, National Park; TN, Tennessee; UT, Utah; WY, Wyoming.

a 



Table 11.7.  Visitor spending impacts.

Impact categories Non-local recreation visitsb Non-local visitor spending ($000s, 2014) Impact of non-local visitor spending – jobs Impact of non-local visitor spending – labour income ($000s, 2014) Impact of non-local visitor spending – value added ($000s, 2014) Impact of non-local visitor spending output (000s, 2014)

Great Smoky Mountains NP, TN

Grand Canyon NP, AZ

Rocky Mountain NP, CO

Yosemite NP, CA

Yellowstone NP, WY/MT

9,524,510 $792,991.4

4,756,771 $509,528.0

3,140,342 $210,313.2

3,726,238 $399,723.8

3,404,301 $418,887.0

12,566

7,847

3,281

6,187

6,632

Zion NP, UT 2,966,739 $166,664.8 2,379

$360,902.1

$265,037.7

$119,951.0

$185,852.7

$191,391.2

$87,680.5

$630,773.4

$441,309.6

$194,331.5

$312,805.3

$308,007.8

$144,844.8

$1,072,415.3

$711,041.9

$321,087.1

$529,899.2

$541,345.5

$229.863.9

AZ, Arizona; CA, California; CO, Colorado; MT, Montana; NP, National Park; TN, Tennessee; UT, Utah; WY, Wyoming. A recreation visit is measured as entry of persons onto lands or waters administered by the NPS, except non-recreation and non-reportable visits (Directors Order #82; NPS 2016o).

a

Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

Park name/statea

b

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park resources and values; (iii) must be consistent with the purpose for which the park unit was established (i.e. historic site, National Park, etc.); and (iv) must be consistent with the management plan, policies and regulations of the NPS unit (NPS, 2016d). The last commercial tool the NPS employs is a lease, and leased property ‘must be used for an activity and in a manner that is consistent with the purposes established by law for the park’ (NPS 2016d: 1). NPS leases can be issued for up to 60 years, equal to the fair market value of a property, and long enough to provide a viable opportunity for the lease holder (NPS, 2016d). The primary concession holders of the most visited National Parks are indicated in Table 11.8. In fact, the number or type of concessionaires does not directly reflect the number of visitors. The Great Smoky Mountains, the most highly visited National Park, for example, has seven concessionaires to address visitor needs and facilities within the park, and they offer a variety of services, including lodging, campgrounds, retail, food services, horse and mule operations, guide services, scenic and sightseeing tours, and retail. Most Grand Canyon concessionaires are guide and outfitter services and water guides (i.e. whitewater rafting, dories and motorized rivers trips), whereas those in Rocky Mountain National Park primarily relate to guide and outfitting and horse and mule concessionaires. Similarly, in Yellowstone, which has one of the highest number of concessionaire contracts, most provide guide and outfitter services. By contrast, Yosemite Valley has only three concessionaires, with Aramark a concessionaire for several other parks in the system, including all lodging, campgrounds, food service, retail and other visitor amenities. With a diverse range of concessionaire types, catering to various park experiences, and increased visitation, what does the NPS do to ensure concessionaires not only provide quality experiences, but also minimize impacts to National Parks? Concessionaires and sustainability The mission of the NPS is reflected in its approach to commercial services operations, which states

that ‘through the use of concession contracts or commercial use authorizations, the NPS will provide for commercial visitor services that are necessary and appropriate for public use and enjoyment,’ and that, ‘concession operations will be consistent to the highest practical degree with preservation and conservation of resources and values of the park unit’ (NPS, 2016e: 1). Administering over 600 concessionaire contracts, which cover more than 20 types of visitor services, the challenges associated with managing sustainability emerge at all phases of contract management. For example, during the planning, selection and award phase, several steps are taken to ensure processes involving Commercial Services and concessionaires incorporate sustainable and environmentally sound principles. These include:

•

•

•

The concession planning process begins with an assessment of whether or not the concession is necessary and appropriate, will not unduly impair park values and resources, and is consistent to the highest practical degree with preservation and conservation of resources, and the associated values of the park area. There is an evaluation by the park of the facilities and operations that should be the focus of sustainable practices; depending on the service, various sustainability criteria are emphasized (e.g. trail maintenance and manure issues for horse and mule concessionaires). At the prospectus development phase some minimum criteria are defined (e.g. relating to recycling requirements or ‘green’ procurement). Commercial Services also maintains an index of sustainability practices, and these are often referred to during the application process.

Specific regulations (NPS, 2007) define selection criteria. Commercial Services reviews (by law) and weighs a concessionaire’s submission on primary and secondary selection factors, including those identified in Table 11.9. In addition to criteria operated during the planning and submission processes, the NPS is also involved in the contract management phase of the concessionaire relationship. Again, this is



Table 11.8.  Concessionaires of selected National Parks (NPs) 2015. (Adapted from NPS, 2016d.) Concession

Type of concession

Great Smoky Mountains NP, TN – seven concessionaires

Elkmont Campground

Campground with retail operations and vending machines Vending machines, retail operations Lodging, retail operations, food service operations Horse and mule operations, guide services and outfitters Horse and mule operations, guide services and outfitters, vending machines, scenic and sightseeing tours, retail operations Horse and mule operations, guide services and outfitters, vending machines, retail operations Campgrounds, retail operations, food service operations, rentals, vending machines Transportation, guide services and outfitters, water guides

Great Smoky Mountain Association LeConte Lodge Limited Partnership National and State Park Concessions Riding Stables Inc. Smokemont Riding Stable

Smoky Mountain Stables, Inc. Tsiyahi, LLC Grand Canyon NP, AZ – 21 concessionaires total; 16 river operations

Whitwater rafting: Arizona Raft Adventures; Arizona Rafting Adventures, Inc.; Arizona River Runners, Inc.; Canyon Expeditions, Inc.; Canyon Explorations, Inc.; Canyoneers, Inc.; Colorado River & Trail Expeditions, Inc.; Grand Canyon Discovery; Grand Canyon Expeditions; Grand Canyon Whitewater; Hatch River Expeditions; O.A.R.S. Grand Canyon, Inc.; Outdoors Unlimited; Tour West, Inc.; Western River Expeditions, Inc.; Wilderness River Adventures Bright Angel Bicycles, LLC Grand Canyon Trail Rides – North Rim Grand Canyon North Rim, LLC

Delaware North Park Services at Grand Canyon Xanterra South Rim, LLC

Rentals, retail, food service operations Horse and mule operations, transportation Lodging, scenic and sightseeing tours; transportation; auto, gas and service stations; food service operations; shower and laundry; retail operations; vending machines Lodging, food service operations, retail operations Lodging, food service operations, retail operations, transportation

Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

National Park/statea

Continued 127

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Table 11.8.  Continued. National Park/statea

Concession

Type of concession

Rocky Mountain NP, CO – 22 concessionaires, 14 horse and mule operations

Aspen Lodge, LLC; Cheley Colorado Camps, Inc.; Cowpoke Corner Corral; Jackson Stables, Inc.; Lane Guest Ranch; Meadow Mountain Ranch Girl Scout Camp; Meeker Park Lodge, Inc.; National Park Gateway Stables; SK Horses, Ltd; Sombrero Ranches, Inc.; Wild Basin Livery; Wind River Ranch; Moraine Park Stables American Alpine Institute, Inc.; Colorado Wilderness Rides and Guides; Jackson Hole Mountain Guides; Moraine Park Stables; Kent Mountain Adventure Center; San Juan Mountain Guides; The Pumpkin Patch, LLC Homestead Firewood; Silver Peak Enterprises Xanterra Parks & Resorts, Inc. Kari & Sons The Ansel Adams Gallery Yosemite Hospitality, LLC a subsidiary of Aramark, which runs nine concession contracts across seven National Parks

Horse and mule operations

Yellowstone NP, WY/MT – 51 concession contracts, 36 are guide outfitters/horse and mule operations

Adventures Outfitting, LLC; Bear Paw Outfitters, LLC; Big Bear Outfitters; Black Mountain Outfitters, Inc.; Black Otter Guide Service; Castle Creek Outfitters & Guide Services; Colby Gines Wilderness Adventures, LLC; Covered Wagon Ranch; Dry Ridge Outfitters; Elkhorn Ranch; Gary Fales Outfitting, Inc.; Grizzly Ranch; Gunsel Horse Adventures; Hells A Roarin’ Outfitters; Hoof Beat Recreational Services; Jackson Hole Llamas; Jake’s Horses, Inc.; Llamas Trips in Yellowstone; Medicine Lake Outfitters; Mountain Sky Guest Ranch; Nine Quarter Circle Ranch, Inc.; R.K. Miller’s Wilderness Pack Trips, Inc.; Rockin’ HK Outfitters, Inc.; Sheep Mesa Outfitters; Skyline Guest Ranch & Guide Services, Inc.; Slough Creek Outfitters, Inc.; Sunrise Pack Station, LLC; Triangle X Ranch; Two Ocean Pass Outfitting; Wilderness Trails, Inc.; Wyoming Wilderness Outfitters; Yellowstone Mountain Guides, Inc.; Yellowstone Roughriders, LLC; Yellowstone Safari Company; Yellowstone Wilderness Outfitters, Inc.

Campgrounds Food service operations, retail operations Retail operations Photographic materials, retail operations, rentals Lodging; transportation; food service operations; rentals; retail operations; shower and laundry; auto, gas, and service stations; photographic materials; swimming pools; winter sports operations Guide services and outfitters, horse and mule operations

Kelly S. Bricker

Yosemite NP, CA – three concessionaires

Guide services and outfitters



Backcountry Adventures, Inc.; Buffalo Bus Touring Company; Scenic Safaris; Yellowstone Alpen Guides; Teton Science School; Yellowstone Expeditions; Yellowstone Winter Tours; Yellowstone Year-Round Safaris Yellowstone Park Service Stations, Inc. Xanterra Parks & Resorts, Inc. MEDCOR, Inc. Delaware North Park Services at Yellowstone Beartooth Plateau Outfitters, Inc.; Big Bear Outfitters Bryce-Zion Trail Rides, Inc. Xanterra Parks & Resorts, Inc. a

AZ, Arizona; CA, California; CO, Colorado; MT, Montana; NP, National Park; TN, Tennessee; UT, Utah; WY, Wyoming.

Auto, gas, and service stations; retail operations Lodging, campgrounds, food service operations Medical clinics Trailer village services; retail operations; food service operations; photographic materials Food service operations Guide services and outfitters, horse and mule operations Retail operations, scenic and sightseeing tours (all), transportation, food service operations

Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

Zion NP, UT – two concessionaires

Winter sports operations, guide services and outfitters

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Table 11.9.  Primary and secondary selection factors for concessionaires applying to operate in National Parks. (Adapted from NPS, 2007: 1.) Primary selection factors

Secondary selection factors

The responsiveness of the proposal to the objectives, as described in the prospectus, of protecting, conserving and preserving resources of the park area

The quality of a proposal to conduct operations in a manner that furthers the protection, conservation and preservation of the park area and other resources through environmental management programmes and activities, including, without limitation: (i) energy conservation; (ii) waste reduction; and (iii) recycling. (If the contract is < $100k, this is an optional factor; if it is > $100k, then it is required.) Other criteria specific to the park (if necessary)

The responsiveness of the proposal to the objectives, as described in the prospectus, of providing necessary and appropriate visitor services at reasonable rates The experience and related background of the proposer, including past performance and expertise in providing the same and similar visitor services as those to be provided under the concession contract The financial capability of the proposer to carry out the proposal Franchise fee and other forms of financial consideration to the Director. (This factor is subservient in weight to the prior four selection factors.)

policy driven and specifies concessionaires are required to: meet environmental compliance objectives by complying with all applicable laws pertaining to protection of human health and the environment; and incorporating best management practices in all operations, construction, maintenance, acquisition, provision of visitor services, and other activities under the [concessionaire] contract. (NPS, 2016e: 2)

The NPS attempts to ensure sustainability is addressed through many avenues. One of the ways is through the innovative sustainability commitments made by concessionaires within the application process. These commitments are then re-entered into their specific contract as requirements. This has resulted in tremendous innovation in developing sustainable management plans by concessionaires. For example, Xanterra Parks and Resorts (concessionaire for several units within the NPS), is among the first hospitality companies in the USA to receive the prestigious ISO 14001 International Environmental Management System Standard Certification for

all its National Park operations. In addition, it is one of only a few hospitality companies to use renewable wind energy (at seven National Park locations) and to use renewable, clean-burning biodiesel in boilers and vehicles, and one of only a few National Park concessionaires in the country to achieve Clean Marina Certification at two locations (Xanterra, 2016: 1). Another avenue the NPS uses to ensure environmental commitments is working with concessionaires to develop environmental management programmes (EMPs). While prepared by the concessionaire, they must meet contract requirements for environmental compliance and best management practices, including the concessionaires’ specific sustainability goals. In addition, third-party environmental compliance audits of concessionaires are conducted, evaluating compliance with all contractual requirements (NPS, 2016e). Finally, every concessionaire has an annual review of environmental performance, which includes the EMP, audit findings and corrective actions, and operations and maintenance plan requirements (NPS, 2016e).



Mass Tourism and the US National Park Service System

Since the initiation of the programme in 2004, concessionaires have received numerous recognition and awards, including:

• • • • • •

23 Department of Interior awards; 29 NPS Environmental Achievement awards; the Travel Industry Association’s Odyssey Award; the Green Star Award from the Eagle Valley Alliance for Sustainability; the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) Region 9 Environmental Performance Award; and the State of Arizona Governor’s Award.

Most notably, the NPS Commercial Services Program was awarded a White House Closing the Circle Award for achievement in the integration of environmental and sustainable strategies into concessionaire contracts (NPS, 2016e). There have been significant achievements over the past decade but the NPS recognizes the continual challenges faced in trying to achieve sustainability goals. These include the need to understand the full cost and benefit of implementing sustainable practices, to ensure that high quality visitor experience is accompanied by the achievement of sustainability objectives, and to ensure that issues surrounding infrastructure constraints of several parks are addressed (NPS, 2016e, f).

Tourism and the NPS: Issues and Challenges The 2014 NPS Visitor Spending Report on economic indicators demonstrated non-local visitation brings considerable benefits to local/ regional economies (Table 11.4); and, except for Rocky Mountain National Park, these increase with the growth in visitor numbers (Table 11.6). However, questions arise as to whether or not these economic and social benefits can convince Congress to allocate sufficient funds to support policies of staffing and maintenance in National Parks, and to enable them to counter the negative impacts of mass visitation. Such concerns have been aired nationally through news media and by the National Parks Conservation Association (NPCA), the non-profit organization whose mission is ‘protecting and enhancing America’s

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National Park System for present and future generations’ (NPCA, 2016b: 1). For example, commentary on the recent Visitor Spending Effects Report 2014 was used to garner additional support for budget increases by Congress: Today’s report demonstrates once again that our national parks not only protect and preserve many of America’s landscapes and historic sites, they are also powerful economic engines for our country. Every dollar Congress invests in the National Park Service produces $10 in economic benefits nationally, which is one of many important reasons why it critical for Congress to better fund them . . . Despite this extraordinary return on investment and record popularity, the agency’s funding is far from adequate – even after taking into account the boost in the National Park Service’s budget last year. In fact, national parks face a $12 billion repair backlog, yet the Park Service gets only 60 cents for every $1 it needs each year just to keep the backlog from growing. There are also not enough rangers and other staff at parks as they experience record-breaking crowds, with Park Service staff declining more than 10% since 2010. (NPCA, 2016b: 1)

Significant issues confronting the NPS are indicated in a top ten list posted by National Geographic and other contributors. These included the following: 1. Untold stories: Logging and documenting museum artefacts – 45% of NPS collections have yet to be catalogued (National Geographic, 2016; NPCA, 2016a). 2. Maintenance backlog: The NPS estimates a maintenance backlog of $11.9 billion. Congress is starting to address these issues with additional funding and challenge grants; however, it will take over a decade to catch up (NPS, 2016g). 3. Wildlife management: Development surrounding parks is affecting many species, including bison, elk, wolves and grizzly bears. As changes in land use increase, species do not recognize park borders and increasingly experience the negative impacts of habitat loss (O’Brien, 1999; National Geographic, 2016; NPCA, 2016a). 4. Invasive species: The spread of invasive species is a major factor contributing to ecosystem change and instability throughout the world. An invasive species is ‘a non-native species whose introduction does, or is likely to cause, economic or environmental harm or harm to human, animal,

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or plant health’ (Federal Register, 1999: 6183). Invasive species include all taxa of organisms, ranging from microscopic insects to 100 lb sheep, and can invade any ecosystem, from river beds to lava fields. These species have the ability to displace or eradicate native species, alter fire regimes, damage infrastructure and threaten human livelihoods. Invasive species are changing the iconic landscapes of our National Parks (NPS, 2016h: 1). Over 6500 non-native invasive species have been documented on park lands; 70% of documented invasive species on park lands are invasive plant species; approximately 5% of park lands are dominated by invasive plants; more than 650 invasive species have been found in marine parks, and approximately 10% of all invasive species found in National Parks occur in marine environments (NPS, 2016h: 1). 5. Adjacent development: Increased pressure from population growth in and near park boundaries continues to affect wildlife, for example through light, water, air and noise pollution, and by restricting migration. 6. Climate change: ‘National Parks are living laboratories for studying the effects of climate change. Disappearing glaciers, shifting migration patterns for alpine birds, coastal erosion of historic places . . . these are many ways that we see the effects of climate change’ (NPS, 2016i: 1). Also, ‘changes in temperature and precipitation can push species out of their previous ranges towards softer temperatures, either upwards in elevation or northward . . . But they don’t recognize where the boundary is and in many cases that land is owned by someone else’ (National Geographic, 2016: 1). 7. Water: Conserving water resources is a global issue. Threats to water resources from outside parks threaten water quality inside the park (O’Brien, 1999), while the problem of conserving water increases with the growth in visitor numbers (NPS, 2016j). 8. Air pollution: Many resources at units of the National Park system are affected by air pollution. The ability to appreciate scenic vistas is highly dependent on clean, clear air. Poor visibility caused by air pollution can affect park visitor’s enjoyment of scenic views and indicates there may be other impacts occurring to resources. Human-made pollution can harm ecological resources, affecting water quality, soils, plants and animals. Air pollution may also cause or

intensify respiratory symptoms for some visitors and employees at NPS areas. ‘The harmful effect of air pollution on the park visitor’s visual and recreational experience could cause impacts on park visitation and subsequent economic losses at parks and surrounding communities’ (NPS, 2016k: 1). 9. Transportation: This is directly affected by visitation, resulting in too many roads within parks, deteriorating infrastructure and poor quality of roads (O’Brien, 1999). Repairs are always under way but it will take time and money to truly set things right. More than half of the Park Service’s $9.5 billion maintenance backlog is earmarked for the transportation infrastructure that enables people to actually visit the parks (National Geographic, 2016: 1). 10. Visitor experience: This is affected by over-crowding in parks, as a result of which physical, social and ecological carrying capacity is exceeded. Visitor management is increasingly an important issue, with economic, social and environmental implications (Eagles and McCool, 2002; McCool, 2016). Many issues threaten National Parks but not all are the result of mass tourism. Rather, they reflect general problems: increased populations and the need for increased resources and increased global impacts of climate change. Clearly, mass tourism has become a part of the landscape of some National Parks but visitation is not consistent across all park units, nor is the distribution of visitors in time and space. Some states do an incredible job marketing their National Park units and, as a result, see increased numbers annually. For example, while the state of Utah has 13 National Park units, the Utah Office of Tourism, whose mission is ‘to brand and promote Utah’s great experiences and destinations for visitors and citizens in an inspiring way to support and enhance economic vitality and quality of life . . .’ (UoT, 2016: 1) campaigns specifically for the ‘Mighty 5’ (see http://www. visitutah.com/places-to-go/most-visited-parks/ the-mighty-5). This focus promotes five of the 13 NPS units – this type of promotion impacts visibility for certain units within the system, as well as guides tourism. Yet, as with tourism around the world, park visitation is impacted by many factors, including season, time of day, location, access, transportation,



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services and interest (O’Brien, 1999; Eagles and McCool, 2002). Some parks continue to see unprecedented growth; others are relatively stable. The plain fact is that there is uneven distribution of visitors across the NPS. Ultimately, this affects how parks are managed with the human and financial resources distributed to them. Nevertheless, interest in National Parks by domestic and international tourists continues to grow and their value to visitors is increasing. As human beings experience less green space and increased urban development, there is greater awareness of nature and the outdoors, and emerging interest in cultural and historical heritage (O’Brien, 1999; Eagles and McCool, 2002; Buckley, 2009; McCool, 2016). A recent study estimated the economic value of the NPS to the American public at $92 billion – $62 billion for National Park lands, waters and historic sites; $30 billion attributed to NPS Programmes (Haefele et al., 2016). It is important to note that this estimate excludes the value added by international tourists, which significantly contributes to National Parks in the USA as a global asset as well. The dual mandate of the NPS is clear. Yet, as environmental issues increase, visitor management requires an increase in resources, both human and physical. The continued problem for the NPS is to maintain a balance between visitor experiences and preservation: Managing preferences and park usage conflicts is a growing challenge for administrators—but NPS Chief of Public Affairs David Barna says the top priority is clear. ‘When we have to make a choice between recreation and preservation, we will always choose preservation,’ he says, ‘and our decision will be based on our mandate, policies, and good science. (National Geographic, 2016: 1)

According to O’Brien (1999: 210), problems faced by the parks arising from mass tourism ‘can be ended any time we choose’. He and others have identified measures, strategies and concepts to address many of the issues parks face today, especially those that are most visited. Here, a key feature in preparing for the masses is to ensure the infrastructure is maintained to cope with high volumes of visitation. However, over the past decade the NPS has faced a lack of funding, which is reflected in an increased maintenance backlog (O’Brien, 1999). In addition to

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infrastructure issues, interpretation and educational programmes are used by park managers to enable visitors to understand and appreciate unique attributes of parks and influence how they behave within them (O’Brien, 1999; Eagles and McCool, 2002), thus helping counter the negative impacts of mass tourism and minimizing the impacts of visitors’ journeys. Without appropriate funding to support such programmes, the negative impacts can escalate, especially during peak times (Eagles and McCool, 2002). Over the last decade, concessionaire contracts have increasingly moved towards increased sustainable practices, reducing impacts on park resources. This has encouraged concessionaires, especially those providing accommodation and recreational programmes, towards contractually defined roles in promoting education and stewardship in National Parks. Guided programmes, for example, are one way of managing visitors and ensuring positive, safe and educational experiences for large numbers of visitors.

The NPS and Native Americans The NPS has a unique relationship with American Indian tribes, which is founded in law and strengthened by a shared commitment to stewardship of the land and resources. The Service will honour its legal responsibilities to American Indian tribes as required by the Constitution of the USA, treaties, statutes and court decisions. For the purposes of these policies, ‘American Indian tribe’ means any band, nation or other organized group or community of Indians, including any Alaska Native Village, which is recognized as eligible for the special programmes and services provided by the USA to Indians because of their status as Indians (NPS, 2016l: 5). Other related issues stem from when parks began, concerning impacts on Native Americans and the establishment of parks regardless of original ownership or heritage. Since the early days, these relationships have improved. Notwithstanding the early impacts on Native Americans when parks were established, the NPS now has numerous programmes in place for collaborating with tribes. Some grant programmes, for

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example, have several annual projects, covering the following categories (NPS, 2016m: 1):

• • • • •

locating and identifying cultural resources; preserving historic structures listed on the National Register of Historic Places; comprehensive preservation planning; oral history and documenting cultural traditions; and education and training for building a historic preservation programme.

In addition to grant-awarding programmes, the relationship between the NPS and Native Americans is written into policy and formally summarized as: The formal legal rationale for the relationship between the National Park Service and tribes is augmented by the historical, cultural, and spiritual relationships that American Indian tribes have with park lands and resources. As the ancestral homelands of many American Indian tribes, parks protect resources, sites, and vistas that are highly significant for the tribes. Therefore, the Service will pursue an open, collaborative relationship with American Indian tribes to help tribes maintain their cultural and spiritual practices and enhance the Park Service’s understanding of the history and significance of sites and resources in the parks. Within the constraints of legal authority and its duty to protect park resources, the Service will work with tribal governments to provide access to park resources and places that are essential for the continuation of traditional American Indian cultural or religious practices. (NPS, 2016l: 2–3)

Several guidelines protect tribes and traditional or sacred areas, and ensure a consulting relationship with ‘potentially affected American Indian tribes or traditionally associated groups’

(NPS, 2016l: 5). It seems that current laws and guidelines ensure a level of consultation which respects traditional and sacred lands of American Indian tribes and traditional groups within the NPS. However, many controversies still exist, for example: (i) most park units established before 1916 were imposed upon tribes through land cessions (King, 2007: 483); (ii) issues surround the Devils Tower National Monument sacred site, a climbing mecca (NPS, 2016n); and (iii) parks experience new pressures as visitor numbers increase. All such issues require ongoing consideration and are matters for future research.

NPS and mass tourism When not managed appropriately, mass tourism can have negative impacts. What occurs within the NPS of the USA will ultimately depend on the support received in financial, human and scientific resources. We know parks are good for people and the more they are appreciated, the better off parks will be politically, ensuring their place in the USA and the world for current and future generations. As O’Brien so eloquently states, ‘protecting the natural and the beautiful places of the world, although of less immediate importance than preventing poisoning of the earth or global warming, is essential to making this a life worth living’ (O’Brien, 1999: 213). The American people hold parks in high regard, and they and their associated programmes are valued at an estimated US$92 billion (Haefele et al., 2016). Increased financial and human resource support is critical if they are to be managed and operated sustainably, and to deliver on the dual mandate of providing enjoyment and ensuring preservation laid down a century ago.

Notes 1  For more information on the NPS Centennial Challenge programme visit: https://www.nps.gov/subjects/ centennial/nps-centennial-challenge-projects.htm 2  For more information on the Great Lakes Restoration Initiative, visit: https://www.epa.gov/great-lakes-funding/ great-lakes-restoration-initiative-glri 3  The economic region for parks in Alaska and Hawaii are defined as the State of Alaska and the State of Hawaii, respectively. Due to data limitations, the island economy of the State of Hawaii is used as a surrogate economic region for the US territories of American Samoa, Guam, Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands (Cullinane Thomas et al., 2015: 3).



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References Buckley, R. (2009) Parks and tourism. PLoS Biology 7(6), e1000143. Cullinane Thomas, C., Huber, C. and Koontz, L. (2015) 2014 National Park Visitor Spending Effects: Economic Contributions to Local Communities, States, and the Nation. Natural Resource Report NPS/NRSS/EQD/NRR–2015/947. National Park Service, Fort Collins, Colorado. Eagles, P. and McCool, S. (2002) Tourism in National Parks and Protected Areas: Planning and Management. CAB International, Wallingford, UK. Federal Register (1999) Executive Order 13112: Invasive Species. Vol. 64, No. 25/Monday, 8 February 1999/ Presidential Documents. Available at: https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/FR-1999-02-08/pdf/99-3184.pdf (accessed 2 July 2016). Haefele, M., Loomis, J. and Bilmes, L. (2016) Total Economic Valuation of the National Park Service Lands and Programs: Results of a Survey of the American Public. Available at: http://www.nationalparks.org/ npf/PDF_files/NPS-TEV-Report-2016.pdf (accessed 30 June 2016). International Trade Administration Industry and Analysis (ITAIA) (2014) Fast Facts: United States Travel and Tourism Industry 2014. ITAIA, National Travel and Tourism Office. Available at: http://tinet.ita.doc.gov/ outreachpages/inbound.general_information.inbound_overview.html (accessed 15 February 2016). King, M.A. (2007) Co-Management or Contracting? Agreements Between Native American Tribes and the US National Park Service Pursuant to the 1994 Tribal Self-Governance Act, 31 HARV. ENVTL. L. REV. 475. McCool, S. (2016) Tourism in protected areas: frameworks for working through the challenges in an era of change, complexity, and uncertainty. In: McCool, S. and Bosak, K. (eds) Reframing Sustainable Tourism. Springer Publishing Company, New York, pp. 101–117. McCool, S. and Bosak, K. (eds) (2016) Reframing Sustainable Tourism. Springer Publishing Company, New York. National Geographic (2016) Top Ten Issues Facing National Parks. Available at: http://travel.nationalgeographic. com/travel/top-10/national-parks-issues/ (accessed 21 June 2016). National Park Conservation Association (NPCA) (2016a) Visitation Spending in the NPS. NPCA. Available at: https://www.npca.org/articles/1195-national-park-visitation-generated-32-billion-for-­national-­ economy-in-2015 (accessed 21 April 2016). National Park Conservation Association (NPCA) (2016b) About the NCPA: Our Story. NPCA. Available at: https://www.npca.org/about/our-story (accessed 17 April 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2007) National Park Policy 36 CFR Ch. I (7–1–07 Edition). NPS. Available at: https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/CFR-2007-title36-vol1/pdf/CFR-2007-title36-vol1-sec7-3.pdf (accessed 1 April 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2015a) The National Park Service Organic Act (16 U.S.C. l 2 3 and 4). NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/grba/learn/management/organic-act-of-1916.htm (accessed 15 October 2015). National Park Service (NPS) (2015b) Wilderness Act. NPS. Available at: http://wilderness.nps.gov/factsnew. cfm (accessed 1 February 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2015c) The National Wilderness Preservation System. NPS. Available at: http://wilderness.nps.gov/wilderness.cfm (accessed 2 February 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016a) Site Designations. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/aboutus/ upload/Site-Designations-06-24-16-2.pdf (accessed 26 June 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016b) NPS Statistics. NPS. Available at: https://irma.nps.gov/Stats/ (accessed 10 March 2017). National Park Service (NPS) (2016c) NPS Budget 2016. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/aboutus/ upload/FY-2016-Greenbook.pdf (accessed 1 June 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016d) Commercial Services Program. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps. gov/commercialservices/tools_others.htm (accessed 10 March 2017). National Park Service (NPS) (2016e) Concessions and Sustainability. NPS. Available at: https://concessions. nps.gov/docs/AdvisoryBoard/March11/CMAB%20-%20Sustainability%20White%20paper%20 March%202011.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). National Park Service (NPS) (2016f) Concessionaire Criteria. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/ commercialservices/prospectuses.htm (accessed 20 April 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016g) The NPS Maintenance Backlog. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps. gov/aboutus/news/release.htm?id=1780 (accessed 23 June 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016h) Invasive Species. NPS. Available at: http://www.nature.nps.gov/biology/ invasivespecies/ (accessed 22 April 2016).

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National Park Service (NPS) (2016i) Climate Change in National Parks. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps. gov/subjects/climatechange/effectsinparks.htm (accessed 22 April 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016j) Greenline Support for Concessionaires. NPS. Available at: https:// www.nps.gov/commercialservices/greenline_2015_Summary.htm (accessed 20 June 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016k) Air Pollution in National Parks. NPS. Available at http://www.nature. nps.gov/air/aqbasics/effects.cfm (accessed 21 April 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016l) The National Park Service and American Indians, Alaska Natives and Native Hawaiians. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/history/tribes/Documents/ NPSManagementPolicy.pdf (accessed 10 July 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016m) Tribal Officers Program. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/history/ tribes/Tribal_Historic_Preservation_Officers_Program.htm (accessed 10 July 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016n) Devils Tower National Monument Current Issues. NPS. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/deto/planyourvisit/upload/current%20issues.pdf (accessed 22 July 2016). National Park Service (NPS) (2016o) Director’s Order #82: Public Use Data Collection and Reporting ­Program. Available at: https://www.nps.gov/policy/DOrders/DO-82draft.htm (accessed 1 April 2016). O’Brien, B.R. (1999) Our National Parks and the Search for Sustainability. University of Texas Press, Austin, Texas. Townsend, M., Henderson-Wilson, C., Warner, E. and Weiss, L. (2015) Healthy Parks Healthy People: The State of the Evidence 2015. Parks Victoria, Australia. Utah Office of Tourism (UoT) (2016) Mission Statement. UoT. Available at: http://www.utah.gov/visiting/ travel.html (accessed 10 July 2016). Vincent, C., Hanson, L. and Bjelopera, J. (2014) Federal Land Ownership: Overview and Data. Available at: https://www.fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R42346.pdf (accessed 22 July 2016). Walls, M. (2009) Parks and Recreation in the United States: State Park Systems. Available at: http:// www.rff.org/files/sharepoint/WorkImages/Download/RFF-BCK-ORRG_State%20Parks.pdf (accessed 22 July 2016). Xanterra (2016) Sustainability Awards. Xanterra Parks and Resorts. Available at: http://www.xanterra.com/ sustainability/awards (accessed 1 May 2016).

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Transport and Tourism: The Perpetual Link

David Timothy Duval* University of Winnipeg, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada

Introduction: Fundamentals of the Transport–Tourism Relationship It would not be problematic to argue that the transport–mass tourism interface has gone beyond a synergistic relationship to one in which, first, each can have extraordinary unidirectional and simultaneous influence on the other, and which, second, consequently resolves itself into a significant co-dependent relationship. Evidence of this is that the world is increasingly mobile (corporeal and otherwise), notwithstanding suitable acknowledgement of relative immobilities that problematically plague certain places (Sheller and Urry, 2006). Hall (2015: 8), for instance, runs some calculations to extrapolate the total number of visitor arrivals (domestic and international overnight) surpassing the world’s population sometime in 2016 or 2017, noting that this reinforces ‘the relative extent to which the world has become mobile and the need to understand the environmental, social and economic repercussions of such large-scale voluntary human movement as well as the consequence of immobility’. Mobility has become big business, both within and between academic circles (as an area of enquiry) as well as practically in terms of wider economic development opportunities. Air transport relies on touristic mobilities for justification

of new routes (see, for instance, Guirao and Campa, 2015, in the context of high-speed rail), perpetual and profitable consumer support of existing ones, and the means and rationale for withdrawing services in other instances. New innovations in ground transport (such as ride sharing, discussed later in this chapter) use the benefits of tourism as leverage as they attempt to convince governments to introduce change to the regulatory landscape in their favour. Tourism is thus caught in (and, in some cases, serves as the architect of) an era where remarkable creative and sustainable innovation is transforming mobilities (Coles, 2014; Hall, 2015; see also Sheller and Urry, 2004). Transport has certainly been the key vector by which mass tourism has manifested itself globally (Duval, 2013), and this is especially the case with air transport. Extending a longitudinal view, there is an obvious yet not-so-subtle positive correlation (causation, in some markets) between the growth in revenue passenger kilometres (a standard industry metric of traffic) and the general growth in mass tourism worldwide. Indeed, the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) reports that, for 2014, 54% of international arrivals were brought by air (UNWTO, 2015). Known for being a capital intensive business, the industry is subject to problematic periods of thin profit margins. Following

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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the Global Financial Crisis, the industry has only recently returned to some sense of profitability (Air Transport World, 2015). What we are left with is the fact that the commercial viability of many forms of transport is only realized if ‘mass’ quantities of passengers transact some form of transport, thus inevitably tying together the conditions of mass tourism and transport almost permanently. Together, mass tourism and transport: (i) have a strong foundation of influence on economies almost regardless of the geographic scope applied; (ii) raise the immediate, obvious and behaviourally problematic spectre of their consequential environmental damage (Scott et al., 2012); and (iii) highlight social inequality (Cole and Morgan, 2010). At the same time, behind the scenes, some forms of transport have historically been strategic arms of state-level realist projections of nationalism. Airlines are perhaps the most obvious and, as some might submit, egregious example of this. Indeed, in an era where free(r) trade in goods and services is supported by many states (despite the relative failure of the World Trade Organization’s (WTO) Doha round to convincingly advance the cause with respect to goods), and where the benefits brought by tourist traffic is, in some instances, a significant source of exports, we are left with the realization that the nature by which passenger transport through commercial airlines is subjected to restrictive negotiations and treaties on a bilateral basis is simultaneously frustrating, ‘archaic’ (Havel, 2004) and arguably necessary. What can be concluded rather meekly, therefore, is that mass tourism is inherently shaped by the politics of transport and identity. The purpose of this chapter is to attempt to unpack the dense relationship between global political economy, international relations, and economic and legal regulation of transport as manifested at local and national levels. The premise is that international mass tourism, defined here as the movement and mobility of passengers profitably, consistently and reliably at scale, is a function (dysfunction?) of perspectives on state sovereignty (see Baldacchino, 2006), the struggle for the creation of international regimes relating to power, access and control and the dualism of desire/resistance surrounding nation-­ based hegemonies. This chapter focuses on recent so-called (but disputed) ‘disruptive’ business practices in transport that may alter mobilities principally and functionally. It will also highlight,

using air transport, the regulatory hurdles that stand in the way of such innovation. Air transport becomes the focus for two reasons. First, it is perhaps the most regulated form of transport on an international scale that touches mass mobility so significantly and consistently. Second, air transport represents one of the last few instances where states have made attempts to assert nationalism and, to some extent, protectionism in a globalized world, thus resulting in profound impacts on the shape and flow of international tourism. Two larger points are constructed. The first is that there are several layers of dense regulation and legislation governing modern mass tourism, thus giving rise to shapes and flows of mobilities that benefit some and disadvantage others (nation states, corporations, tourists themselves). Second, and by extension, is the question of whether innovation (disruptive or otherwise) in transport and the provision thereof can have implications for the scope of tourism and mobility. This becomes a question of the function of regulation in governing transport activities, and thus the extent to which mass tourism is thus shaped.

Regulating Transport (and, by Extension, Tourism) Many forms of transport are heavily regulated (Dempsey, 1992), if only because there is arguably an expectation from within a general populace that governments oversee safety and security issues and ensure that there is a minimum level of accessibility and connectivity available. This forms one conceptual layer. Another is the manner in which government constructs – through policy – competitive markets in transport. This is important because transport is itself a capital-­ intensive endeavour (e.g. Andersson, 2009). New entrants find it difficult to break into a market due to insufficient capital (whether naturally unavailable or restricted through regulation), lack of a convincing lower-cost strategy or problematic structure and organizational focus (Gudmundsson and van Kranenburg, 2002). Competition, in such instances, can be left to a small number of (well-financed) players given the need to protect market share (Gillen and Morrison, 2005). Natural monopolies in transport may arise because of high capital (start-up) costs



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(see White, 1978). This is especially the case with thin (non-mass) tourism routes to autochthonous destinations (Bråthen and Halpern, 2012; see, for instance, Bhadra and Kee, 2008). On the other hand, it could be suggested that a system so vital to economic development (remembering, for a moment, that transport systems are about more than just tourism) begs for regulation to ensure net social benefits are considered (Banister and Berechman, 2001, see also Yen et al., 2008 for an example of slot allocation at airports).

A (Selected) Survey of Current Air Transport Regulation To begin, we look to international examples for regulation in large part because transnational and international mobilities and their regulatory oversight have an important role to play in the tourism–transport system. Further, and as Banister (2011) argues, the ‘trilogy’ of distance, space and time sits in conflict, somewhat, with new paradigms of resource constraints that are international in both importance and need (see also Coles, 2014). Now that international boundaries and framing are made clear, a first point to be made is that there exist several regulations that govern modern mass tourism mobilities.

Paris, Chicago and Deregulation One of the more significant international treaties of the 20th century that set the stage for modern mass tourism mobility by air was the Paris Convention of 1919. It recognized that nation states held claim of national sovereignty of their airspace in much the same manner they held sovereignty of their lands (Cooper, 1950; Molepo, 2006). The Convention was also the first to embed corporate operations with business practice on an international scale, with the requirement that aircraft of a contracting state could only be registered in that state if the airline’s president and two-thirds of its Board were nationals (Gertler, 1982). Registered aircraft of a particular state were allowed under the Convention to traverse the airspace of another state without landing, thus bestowing legal status on the aircraft as a representative of that state (Cooper, 1950).

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In fact, the Paris Convention was the first to enshrine nationalism and sovereignty in the air transport system (Gertler, 1982). In time, countries (mostly developed) established their own airlines to facilitate airlift of visiting foreign nationals as well as export their own citizens, fuelling early growth in mass tourism. Range and speed were limited, but interest and demand persisted. As global networks become increasingly dense, and the potential for global airlift by the USA to be strong and unchecked post-the First World War (Stoffel, 1959), recognition emerged that an international scope of regulation was necessary to plot the coverage, density and legal means by which airlines from developed countries could traverse and access far-reaching regions and places. From this recognition, the 1944 Chicago Convention was crafted, featuring and re-affirming similar principles to those which were agreed upon at Paris (Dierikx, 1991). The Chicago Convention identified five so-called ‘freedoms of the air’ which provided the rights by which international airlines can access airspace and airfields of other states (Duval and Macilree, 2011). The process as designed was simple – based on established principles of reciprocity that underpin trade agreements (e.g. Grubel, 2003; Martin and Vergote, 2008), two states would negotiate access on behalf of their airline(s) in order to determine: (i) which airports they may access; (ii) whether any anterior or beyond points/airports in other countries are possible on the same flight or segment; (iii) the frequency of such flights; and (iv) any capacity considerations. It is a system that is still prevalent today, with literally thousands of such agreements at work which effectively govern the travel patterns of almost all international (mass) tourists arriving by air (Havel and Sanchez, 2011). Bilateral air service negotiations determine modern mass tourism movements. Melville (1998: 45) suggests that, where restrictions within bilateral agreements were more liberal in terms of provision of access and pricing, there were benefits to competition in the short run, with airlines ‘acting independently’, ‘competing in price’ and they ‘exercise market power through vertical product differentiation’. As some economies became more integrated through processes of regionalism (cf. Hettne, 2005) and globalization, a slow march towards deregulation (Butler and Huston, 1999) ensued that touched many players in the commercial

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aviation sector. Some states began to progressively adopt more liberal provisions for market access (the freedoms of the air mentioned above) and operational requirements (ownership) (Forsyth, 2006), starting with the USA (as a major player in global tourism at the time) in 1978 (Schless, 1994). The narrow, targeted bilateralism introduced by the Chicago Convention gave way – in incremental steps – to progressive deregulation and liberalization of commercial air transport (Forsyth, 1998). Such regulatory reform was identified as the policy mechanism by which increased competition could be realized (Bellinger, 2007; cf. Stucke, 2013). For tourism, this pointed to greater potential for increased receipts and more international arrivals (Dobruszkes, 2009). Deregulation has been limited and deliberate, but at the same time piecemeal and cautious (Chin, 1997; Hooper, 1997; Melville, 1998). What this means is a gradual reduction in service or accessibility restrictions or a more fulsome ‘open skies’ arrangement where most restrictions are removed in favour of allowing market forces to prevail (Havel and Eastmond, 2001). In rare instances, common aviation markets between disparate nation states are formed, such as the common aviation area that is Europe (for domestic operations) and the single aviation market between Australia and New Zealand that harmonizes access as well as licensing. In Asia, it was reported in February 2016 that progress was being made towards concluding a full liberalized agreement between the European Union (EU) and the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) that would cover over 1 billion people (Karp, 2016). Liberalization has affected, and continues to affect, mass tourism mobilities. Market access is usually relaxed when two or more states agree to liberalized air services. This means that deregulation permits designated state airlines to provide services according to market demand with respect to frequency, points/destinations served and occasionally beyond rights to other states. Such access may have at one time been restricted, as is the case for the announcement in 2016 that the United States Department of Transport (2016) has re-opened the air service agreement with Cuba to allow regular passenger transport (i.e. scheduled airlines) to operate between the two countries where previously such access was restricted to charter carriers only. The new flights represent

the first time since 1953 that daily scheduled flights will be permitted, although restrictions on travel for US citizens will remain despite being somewhat relaxed in 2011 (NPR, 2016; see also MacAskill, 2011). Despite the restricted travel to Cuba by US citizens that persevered for decades, the USA was prolific immediately following the First World War in seeking out liberalized air service agreements which privileged such market-based principles (Winston and Yan, 2015; see also Mendes de Leon, 2002). It still practices, according to Lee (2014), a ‘divide and conquer’ strategy in some parts of the world by targeting smaller states for open skies agreements that provide direct substitutes for access to key markets. That said, what benefit have such regulatory changes introduced, specifically for mass tourism? There is general support for additional consumer benefits to be realized from mutual liberalization among so-called ‘like-minded’ countries (Oum and Lee, 2002; but see also Gönenç and Nicoletti, 2000). Winston and Jan (2015: 396) found significant consumer benefits in their evaluation of US open skies agreements, particularly in the expansion of mobility and access that these have afforded: We show . . . that eliminating open skies agreements on US international routes that have been signed before 2000 would in the long run raise fares in all segments, with the greatest effect, 26 percent, on business and first class fares; reduce passenger demand in all segments and market demand; reduce the number of flights, and reduce the number of carriers per route. Travelers would lose $0.84 billion annually, $0.7 billion from higher fares and $0.14 billion from fewer flights; total losses would, of course, be much greater. Thus, travelers’ gains from the open skies agreements that have been negotiated as of 2009 approach $4 billion annually. . .

Following the conclusion of the Third Aviation Liberalisation Package in Europe in the early 1990s, intra-market air services and passenger mobility were greatly enhanced by the reduction of commercial restrictions and the establishment of ‘community carriers’ (as opposed to airlines tied to single states) (Duchene, 1995; Sanchez, 2008). Consequently, Europe has seen an increase in competition in recent decades as a result of new business models. Economic theory supports the European borderless initiative as a means of stimulating traffic (see



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Piermartini and Rousová, 2013), and the ‘lowcost’ model (perhaps first exemplified in the USA) that took hold in Europe, initially with bold new players, provided new destinations for both existing and new market segments (e.g. Papatheodorou, 2002; Davison and Ryley, 2010). In the case of the EU, Castillo-Manzano et al. (2011), for instance, found that low-cost carriers (LCC) can be a ‘perfect substitute’ for network carriers, thus explaining (almost universal) support for their services in regional areas of Spain. As the industry (and market) grew to absorb these new models, large incumbent network carriers attempted to adapt – or fail – either through re-tasking their own business models and front-­ facing consumer experience or by creating hybrid or so-called ‘carrier within carrier’ subsidiaries (Graham and Shaw, 2008). Fuelled by market liberalization initiatives, such developments in Europe (and the Asia Pacific it should be noted) tend to give consumers greater choice, help enhance the accessibility of destinations and stimulate traffic for airlines, but there are other variables involved that point to potential instability in some instances. In his seminal 1998 study on EU liberalization, Graham (1998: 102) notes that, while liberalization is beneficial for airlines, it: cannot ensure such outcomes because it is constrained by other factors – the geography of population, production, urbanization and wealth – which are entirely external to air transport but create the spatial patterning of demand for the mode and restrain its potential volume.

Liberalization has on one level succeeded in open markets and opportunities, but there can be, as Graham (1998) warns us, an unevenness in application, intent and outcome. Such ­warnings have also been recognized in the wider context of trade liberalization of all goods and services. As Sauve (1998: 67) notes: ‘There is sand in the wheels of market liberalization today, because its benefits are perceived as being distributed too unevenly.’ Where this leaves us is to critically examine the impact of the EU market access reforms of the early 1990s. Suau‐Sanchez et al. (2015), for instance, point to the general deconcentration of capacity within the region as a consequence of liberalization, but more concentration when extra-EU services are considered (cf. Burghouwt et al., 2003). In the case of

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Greece, Papatheodorou and Arvanitis (2009: 409) found that: in contrast to other countries in Europe, where LCC introduced new routes to previously inaccessible or under-serviced areas on a year round basis, LCC traffic in Greece either reinforces the existing concentration pattern by offering services to Athens and Thessaloniki or replicates the charter model with seasonal services to a selected number of tourist islands.

Canada’s NewLeaf: a regulatory reboot An issue arose in Canada in late 2015 that called into question airline licensing and showed immediately the potential impact on mobilities and tourism. A new travel intermediary, NewLeaf, was formed in 2014 with the intent of providing air services to secondary airports from other secondary ports. NewLeaf was introduced to the public as providing low-cost fares, and operating such routes was not entirely unfitting with existing (and proven) LCC business models. The company itself does not possess any aircraft, but rather entered strategically into a wet lease agreement with Flair Airlines Ltd (hereafter, Flair) from Kelowna, British Columbia. Flair operates as a charter carrier and agreed to provide services to NewLeaf, a ‘reseller’ which in turn would sell the seats operated by Flair. At once, this business model becomes interesting (and still somewhat of a unicorn in most developed countries) in that the corporate entity selling tickets is not the same one providing the service. In Canada, as with most countries, a commercial airline carrying passengers must possess a licence and an Air Operator Certificate before it can commence operations. As specified by Transport Canada and/or the Canadian Transportation Agency, Such licensing requirements necessarily provide consumer safeguards and assurances that aircraft being operated have been maintained, employ trained crew, hold requisite insurance and are operated by companies which are, in this case, ‘Canadian’ (defined at the time of writing as having 75% ownership that is held by Canadians as defined by the Canada Transportation Act). Licensing requirements also oversee operational, transactional and financial aspects of an airline (Canadian Transportation

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Agency, n.d.). In the case of NewLeaf, because it was not operating aircraft itself directly, it could utilize the licence of Flair to cover operational aspects of the aircraft (e.g. navigational equipment, trained staff, etc.) (Financial Post, 2016). A common licensing requirement is for the airline to display publicly its tariff, which provides the specific conditions of the sale of a ticket to a passenger. Criticism was soon levied via the Canadian media that NewLeaf customers may not be protected if, for instance, luggage was lost on a flight, because the airline allegedly did not have a specific tariff in line with licensing requirements as it did not, in fact, need to hold a licence as per the existing regulations (The Star, 2016). The proposal by NewLeaf (and others over the years) prompted the Canadian Transportation Agency, which holds the responsibility for licensing airlines in Canada, to investigate, assess and determine whether NewLeaf should be required to hold a licence itself or whether it could merely act as a reseller of seats on Flair’s aircraft. A determination by the Agency was handed down in late March 2016 (Canadian Transportation Agency, 2016). It stated that NewLeaf, in acting as a reseller, did not have to hold a licence covering its activities of selling seats on aircraft owned by Flair. Flair, on the other hand, did require a licence (which at the time it already held). Further, the Agency noted that NewLeaf is not permitted, under this arrangement, to either market or position itself in the marketplace as an airline. With respect to consumer protection (e.g. lost luggage, as mentioned above), the Agency stated that it has no jurisdiction over consumer complaints for resellers which do not hold a licence, and thus national and any local consumer protection laws for travel intermediaries (if they exist provincially) would in those cases be the appropriate pathway for complaints against NewLeaf (unlike Flair, where relevant complaints can be heard via the Agency as it holds the operating licence). This example underscores how changing business models often clash with existing regulations, and thus can have a significant impact on tourist mobilities. Here, a company (NewLeaf) was entering the marketplace as a travel intermediary using (wet leasing) equipment from another company (Flair) who possessed aircraft, thus being classified as an ‘Indirect Air Service Provider’

under Canadian regulations. For Canadian regulators, the question was to what effect, if any, such arrangements might have in the future. When the cost of establishing a new airline is so large given the capital requirements, how might this ultimately impact on the (potential mass) mobility of Canadian consumers and tourists? What can be concluded from this brief review of regulation? Put simply, that modern (mass) touristic mobilities are a function of negotiation and regulation as opposed to natural fluid, friction-free movements. Where there are numerous examples of how disruptive technologies and business practices can create new opportunities for engaging with customers and develop interactions using technology, one has to wonder what directions may be next for the tourism–transport interface. It is precisely this kind of opportunity to which this chapter now turns.

Innovation and Disruption in Transport Regulation: Implications for Tourism The previous discussion on the meaning of NewLeaf as a business model underpins new forms of competition (but not necessarily innovation) in commercial activities that can impact mass tourism mobilities. The point that there are new competitive ideas present and forthcoming, and how regulation and policy cannot keep pace, can be further illustrated with two examples that are intertwined, to some extent, but nevertheless represent different regulatory levels. The first is the shape of competition that touches countries as a whole and how these are perceived, regulated and lobbied by an incumbent service provider. The example offered is the suggestion by the three large US airlines (Delta, United and American) that the three large Middle Eastern (or ‘Gulf ’) carriers (Etihad, Emirates and Qatar) unfairly (allegedly) compete on routes involving the US market. It becomes, as is shown, somewhat of a question of the interpretation of regulation and its intent, both of which have strong implications for mass tourism. The second is the increasing presence of ride-sharing services such as Uber, suggesting that such intra-destination mobility could alter how mobilities are manifested within destinations.



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Challenging the regulations of (mass) mobility flows: United Arab Emirates (UAE) versus the USA The USA entered into an air services agreement with the UAE in 2002. The agreement (US-UAE Air Transport Agreement, 2002) allows for common, but arguably still liberal, passenger traffic routing rights (often called traffic rights). These allow an airline designated by the UAE to transit passengers: (i) from a point behind the UAE to the USA; (ii) from a point between the UAE and the USA to the USA; (iii) from the UAE to the USA and a point beyond the USA; or (iv) any combination of the above. The power of such routing for mass tourism – when combined with the branding and excellent service reputation of certain Middle East carriers – becomes immediately apparent. What this means is that UAE carriers can funnel passengers from other points in the world where they operate to the USA via their own hub in the UAE. The air service agreement in place between the two states, then, facilitates broad movement possibility for tourists around the world. At the time of writing, Gulf carriers (which include Qatar) operate approximately 200 flights per week to the USA, involving 12 cities (Reuters, 2015). As mentioned, in itself such routing parameters within an air service agreement are reasonably common. Some agreements, as is the case with this one, also often allow for multiple designations and unrestricted capacity, meaning that each state can designate as many airlines as it wishes to exercise these rights and as often as is commercial viable. In 2015, three large US airlines, independently and through a unified lobby group (Partnership for Open and Fair Skies, a formal coalition of American, Delta and United airlines, along with several other professional aviation-related associations), argued that the competitive playing field is not level, suggesting that Gulf carriers in general receive subsidies from their respective governments and are not subject to information disclosure regarding profits and earnings (Partnership for Open and Fair Skies, 2015). According to Emirates (as reported by Walker, 2015), these US carriers argue that Article 11 of, for instance, the UAE agreement concerning ‘fair competition’ is violated by the actions and business practices of the respective airlines (Emirates and Etihad, in the case of the UAE–US agreement). Article 11 states, in part, that ‘Each Party shall allow a fair and equal opportunity for the designated

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airlines of both Parties to compete in providing the international air transportation governed by this Agreement.’ (US-UAE Air Transport Agreement, 2002). The phrase ‘fair and equal opportunity’ denotes the hopeful creation of a level playing field (de Wit, 2014) which, as CAPA (2015a) has pointed out, is somewhat ‘elusive’. A 28 January 2015 White Paper issued by the Partnership for Open and Fair Skies indicates that the fair and equal opportunity provision is cast aside given the subsidies that, they claim, shroud the true operational performance of Gulf carriers, such that: the governments of Qatar and the UAE must accept the obligations that come with these ­benefits, including the obligation to allow the airlines of the other party ‘a fair and equal’ opportunity to compete – a commitment that is inconsistent with the massive subsidies that these governments are providing to their airlines. (Partnership for Open and Fair Skies, 2015: 5)

Emirates argues that it is not, in fact, subsidized, and that it operates like any other business where there is an expectation to generate profits (Emirates, 2012, 2015). The aforementioned White Paper from the Partnership for Open and Fair Skies (2015: 1) argues that Gulf states: have created vertically-integrated, wholly state-owned aviation sectors that include monopoly service providers and complex interrelationships between their government institutions, airlines, ground handlers, airports, and state-owned banks. State-owned Qatar Airways (Qatar), Etihad Airways (Etihad) and Emirates Airline (Emirates) (collectively, the Gulf carriers) are the key instruments of these strategies, so their government owners have fueled their operations and their rapid growth with over $40 billion in subsidies and other unfair government-conferred advantages in the last decade alone. U.S. airlines are increasingly competing with these state actors as they expand the routes and services they operate to the United States.

The intricate and complex legal and economic nuances and arguments are beyond the scope of this chapter (and even involve similar issues playing out in the European theatre through ‘Europeans for Fair Competition’, available at http:// e4fc.eu), but it would seem that mass tourism is very much shaped through competition, politics and regulation in global passenger transport. This is perhaps best encapsulated by CAPA (2015b) when they ask ‘Who owns the passenger?’

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Intra-destination mobilities: ride sharing and shifting business models Policies that address the role of transport competitiveness (usually involving deregulation) are often introduced in cities in order to generate additional economic benefits, of which tourism can be included. Often the intent is to ensure that a city provides the necessary environment to facilitate the movement of goods and people. However, as Mullen and Marsden (2015: 2) argue, comparing cities to companies is ‘misleading’ as there is often not a zero-sum game for competition between and among cities. Such realities notwithstanding, the benefits to tourism as a result of being slotted into wider policy agendas that focus on transport and its role in competitiveness (however defined) and economic development in urban environments is paramount. Tourism and non-tourism economies/industries sit in parallel but are often rarely considered as such in terms of policy. It is thus crucial for those with a vested interest in tourism development to be fully invested in discussions where transport and competitiveness are assessed, especially given that transport has been recognized as a key factor in tourism competitiveness (see, for instance, Das and Dirienzo, 2012; Leung and Baloglu, 2013; Webster and Ivanov, 2014). Urban mobility and linkages to transport for the benefit of economic development have been well established (e.g. Knowles and Ferbrache, 2015; Mullen and Marsden, 2015). Further, it is well known that tourists utilize local transport options when available (e.g. Lumsdon et al., 2006; Thompson and Schofield, 2007), which can have substantial efficiency and ecological benefits (Le-Klähn and Hall, 2015). Not surprisingly, shifts in the provision of public transport will have consequential impacts for tourist mobility within destinations. The sharing economy is one area where such shifts are taking place. Airbnb, for instance, offers travellers the opportunity to book private accommodation online. This type of service is essentially a peer-to-peer model where potential guests and hosts are revealed to each other prior to the transaction (Economist, 2013). The advantage to both parties is that each can ascertain whether they wish to enter into a transaction with the other on the basis of previous rankings. Similar initiatives are at work in transportation. Uber offers the same opportunity to passengers who would have otherwise used public transport,

taxis or rental cars (in urban destinations). The service attempts to make the relationship between riders and drivers more efficient and friction-free. Riders can see information about their driver, get a quote for the service requested (mobility from one point to another, usually within an urban environment) and then book the service using their smartphone. Writing in the Harvard Business Review, Christensen et al. (2015) point out that Uber is not necessarily offering a service where none existed previously, but has rather attempted to innovate and offer better service (and sometimes price) in an industry (taxi services) which has hitherto been notoriously slow to innovate. Uber as a concept in alternative transportation helps us frame how regulatory shifts might also impact on global (tourist) mobilities. The process behind Uber is cleverly ‘bottom up’, with new thinking challenging existing regulations. The implications that NewLeaf and Uber bring for mass tourism, then, have the potential to be quite striking. For one, governments will (as they do already) struggle to craft regulation comfortably ahead of shifting business models. This will ultimately play a role in mass-tourist dispersal ­patterns internationally as well as between and within destinations. Second, new business models in transport may have the potential to engage with new markets and offer ancillary services where they had previously not been possible. As an example, and in place of regular passenger transport based on existing schedules, imagine the possibility of crowd sourcing potential vacation destinations through social media that ties in closely to on-demand sharing of economy-­ based transport modes (such as buses or even chartered aircraft). Travel intermediaries may potentially become less and less involved in itinerary construction as sharing tools up-end their user value by leveraging ubiquitous technology.

Conclusion: New Directions for Tourism and Transport Looking forward, we can identify ‘knowns’ and ‘unknowns’ (classified as such thanks to former US Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld) in the service of shaping future research endeavours. Two obvious ‘knowns’ can be identified. First, there is a one-to-one, synergistic relationship between transport and tourism, as stated at the ­outset of this chapter. Most forms of tourism require some



Transport and Tourism: The Perpetual Link

degree of transport that operates at various scales and utilizes various business models (some profitable, some subsidized). This facilitates a bidirectional relationship in terms of impact, significance and consequence. Shifts in tourism, in other words, have a high probability of influencing the provision of one or more forms of transport. Second, that relationship is fundamentally acknowledged, thus it is no longer necessary to underline the need for a comprehensive understanding as, quite simply, we are there. What is not known, or perhaps not as well understood, is more subtle and warrants additional investigation. For one, we do not yet have a full appreciation of the direction of some relationships where transport and tourism are linked more than just in concept. For instance, how quickly can transport providers react to shifts in demand, which is rendered particularly problematic given fixed capacity that is entrusted to provide financial returns at an almost constant level (else there results in a substantial impact to the operating margin). Second, we do not yet know the precise means by which consumerism and competition should be balanced against the wider net social benefits of ensuring accessibility and connectivity. In other words and as Stucke (2013) asks, is competition always good? Put another way: is it better to have a functional duopoly in air service provision in a country or deregulate and allow more pronounced ebbs and flows in service provision that hinders any sense of reliability in terms of accessibility? The intent of this chapter has been to underscore the reality that modern mass tourism mobilities are very much shaped by regulatory institutions and interpretation. In some respects, these regulations and their respective application are at odds with tourism mobilities.

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As pointed out with respect to the Gulf carrier debate, a critical question that remains, and one which vexes policy makers, is as follows: what variables get included in a model that determines whether consumer interests are put above commercial interests, or vice versa? Answering such a question necessarily requires multiple perspectives. The lens utilized in this chapter is grounded in traditions of law, politics, economics and transport geography as opposed to mobilities-infused disciplines such as sociology. Whereas the latter is more concerned with mobilities as representations and ‘playgrounds’ of modernity and all the sociocultural markers that conveniently apply, the former is an attempt to capture the more vital spatial manifestations (and interruptions) of ‘mobility’ as an economic concept that gives rise to the social process that is mass tourism. To this end, in the same manner in which Cohen and Cohen (2015) argue for a mobilities framework for emerging markets (ironic given such markets often pattern their development after more developed examples, and notwithstanding the problematic geographical, anthropological and developmental distinction of ‘emerging’), there is a need for a new way of framing ‘mass’ tourism given transport is both re-shaping time and distance (and perceptions thereof) (Liu et al., 2015) and challenging economic growth and development trajectories (see O’Connor and Fuellhart, 2015). In other words, the mass tourism growth heralded in the 1950s in the USA is hardly reminiscent of what can be called mass tourism in India funded by economic development aid from China. Where there are similarities, however, is the vector by which such movement is facilitated.

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Mass Tourism and China

Chris Ryan* China–New Zealand Tourism Research Unit, The University of Waikato Management School, Waikato, New Zealand

Introduction The purpose of this chapter is to describe mass tourism as it relates to China. As the first section of this chapter indicates, the numbers of domestic, outbound and inbound tourists are measured by the 100 million – indeed for domestic tourism, by the billions. However, it is not solely the numbers of tourists that are large, but also the rate of growth. The chapter will then provide a brief background to that growth, noting in particular the role of government policy given the status of the tourism industry as an officially recognized pillar of the Chinese economy since the Ninth Five Year Plan was announced in 1998. Finally it will briefly survey the literature relating to Chinese tourist behaviours and mass tourism. As in many other countries, several consequences result from a growth in tourism. These are the social, environmental, economic and issues of well-being – all of which have attracted the attention of Chinese and other scholars. China, however, has several unique factors. One specific to the country is that of the Golden Week holiday periods, and this too is examined in the following text. Other factors emerge from the role of the government, which in China under President Xi Jingping is seemingly turning to the mechanism of a state-owned enterprise (Li et al., 2016) as a means of creating a ‘socialist market

place’ and achieving the ‘moderately prosperous China’ that Xi wrote about in his book The Governance of China (Xi, 2014).

Statistical Data Any concept of ‘mass tourism’ implies ‘large numbers’, and that terminology of ‘large numbers’ aptly describes the state of Chinese tourism, both domestic and outbound. Yet it is not only the numbers of Chinese tourists that are significant, but also (as noted above) the rate of growth and the fact that such numbers are but an indication of the potential numbers of tourists yet to come. The figures are themselves significant. According to the yearly reports published by the China Tourism Academy/National Tourism Data Centre (CTA/NTDC), effectively the research arm of the China National Tourism Administration (CNTA), from 2012 to 2015, the numbers of domestic tourism trips increased by approximately 1 billion in each of the 4 years to reach a total of 4 billion by 2015. Popular locations such as the Forbidden Palace in Beijing have been known to be closed to tourists during the peak period of the Golden Weeks holiday to avoid exceeding social and physical carrying capacities. Today visitation is kept to a maximum of

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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80,000 visitors a day (CNTA, 2016b). At almost any of the major Chinese tourist attractions the numbers of tourists continue to climb. The China Travel Market estimates that each year an additional 25 million Chinese are added to the total market by making their first recreational/leisure trip, and holiday taking is becoming a part of the annual expectations of a growing number of Chinese consumers (Chow, 2011). Examining Chinese statistics on any industry is always an exercise of careful reading, and tourism is no different. Thus Arramberri and Xie (2012), when drawing on CNTA statistics, reported that in 1994 a total of 524 million Chinese undertook domestic trips. Taking into account the size of the Chinese population and the state of the Chinese economy in 1994, this would have meant that about half of the C ­ hinese population was actually taking holidays. On the other hand, according to World Bank (2016) data, about 57% of the Chinese population at that time (1994) was on incomes of less than US$1.90 per day, so one might query such statistics as that just cited. The point, however, is not just one of statistics. Such has been the growth of the Chinese economy the World Bank (2016) now reports that just about 10% of the Chinese population is still at that level of poverty. As anyone who has been travelling to China in the last few decades can testify, the acquisition of wealth and the emergence of an affluent, and particularly urban middle class, has been astonishing in a relatively short period of time (Brown, 2014). In October 2015 a report by Davies et al. (2015) of Credit Suisse estimated that the number of middle-class Chinese had just exceeded those of the same status in the USA, being 109 million as against the 92 million in the USA. Yet what possibly is even more significant is that, according to Song and Cui (2016), the number of Chinese middle class could be as high as 340 million by 2017, in short a threefold increase despite the slow-down in growth in Chinese gross domestic product (GDP) under the ‘new normal’ conditions of Xi Jingping. For many years surveys of Chinese domestic and outbound tourists have shown that such tourists tend to be drawn from the average to above-average income groups, and it is not uncommon that two-thirds of them have received a university education. These are the beneficiaries of China’s

economic growth (Ryan and Gu, 2008; Arlt, 2016), and given current plans to continue to expand the number of places available in Chinese universities, especially in postgraduate education, one can expect to see a continued expansion in the numbers able to obtain occupations and levels of pay that will permit leisure travel (China Ministry of Education, 2016). However, one caveat is that there is more than one ‘middle class’. As Song and Cui (2016) comment, the lower middle class account for approximately 44% of the total, but many are poised to enter the ‘middle middle class’, therefore having an income of approximately US$12,000– 25,000 per annum. In short, within relatively short periods of time the numbers able to take holidays will increase two to three times the present numbers. In addition repeat travel within a 12 month period will become more common. Nor is such mass tourism restricted to domestic tourism. Arlt (2016: 4) writes that ‘Since 2012, China can also claim to be the biggest international outbound tourism source market’ and he goes on to note that China accounted for one in ten of all border crossings occurring globally. In 2015 the total number of outbound visits exceeded the 117 million of 2014 – early estimates indicate possibly 130 million outbound trips. However, as is well known, a greater part of the outbound numbers comprises those crossing the borders of China into Hong Kong, and particularly until limits were imposed on visas, to Macau. The latter city state had attracted as many as 21.2 million Chinese tourists by 2014 (Macau Statistics and Census Department, 2016) following the granting of licences to the international casino chains, but the social costs caused by too much gaming caused the Chinese authorities to limit the numbers of visits Chinese individuals could make to Macau in 2014. However, in July 2015 the Chinese government relaxed the restrictions and numbers recovered, much to the relief of the gaming industry and its shareholders (Bland, 2015) and by the end of the year Chinese Mainland arrivals had reached 20.2 million (Macau Statistics and Census Department, 2016). Chinese tourists to Macau account for about twothirds of all arrivals to the city state (Macau Statistics and Census Department, 2016) and more than three-quarters of Hong Kong’s total arrivals (Hong Kong Tourist Board, 2016). However, Hong Kong has a high rate of daily cross-border



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numbers and additionally Chinese outbound statistics are based on the first stop, and many Chinese stop in the city en route to other destinations. Hence Chinese statistics may overestimate the role of Hong Kong as a destination. As noted below, a better measure is overnight stays, while a further check is provided by using the statistics of tourist-receiving countries. That growth of Chinese outbound tourism is forecast to continue to grow is easily understood when one appreciates that only about 7.6% of Chinese are currently travelling overseas (Meesak, 2015). The Chinese are also much sought-after tourists as: (i) they are high spenders with cash available for purchasing; (ii) they have a culture of gift giving; (iii) they have a desire for ‘face’ or prestige (mianzi) that comes from being able to travel overseas; (iv) there is an expanding network of aircraft connections that increasingly are also flying from second- and third-tier cities in addition to the traditional points of departure in Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou; and (v), as discussed below, Chinese social and political policies favour a growth of tourism. By 2015 the most popular ‘foreign’ countries visited by Chinese were South Korea (in part influenced by South Korean soap operas and their popularity on television), Thailand (much influenced by the popularity of the film Lost in Thailand), and Taiwan, with Japan and Singapore following. As with much tourism there is a pronounced seasonality in such patterns of tourism, and the shadow of Golden Week holidays lays over Chinese outbound as well as domestic tourism. The Festival of Chinese New Year/Spring Festival holiday is the longest of the public holidays, lasting as it does for 15 days. For those of school age the holidays can last up to a month. This produces a particular surge in Chinese outbound tourism, and for some countries in the southern hemisphere such as Australia and New Zealand it has generated concerns about capacity as February is a peak season summer month. Indeed in 2016 Tourism New Zealand switched much of its marketing budget towards off-peak season marketing initiatives in the face of growing concerns about over-stretched facilities and carrying capacities during the late summer period (Tourism New Zealand, 2015; Wood, 2015). As an aside, there has been some debate within the literature as to whether there are differences of motives among Chinese who choose to travel

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to Western countries as against those travelling within Asia (e.g. see Spark and Pan, 2009, on visitors to Australia; and Li and Ryan, 2014, on Chinese visitors to North Korea). The concept of the travel career ladder (Pearce, 1988) based on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs suggests that the Chinese may initially wish to travel to locations within a frame of familiarity, that is to other Asian countries of similar culture and often using a common base in a written language. By the same token the lure of the unfamiliar will attract some, and Pearce’s theoretical model would indicate that as people became more confident in their ability to handle overseas travel, so they would wish to explore further afield. Another factor is the role of Chinese family values, where families may wish to explore familial relationships arising from past migrations (Lew and Wong, 2002; Chang, 2008). Hsu et al. (2007) suggest this may be one motive that can induce the more elderly Chinese to travel to locations such as the USA. Generally though, it seems that much existing literature has been led by marketing imperatives, where motives have been explained by the attractiveness of a destination’s assets to a Chinese market, rather than seeking more generic motives from Chinese tourists as to reasons for their choice of destination. Finally, just to complete the record of this statistical overview of China and tourism, a brief note on the numbers of those arriving in China. In terms of arrivals to China, in 2015 total tourist arrivals were approximately 133 million, a growth of 4.1% over the previous year (CNTA, 2016a). However, the numbers of arrivals are slightly misleading because of the high levels of cross-border traffic between Hong Kong and Macau, and a better figure for understanding the growth is to concentrate on the numbers arriving and requiring overnight accommodation. In 2015, these numbered 56.8 million, of which 27.1 million came from Hong Kong and 4.7 million from Macau. Due to the Chinese government’s policy of ‘One China’ those arriving from Taiwan are also counted separately, and these numbered 4.8 million. Thus of the total overnight arrivals ‘foreign tourists’ (i.e. those not associated with the wider ‘Chinese territories’) accounted for 20.3 million. Of these some 16 million came from other parts of Asia, notably South Korea. China is also receiving increasing numbers of arrivals from the newly emergent

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nations (i.e. emergent in terms of growing GDP), and thus in 2015 Vietnamese arrivals grew by 26.4% to achieve a total of 216,000 tourists, marginally more in fact than arrivals from the USA (CNTA, 2016a). While the Chinese authorities publish readily accessible data on the numbers of arrivals – both total and those requiring overnight stays – it is a little more difficult to specify where these visitors go, or indeed the purpose of their trips. For example, assessing the China National Tourism Administration data set on 10 February 2016, revealed that the largest single purpose for ‘foreign arrivals’ was ‘other’ – just exceeding the number designated as visiting for purposes of sightseeing and leisure (CNTA, 2016a).

Political and Economic Factors All governments tend to play some role in tourism, if only in terms of financing marketing promotion to address the need to coordinate the efforts of many small business units that otherwise would be unable to effectively promote themselves. The same issues arise in China, but the government goes very much beyond this. Reference has been made to the Golden Weeks, and this represented one of the earlier central government initiatives in tourism. The current system dates from 1999 when the government sought to ensure that as many people as possible should benefit from the growing economy, but also doubtful as to whether all employers would actually provide paid holiday leave. By establishing periods of paid holiday leave at a set time it became possible to better ensure compliance – and comparisons can be made with the Wake holiday periods of Victorian Britain. At the same time it became easier for the factories, especially in Guangdong, to plan production schedules knowing that they would close at specific periods. However, an immediate catalyst for the system of holidays was the Asian Financial Crisis. In October 1999, China’s central government authorities responded to a perceived threat to financial stability by revising the Regulation on National Festival and Memorial Day Public Holidays which took effect from May 2000 – the idea being to counter a feared drop in exports by creating an impetus to consumer-led

demand in China (Yan and Zhang, 2010). With regard to this, it needs to be remembered that with the culture of gift giving, Chinese tourists spend heavily while on holiday. To that end three main holiday periods were created, namely: (i) Chinese New Year; (ii) National Day; and (iii) Labour Day. The last Golden Week was reformed in 2007 after a long debate that recognized a need for personal choice in holiday periods, and a wish to counter the congestion and transport disruption that remains a characteristic of the remaining Golden Weeks. The Labour Day holiday was replaced by a single day’s holiday on 1 May, and additional 1-day holidays for Tomb Sweeping Day (Qing Ming), Dragon Boat Festival Day and Mid-Autumn Festival. Chinese New Year is the longest of these holidays and many are able to take up to 2 weeks of holiday by combining the statutory leave with personal holiday entitlements. Wang (2016) estimated that in the period of the 2016 Chinese New Year some 2.91 billion trips would be undertaken by Chinese, with 6 million Chinese taking overseas holidays during the Golden Week itself. It was also estimated that the Chinese account for 30% of the global luxury goods market and Wang cites the specific marketing policies of several large US shopping malls that are oriented towards the outbound Chinese over this specific period (Wang, 2016). The significance of tourism being recognized as a ‘pillar’ of the Chinese economy in the Ninth Five Year Plan cannot be underestimated due to the ways in which the Chinese administrative structure works. While it had been evident for a decade that tourism was fast becoming a major industry, the CNTA did not rank highly among the hierarchy of Ministries and other administrative bodies at national and regional levels. In the mixture of Ministries associated with economic planning, transport, infrastructure, heritage and culture, the CNTA lacked sufficient status to create as coordinated an effort as it would have wished. Hence, in the world of Chinese administration, the inauguration of the CNTA NTDC (National Tourism Data Centre) in December 2015 has a symbolic significance of the growing status of the industry, and practical implications in increasing its prestige among the civil administrations of China. That significance had also been signalled a month earlier with the release of the 13th Five



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Year Plan, which clearly stated the role of tourism as an economic driver within the Chinese economy. Many reasons dictated this reinforcement of past policy, but most come down to economic and social imperatives. The past growth of the Chinese economy in the early 1990s had come from the rural sector, to then being followed by investment in the manufacturing industry that in turn drove an export-led economic growth. To simplify matters the lesson that the Chinese government took from the 2008 Global Financial Crisis was that it could not depend alone on a demand for its exports, but it needed to generate a consumer-led growth. Promoting tourism, both domestic and inbound, was consistent both with an economic need and with delivering a better quality of life for Chinese citizens. There is also a clear recognition of the ‘soft power’ that Chinese tourism possesses. Hence Dai et al. (2013) clearly write of the role of tourism within negotiations of Approved Destination Status as a means of disseminating Chinese culture and values, including gaining permission for the transmission of Chinese television channels in those countries with which it conducts negotiations. Much of their argument can also be referenced to domestic tourism as cultural and heritage tourism reinforces notions of being ‘Chinese’ while Red Tourism specifically exists to tell the story of the foundation of the New China in 1949. The 13th Five Year Plan specifically highlighted not only a series of general infrastructure proposals but set targets for the cruise tourism industry and campsites while establishing new criteria for visitor information centres and toilets. It also reinforced the poverty alleviation aspects of tourism policy by setting targets for 2017 and 2020 by stating: By 2020 there will be over 6000 Rural Tourism Model Villages, 100,000 Villages featured in the Leisure Agriculture and Rural Tourism Plan, and 3 million farmers’ home-stay – the aim is for more than two billion tourist arrivals from which 50 million farmers will benefit; by encouraging and supporting rural tourism entrepreneurs with guidance and training for returning migrant workers, university graduates and professionals to establish businesses by 2017 promoting poverty alleviation programs especially through rural tourism development for those at grass-root level and whole communities and to provide

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wealth-creation opportunities for the ­under-privileged. By 2020, it is expected that 2,000,000 villagers in poverty will be better off and poverty will be reduced in 6000 key villages through rural tourism, achieving an annual revenue CNY 1,000,000. (Section 15, 13th Five Year Plan, CCP, 2016)

Finally, with reference to the Approved Destination Status (ADS) agreements, it should be noted that these too were a means by which the Chinese government sought to initially control and protect its citizens. The history of ADS is generally well known and there is little point of repeating the points made by authorities such as Arlt (2016). Starting with cautious experiments that permitted Chinese citizens to visit relatives living in Hong Kong, Macau and Singapore (at the relatives’ expense) ADS agreements had expanded to about 146 in number with different countries by 2014, and ADS agreements are still being negotiated in Latin America and Africa. Effectively these mean that for the Chinese citizen possession of a passport is not sufficient in most cases to travel overseas. There is a need to apply for a visa, and there may or may not be conditions associated with the visa as to whether, for example, free independent travel is permitted, or whether one can only travel in a group. In return the destination country will agree to conditions, and a common one is that the 2013 Chinese Travel Law will be complied with. In outline, this states: (i) conditions that relate to the advertising of tours; (ii) that advertised itineraries must be complied with; and (iii) that tour agents, operators and guides must be certified. It was in part initiated to address the problems of below-cost discounted shopping tours – that is tours promoted at below travel costs with profits being made from commissions paid by retailers who were often selling over-priced and below-­ normal-quality goods to Chinese shoppers. (For an example from New Zealand, see the case the Commerce Commission vs BVG International Ltd in the Auckland District Court (case number CRI-2012-004-017226) where the defendants pleaded guilty to selling Peruvian alpaca rugs as being ‘Pure New Zealand’ at prices two to three times more than the normal retail price found elsewhere to Asian tourists.) Unfortunately, despite the Chinese Law and the efforts of the authorities, such practices continue to be found in many countries.

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The Impacts of Mass Chinese Tourism In the wider literature (and in other chapters in this book), the merits and disadvantages of mass tourism have long been identified. For example, Sir George Young’s book, Tourism: Blessing or Blight was published in 1973, and the modern reader will find the precursor of many arguments that remain current. While the economic arguments of job creation and additional income, especially in otherwise marginal areas, are still used to defend tourism initiatives, and especially so in the poverty alleviation programmes of rural China (Gao et al., 2009; Su, 2011; Zeng and Ryan, 2012), it is also recognized that economic disadvantages can also follow. Commonly used arguments include tourism causing: (i) increasing house and land prices; (ii) the possibility of Dutch disease where tourism may crowd out other economic activities – including the possibility of more profitable uses of investment funds; (iii) the displacement of agriculture in rural areas by tourism, hence leading to an increase in food prices; and (iv) a widening wealth divide between the more and less entrepreneurial (Dwyer et al., 2000; Chang et al., 2011). Of specific concern in China is a divide between residents and outside businesses attracted to an area, where the external businesses have better access to investment funds, to the chain of distribution including tour operators, and easier access to promotional channels that primarily benefit the businesses rather than the residents in the destination. By the same token, local businesses become marginalized both spatially and economically as tourist destinations evolve (Smith, 1992; Oppermann, 1993; Li et al., 2016). (a)

Equally, the social costs and benefits have also been well researched, and indeed Mathieson and Wall’s 1982 book, Tourism: Economic, Physical and Social Impacts established a list of consequences that still remain relevant. These include, for example, the encouragement of traditional arts, performances and rites, and equally the danger of commercialization and emasculation of such activities. These early works are echoed today in the Chinese literature. For example Che and Zhao (2009) discuss the impacts of tourism around Lake Erhai in Dali, while Li (2003) throws doubt on the economic impacts of tourism in rural Shilin. None the less Chinese mass tourism bears consequences not envisaged in those early Western works, if only because of the sheer numbers of tourists, and the cultural and social context within which Chinese tourists operate. First, it needs to be noted that the Chinese government is aware that the very behaviour of China’s new tourists has attracted criticism. Chinese tourists have been characterized: (i) as being loud, noisy, pushy and oblivious to local traditions of queuing; (ii) of simply wanting to collect photographs of themselves at places; (iii) of being insensitive to the traditions of the place that they visit; and (iv)  of spitting in the street and of engaging in other unhygienic practices including urinating in public places (Chio, 2010). The foreign visitor to China might be slightly bemused by signs such as that shown in Fig. 13.1 (showing instructions on how to be a ‘good tourist’), but prior to the Beijing 2008 Olympic Games the authorities sought to educate Chinese how to behave, and still provide advice and guidance for its citizens as tourists when travelling domestically or overseas. If tourism policies are about ‘soft power’

(b)

Fig. 13.1.  Set of instructions on how to be a ‘good tourist’ found at the Dayan Pagoda Cultural and Leisure Spot in the centre of the Tourist Zone of Xi’an. (a) The engraved stone with instructions in Chinese on the left and in English on the right. (b) Close up of the English translation.



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the Chinese government is very aware of the problems caused by perceptions of badly behaved Chinese tourists (Zhang, 2011). A second issue is that the Chinese are well used to the conditions created by large numbers of people. Any visitors standing in queues for trains and buses, or simply seeing the numbers crowded onto the buses in China’s major cities will quickly realize that the Chinese are used to being part of a mass. Figure 13.2 shows the queue for the lifts at Huangshan in the late spring of 2015, and outside a major holiday period. The Chinese possess a tolerance for large crowds, and indeed for the noise and pushiness that is often associated with such queues. Equally, within the domain of domestic Chinese tourism, it is the authors’ observation that there remains truth in Sofield and Li’s statement that ‘For Chinese, it may be sufficient simply to visit a forest resort and, surrounded by the forests, enjoy playing cards, mahjong or karaoke in the air-conditioned comfort of built facilities’ (Sofield and Li, 2003: 150). The first author has

Fig. 13.2.  Queue for gondola lift, Huangshan, 2015.

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wondered, in the small villages and hutong that have become tourism attractions for heritage and cultural reasons, and which he has visited several times, how local residents seem to live a life seemingly unconcerned with the numbers that surround them. Yet to some extent that perception is false, and survey work undertaken in the Huizhou villages of Anhui and the Beijing hutong (Gu and Ryan, 2008, 2010) show that residents do complain of noise, congestion, litter and other problems. But mitigating factors exist. First, for many such attractions there is a temporal pattern when the village is reclaimed by residents at the end of each day as the tourists depart, and the lack of commercial holiday accommodation helps to sustain the village network of social relations. Equally, winter may seem a significant reduction in the numbers of visitors, especially in many parts of northern China, and hence again traditional patterns of life may (at least for the present) be resumed (Gu and Ryan, 2008).

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Second, there are often significant economic gains as people see their incomes and quality of life (as measured by material possessions) increasing. For a generation that is often just one removed from real poverty and but 60 years from widespread famine and social unrest, these are real gains and account for much of the positive attitude displayed towards the Chinese Communist Party. Third, and particularly in rural areas, there remains an attitude that has been described as an expectation to share in benefits, but not in processes of decision making (Stone and Wall, 2003). Yet, even this observation is subject to caveats and exceptions. The author has come across situations where, on asking a question of a local resident, he has been politely told not to ask as the speaker is a ‘small potato’ whose opinion is of no worth. On the other hand, in another village known to the author for several years, local villagers have openly protested and demonstrated against the organs of the state. In other cases tourism has actually helped to empower local residents due to systems of local village democracy. Chen et al. (2013) describe such a situation in the village of Lange Miao where an elected village committee organizes the village’s tourism product. Similarly, Yi (2016) describes equivalent organizations in Shangdong Province in Hekou fishing village. On the other hand, Li et al. (2016) suggest that under the current Xi administration there seems to be a move to a model of state-owned enterprises (SOEs) as being best positioned to promote tourism. This suggestion is based in part on observations in: (i) the Huizhou villages of Anhui and the replacement of the village committee that once ran tourism in the UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) World Heritage Village of Xidi by the SOE, the Huihuang Tourism Group; (ii) the introduction of the Qiyunshan Tourism Group to the village of Qiyunshan; and (iii) the role of

companies like the Golden Peacock Company in Yunnan and the Wuzhen Tourism Co. Ltd in Zhejiang. SOEs may be best to promote tourism but the question is very much as to whose interests these companies serve? Many would suggest that the interests of local residents may be secondary (Stone and Wall, 2003; Wu et al., 2013). This seems to be, if the suggestion is valid, a reversal of the experimentations in local village democracies that commenced in the mid-1980s, and indeed towards the end of the Jiang Zemin era was being hailed as a potential model for townships (Fewsmith, 2013; Brown, 2014). Equally, as evidenced by Bao and Zou (2013), Li et al. (2016) and others, such a move leaves open a possibility for corruption.

Conclusion The very juxtaposition of the words ‘mass’ and ‘tourism’ seem very appropriate when describing the tourism industry of China. Heritage villages of 40 or so households host a million visitors, scenic areas are visited by more millions, and the shopping malls of California, Seoul and Tokyo host and wish to attract yet more Chinese shoppers. This chapter has sought to indicate the numbers and challenges due to China’s emergence on the global tourism market – but it is little more than an indication. The national parks of China, like Huangshan, swarm with tourists and the majority enjoy the visual splendour of clouds and peaks as they wend their away along carefully constructed walk and stair ways. The Chinese concept of a harmony between landscape and human activity is seemingly little challenged by these numbers, but such tourists are accompanied by the noise of happy chatter, the click of cameras, but hardly by the song of birds, the scream of monkeys or the sight of birds of prey.

References Arlt, W.G. (2016) China’s outbound tourism: history, current development, and outlook. In: Li, R. (ed.) Chinese Outbound Tourism 2.0. Apple Academic Press, Inc., Oakville, Ontario, Canada, pp. 3–20. Arramberri, J. and Xie, Y. (2012) Modern mass tourism in China: some theoretical issues. In: Hsu, C.H.C. and Gartner, W.C. (eds) The Routledge Handbook of Tourism Research. Routledge, London, pp. 27–41.



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Bao, J. and Zou, B. (2013) Institutional opportunism in tourism investment. In: Ryan, C. and Huang, S. (eds) Tourism in China: Destinations, Planning and Experiences. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK, pp. 38–54. Bland, B. (2015) Macau casinos start winning after reversal in China visa policy. Financial Times, 2 July. Available at: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/8b3a7d44-2071-11e5-aa5a-398b2169cf79.html#axzz41mZAVkeR (accessed 28 February 2016). Brown, K. (2014) Carnival China: China in the Era of Hu Jintao and Xi Jingping. Imperial College Press, London. Chang, J.J., Lu, L.J. and Hu, S.W. (2011) Congestion externalities of tourism, Dutch disease and optimal taxation: macroeconomic implications. Economic Record 87(276), 90–108. Chang, L.T. (2008) Factory Girls: Voices from the Heart of Modern China. Picador, New York. Che, Z. and Zhao, S. (2009) Advantages and disadvantages of tourism development to traditional village scenes: taking the area around Erhai Lake in Dali as an example. Huazhing Architecture, 25 March. (In Mandarin) Chen, Z., Li, L. and Li, T. (2013) The organizational evolution, systematic construction and empowerment significance of Langde Miao’s community tourism. Tourism Tribune 28(6), 75–86. (Original in Mandarin.) China Ministry of Education (2016) Educational Statistics, 2014. Ministry of Education, Beijing. Available at: http://en.moe.gov.cn/Resources/Statistics/edu_stat_2014/2014_en02/ (accessed 29 February 2016). China National Tourism Administration (CNTA) (2015) Foreign Visitor Arrivals by Purpose Jan–Sep 2015. Released 4 November 2015. CNTA, Beijing. Available at: http://en.cnta.gov.cn/Statistics/TourismStatistics/ 201511/t20151104_750748.shtml (accessed 10 March 2017). China National Tourism Administration (CNTA) (2016a) Annual Report – Tourism Statistics. National Tourism Administration/National Tourism Data Centre, Beijing. China National Tourism Administration (CNTA) (2016b) Palace Museum Announces New Exhibits + Limits Overcrowding. Available at: http://www.cnto.org/palace-museum-announces-new-exhibits-limitsovercrowding/ (accessed 28 February 2016). Chinese Communist Party (CCP) (2016) 13th Five Year Plan. Available at: http://www.china.org.cn/china/ NPC_CPPCC_2016/node_7234656.htm (accessed 11 March 2016). Chio, J. (2010) China’s campaign for civilized tourism: what to do when tourists behave badly. Anthropology News 51(8), 14–15. Chow, S. (2011) China Tourism Market Report, 2011. China On-line Marketing. Available at: http://www. china-online-marketing.com/news/china-market-news/china-tourism-market/ (accessed 28 February 2016). Dai, B., Jiang, Y., Yang, L. and Ma, Y. (2013) Stage characteristics and policy choices of China’s outbound tourism development. Tourism Tribune 28(1), 39–45. (In Mandarin.) Davies, J., Lluberas, R. and Shorrocks, A. (2015) Global Wealth Databook. Credit Suisse Research Institute, Zurich, Switzerland. Dwyer, L., Forsyth, P., Madden, J. and Spurr, R. (2000) Economic impacts of inbound tourism under different assumptions regarding the macroeconomy. Current Issues in Tourism 3(4), 325–363. Fewsmith, J. (2013) The Logic and Limits of Political Reform in China. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. Gao, S., Huang, S. and Huang, Y. (2009) Rural tourism development in China. International Journal of Tourism Research 11(5), 439–450. Gu, H. and Ryan, C. (2008) Place attachment, identity and community impacts of tourism – the case of a Beijing hutong. Tourism Management 29(4), 637–647. Gu, H. and Ryan, C. (2010) Hungcon, China – residents’ perceptions of the impacts of tourism on a rural community: a mixed methods approach. Journal of China Tourism Research 6(3), 216–244. Hong Kong Tourist Board (2016) Visitor Arrivals. Hong Kong Tourist Board, Hong Kong. Available at: http:// partnernet.hktb.com/en/research_statistics/index.html (accessed 28 February 2016). Hsu, C.H.C., Cai, L.A. and Wong, K.F. (2007) A model of senior tourism motivations – anecdotes from Beijing and Shanghai. Tourism Management 28(5), 1262–1273. Lew, A.A. and Wong, A. (2002) Tourism and the Chinese diaspora. In: Hall, C.M. and Williams, A. (eds) Tourism and Migration. Springer, Dordrecht, The Netherlands, pp. 205–219. Li, F. and Ryan, C. (2014) Chinese tourists’ motivations and satisfaction of visiting North Korea. Asia Pacific Journal of Tourism Research 20(12), 1313–1331. Li, P., Ryan, C. and Cave, J. (2016) Chinese rural tourism development: transition in the case of Qiyunshan, Anhui – 2008–2015. Tourism Management 55, 240–260. Li, Z. (2003) A preliminary study on rural tourism Shilin. Carsologica Sinica, 25 September. (In Mandarin.)

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Macau Statistics and Census Department (2016) Arrivals to Macau. Macau Statistics and Census Department, Macau. Available at: http://www.dsec.gov.mo/Statistic.aspx (accessed 28 February 2016). Mathieson, A. and Wall, G. (1982) Tourism: Economic, Physical and Social Impacts. Longman, London. Meesak, D. (2015) 7 Reasons Why the Chinese Will Boost the Global Tourism Industry. Market Report. China Outbound Tourism Research Institute, Hamburg. Available at: http://china-outbound.com/2015/10/14/27-reasons-why-the-chinese-will-boost-the-global-tourism-industry/ (accessed 10 March 2017). Oppermann, M. (1993) Tourism space in developing countries. Annals of Tourism Research 20(3), 535–566. Pearce, P. (1988) The Ulysses Factor: Evaluating Visitors in Tourist Settings. Springer Verlag, New York. Ryan, C. and Gu, H. (2008) Tourism in China: Destinations, Cultures and Communities. Routledge, New York. Smith, R.A. (1992) Beach resort evolution: implications for planning. Annals of Tourism Research 19(2), 304–322. Sofield, T. and Li, F. (2003) Processes in formulating an ecotourism policy for nature reserves in Yunnan province, China. In: Fennell, D.A. and Dowling, R.K. (eds) Ecotourism Policy and Planning. CAB ­International, Wallingford, UK. Song, K. and Cui, A. (2016) Understanding China’s middle class. China Business Review 10 February. Available at: http://www.chinabusinessreview.com/understanding-chinas-middle-class/ (accessed 11 February). Spark, B. and Pan, G.W. (2009) Chinese outbound tourists: understanding their attitudes, constraints and use of information sources. Tourism Management 30(4), 483–494. Stone, M. and Wall, G. (2003) Ecotourism and community development: case studies from Hainan, China. Environmental Management 33(1), 12–24. Su, B. (2011) Rural tourism in China. Tourism Management 32(6), 1438–1441. Tourism New Zealand (2015) Three Year Marketing Strategy FY2014–FY2016. ‘Leveraging a strong foundation to accelerate growth’. Tourism New Zealand, Auckland, New Zealand. Wang, M. (2016) As Chinese celebrate, rest of world benefits. China Daily/Xinhua (Beijing), 12 February. Wood, A. (2015) Tourism New Zealand switching off the marketing budget for summer to focus on lower seasons. Stuff.co.nz. Available at: http://www.stuff.co.nz/business/68682138/Tourism-New-Zealandswitching-off-the-marketing-budget-for-summer-to-focus-on-lower-seasons (accessed 28 February 2016). World Bank (2016) Poverty and Equity. World Bank, Washington, DC. Available at: http://povertydata.worldbank. org/poverty/country/CHN (accessed 16 February 2016). Wu, W., Zhang, L. and Qiu, F. (2013) Factors influencing tourism ticket charges in ancient villages and towns: empirical research in Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Shanghai and Anhui. Tourism Tribune 28(8), 34–41. (In Mandarin) Xi, J. (2014) The Governance of China. Foreign Languages Press, Beijing. Yan, Q.Y. and Zhang, Q.H. (2010) The determinants of the 1999 and 2007 Chinese Golden Holiday systems: a content analysis of official documentation. Tourism Management 31(6), 881–890. Yi, J. (2016) Regional tourism organisation and networks in Shandong Province, China. PhD thesis, China–New Zealand Tourism Research Unit, University of Waikato Management School, Hamilton, New Zealand. Young, G. (1973) Tourism: Blessing or Blight. Pelican, Harmondsworth, UK. Zeng, B. and Ryan, C. (2012) Assisting the poor in China through tourism development: a review of research. Tourism Management 33, 239–248. Zhang, J. (2011) Language policy and planning for the 2008 Beijing Olympics: an investigation of the discursive construction of an Olympic city and a global population. Doctoral thesis, Macquarie University, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia.

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Mass Tourism in Thailand: The Chinese and Russians

Erik Cohen* The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Israel

Introduction ‘Mass tourism’ is a ‘widely used term’ but ‘has no clearly agreed definition and content’ (Vainikka, 2013: 268). It is often considered to be self-explanatory, referring to ‘an unpleasant and an overcrowded form of tourism’ (Vainikka, 2014: 318). In this chapter, I shall use a broad definition of mass tourism as identified by large numbers, geographical and seasonal concentration, standardized services and uniform tourist activities, in a study of the characteristics and dynamics of Chinese and Russian mass tourism to Thailand. The phenomenon of mass tourism has been primarily studied in the context of the Mediterranean coastal area and, in particular, with respect to Western European seaside vacationers (Bramwell, 2004; Obrador Pons and Crang, 2009). It has been perceived as a form of tourism ‘in opposition to the classical ideas of travel and sightseeing’, and its experience ‘summarized with the three ‘S’s: sun, sea, and sand . . .’ (Obrador Pons et al., 2009: 2). In addition, the study of domestic mass tourism in non-Western countries has been initiated by Ghimire (2001). International tourism between countries in the emergent regions (Cohen and Cohen, 2015: 24–27), such as tourism between Asian countries, has as yet been relatively little studied by

social scientists. Chinese outbound tourism to the Asian region and to the West, most of it conducted in organized tours, has recently become the topic of considerable interest (e.g. Tse, 2015; Wang et al., 2015; Dai et al., 2016; Li, 2016) but the differences between Chinese mass tourists and those from other world regions have not been systemically studied from a sociological perspective. These differences will be examined here in a comparative study of Chinese mass tourism to Thailand with that from another non-Western country, Russia. The chapter is based primarily on secondary sources: statistical data, the few existent studies of these two groups, and reports in the foreign media and the English-language press in Thailand.

Background Foreign tourism to Thailand has expanded considerably over the last 30 years, although it has suffered periodic declines during the last decade, mostly owing to natural disasters and the political turbulence in the country (Cohen and Neal, 2010). In the last decade Thailand experienced a particularly rapid rise in the number of visitors from China and Russia (see Table 14.1). As airlines provided ever more charter flights to popular Thai destinations from a growing number of

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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Table 14.1.  Chinese and Russian tourist arrivals in Thailand, 2006–2015. (Compiled from different tables supplied by the Thai Department of Tourism.) Year

Chinese

Russians

Total arrivals

2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015

949,117 907,117 826,660 777,508 1,122,219 1,721,247 2,786,860 4,637,226 4,636,298 7,934,791

187,658 277,503 324,120 336,965 644,678 1,054,187 1,316,564 1,746,505 1,606,430 884,085

13,821,802 14,464,228 14,584,220 14,149,841 15,936,400 19,230,470 22,353,903 26,546,725 24,809,683 29,881,091

localities (The Nation, 2011), and as visas requirements were waived (The Nation, 2011), China and Russia became the two top source markets for tourists to Thailand from outside the South-east Asian region. Chinese and Russian tourists to Thailand share a similar background. Both groups come from ex- or post-communist countries whose citizens had been prevented from travelling abroad until the late 20th century. Both countries also have a rapidly growing new middle class which is eager to travel, but which often possesses limited cultural capital and lacks competence in the English language. Despite these similarities, however, tourists from these two countries differ significantly in some crucial respects, particularly in their motivations for visiting Thailand, in their mobility patterns, and in their propensity to create sojourning expatriate communities in the country.

Chinese Tourism to Thailand Beginnings and scope Following the gradual and selective beginnings of Chinese outbound tourism in the late 1980s (Arlt, 2006), Thailand was not only one of the first countries to which Chinese citizens were permitted to travel but which was also ready to grant them visas. Thailand has deep historical ties to China; in the past it has absorbed virtually millions of Chinese immigrants, who populated

the Thai cities and came to dominate the Thai economy (Skinner, 1957; Jomo and Folk, 2003). Many Thai of Chinese origin speak some Chinese and Chinese-owned shops and enterprises frequently carry billboards in Chinese characters. However, the newcomers, who had grown up under communism, were still strangers to the relatively open and liberal Thai society while Thai people, in turn, were unfamiliar with this new kind of Chinese visitor. The new Chinese tourists were predominantly on their first trip abroad, had limited means, and had poor knowledge about Thailand. Moreover, they sought to take in as many localities and attractions as  possible on short trips, lasting typically only 4–6 days (Chetanont, 2015: 1607; Table 14.1). The number of Chinese tourists to Thailand has expanded about eightfold over the last decade, from about 950,000 arrivals in 2006 to 7.9 million in 2015 (Table 14.1). Initially, ­Chinese tourism was mostly limited to Bangkok and the resort city of Pattaya, expanding later on to Phuket island, the main vacationing hub of southern Thailand and, more recently, to the northern city of Chiang Mai. However, this destinational concentration has diluted over time; as individual travel has increased, Chinese tourists can be found in most regions of the country. Generally, Chinese tourists had little experience of travelling abroad. They often travelled with friends, and only rarely as a family (Chetanont, 2015: 1608 and Table 2) or with children. It therefore suited them best to join group tours to Thailand. The number of such tours grew exponentially over time, and reached 80,000 in 2011 (Bangkok Post, 2011a). Travelling in groups, the Chinese visitors were exposed only minimally to the Thai environment, remaining largely ensconced in an encompassing environmental bubble (Cohen, 2004: 41). Typically, they arrived on charter flights, travelling and visiting attractions in tightly organized group excursions, staying in assigned hotels, dining in Chinese restaurants and shopping in establishments chosen by their guides. However, open access by road was recently granted to Chinese motorists travelling from Yunnan, through Laos, to northern Thailand; while only a small number of Chinese tourists arrive overland, their lack of familiarity with the Thai traffic rules provoked serious safety issues on the northern roads (Wangkiat et al., 2016).



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Nowadays, some visiting groups sponsored by Chinese enterprises have reached gigantic proportions; the sheer scope of the logistical operations involved in handling masses of Chinese visitors to Thailand can be gauged from a particular example. In May 2015, a Chinese company sent more than 12,000 of its employees, freelance sales staff and regular customers, on a 4–6-day trip to Bangkok and Pattaya. They were travelling in groups of 2000–3000 at a time. The organizers faced the task of preparing 400 coach trips, to be guided by 300 guides. A leading hotel in Pattaya planned four giant banquets for the visitors, the largest of which hosted 3935 guests. This project constituted one of the biggest ever group travel programmes to Thailand (if not to any destination on the globe) (The Daily wRap, 2015).

‘Zero-dollar’ tours As outbound tourism from China expanded, a particular form of handling the growing numbers of Chinese tourists emerged, the so-called ‘zero-dollar’ tours, whereby agencies sell prepaid, inclusive tours, priced ‘below operational costs’ and recuperating ‘by diverting tour groups to designated shops that pay sales commission to tour operators’ (Wang et al., 2015: no pagination). Although ‘purchases are at the discretion of individual shoppers, guides attempt to manipulate tourists through various selling strategies. Such practices are particularly prominent in Asian market and destination contexts’ (Wang et al., 2015: no pagination), including Thailand. The Chinese authorities have recently made efforts to regulate the ‘zero-dollar’ tours (Keewaleewongsatorn, 2013), with an as yet unclear effect. ‘Zero-dollar’ tours have also dominated Chinese group travel to Thailand during the early years of its expansion and are still prominent, despite the efforts of the authorities to suppress them (Chinmaneewong, 2015). A newspaper report succinctly describes such tours: The stereotypical Chinese group tour to Thailand is organized by a China-based company that charges a flat fee for airfare, four nights in cheap hotels in Bangkok and Pattaya beach resort, a night out to see a transvestite

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show and lots of shopping stops at low-quality jewellery stores where the Thai tour operator takes a cut from the sales. (Bangkok Post, 2011b)

Such tours remain fraught with problems and tensions in Chinese tourism to Thailand. One major source of complaints is ‘the phenomenon of [being] forced to shopping . . . seen everywhere, which distresses Chinese tourists very much’ (Yu, 2011). Another is that ‘zero-dollar’ tourists are herded into sex shows in accordance with the obligatory programme, whether they want it or not (Pattaya Today, 2015a), or forced ‘to buy optional tours or face abandonment [by illegal guides] after they are taken outside city limits’ (Chinmaneewong, 2015). Conduct Though they might be keen on visiting seaside destinations, Chinese tourists are not beach vacationers; rather, they tend to be constantly on the move, briefly visiting one attraction after the other. Haworth (2013) notes that their massive presence in Pattaya and its surroundings can be recognized by ‘car parks jammed with coaches’ in front of mostly ‘contrived’ attractions (Cohen, 2004: 300–303), such as ‘elephant shows, crocodile and snake farms, ladyboy cabarets and outlet shopping malls’ (Haworth, 2013). In an online survey by a Chinese website, which gathered 35.7 million votes, Chinese tourists placed Pattaya among the top ten destinations, and voted the ‘Pattaya floating market’, on an artificial lake, as ‘the overall best attraction’ (Khantaraphan, 2015). In recent years, the proportion of Chinese visitors travelling in groups has declined, while the number of individual visitors, who apparently possess greater tourist competence, has increased significantly. The Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT) is eager to increase the number of independent Chinese travellers, since they spend more than ordinary package tour visitors (Bangkok Post, 2011a). The fast and massive expansion of Chinese tourism in Thailand has injected money into their destinations, but has also had some problematic repercussions. As one commentator notes, the local hosts have become aware of ‘a darker side to the Chinese travel boom’. Many

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stories have appeared in the media of Chinese tourists ‘sitting anywhere they like, spitting, being loud and generally annoying others’ (­ Viboonchart, 2013). A Chinese studying in Thailand published an e-book under the pseudonym ‘Echo’ (2012), with the provocative title Pigs on the Loose, which is sharply critical of the behaviour of Chinese tourists abroad. As complaints grew, the Chinese government was moved to ‘issue guidebooks to its citizens on how to behave when overseas’ (Viboonchart, 2013). Nevertheless, with the rapid growth of Chinese tourism to Thailand, a negative stereotype of the Chinese tourist spread in the press and on social networks (Wiriyapong, 2014; Bohwongprasert, 2015), provoked by some of the visitors’ perceived misconduct: infringement on customary norms of behaviour in public places and on Thai cultural and religious taboos. They were accused of ‘uncouth behavior – spitting on the street, failing to flush the toilet, pushing in, and any number of messy dining habits’ (Yongcharoenchai, 2013: 3), and blamed for abusing Thai religious sites, such as a tourist kicking a temple bell with his foot (Svasti, 2014), and others defecating (Taipei Times, 2015) or drying underwear (Lefevre, 2015) on temple grounds. As complaints multiplied, the TAT published an etiquette manual in Chinese on appropriate tourist conduct in Thailand (Paris, 2015). However, apologists pointed out that the infringing behaviours of Chinese tourists ‘in public areas are quite common in China’ but are found abroad mainly among the ‘older generations of Chinese people’, or those who ‘hail from smaller cities or rural areas’. Conversely, the younger generation is ‘more aware of cultural sensitivities’ (Yongcharoenchai, 2013: 4). Indeed, one Thai commentator downplayed ‘the petty cultural crimes relating to the breaching of Thailand’s many taboos’ (Saiyasombut, 2015). He maintained that tourists who wash ‘their feet and shoes in hand-basins’ in a national park (or on a beach, see Tarnsirisin, 2015), are probably unaware that ‘In Thailand the foot is symbolically seen as [the] lowest part of the body, and so it is an insult to put [the foot] where someone might wash their face (the head being the highest part of the body)’ (Saiyasombut, 2015). This commentator noted that he had for years ‘witnessed foreigners of

various nationalities breaking Thai taboos in the most extreme ways, often exhibiting the embodiment of what-not-to-do-in-Thailand, yet these breaches . . . were evidently hardly ever, if at all, noteworthy’. He therefore concludes that ‘much of the vitriol towards Chinese tourists . . . is less related to “offense”, as it is to racism, and also a resentment . . . catalyzed upon China’s economic boom and its growing number of nouveau riche’ (Saiyasombut, 2015). While not as apologetic, a spokesman for the ruling military regime in Thailand stressed that ‘raising revenue from tourism is a government priority to compensate for weak capital exports’ and that ‘Thailand therefore had to tolerate bad behavior [of Chinese tourists] for the sake of its vital tourist industry’ (Lefevre, 2015).

The Lost in Thailand craze In 2013, a freak affair provoked a sudden surge of Chinese tourists to the northern city of Chiang Mai, leading to unexpected tensions and conflicts in that city. A comedy, Lost in Thailand, filmed at various locations in Chiang Mai province including the vast campus of Chiang Mai University, had become a smash hit in China, breaking box office records (Karnjanatawe, 2013). While ‘once unpopular’ with Chinese tourists (Sangkakorn, 2013), they now flocked to the city in growing numbers, reaching up to 200,000 (Jariyasombat, 2014), to see the shooting locations. They were served by about 80 local tour agents (Karnjanatawe, 2013). The hub of the quest was the Chiang Mai University that had ‘become a “must see” destination for the Chinese’ in the wake of the film. It was attracting up to 500 Chinese visitors a day. The visitors were said to be: roaming the campus and disrupting the running of the university . . . pitching a tent near [a lake] and writing ‘we are here’ in paint on the ground, causing car accidents [by driving on the wrong side of the road], sneaking into classrooms to take snaps of teachers and students and leaving a mess in the canteen (Yongcharoenchai, 2014)

The visitors were even buying or renting ‘a student uniform and posing for pictures’, the latter being an infringement of the university’s dress



Mass Tourism in Thailand: The Chinese and Russians

regulations (Yongcharoenchai, 2014). The university declared itself to be ‘happy to welcome the Chinese visitors in Lanna [northern Thai] style’, but also moved to regulate their visits. Its administrators decided to create a ‘Visit CMU’ scheme, offering 15 minute guided tours of the campus on small electric buses at 60 baht (approximately US$1.70) per person (Thongnoi, 2015: 14). That decision led one tourist agent to ask whether they are turning the university into a zoo. But the university retorted that the fees are needed to cover expenses caused by the large number of Chinese visitors (Yongcharoenchai, 2014; Thongnoi, 2015). By 2015 the Lost in Thailand craze had declined, but the popularity of the university initiated by the movie persisted ‘by word of mouth and the social media buzz [that] the first wave of tourists [had] generated’. Chiang Mai University became an attraction on the itinerary of Chinese visitors, 70,000 of whom visited it during the first 8 months of 2015 (Thongnoi, 2015: 13). The sudden popularity of Chiang Mai among Chinese visitors injected money into the city’s economy, but their allegedly ‘rude’ conduct elicited a negative response by the local residents (Li, 2014): in a survey, 80% said that ‘they were highly displeased with Chinese behaviour’ (News.com.au, 2015). In contrast, however, Chinese tourists are said to be well behaved at the university, in the wake of the regulation of their visits (Thongnoi, 2015: 14). Although the bomb explosion in central Bangkok in August 2015 resulted in some trip cancellations by prospective Chinese visitors (Morrison, 2015), Chinese tourism to Thailand in 2015 expanded phenomenally, reaching 7.9 million arrivals, a rise of about 45% over the 2014 figure (Table 14.1). However, the current slowdown in the Chinese economy and the weakening of the yuan might lead to more modest rates of growth, if not decline, in the future.

Russian Tourism to Thailand Beginnings and scope Following the break-up of the Soviet Union, nouveau riche Russian tourists spread over European and American cities and resorts, acquiring

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­ otoriety for their spending habits and uncouth n conduct (Matthews, 2008). The Russians started to arrive in Thailand in the early 1990s (Winn, 2010), heading right for the resort city of Pattaya and its beaches (Gluckman, 1995). Prior to the tourists’ arrival, no Russians were living in Thailand. The newcomers were a mystery to the local residents who had at best only a vague idea about their country of provenance. The Russian visitors knew virtually nothing about Thailand, nor did they show much interest; according to a Russian tour manger, Russian tourists ‘don’t want culture . . . They want nightclubs, sun and fun’ (Gluckman, 1995). Supplanting the dwindling European vacationers to Pattaya, the Russians were well received by the local tourism establishments, especially since they are big spenders who, according to the vice president of a leading hotel, ‘order[ed] room service, the finest champagne and caviar’ (Gluckman, 1995). Gluckman reported that they came as ‘couples or families’ and settled ‘into Pattaya for up to two weeks, [relying] heavily on hotel food-and-beverage services, the most profitable portion of a hotel’s business’, while remaining ‘blissfully ignorant of the sex industry’ for which Pattaya was notorious. At first, Russian tourism to Thailand was limited, remaining below 200,000 arrivals annually up to 2006. However, following a visa waiver agreement between Thailand and Russia in 2007 (Lertputtarak et al., 2014: 134) and the introduction of charter flights from various regions of Russia, including some from Siberian cities (Siberian Times, 2012; Muqbil, 2013), the scale of Russian tourism grew; arrivals in 2007 numbered 277,503, but subsequently rose rapidly, reaching 1.7 million in 2013 (Table 14.1). However, owing to the growing economic crisis in Russia, by 2014 numbers had started to decline; as prospective tourists cancelled their vacation plans in Thailand (Spector, 2014), Russian arrivals fell by about 45% in 2015. Under the impact of massive Russian tourism, Pattaya city was soon transformed, with restaurants offering Russian menus and bars, shops and other service establishments putting up billboards in Cyrillic script (Winn, 2010). Russian tourists became virtually the only national group occupying the rooms of one of the world’s biggest hotels, the Ambassador City Jomtien, close to Pattaya, and spending most of their vacation on its premises.

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While Pataya remained its hub, Russian tourism gradually expanded to Phuket and later to some other seaside localities, such as Krabi, Phang Nga and Samui island (Siberian Times, 2012; Chinmaneewong, 2013). In contrast to the Chinese, females preponderate in Russian tourism (Muqbil, 2013). Unlike the Chinese, Russians do not travel in groups but as families or couples (Winn, 2010) and prefer up-scale, four- or five-star hotels rather than downmarket accommodation. They stay on average for about 2 weeks (Muqbil, 2013) although some spend the whole winter in Thailand (Siberian Times, 2012). Their primary motivation is to escape from the harsh Russian climate to the balmy weather of Thailand. They engage little in sightseeing but, rather, prefer to sunbathe, shop, feast on Russian fare and enjoy the local nightlife. Conduct Russian tourists have been described as ‘lacking any recognizable language skill – but not afraid to haggle in their own unfamiliar sounding verbiage’ (Phuket Gazette, 2014a). Owing to the language gap, they had few, if any, contact with the locals; they showed no particular interest in their Thai environment. Rather, they tended to create their own environmental bubble. According to a Russian living in Thailand and serving as a Deputy Honorary Consul in Pattaya: Teaching foreign languages in Russia [is] limited; Russians don’t see a real benefit in learning other languages . . . Russians have only been traveling abroad for the past 20 years; they are still not comfortable [abroad], so they try to create a Russian environment wherever they live. (Pattaya Mail, 2014)

While as first welcomed by the local residents, the increasing presence of Russian tourists in a few destinations led to the emergence of tensions and conflicts (Pattaya Daily News, 2013). The Russians were not accused of transgressing Thai customs like the Chinese, but the Thai people found them rude, unsmiling and impolite (Makhrov, 2014) while other foreign tourists were more critical, accusing them of ‘cruelty, racism, ignorance [and] drunkenness’ (Cheap Trips and Travel News, 2013). Some even claimed that the Russians drove the Scandinavian tourists out of Phuket (Sidasathian, 2013). But the principal source of tension became the gradual penetration

of Russians into the tourism service sector, in competition with the local tourism operators (Laohong, 2013; Oliphant and Earle, 2013). Expatriate communities Russian visitors were said to be ‘looking for a new life under the sun, while keeping an eagle eye on the business opportunities’ in Thailand (Phuket Gazette, 2014a). The number of Russian expatriates sojourning in the country grew over time and was in 2014 estimated to be about 100,000– 110,000. There are Russian expatriate communities in both Pattaya and Phuket, the size of the former being estimated to be about 60,000 (Pattaya Mail, 2014; Kamalakaran, 2015). The Russians became ‘indispensible for continued growth’ of Pattaya’s economy: ‘Wealthy Russians have invested heavily in Pattaya’s property market’ (Pattaya Today, 2015b). Russian entrepreneurs engaged in the construction of condominiums for Russian clients (Katharangsiporn, 2013), who stay permanently or semi-permanently in the city. Pattaya has become ‘one of the most Russian cities in all of Asia’ (Kamalakaran, 2015); Russian-language signs and billboards dot the city’s streets (Kamalakaran, 2015). Pattaya features a Russian language school (Pattaya Mail, 2014) and an Orthodox Christian church (Wechsler, 2010). While the creation of a Russian newspaper failed, there is a ‘popular real estate magazine’ in Russian (Kamalakaran, 2015) while a ‘Miss Russia’ beauty contest was planned to be held in the city in late 2015 (Kamalakaran, 2015). Phuket has a smaller but still substantial Russian expatriate community. The Russians engage in businesses of different shades of legality, primarily serving their own compatriots. Russian ‘gangs’ have allegedly established various tourism-related businesses with Thai proxies in Phuket (Ngamkhan and Chuenniran, 2013). Russians opened illegal taxi and laundry services (Oliphant and Earle, 2013), as well as ‘their own restaurants, resorts [and] souvenir shops . . . squeezing out locals’, while forming ‘a close association with senior police in the Phuket region’ (Tarnsirisin, 2012). This might explain the lack of action against them on the part of the authorities (Laohong, 2013), despite protests over their competition with the local tourism businesses and operators (Oliphant and Earle, 2013).



Mass Tourism in Thailand: The Chinese and Russians

The steep decline in Russian tourism to Thailand in 2015 (Table 14.1) caused a slump in both Pattaya and Phuket (Phuket Gazette, 2014b). Ironically, even as the affluence of Russian tourists decreased recently owing to the crisis in their country, a Russian loan shark found an opportunity for profit by offering needy compatriots loans at rates as high as 2% a day until the police caught up with him (Pattaya Today, 2015b).

Conclusions Some general conclusions emerge from the above discussion. First, the Chinese tourists to Thailand fit more closely the conventional definition of ‘mass tourists’ than their Russian counterparts. In terms of my early typology (Cohen, 2004: 39), the Chinese approximate the type of the ‘organized mass tourist’, and the Russians that of the ‘individual mass tourist’. The Russians resemble the Western European vacationing mass tourists in the Mediterranean, enjoying themselves in ‘out of time and place’ (Wagner, 1977) surroundings; however, in contrast to Obrador Pons et al.’s (2009: 2) perception of mass tourism as the opposite to sightseeing, the Chinese are sightseeing, rather than vacationing, mass tourists, resembling the Western sightseeing group tourists, caricatured in the movie It’s Tuesday, So It Must Be Belgium (1969). Ironically, although their intense movement seems to express their alleged ‘craze for travel’ (Cohen and Cohen, 2015: 25), the itineraries of their packaged tours, particularly in Pattaya, included primarily commercialized, ‘contrived’ tourist attractions, remote from the ordinary flow of life in their host environment. Second, this study confirms Obrador Pons et al.’s (2009: 1) argument that mass tourism destabilizes ‘fixed and coherent identities of places’. Specifically, Russian tourists had allegedly turned Pattaya into a Russian city (Kamalakaran, 2015). But that transformation was also unstable, and touched

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primarily the surface appearance of the destination. That is, Pattaya was known in the past as a German vacationers’ hub and took on a Russian veneer only during the boom in Russian tourism. However, if Russian tourism suffers a serious decline, that image may soon change. Its external identity is thus formed and reformed by whatever tourist wave is currently dominant in the resort city. Third, the study demonstrates the susceptibility of both Chinese and Russian mass tourism to economic conditions in the countries of origin. The collapse of the ruble in Russia has impacted significantly upon the volume of Russian tourism to Thailand, and especially to Pattaya; ironically, even as the rapidly rising numbers of Chinese tourists were expected to compensate for the loss of Russians (Chen, 2015), the economic slowdown in China, combined with security threats, such as the recent bombing in Bangkok, could significantly impact on the scale of Chinese tourism to Thailand. Finally, there is a marked difference between the two groups in their propensity to extend their stay in Thailand and sojourn as expatriates in the country. The Chinese were apparently less keen on moving to Thailand owing to their, until recently, flourishing economy, and also less capable of doing so, travelling as they do predominantly in group tours. But among the Russians, coming from a country in more precarious economic circumstances, and travelling individually, many sought to avail themselves of the opportunities to work or do business in Thailand, creating largely self-contained expatriate communities in, for them, a strange social and cultural environment. This chapter has some broader implications for the comparative study of mass tourism: it points to the need to distinguish between two modes of this phenomenon, namely vacationing mass tourism and sightseeing mass tourism, with very different implications for the kinds of experiences they offer and the problems involved in their conduct and management.

References Arlt, W.G. (2006) China’s Outbound Tourism. Routledge, New York. Bangkok Post (2011a) TAT woos wealthy Chinese tourists. Bangkok Post, 20 May, p. B8. Bangkok Post (2011b) Rising tide of Chinese tourists lifts Asia-Pacific fortunes. Bangkok Post, 3 October, p. B3. Bohwongprasert, Y. (2015) Sending up red flags. Bangkok Post, Life, 15 April, p. 1. Bramwell, B. (ed.) (2004) Coastal Mass Tourism: Diversification and Sustainable Development in Southern Europe. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK.

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Cheap Trips and Travel News (2013) Foreigners Demand to Ban Russian Tourists from Thailand After the Drunken Fight Incident. 11 January. Available at: http://cheap-trip.eu/en/2013/01/11/foreignersdemand-to-ban-russian-tourists (accessed 10 August 2015). Chen, S. (2015) After rubble collapse, Chinese tourist come to Thailand’s rescue. Bloomberg Business, 29 January. Available at: https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2015-01-29/after-ruble-s-collapsechinese-tourists-come-to-thailand-s-rescue (accessed 10 March 2017). Chetanont, S. (2015) Chinese tourists’ behaviors towards travel and shopping in Bangkok. International Journal of Social, Behavioral, Educational, Economic and Management Engineering 9(5), 1606–1611. Chinmaneewong, Ch. (2013) Russians spread their wings to South. Bangkok Post, 16 April, p. 7. Chinmaneewong, Ch. (2015) Crackdown on agents of zero-dollar tours. Bangkok Post, 9 July, p. B3. Cohen, E. (2004) Contemporary Tourism: Diversity and Change. Elsevier, Amsterdam. Cohen, E. and Cohen, S. (2015) A mobilities approach to tourism from emergent world regions. Current Issues in Tourism 18(1), 11–43. Cohen, E. and Neal, M. (2010) Coinciding crises and tourism in contemporary Thailand, Current Issues in Tourism 13(5), 455–475. Dai, B., Jiang, Y, Yang, L. and Ma, Y. (2016) China’s outbound tourism – stages, policies and choices. Tourism Management (in press). ‘Echo’ [Y. Wang] (2012) Pigs on the Loose: Chinese Tour Groups. Smashwords Edition [e-book]. Available at: https://www.smashwords.com/extreader/read/320409/1/chinese-tour-groups-pigs-on-the-loose (accessed 10 March 2017). Ghimire, K.B. (ed.) (2001) The Native Tourist: Mass Tourism Within Developing Countries. Earthscan, London. Gluckman, R. (1995) A match made in heaven. Available at: http://gluckman.com/Russians.html (accessed 10 August 2015). Haworth, A. (2013) Chinese tourism: finally, we see the world. Observer, 2 December. Jariyasombat, P. (2014) Chiang Mai must embrace Chinese visitors. Bangkok Post, Life, 27 March, p. 2. Jomo, K. and Folk, B. (eds) (2003) Ethnic Business: Chinese Capitalism in Southeast Asia. Routledge, New York. Kamalakaran, A. (2015) Russian diaspora thrives in Pattaya. Russia Beyond the Headlines, 13 April. Karnjanatawe, K. (2013) Attracting Chinese tourists not as smooth as silk. Bangkok Post 10, 7 January. Katharangsiporn, K. (2013) Sun, sea and success. Bangkok Post, 26 August, p. B8. Keewaleewongsatorn, S. (2013) China regulates zero-dollar schemes. Bangkok Post, 2 October, p. B2. Khantaraphan, U. (2015) Pattaya makes top 10 among Chinese tourists. Pattaya Mail, 12 June. Laohong, K.-O. (2013) Tourism firms cry foul over Russian rivals. Bangkok Post, 11 March, p. 4. Lefevre, A.S. (2015) Smiling through gritted teeth. Bangkok Post, Asia Focus, 30 March, p. 7. Lertputtarak, S., Lobo, D. and Yingyong, Th. (2014) Identification of the factors that impact Russian tourists in Thailand. Procedia-Social and Behavioral Sciences 144, 133–142. Li, A. (2014) Chiang Mai locals shocked by ‘rude’ Chinese tourists. South China Morning Post, 17 April. Li, R. (Xiang) (ed.) (2016) Chinese Outbound Tourism 2.0. Apple Academic Press, Oakville, Canada. Makhrov, A. (2014) Phuket: Are Russians really rude? Phuket News, 15 February. Matthews, O. (2008) Making room for the Russians. Newsweek 151(16/17), 70–71. Morrison, A. (2015) Bangkok bombing: Chinese Thailand tourists cancel trips amid fears of industry decline, travel agents say. International Business Times, 20 August. Muqbil, I. (2013) Russian visitors to Thailand: Women outnumber men. Look East, June. News.com.au (2015) Chinese Tourists Are Causing Chaos at Chiang Mai University in Thailand. 18 April. Available at: http://www.news.com.au/travel/travel-updates/chinese-tourists-are-causing-chaos-atchiang-mai-university-in-thailand/news-story/4339ef90e4af3db88669e990006bd9f0 (­accessed 10 March 2017). Ngamkhan, W. and Chuenniran, A. (2013) Tarin vows to wipe out organized crime on resort island. Bangkok Post, 26 July, p. 4. Obrador Pons, P. and Crang, M. (eds) (2009) Cultures of Mass Tourism: Doing the Mediterranean in the Age of Banal Mobilities. Ashgate, Farnham, UK. Obrador Pons, P., Crang, M. and Travlou, P. (2009) Introduction: taking Mediterranean tourists seriously. In: Obrador Pons, P. and Crang, M. (eds) Cultures of Mass Tourism: Doing the Mediterranean in the Age of Banal Mobilities. Ashgate, Farnham, UK, pp. 1–20. Oliphant, R. and Earle, J. (2013) Thais rally against Russian-owned businesses. Moscow Times, 30 January. Paris, N. (2015) Thailand issues good behavior manual for Chinese tourists. Telegraph, 16 February. Pattaya Daily News (2013) Russians wearing out welcome in Phuket. Pattaya Daily News, 13 February. Pattaya Mail (2014) 60,000 Russian residents in Pattaya. Pattaya Mail, 6 June.



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Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens

Stanislav Ivanov* Varna University of Management, Varna, Bulgaria

Introduction Mass tourism is well established in Bulgaria. It emerged in 1926, when the first organized tourists visited Varna, but the Second World War held back tourism growth (Neshkov, 2012: 282). During the communist period (1944–1989), tourism was recognized by the ruling communist party as a key economic sector and an important source of foreign exchange (Vodenska, 1992). Large tourist resorts were constructed on the Black Sea coast (Sunny Beach, Albena, Dyuni, Golden Sands, Druzhba (now Saints Constantine and Helena)) and in the mountains (Pamporovo, Borovets) that served predominantly international tourists. The period after the overthrow of communism in 1989 was marked by significant social, economic and political changes. In the 1990s, the country started to move to a market economy but the transition was not smooth. There was an abrupt decline in tourists from Central and Eastern European countries, which were facing similar political, economic and social changes (Harrison, 1993; Bachvarov, 1997), and the number of tourists and accommodation establishments fell dramatically in 1990–1992. Indeed, the number of beds in accommodation establishments plummeted from 303,912 in 1990 to just 117,740 in 1999, while international arrivals

declined from 10.3 million in 1990 to 5.06 million in 1999 (NSI, 2001). During the 1990s, the tourism industry was completely liberalized: ­hotels and resorts were privatized, and currently the sector is nearly 100% private. While Bulgaria promotes a variety of tourism products, for example cultural tourism (including the Thracian heritage) and golf, adventure, eco-, rural, events and wine tourism, its main tourist product is mass tourism, with the attraction of the sun in the summer and snow in winter. After 2000, tourism in Bulgaria regained momentum and by 2014 the country had 314,257 officially registered and categorized beds in 3163 accommodation establishments with ten or more rooms (NSI, 2015a). The bed capacity was nearly equally distributed between one- or two-star (30.19% of the beds), three-star (31.33%) and four- or five-star accommodation establishments (38.48%). The presence of hotel chains is very low. As of 1 May 2015, only 52 of the accommodation establishments were affiliated to international hotel chains and in only one of them the chain had capital involvement; the other hotels were affiliated via such non-­ equity modes such as franchises, management contracts and marketing consortia (Ivanova and Ivanov, 2015). In 2014, 9.4 million international tourists visited the country (NSI, 2015b) and 2.8 million stayed in commercial accommodation

*[email protected] 168

© CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)



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(NSI, 2015a). The remainder were considered transit travellers, visitors to friends and relatives, second home owners and other. The share of transit travellers was especially high (3.66 million or 38.9% of all international tourists) and 43.15% of them were Romanians (who crossed Bulgaria by car on their way to the resorts in Greece and Turkey) and Turkish citizens (many of whom worked in Western Europe and were returning home for the summer and religious holidays). The main tourist source markets for the Bulgarian tourism industry in 2014 included the Russian Federation (17.02% of overnights of foreign tourists), Germany (16.67%), Romania (8.53%), the UK (7.18%) and Poland (6.63%), which together generated 56.03% of all 14.08 million overnight stays by foreign tourists (NSI, 2015d). The stay of international tourists was highly concentrated in the summer months – 51.84% of their overnight stays in 2014 were in 2 months only (July and August). Comparing the number of beds and the number of international arrivals, we see that in 2014 Bulgaria had finally reached 1990 levels. However, closer examination shows that since 1990 the nature of the accommodation provided has shifted, moving away from a dominance of private homes (so called ‘private accommodation’), mountain chalets and campsites to hotels. From a methodological point of view, it is difficult to clearly identify the municipalities in Bulgaria with mass tourism development. For

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the purpose of this chapter, we developed eight criteria, elaborated in Table 15.1, and used statistical data for 2014 in calculating the respective statistics. Municipalities classified as having mass tourism needed to meet at least four of the criteria in Table 15.1. As a result, from a total of 264 municipalities, we identified 27 with mass tourism development. Their characteristics and key performance indicators for 2014 are presented in Appendices 1 and 2 (at the end of the chapter). These 27 municipalities had 13.79% of the territory and 41.78% of the population, but 65.2% of the accommodation establishments, 86.2% of the beds, 89.0% of the overnights and 92.3% of the revenues from overnights in the country (Appendix 1). Tourism in these municipalities is intensive: usually they have more beds per square kilometre and per 1000 people of the local population compared with the average for the country (Appendix 2). Tourists in seaside destinations spend less per night but stay longer than the average for the country, thus leading to higher average revenues per tourist than the average for the country as a whole. It should be noted that Appendices 1 and 2 include only data for officially categorized accommodation establishments with ten or more rooms. However, as smaller establishments (e.g. guest houses and private accommodation), vacation homes and apartment complexes are excluded because of a lack of available data, and much economic activity in Bulgaria is hidden – more than 30% of the gross domestic product

Table 15.1.  Criteria for identifying the municipalities with mass tourism development in Bulgaria. (From author’s calculations.) Statistic

Critical value

Number of beds per square kilometre Number of beds per 1000 people Average capacity of the accommodation establishments (in number of beds) Share of the municipality in the total number of accommodation establishments in the country Share of the municipality in the total number of beds in accommodation establishments in the country Share of the municipality in the total number of overnights in the country Share of the municipality in the total number of tourists in the country Share of the municipality in the total revenues from overnights in the country

Above the average for the country Above the average for the country Above the average for the country Above 0.5% Above 0.5% Above 0.5% Above 0.5% Above 0.5%

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(GDP), according to Schneider (2015) – the numbers in Appendices 1 and 2 significantly underestimate the actual size of mass tourism in the country. While some publications provide a balanced perspective on tourism’s impacts in Bulgaria (Ivanov, 2005), research usually focuses on the negative impacts of mass tourism. Specifically, there has been an emphasis on: (i) its links to pub crawls and alcohol abuse (Tutenges, 2015); (ii) prostitution (Hesse and Tutenges, 2011); (iii) high staff turnover as a consequence of seasonality (Matev and Assenova, 2012); (iv) sand dune destruction (Stancheva et al., 2011); (v) deteriorating sea water quality (Moncheva et  al., 2012); and (vi) other environmental ­impacts on coastal areas (Stanchev et al., 2015), which have led to low levels of sustainability (Bachvarov, 1999). Holleran (2015) goes even further, stating that the urbanization of the sea coast is a manifestation of the failure of Bulgarian society to protect this basic collective good. The Bulgarian case has been intensively debated in the literature (Vodenska, 2001), and similar consequences might be observed at most mass tourism destinations around the world (Kuvan, 2010; Mason, 2016). However, while acknowledging that such impacts do occur, in this context the aim is to offer a more optimistic view of mass tourism in Bulgaria by focusing on its economic, social and environment benefits.

Economic Benefits of Mass Tourism in Bulgaria According to tourism satellite data, the internal tourism consumption in Bulgaria by domestic and international tourists in 2013 was 7.7 billion levs (the equivalent of €3.95 billion) or 9.4% of the country’s GDP for the same year (NSI, 2015c), but statistical data do not allow us to differentiate the precise contribution of mass tourism. Despite its importance, tourism received its own Ministry only in November 2014, prior to which it was managed by agencies, committees or directories within other ministries or as separate entities (Ivanov and Dimitrova, 2014). When compared with small-scale alternative tourism, the most evident advantage of mass tourism is the large number of jobs it

c­ reates (Naumov and Green, 2015), especially for women (Ghodsee, 2005). In 2014, for example, 155,100 people (or 5.2% of all employed) were working in hotels and restaurants (NSI, 2016a). Such Black Sea coast municipalities as Nessebar, Varna, Balchik, Sozopol and Tsarevo, and Bansko, Samokov, Smolyan and Chepelare in the mountain regions, depend heavily on tourism for their local residents’ employment. Small-scale tourism, for example, in guest houses and small hotels, while having no significant negative effects on the environment, does not generate enough jobs to sustain local populations. Apart from Varna, which is a major educational, industrial and services centre, these municipalities have few significant industrial enterprises and little agricultural potential, so there seems no viable alternative to mass tourism. Furthermore, the development of human resources in large-scale hotels in senior managerial positions can filter through to smaller accommodation establishments, thus improving their management expertise. In Bulgaria, the municipal tourist tax is calculated as a fixed amount and paid by accommodation establishments for every tourist overnight stay. As revenues from this tax are proportionate to the number of tourists and their length of stay at the destination, high tourist tax revenues are a logical consequence of mass tourism. In 2013, for example, accommodation establishments paid 14.6 million BGN (€7.45 million) as municipal tourist taxes, 58% of which contributed to the budgets of municipalities with well-developed mass tourism (i.e. Nessebar, Varna and Balchik on the Black Sea coast, and Bansko, Smolyan and Samokov in the mountain regions) (NSI, 2015e). Ivanov and Ivanova (2013) point out that mass tourism, with its spatial concentration of high hotels, leads to economies of scale in infrastructure construction, utility provision and maintenance. By contrast, when tourism is based on small-sized accommodation units (e.g. guest houses, vacation homes and family hotels) tourists are more widely dispersed. The shorter distance between large hotels reduces the required investment in buildings, roads and such utilities as electricity, water and sewage. In 2015, for example, following local political representation, the water treatment plant of ­ ­Nessebar, that served the Ravda-Nessebar-Sunny



Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens

Beach resort-St Vlas resort, which unofficially is estimated to have more than 250,000 beds, was renovated. As a consequence, the quality of the tourist experience and the quality of life of local residents were significantly improved. Had the same number of tourists been scattered across small establishments, their accommodation would have been spread over a much wider area and considerably greater investment in water treatment plants would have been required. Mass tourism improves the accessibility of a destination through charter and regular flights, bus routes and highway construction. Without mass tourist flows it would be unprofitable for transport companies to provide regular transport connections to the destination. In 2013, Thrace (the longest highway in Bulgaria) was completed, connecting Sofia, the capital, to the Black Sea coast at Bourgas. This shortened the travel time between the country’s largest city and its largest seaside resort (Sunny Beach) to less than 4 hours, thus making the resort more attractive to domestic tourists. Similarly, in 2004, Malev (an airline no longer operating) and Bulgaria Air commenced regular flights to and from Varna to Budapest and London, followed by the introduction by Austrian Airlines of regular flights to Vienna and by British Airways of flights to and from London. As a consequence, more tourists were able to visit Varna and the nearby mass tourist resorts of Golden Sands, Sunny Day, Saints Constantine and Helena, and Riviera. At the time of writing, Varna airport also welcomes other airlines, including Turkish Airlines, Siberian Airlines, Bulgaria Air and Wizz Air, which provide regular flights to and from many destinations, thus ensuring tourism throughout the year. Two additional positive side effects of regular flights should be emphasized. First, some hotels at seaside resorts, which previously closed during the winter season, now remain partially open and serve guests visiting Varna for corporate training, short weekend breaks, weddings or gambling. Secondly, Varna became attractive to high-paying special interest tourists, who visit all year round for medical and dental treatment and cosmetic surgery. It was mass tourism to the region which made regular flights possible and profitable and enabled the tourist base to expand to include niche market, non-organized tourists,

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while at the same time benefiting local residents, who were then able to fly directly from Varna to several airports in Europe, rather than having to travel by car or bus to such airport hubs as Sofia, Bucharest and Istanbul. The high bargaining power of tour operators is often cited as a source of conflict between accommodation establishments and travel agencies in Bulgaria (Ivanov et al., 2015). It is argued that mass tourism puts accommodation establishments in a less favourable position in their negotiations with distributors because of the assumed homogenization of tourist product, the oligopolistic market structure and pricebased competition. However, this is only partially true. Hotels, especially the larger ones, can diversify their distribution channel mix and work with numerous tour operators and online travel agencies (OTAs), thus decreasing their dependence on any single one of them and improving their negotiating power. Therefore, mass tourism provides hoteliers with opportunities to influence tour operators. The massive penetration of such OTAs as Booking.com, which work on a commission basis, enables hotels to control their pricing and further strengthens hoteliers’ bargaining power with distributors. Of course, some hoteliers in Bulgaria prefer to work with fewer tour operators because they then save on marketing costs and need fewer staff, but this strategy virtually outsources the marketing of the hotel to the tour operator, decreases room prices, and in the long run reduces the hotelier’s negotiating power. Another benefit of mass tourism in Bulgaria is that it incorporates into tourism’s resources elements which would otherwise be expensive to maintain. Historical and archae­ ological sites, museums of ethnography, natural science and the communist heritage, for example, all benefit financially from visits by international tourists. Indeed, in 2014, foreigners accounted for nearly 17% of all museum visitors, though this was less than in 2005, when it was 25%, due to the sharp increase of domestic visitors during the same period (from 3 to 4 million) (NSI, 2015f). Mass tourism also enables the provision of services that need large numbers of users to be sustainable. For example, over the last 10 years several aqua parks have been constructed along the coast to cater for tourists from resorts near

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Nessebar (Sunny Beach) and Varna (Golden Sands) but local residents have also benefited, obtaining jobs and the ability to use the leisure facilities. A major constraint to alternative tourism in Bulgaria is that many guest houses and private accommodation providers work in the shadow economy, resulting in lost tax revenues. Significant discrepancies in the number of officially registered guest houses and those featured in Booking.com have been noted (Ivanova et al., 2015), and those that are unregistered and do not issue invoices are unattractive partners to travel agencies. By contrast, in mass tourism, tour operators request and receive invoices from the hotels, transportation companies and other service providers, thus making the Bulgarian tourism industry more transparent and accountable. Finally, mass tourism has important backward and forward linkages with other industries and some tourist companies have undertaken backward or forward integration and invested in the production of goods and services needed for their operation. Albena Jsc, the owner of the Albena resort on the Black Sea coast, for example, has affiliated companies in agriculture, construction, renewable e­ nergy, medical services, tour operations and guiding services (Albena Jsc, 2016). This allows the company to internalize much of the activities related to the creation of the tourist product and capture a greater share of tourists’ money.

The Social Benefits From Mass Tourism in Bulgaria One negative consequence of Bulgaria’s transition to a market economy was the decrease of population (from 8.95 million in 1985 to 7.2 million in 2014) that resulted from emigration, declining birth rates, and increased mortality rates caused by a collapsing economy (NSI, 2016b). Rural areas were most severely hit and dozens of villages ceased to exist. Mass tourism helped to counter the depopulation of the country, especially in areas with a high tourism potential, through creating employment and income opportunities for young local residents who decided to stay rather than emigrate. Indeed, Apostolov (2002) and Mladenov

and Ilieva (2012) note that the rural population near municipalities on the Black Sea coast that rely on tourism was actually maintained, or even increased, after 1989. Without mass tourism, many of these municipalities would have lost population, as occurred elsewhere in the country. As indicated earlier, because of the high number of jobs generated by mass tourism, large tourist companies in Bulgaria can offer more specialized positions than those available in smaller companies, where duties are more likely to be shared. Some tourism employees are thus able to develop more specialized skills and improve their employability and competitiveness in the labour market. Mass tourism also creates numerous positions for low-skilled employees in jobs that are standardized, a factor often considered a negative impact of mass tourism (Vodenska, 2001) because it leads to the substitutability of employees and job insecurity. However, it could also be argued that, in the process, seasonal job opportunities become available for high school and university students and for the less educated, including such ethnic minorities as the Roma, who would otherwise be on social security payments, so mass tourism in Bulgaria contributes to the social inclusion of these disadvantaged social groups. Mass tourism also necessitates higher education in tourism and hospitality. In November 2015, for example, 8473 students were enrolled in tourism and hospitality degrees offered at 23 out of 51 higher education institutions (HEIs) in Bulgaria; of these, 2081 were studying on 3-year Professional Bachelor programmes, 5481 in 4-year programmes, and 911 were enrolled on Masters courses (MES, 2015). Some 2937 students (35% of the total) were enrolled in HEIs in Varna or Bourgas, on the Black Sea coast, where mass tourism is most concentrated. Such courses are made more attractive by the huge employment opportunities created by mass tourism, and the attractiveness of tourism and hospitality programmes offered by HEIs is correspondingly increased, though from 2013 to 2016 the number of students in such programmes decreased by over 15%, mainly because of the demographic crisis in the country (though the decline was less than in non-tourism courses).



Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens

Mass tourism in Bulgaria is associated with low prices. Appendix 2 shows that in 2014 the average price for an overnight stay in municipalities characterized by mass tourism was generally lower than the country average. While hoteliers consider this a disadvantage, low prices have a profoundly positive social impact, in that domestic tourists can afford holidays and travel is further democratized (Marinov, 1992). For example, the National Statistics Institute (NSI) statistical database reveals that in 2014 the number of Bulgarians who used commercial accommodation in the country increased by 12.6% compared with 2008, while their overnight stays soared by 17.4% during the same period (author’s calculations based on data from NSI, 2015a). Much of this growth was at large-scale seaside resorts. Finally, it is necessary to stress the enormous impact of publicity gained through the experiences tourists share in the social media. In February 2016, for example, the Facebook page of Sunny Beach resort had more than 467,000 check-ins, while Golden Sands had 270,000, Borovets 117,000 and Pamporovo 17,000 – and these figures do not include check-ins at individual Facebook pages of the resorts’ hotels. By contrast, small-scale tourism development cannot generate such online publicity.

The Environmental Benefits of Mass Tourism in Bulgaria It has already been suggested that mass tourism development in Bulgaria is usually associated with negative environmental consequences. However, it can also bring significant environmental benefits to destinations (Marinov, 1998). Ivanov and Ivanova (2013) proposed a concept according to which 1–5% of a destination’s territory could be deliberately sacrificed for mass tourism development, concentrating most accommodation establishments and attractions (e.g. amusement parks, aqua parks and shopping malls) in small areas. As well as benefiting from economies of scale in infrastructure construction, this strategy also leads to less land use by tourist companies. Indeed, mass tourism is associated with larger multistorey hotel buildings compared with alternative forms of tourism (eco-, rural, nature-

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based, etc.) where accommodation is in smallscale low-rise family hotels, guest houses, private accommodation, chalets, huts, tents or other types of accommodation. Consequently, where there is mass tourism, proportionately less land is required per bed. Furthermore, while such a concentration undeniably brings negative environmental impacts to a small area where development is intense, the remaining 95–99% of the territory is saved. This strategy is reminiscent of Ryan’s concept of ‘honeypots’ (2003), which involves concentrating luxurious resorts, casinos, amusement and aqua parks, and so on, in a small area, thus saving more vulnerable regions, for example, protected zones and endangered species. Statistical data produced by the NSI on the number of beds in accommodation establishments in Bulgaria for 2014 reveal a high geographic concentration of bed capacity (see Appendix 1 and Fig. 15.1). More than 86.2% of all beds were located in only 27 (of 264) municipalities. Moreover, nearly 44% of bed capacity is located in Nessebar and Varna, two municipalities on the coast of the Black Sea, which contain the highest number of beds per square kilometre in the country: 263 beds/km2 in Varna and 197 beds/km2 in Nessebar, compared with a Bulgarian average of only 2.8 beds/km2 (Appendix 2). Mass tourism in Bulgaria, then, is highly geographically concentrated, and it is argued here that, as a consequence, it is easier to make economies of scale when constructing buildings and such tourist facilities as ski lifts, and in providing essential services. At the same time, ­protected areas and natural resources outside the resorts can be made safer (Marinov, 1998: 8). This argument, though, is often missed in discussions on the negative environmental impacts of mass tourism among tourism stakeholders, including the Ministry of Tourism, industry representatives and environmental non-governmental organizations (NGOs), which ­ usually focus on how mass tourism should be constrained. At the time of writing, a good example is the debate on the expansion of the ski lift in Bansko, a project ardently supported by local hoteliers and strongly opposed by the environmental NGOs. While there is clearly a case for trying to limit the environmental consequences of such a development, its economic potential also needs to be appreciated, and stakeholders

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Stanislav Ivanov

Romania

Veliko Tarnovo Lovech

Bourgas

Sofia Macedonia

619

Varna

Gabrovo

Sofia (capital)

Kyustendil

Dobrich

Plovdiv

Black Sea

Serbia

Ruse

Stara Zagora

Pazardzhik

Blagoevgrad

Smolyan Turkey

124,448

Greece

Fig. 15.1.  Geographic concentration of bed capacity by region in 2014. (Adapted from NSI, 2015a.)

should recognize: (i) that the area under discussion is relatively small; and (ii) that mass tourism in Bulgaria contributes indirectly to environmental sustainability by diverting tourists from more sensitive and vulnerable zones.

Conclusion: Improving the Role of Mass Tourism for the Development of the Country Mass tourism in Bulgaria is a significant economic driver but much could be done to improve its developmental role. One of the most obvious actions that public authorities need to undertake is to improve the tourism planning at local, regional and national levels (Anderson et al., 2012; Neshkov, 2012; Petrova and Hristov, 2016). For example, it was only in 2015 that the Minister of Tourism approved the Map of Tourist Regions in Bulgaria (Ministry of Tourism, 2015) which could now be the basis of regional tourism management, destination branding and the development of regional tourist products. The map divides the territory of the country into nine tourist regions, eight of which include destinations for mass tourism: (i) Northern Black Sea coast (seaside destinations); (ii) Southern Black Sea coast (seaside destinations); (iii) Rhodopi

(mountain destinations); (iv) Rila-Pirin (mountain destinations); (v) Stara Planina (mountain and urban destinations); (vi) Thrace (urban and spa destinations); (vii) the Danube region (urban destinations); and (viii) Sofia (urban destination). Additionally, while in June 2016 the country had 161 registered tourist organizations and associations, of which 99 (61.5%) are in the 27 municipalities with mass tourism development (Ministry of Tourism, 2016), their links to local authorities involved in planning could be strengthened. Other actions, for example, greening and limiting the spatial growth of tourist resorts, making them more accessible and upgrading their infrastructure, controlling tourism-related crimes, and participating in international travel fairs, would improve tourists’ experience, enhance destination image, and improve the environmental sustainability of mass tourism in Bulgaria. Tourist companies should adopt more sustainable tourism practices (Matev and Assenova, 2012; Ivanov et al., 2014; Stankova, 2016). Solar panels, water-tap aerators and photocells for water consumption control, energy-saving equipment and electric bulbs, movement detectors for controlling lights in common areas and rooms, appropriate hydro- and thermoinsulation for buildings, energy and water-saving policies



Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens

for employees and tourists, would all save water and energy resources and reduce company expenditure. Purchasing from local producers, too, would strengthen the economic linkages of mass tourism with the supplying industries and increase its multiplier effect. It is also in the interest of Bulgarian tourist companies to improve their employees’ working conditions. Their counterparts in Greece, Italy, Germany, the UK, Spain or the USA currently attract many skilled students and graduates from Bulgaria’s tourism and hospitality programmes (Bachvarov, 2006). Improving wages and working hours and increasing training for employees would make Bulgarian tourist companies more competitive and reduce the leakage of skilled employees. At the same time, local companies could strengthen their links with HEIs and recruit higher skilled employees by organizing and participating in employment fairs, offering student internships, collaborating in curriculum development, giving guest lectures on tourism and hospitality programmes, and welcoming students on company visits. When challenged on the relatively low wages offered in the tourism sector, hoteliers usually cite low prices for accommodation, the high bargaining power of the tour operators, and the low expenditure of tourists who visit the destination. However, the low prices tour operators achieve are largely the outcome of hoteliers’ decisions and it is up to them to upgrade their product, deliver superior value to the customers, diversify their distribution channels and the customer mix, and decrease their overdependence on a handful of tour operators. Tourist enterprises could also provide mass tourists with more opportunities to engage in additional activities, including tours connected

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with the communist heritage (Ivanov, 2009), food festivals and the creative industries (OhridskaOlson and Ivanov, 2010; Dimitrova and Yoveva, 2014). Adventure activities, fishing, diving, skydiving, wine tasting, gambling and fire dancing would also further diversify a destination’s product (Marinov, 2011; Petkova and Marinov, 2014). On their own, such attractions may not be profitable, but if offered as half- or full-day tours to visitors already at the destination they would improve the tourist experience and bring increased income to local enterprises. A good example is the opening in Varna in May 2015 of the Retro Museum, which focuses on Bulgaria’s communist period (1944–1989). Located in a shopping mall, it enables tourists to combine retail therapy with a visit to the museum and thus demonstrates that special interest tourism can complement mass tourism. Furthermore, hotels serving mass tourists, especially those on the Black Sea coast and in mountain resorts, could be affiliated to international hotel chains. Prior research has indicated that less than 5% of accommodation establishments in the country are currently affiliated to hotel chains (Ivanova, 2014), but their strong brands, image, customer loyalty and service operation manuals could contribute to the competitiveness of hotels in the country (Ivanov, 2016). Mass tourism in Bulgaria, then, is big business and an important contributor to the country’s economy. While some criticisms of it are justified, there is no viable alternative, at least in the foreseeable future. In this context, tourism stakeholders need to adapt to it, recognize the benefits it brings, confront the problems it raises, and work to make it more sustainable and more beneficial to individual destinations and to the country in general.

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Appendix 1.  Characteristics of municipalities with mass tourism development (data for 2014). (From NSI, 2015a, g, and author’s calculations.)

Municipalities Region

Destination type

Area (km2)

100.0 7,202,198 13.79 3,008,996 0.43 12,784 0.33 20,065 0.90 39,099 0.46 211,033 0.38 25,729 0.37 27,623 0.25 6,078 0.53 12,678 0.48 9,434 0.48 20,055 0.43 14,757 0.23 11,081 0.16 7,118

100.0 41.78 0.18 0.28 0.54 2.93 0.36 0.38 0.08 0.18 0.13 0.28 0.20 0.15 0.10

3,163 2,063 135 24 49 57 326 58 102 78 111 118 11 19 23

100.0 65.2 4.3 0.8 1.5 1.8 10.3 1.8 3.2 2.5 3.5 3.7 0.3 0.6 0.7

314,257 270,781 10,897 3,052 2,820 3,432 82,849 4,309 12,657 9,693 7,564 26,453 2,642 1,086 1,364

100.0 86.2 3.5 1.0 0.9 1.1 26.4 1.4 4.0 3.1 2.4 8.4 0.8 0.3 0.4

21,698,391 19,314,936 629,983 178,108 222,377 416,353 5,908,755 271,113 512,581 606,755 301,839 1,688,223 44,134 58,484 77,163

100.0 89.0 2.9 0.8 1.0 1.9 27.2 1.2 2.4 2.8 1.4 7.8 0.2 0.3 0.4

5,945,908 4,864,237 220,628 69,634 100,181 131,625 878,988 50,576 79,333 95,381 54,089 286,982 9,240 31,481 38,463

100.0 81.8 3.7 1.2 1.7 2.2 14.8 0.9 1.3 1.6 0.9 4.8 0.2 0.5 0.6

998,344 921,567 27,853 6,257 11,448 17,545 268,409 9,799 15,400 26,285 11,865 83,805 1,202 1,700 1,597

100.0 92.3 2.8 0.6 1.1 1.8 26.9 1.0 1.5 2.6 1.2 8.4 0.1 0.2 0.2

0.80 30,579 0.72 39,785 0.09 341,567 0.49 11,695 0.23 164,219 0.76 39,079 0.34 7,245 1.09 36,449 1.21 1,316,557 0.92 159,346 0.41 9,098 0.31 3,297 0.19 344,775 0.80 87,771

0.42 0.55 4.74 0.16 2.28 0.54 0.10 0.51 18.28 2.21 0.13 0.05 4.79 1.22

43 28 65 20 33 104 60 50 131 22 19 32 280 65

1.4 0.9 2.1 0.6 1.0 3.3 1.9 1.6 4.1 0.7 0.6 1.0 8.9 2.1

1,768 2,968 3,930 1,826 1,416 3,948 4,537 5,794 12,232 1,641 1,391 3,286 54,114 3,112

0.6 0.9 1.3 0.6 0.5 1.3 1.4 1.8 3.9 0.5 0.4 1.0 17.2 1.0

101,159 384,221 403,365 265,826 125,996 180,352 276,164 392,155 1,524,633 125,947 155,434 215,242 4,053,534 195,040

0.5 1.8 1.9 1.2 0.6 0.8 1.3 1.8 7.0 0.6 0.7 1.0 18.7 0.9

59,385 147,251 231,779 101,038 78,897 74,967 86,165 130,321 861,512 70,915 19,420 32,058 790,744 133,184

1.0 2.5 3.9 1.7 1.3 1.3 1.4 2.2 14.5 1.2 0.3 0.5 13.3 2.2

3,900 18,195 21,416 10,314 6,000 6,040 11,918 13,459 109,681 6,285 5,552 12,310 204,636 8,695

0.4 1.8 2.1 1.0 0.6 0.6 1.2 1.3 11.0 0.6 0.6 1.2 20.5 0.9

Stanislav Ivanov

TOTAL Bulgaria (264 municipalities) 110,985 TOTAL 27 municipalities 15,307 Bansko Blagoevgrad Mountain 476 Razlog Blagoevgrad Mountain 370 Sandanski Blagoevgrad Spa 999 Bourgas Bourgas Seaside 512 Nessebar Bourgas Seaside 420 Pomorie Bourgas Seaside 413 Primorsko Bourgas Seaside 272 Sozopol Bourgas Seaside 588 Tsarevo Bourgas Seaside 530 Balchik Dobrich Seaside 528 Kavarna Dobrich Seaside 481 Tryavna Gabrovo Mountain 255 Sapareva Kyustendil Spa 181 banya Troyan Lovech Mountain 889 Velingrad Pazardzhik Mountain/spa 803 Plovdiv Plovdiv Urban 99 Hisarya Plovdiv Spa 549 Ruse Ruse Urban 255 Smolyan Smolyan Mountain 844 Chepelare Smolyan Mountain 377 Samokov Sofia Mountain 1,210 Sofia-capital Sofia-capital Urban 1,344 Stara Zagora Stara Zagora Urban/spa 1,019 Avren Varna Seaside 461 Byala Varna Seaside 340 Varna Varna Seaside 206 Veliko Veliko Tarnovo Urban 885 Tarnovo

Number of Share of Revenues from Share of tourists in Share of accommodation Number of Share of overnights in revenues population accommodation establishments Number of Share of Number of overnights accommodation Share of Share of (%) establishments tourists (%) thousand BGN (%) (%) beds beds (%) overnights establishments (%) area (%) Population



Appendix 2.  Key performance metrics of the municipalities with mass tourism development (data for 2014).a (From NSI, 2015a, g, and author’s calculations.)

Municipalities Region

Destination type

Maximum number of bednights

99 81 127 58 60 254 74 124 124 68 224 240 57 59

3 23 8 3 7 197 10 47 16 14 50 5 4 8

44 852 152 72 16 3,220 156 2,082 765 802 1,319 179 98 192

61,396,232 2,365,070 643,361 876,690 955,427 10,321,699 760,086 1,231,771 1,168,784 785,905 3,028,626 340,864 371,761 459,115

195 217 211 311 278 125 176 97 121 104 114 129 342 337

3.6 2.9 2.6 2.2 3.2 6.7 5.4 6.5 6.4 5.6 5.9 4.8 1.9 2.0

168 126 90 114 133 305 194 194 276 219 292 130 54 42

46 44 35 51 42 45 36 30 43 39 50 27 29 21

35 27 28 25 44 57 36 42 52 38 56 13 16 17

16 12 10 13 18 26 13 13 22 15 28 4 5 3

41 106 60 91 43 38 76 116 93 75

2 4 40 3 6 5 12 5 9 2

58 75 12 156 9 101 626 159 9 10

535,529 995,130 1,367,154 636,483 493,161 1,185,670 1,212,970 1,561,510 4,226,285 576,498

303 335 348 349 348 300 267 270 346 351

1.7 2.6 1.7 2.6 1.6 2.4 3.2 3.0 1.8 1.8

66 124 92 102 76 81 138 103 127 89

39 47 53 39 48 33 43 34 72 50

19 39 30 42 26 15 23 25 36 22

7 18 16 16 12 5 10 9 26 11

179

Continued

Mass Tourism in Bulgaria: The Force Awakens

TOTAL Bulgaria (264 municipalities) Bansko Blagoevgrad Mountain Razlog Blagoevgrad Mountain Sandanski Blagoevgrad Spa Bourgas Bourgas Seaside Nessebar Bourgas Seaside Pomorie Bourgas Seaside Primorsko Bourgas Seaside Sozopol Bourgas Seaside Tsarevo Bourgas Seaside Balchik Dobrich Seaside Kavarna Dobrich Seaside Tryavna Gabrovo Mountain Sapareva Kyustendil Spa banya Troyan Lovech Mountain Velingrad Pazardzhik Mountain/spa Plovdiv Plovdiv Urban Hisarya Plovdiv Spa Ruse Ruse Urban Smolyan Smolyan Mountain Chepelare Smolyan Mountain Samokov Sofia Mountain Sofia-capital Sofia-capital Urban Stara Zagora Stara Urban/spa Zagora

Average Beds per capacity square Beds per (beds) kilometre 1000 people

Average Average Revenue Average revenues revenues per number Average from one from one available of days of stay tourist in overnight Occupancy bednight operation (overnights) BGN in BGN (%) in BGN

Municipalities Region Avren Byala Varna Veliko Tarnovo

Varna Varna Varna Veliko Tarnovo

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Appendix 2. Continued.

Destination type Seaside Seaside Seaside Urban

Average Beds per capacity square Beds per (beds) kilometre 1000 people 73 103 193 48

3 10 263 4

153 997 157 35

Maximum number of bednights 306,330 318,192 9,790,831 1,080,928

Average Average Revenue Average revenues revenues per number Average from one from one available of days of stay tourist in overnight Occupancy bednight operation (overnights) BGN in BGN (%) in BGN 220 97 181 347

8.0 6.7 5.1 1.5

286 384 259 65

36 57 50 45

51 68 41 18

18 39 21 8

Note: • Maximum number of bednights = number of beds × number of days of operation in the year; • Occupancy = number of overnights/maximum number of bednights; • Average capacity = number of beds/number of accommodation establishments; • Average stay = number of overnights/number of tourists; • Beds per square kilometre = number of beds/area; • Beds per 1000 people = (number of beds/population) × 1000; • Average revenues from one tourist = revenues/number of tourists; • Average revenues from one overnight = revenues/ number of overnights; • Revenue per available bednight = revenues/maximum number of bednights = average revenues from one overnight × occupancy; • Average number of days of

a

Stanislav Ivanov

operation = maximum number of bednights/number of beds.

16 

Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià Hazel Andrews* Liverpool John Moores University, Liverpool, UK

Introduction The Balearic Islands consist of Mallorca, Menorca, Ibiza, Formentera and several smaller, less well-known islands. They are among the most popular tourism destinations for visitors to Spain. In 2014, the total number of tourists was recorded as 13,579,265. Of these, 11,367,225 were international arrivals and 2,212,040 were domestic tourists, together amounting to 111,302,338 overnight stays. Of the four islands, Mallorca is by far the most frequented, with numbers reaching 9,671,011 in 2014, of which 8,581,899 were international arrivals and 1,089,112 were domestic visitors. Together, they contributed 79,924,588 overnight stays (Agència de Turisme de les Balears, 2015).1 The success of the Balearics is due mainly to their location and because they were among the first global mass tourism destinations developed. This case study will examine tourism development in the islands by focusing on Mallorca, especially the resorts of Magaluf and Palmanova, both located within the local authority of Calvià. The chapter begins with a brief geographical and historical background, which is followed by an outline of tourism development on the island, a focus on Calvià and then a discussion of Magaluf and Palmanova as mass tourism resorts. By focusing on Magaluf and Palmanova,

it is possible to understand some of the issues the resorts faced as a result of rapid development, and the measures taken to address the problems which enable them to maintain their position as highly popular and successful destinations. The case study will demonstrate that despite the negativity associated with mass tourism, the problems of rapid and over development, and negative publicity, tourism, on a large scale as witnessed in Mallorca can nevertheless be successful, in that the island remains ever popular with international tourists.

Background The Balearic Islands are in the north-west Mediterranean, off the north-east coast of the Spanish peninsula. The islands cover a territorial and administrative area of 50,142 km2. Mallorca (3640 km2) is the largest of the islands (Picornel et al., 1996). Figure 16.1 shows the location of the Balearics and Mallorca, as well as Magaluf and Palmanova, which are situated on the south-west of the Bay of Palma. The topography of Mallorca is composed of the Serra de Tramuntana, a mountain range which runs along the length of the northwestern coast and is home to the island’s highest peak – Puig Major – which reaches 1445 m. On the

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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Balearic Islands Mallorca Magaluf and Palmanova

0

300 km

Fig. 16.1.  Map showing the location of the Balearics and Mallorca.

south-eastern coast is another mountain range, Serra de Llevant. The centre of the island is characterized by a fertile plain, home to much of the island’s agriculture. This stretches from the centre to the south-west of the island. The coast is characterized by sandy beaches and bays, as well as a more rugged landscape of caves. Crops produced on Mallorca include olives, carob, oranges and almonds. In the spring, the island is famous for the thousands of almond trees which come into blossom, and the tramway between Sóller town and Port de Sóller is well known for the lines of orange trees along the route. The island is also famous for its black pigs and the production of a particular type of sobrassada (sausage). Since 1996, Mallorcan sobrassada has

been registered by the European Union (EU) as a product of ‘Protected Geographical Indication’ and the quality of its production is overseen by a regulatory board (Sobrasada of Mallorca, 2015). The importance of pork and pig-rearing in Mallorca reflects the fact that not only was cottage pig-keeping once a common staple activity and food supply for the island’s poor (as in other parts of pre-industrial Europe), but also because pork consumption is symbolically anti-Moslem. Strategically placed between Europe and North Africa, Mallorca (and the Balearics as a whole) had been settled or visited at various points in its early history by numerous civilizations, including the Romans, Greeks and Phoenicians. The most notable conflict was between the Islamic



Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià

Moors and the Christian Catalans. The former were ousted in 1227 by the latter who attempted to erase any evidence of the Moorish occupation and, because the Moors had banned the consumption of pork, reintroduced it as a signifier of Mallorcan identity.

Foundations for the Development of Tourism As elsewhere, early visitors to Mallorca were generally wealthy people from the middle and upper classes and they helped to lay the foundations for the development of tourism on the island. One of the earliest arrivals was Sir John Carr, an English barrister and travel writer from Devon, who went to the island in 1809. Other visitors in the mid19th century included a Captain Clayton, the American writer Bayard Taylor and, perhaps most famously, Frédérick Chopin and George Sand (Buswell, 2011). Chopin and Sand travelled to the island for medical reasons and stayed in Valldemossa, on the west of Mallorca. Since then, the village has become closely associated with the couple, not least because of Sand’s (1956) book describing her experiences during the couple’s 3-month stay. Many visitors in the 1800s went for adventure, to see the natural scenery or experience the local culture (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015), while some went to work, such as Charles Toll Bidwell, the British Consul, and E.G. Bartholomew, a British engineer responsible for the laying of the undersea telegraph wires linking Mallorca with the Spanish peninsula, and members of the armed forces (Buswell, 2011). Another visitor was Archduke Salvator of Austria, who drew attention to Mallorca and its attractions in a nine-volume collection entitled Die Balearen Geschildert in Wort und Bild (The Balearics in words and pictures) published from 1897. Prior to this, the authorities in Mallorca had published a guide for visitors in 1845. As well as the improved communication links via telegraph, the establishment of a steamship route between Barcelona and Palma in 1838 also encouraged visitors to the island (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). In the early years of the 20th century, developments in rail transport links facilitated travel across continental Europe which enabled

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faster and easier connections to the steamship between peninsula Spain and the islands, and to Mallorca in particular. Mallorca attracted increasing numbers of artists, scientists and other members of the middle classes from the USA and Europe. Luxury hotels were opened, including the Gran Hotel de Palma (1903) which is now no longer a hotel but a city centre museum. This was followed by other luxury hotels in Palma and in the municipalities of Andratx and Calvià, both west of the city. In 1905, the Foment del Turismo, an organization to promote artistic and recreational excursions for foreigners, was formed. Its remit was to receive visitors and provide publicity for the hotels and services on the island (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). While Magaluf, especially, now has a reputation for the rowdiness of its tourists, this reputation is not new. In 1933, a report in Time Magazine described ‘U.S. hard drinkers who wanted to live like characters in a novel by Ernest Hemingway’ who slept all day and partied at night (Buswell, 2011: 42). During the 1920s and 1930s, Mallorca also attracted domestic tourists who went hill walking, and the island was also promoted as a honeymoon destination. Even in 1945, 6000 Spanish honeymooners visited Mallorca. At present, although domestic tourists account for just a fifth of all visitors, the flow of domestic arrivals to the island remains quite constant throughout the year (Buswell, 2011: 15). From the end of the First World War to the start of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, visitor numbers increased. From 1930 to 1936, annual arrivals rose from 36,000 to 90,000 and during the same period the number of hotels increased from 88 to 131. A contributing factor to the development of tourism in this era was the role of cruise ships, with passenger liners coming from New York as well as Europe. A total of 360 ships docked in Palma between 1935 and 1936, which disembarked 5300 tourists (Buswell, 2011: 47). However, with the advent of the Civil War tourist arrivals to the island declined and did not pick up again until the 1950s.

The 1950s and Beyond Mass tourism is generally considered to have begun in the 1950s and there are several reasons

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why Mallorca became one of the first places to experience rapid growth. The Spanish Civil War and subsequent dictatorship had led to the Spanish state being isolated on the world stage but in 1951 the United Nations recognized the state, which allowed external relations to be re-opened. Around the same time, the Spanish government introduced economic measures to encourage inward investment to support the country’s flagging economy. Recognizing tourism would be a good source of foreign exchange, the infrastructure was improved and fiscal investment incentives were provided. All this coincided with a more stable post-war Europe in which leisure time and job security were increasing, and whose people had the disposable income and motivation to take holidays abroad. In addition, advancements in air transport made developing destinations in the Mediterranean more accessible to tourist-generating areas of northern Europe (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). Given its early success as a destination, Mallorca was in a prime position to take advantage of these developments. Some infrastructure was already in place and Mallorca provided the climate and environment to attract the new type of holidaymaker. As noted in the Blue Guide of 1958 (Muirhead, 1958: v): Until comparatively recently, Spain has been beyond the reach of the majority of ordinary travellers, whether on account of cost, or of the difficulty of the journey, or because of doubts concerning the nature of the accommodation available. Latterly, however, all those ­objections . . . have been removed.

Tourism grew rapidly; whereas in 1950 the island had 105 hotels and hostels, by 1959 this had increased to 443 and tourist arrivals reached 400,000 in 1960. Between 1965 and 1974, many (mainly three-star) hotels and apartments were built, amounting to more than 100,000 beds, and this category of accommodation came to provide over 58% of hotel capacity. By 1973, tourist arrivals had increased to 3,500,000 (Buswell, 2011; Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). As with other destinations, tourist demand is affected by external influences. During the international oil crisis of 1974–1979, tourist arrivals to Mallorca declined, but increased again from 1979 to1987, then declined in a global economic recession, only to experience another

boom from 1994 to 1999. By this time, Spain was fully integrated into the EU, and some destinations competing with Spain were becoming unstable; the former Yugoslavia, for example, was breaking up, and there were terrorist attacks in Egypt, making them less attractive, or completely out of bounds, to tourists (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). Although the growth of tourism after 1950 was not entirely consistent, between 1960 and 1995 tourist arrivals to the Balearics increased by a factor of 21, and by 2005 the Balearics received more than 11 million tourists, of which eight million went to Mallorca. More recently, figures produced by the Balearic Government (2015) show that despite the global economic downturn of 2008/2009, tourist arrivals to Mallorca show a year-on-year increase: 8,860,221 (2011); 9,147,702 (2012); and 9,454,264 (2013). In addition, the majority of the visitors are aged 25–44, stay in three- or four-star hotels, and travel for leisure purposes. It is evident the whole island has been touched by tourism development and it appeals to a wide variety of people with different tastes and backgrounds. For example, the ports and marinas of Andtrax and Palma, the inland villages of Valledmosa and Deià are associated with literary and artistic figures as well as the seekers of sun, sea and sand. The sun seekers are those with whom a negative association is attached as these people tend to be the masses that visit the coastal resorts on lower cost holidays. Thus, having outlined the background to tourism development in Mallorca as whole, the focus of this chapter now shifts to the local municipality of Calvià, and especially the popular mass tourism resorts of Palmanova and Magaluf.

Calvià The municipality of Calvià is in the south-west of the island, covers an area of 145 km2 and has a coastline of 56 km. The municipality has six main coastal tourist resorts: Illetes, Portals Nous, Palmanova, Magaluf, Santa Ponça and Peguera. In addition, there are two historical towns, Calvià itself and Capdella, both located inland. Government statistics show that, in 2008, Calvià was the lead municipality for bed occupancy in the whole of Spain (Euro Weekly



Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià

News, 2008). Indeed, Calvià has received considerable financial benefits from tourism: it has been the richest municipality in Spain and one of the richest in Europe (Selwyn, 1996). Most of the information in this section about tourism development in Calvià is based on an interview with the then tourism ombudsman (or Síndic) of the municipality of Calvià, Señor Antoni Pallicer, in 1997. The role of tourism ombudsman was at the time relatively new and also unique in Europe. It had been established in order that anyone – tourist, tour operator or hotel manager, for example – with an issue about tourism in the municipality that they wanted heard had a central point of contact. The purpose of the interview was to explore the success of the municipality’s resorts and was part of research conducted on behalf of the Maltese tourism authorities. Calvià was at the forefront of the tourism growth in Mallorca. A hotel in Ca’s Catala (on the Palma-Calvià border) was built at the start of the 20th century and was followed in the late 1920s by Hotel Playa in Peguera. In the early 1930s, Palmanova was identified as a development area, with a master plan to restrict building heights, ensure that the architectural styles of such facilities as shops, churches and schools were sympathetic to the location, and that a Passeig Marítim (a promenade alongside of the beach) was built. A similar plan existed for Peguera. However, not all guidelines in the master plan were followed or enforced. The situation in Calvià was exacerbated by a lack of democracy at the local level and by the Franco dictatorship’s emphasis on the financial benefits of rapid tourism development with little reference to its sociocultural and environmental costs. Indeed, the apparent romance associated with high-rise hotels in Magaluf, reminiscent of those in New York and Chicago, generated local feelings of local pride and excitement. Consequently, expansion proceeded at a rapid pace and 60% of the development in Magaluf (as it existed in 1997) was built within 10 years. At one point there were 150 cranes operating in the area as part of the hotel-building process. By the mid-1980s Magaluf was being described as ‘a concentrated leisure centre’ with a ‘high density of the hotels and apartment blocks. At night you hear music coming from bars, pubs, discos and restaurants at every corner’ (Tisdall and Tisdall, 1987: 148).

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The problems that the municipality faced included unchecked growth in development leading, as Tisdall and Tisdall note, to overly dense development, which in turn affects the natural environment, as well as stresses from issues such as waste disposal, noise pollution, overuse of water and too much vehicular traffic. Magaluf and Palmanova were described as ‘dreadful ersatz tourist towns’ (Hewson, 1990: 13) whose problems could be solved by ‘a sound thrashing with a division of bulldozers’ (Hewson, 1990: 13). As well as the resorts receiving negative coverage in guidebooks there was growing opposition by local people to tourism on the island, especially with regard to tourism ‘damaging Mallorca’s environment and cultural heritage’ (Royle, 2009: 231). Although problems were evident to the municipality, it faced two issues: (i) a lack of self-governance; and (ii) the fact that the existing plan did not expire until 1986. However, after the death of Franco in 1975, there was a transition period in which power was devolved to the regions across Spain. This was a gradual process which made the Balearics an autonomous area by 1983. Once the existing plan expired it was possible for the Calvià authorities to develop their own initiatives to improve the general environment of the resorts. Attention centred on Magaluf, which relied heavily on tourism for employment and income and was facing a major problem in terms of tour operators threatening to withdraw their custom due to an increase in the number of complaints from tourists about the destination. The issue was compounded by the fact that the resort was already developed and so any changes would have to be enacted alongside existing facilities. Alongside these concerns, impetus for change also came from the United Nations Conference on Environment and Development in Rio de Janeiro in 1992 and the promotion of Local Agenda 21 for supporting local sustainable development. This initiative was embraced by Calvià and the municipality stated (Calvià Council, n.d.: 1 cited in Royle, 2009: 234): Local Agenda 21 is the articulation of the local philosophy, strategy and plan of action to recover from the over-building and environmental destruction of the last two decades, and to guide the tourist sector in the next decades towards new formulas whose common denominator is sustainability.

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The local municipality engaged an architect and civil servants from the regional government and developed a vision for how the resort would be in the 21st century. Among the key measures were:

Table 16.1.  The main tourist-generating markets for Calvià, 2015. (From Ibestat, 2016.)

•

UK Germany Spain France Italy

• • • • •

a reduction of vehicular traffic through the streets and an increase in pedestrian facilities; increased access to, and highlighting of, the approach to the sea; the construction of the Passeig Marítim along the beach; greening of the area with tree planting; standardizing building aesthetics; and obligatory water control and pollution-­ control measures for new buildings.

A key element to the changes was the conscious separation of local residents from the tourism development. One of the problems faced was related to the noise emanating at night from bars, clubs and tourists, all of which was disturbing sleep. Therefore, local amenities (e.g. schools) were located away from the resorts, making them predominately tourist towns. At the same time one might argue that this separation has contributed to the British enclave-like nature of the resorts (explored further in the next section) in which Mallorquins do not feel that they belong, some expressing the opinion that they feel like a foreigner there. Similar measures to those employed in ­Magaluf and Palmanova were successfully implemented in the other resorts in Calvià, although it was recognized that all needed to retain their own character. Calvià has claimed that their adoption of Local Agenda 21 has been successful in that it ‘has led to positive outcomes not only environmentally, but also socially, while with regard to the economy, the improvement of the “touristic quality of life” has been of benefit’ (Royle, 2009: 234). Indeed, Calvià has been recognized for its efforts for sustainable practices in the form of: (i)  the European Commission’s Award for Sustainable Cities in 1997; (ii) the Green Globe Award from the World Travel and Tourism Council in 1998; and (iii) World Project Expo 2000 Hannover (Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca, 2015). Success can also be measured by the fact that tourist numbers and bed occupancy rates increased from the 1980s although there were falls in numbers associated with the New York 9/11 terrorist attacks and the global recession of

Country

Number of tourists 494,068 327,643 85,889 62,877 32,163

2007/8. Some of this success needs also to be attributed to the development of different products away from the sun, sea and sand offer and to an emphasis on the natural environment, walking and cycling (Royle, 2009: 235). Calvià remains a popular destination with a total of 1,282,908 arrivals in 2015. Table 16.1 shows a breakdown of the main tourist-generating countries. There is, however, a caveat to these figures as the tourist office advises that the number does not include visitors staying in non-regulated or alternative accommodation. The tourist office figures estimate at least 1,800,000 visitors a year, with a particular concentration in the high summer season (Lynn Tipper, Jefa Servicio ­Turismo, municipality of Calvià, April 2016, personal communication).

Magaluf and Palmanova This section is based on fieldwork conducted in 1997–1999, 2009 and 2015. Further details can be found in Andrews (2000, 2005, 2006, 2009a, 2009b, 2011a, 2011b). Although Calvià has enjoyed much success as a destination, Magaluf, especially, has generated much controversy. The resort’s attractions are sun, sea and sand, and the nightlife which is concentrated along one road in particular: Punta Balena. It is important to note that ­Magaluf is patronized by tourists with a variety of interests, including families and groups of young people not interested in the Club 18– 30 scene. As well as the beach, sea or pool and the nightlife in Magaluf, other activities available include visits to markets, island tours, visits to natural caves, boat trips, water parks, evening and night-time entertainment outside the resort, or playing golf at one of the island’s many golf clubs.



Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià

However, the many clubs and bars are undoubtedly a magnet for Club 18–30-style holidays and, in more recent years, for Stag and Hen Tours (i.e. pre-wedding celebrations for grooms, brides and their friends). As a known party resort, Magaluf has gained notoriety for the rowdy and usually drunken behaviour of some tourists who visit in the high season and for the tendency of many to indulge in casual sexual encounters with numerous partners, to the extent the destination has been nicknamed ‘Shagaluf ’. Despite these associations it is not uncommon to find repeat visitors to both Magaluf and Palmanova with tourists clocking up their 18th visit, often to the same hotel. At the same time, enduring friendships between tourists and locals are established which in some cases lead to marriage and in other cases the formation of family friendships in which part of the reason for the holiday is to visit the friends. Although Spanish, Scandinavian, American and Dutch tourists visit Magaluf, most tourists to Magaluf are British. And most are white, heterosexual and working class. They range in age from 6-week-old babies to those over 90 years

Fig. 16.2.  Signals of Britishness in Magaluf.

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of age. Indeed, Magaluf is frequently considered a British enclave, and tourists seek out the resort precisely because of its association with Britishness and, when there, claim to feel ‘at home’. Such a claim is based on numerous factors, including: (i) British visitors predominate; (ii) English is the dominant language (both written and spoken); and (iii) it is possible to spend sterling, buy drinks in imperial measures and to visit a pub or café with a stereotypically British connotation (e.g. The Tartan Arms, The White Horse, The Britannia, Lord Nelson, and Duke of Wellington) as well as a whole host of facilities and outlets which proclaim their Britishness (Fig. 16.2). Furthermore, the Union Jack and the national flags of Scotland and Wales are much in evidence and it is possible to buy Englishlanguage daily newspapers – mainly tabloids – and watch ‘home-grown’ TV programmes, including sitcoms, soap operas, news items, sports fixtures, and such popular culture entertainment programmes as the X-Factor. In addition, one can buy and consume food and drink imported from the UK (including milk, breakfast cereals, sausages,

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bacon, bread, fish and beer) and patronize such fast-food chains as Burger King, KFC and Pizza Hut, along with such other British favourites as Indian and Chinese restaurants. In some hotels, too, the evening entertainment is often specifically British, and many hotel entertainers are from the UK. Magaluf ’s reputation for drunken, rowdy tourist behaviour is justified. Drinking to excess is common, and it is not unusual to see inebriated people, both during the day and at night, unconscious as a result of over-indulgence, or vomiting in the streets. Indeed, the smell of vomit is often noticeable on the streets and indoors. However, much of this behaviour is for a concentrated period of the year – the high-­ season summer months – and is not displayed by all tourists visiting the resort. Along with excessive alcohol consumption, there is an emphasis on sexual gratification and the concomitant sexualization of the resort and visitors. This occurs in a variety of ways and is predominately aimed at women. For example, playing cards depicting pornographic images of women, postcards of naked women, souvenirs of female breasts and games played in nighttime entertainment facilities all portray women as sexual beings. Men, too, are sexualized but in a much less pronounced and arguably less exploitative manner. While marketing images show young, physically fit-looking people enjoying themselves, representations often include one or two men surrounded by several (usually scantily clad) women. In addition, in recent years British TV has seen a number of documentaries which purport to ‘expose’ the goings-on in the resort, for example the BBC Three programmes The Truth about Magaluf (Trozzo, 2013), Sun, Sea and Suspicious Parents (Lloyd, 2013) and Sun, Sex and Holiday Madness (Stone, 2010), and ITV2’s Magaluf Weekender (Twofour, 2014). While such programmes might be educational and revelatory for some viewers, for others they may represent the resort and create expectations of what they might find on any future visit. Along with TV programmes, social media publicize tourist activities in Magaluf. Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat and YouTube enable people to record and report their experiences in real time. As a consequence, Magaluf has received an unusual degree of media attention in recent years. In July 2014, for example, The Sunday

Mirror (a British tabloid newspaper) published a story under the headline ‘Magaluf exposed: sleazy party capital where girls are bullied into sex acts with strangers’. The story was based on footage taken on a mobile phone and eventually posted on YouTube of a young woman engaged in mamading (the provision of fellatio to multiple strangers) with 24 men in exchange for what she believed to be a free holiday. It transpired that the ‘free holiday’ in question was the name of a drink. The ensuing media coverage included more press revelations and much discussion about the salacious behaviour of some tourists holidaying in Magaluf. A form of moral panic (Cohen, 1972) ensued in which the authorities in Calvià again began to reassess what was being offered in Magaluf and think about its reputation. A police probe was initiated into the mamading event, and moves were undertaken to establish how the resort could be repositioned in the tourism market to attract higher spending and (by corollary) a ‘better class’ of tourist. While Palmanova and Magaluf are geographically adjacent to each other with no obvious break between them, Palmanova does not share Magaluf ’s reputation, even though it, too, has a predominately British flavour in its place names (The Willows, The Cottage), sells British foodstuffs, and provides English language TV entertainment. Compared with Magaluf, it is considered less lively and more suitable for families and older people. Tourists can engage in the same sort of activities as those staying in Magaluf – sunbathing, island tours, shopping trips, and so on – but there are far fewer nightclubs, and few bar crawls (extended drinking sessions at a chain of pubs or bars) occur in the resort. Indeed, some tourists who choose to stay in Palmanova may visit Magaluf for the nightlife, but return to Palmanova to sleep because it is quieter. In addition, while British visitors still predominate, other nationalities (including Spanish, French, German, Dutch and Scandinavian) are more visible, in that their respective tour operators can be identified and hotel entertainment is mediated in more than one language. What is common to both resorts, and to the experiences of tourists on a ‘package’ tour, is the attempt to mediate the tourist experience by the tour operator representatives (known as reps). Tour operators are powerful players in the resorts. They are primarily responsible for bringing tourists



Mass Tourism in Mallorca: Examples from Calvià

to the island. Some hotels accommodate tourists from a number of different tour operators, while others work exclusively with one company, which means that all the guests in some hotels have travelled with one operator. Tourists are usually met by their operator at the airport and are then driven by coach to their respective accommodation around the island. Reps from the company are assigned to hotels/ apartments, where they have a quota of tourists staying, and the reps’ duties are to encourage tourists to spend more money with the company during their holidays, deal with complaints, and assist with any issues tourists may face. The reps attempt to establish a relationship with their customers during ‘welcome’ meetings, which usually take place the morning after the tourists’ arrival. Attendees are served with a ‘free’ drink (something like a Bucks Fizz) and informed by the rep of the various excursions and activities available to them during their stay. These include organized coach trips to markets, island tours, trips to various night-time entertainment venues, and organized bar crawls. All these activities can be undertaken without the assistance of the reps, as independent travel agencies exist in the resorts to sell tickets for coach trips and other activities, and tourists can organize their own bar crawls. However, tour operators have a captive audience and couch their sales in terms of the potential dangers or problems of trying to go it alone. For example, one rep sold an organized trip to the weekly market at Inca by suggesting wrongly that while independent travel to the market was possible, the return trip would necessarily involve an expensive taxi journey. By contrast, bar crawls, predominately sold for Magaluf, are promoted on the grounds that the reps possess inside knowledge of the best places to visit in the resort, and during the drinkfuelled games that occur during the bar crawls they present themselves as the tourists’ trusted friend whereas, in fact, all sales boost the tour operators’ profits and gain commission for the reps themselves.

Conclusion As this case study shows, Mallorca has been ­subject to visitors in one form or another for

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thousands of years. However, it is the island’s most recent history which has seen huge numbers flock to the island in the form of mass tourists. Mallorca was well placed to witness the development of this type of tourism due to the foundations of what might now be called the tourism system associated with 19th-century travellers. The embryonic infrastructure which developed around the early visitors, along with the ambient natural climate, and political will of the Franco dictatorship all helped to propel the island into the forefront of mass tourism development. Undoubtedly, there have been benefits as a result of such business activity in terms of wealth creation and employment opportunities. Prior to tourism development in Calvià the municipality was very poor and there was much outward migration. However, development on the scale that has been witnessed in Calvià and other parts of the island in such a short period of time has not been without its difficulties. Many of the problems associated with tourism development have been seen including: (i) environmental degradation; (ii) water shortages; (iii) the development of enclave-like resorts from which the local population feel excluded; and (iv) changes in the sociocultural make-up of the island population owing not only to the expatriate community, but also to people from other parts of Spain coming to the island to set up businesses or find employment. However, despite the problems and, or perhaps even because of, the publicity associated with Magaluf and Palmanova, both resorts remain highly successful tourist destinations and seem a testament to the longevity of mass tourism, regardless of the product’s negative connotations.

Acknowledgements I should like to record my thanks to Señor Antoni Pallicer who was the Calvià Tourism Ombudsman during my main periods of research in Magaluf and Palmanova. I owe him thanks for his time, hospitality and the information about tourism development in the municipality. I am grateful to the tourist board of the municipality of Calvià for supplying the figures in Table 16.1 (from Ibestat, 2016).

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Note   All figures from Agència de Turisme de les Balears (2015) Available at: http://www.caib.es/govern/index. do?lang=ca (accessed 10 March 2017).

1

References Agència de Turisme de les Balears (2015) Available at: www.caib.es/sacmicrofront/archiropub.do?ctrl= MCRST8652l1939508id=193950 (accessed 7 December 2015). Ajuntament de Calvià, Mallorca (2015) Tourism Architecture. Available at: http://www.calvia.com/web/ plantilles/jstl/Calvia/plt/general.plt?KPAGINA=234&KIDIOMA=3 (accessed 28 October 2015). Andrews, H. (2000) Consuming hospitality on holiday. In: Lashley, C. and Morrison, A. (eds) In Search of Hospitality. Theoretical Perspectives and Debates. Butterworth Heinemann, Oxford, pp. 235–254. Andrews, H. (2005) Feeling at home: embodying Britishness in a Spanish charter tourist resort. Tourist Studies 5(3), 247–266. Andrews, H. (2006) Consuming pleasures: package tourists in Mallorca. In: Meethan, K., Anderson, A. and Miles, S. (eds) Tourism, Consumption and Representation. Narratives of Place and Self. CAB International, Wallingford, UK, pp. 217–235. Andrews, H. (2009a) ‘Tits out for the boys and no back chat’: gendered space on holiday. Space and Culture 12(2), 166–182. Andrews, H. (2009b) Tourism as a ‘moment of being’. Suomen Antropologi 34(2), 5–21. Andrews, H. (2011a) The British on Holiday. Charter Tourism, Identity and Consumption. Channel View, Bristol, UK. Andrews, H. (2011b) Porkin’ pig goes to Magaluf. Journal of Material Culture 16(2), 151–170. Balearic Government (2015) Available at: www.caib.es/sacmicrofront/archiropub.do?ctrl=MCRST8652l1939508id= 193950 (accessed 7 December 2015). Buswell, R.J. (2011) Mallorca and Tourism. History, Economy and Environment. Channel View Publications, Bristol, UK. Calvià Council (n.d.) ‘Calvià: Local Agenda 21’: A Sustainable Strategy for a Tourism Destination. Available at: http://www.calvia.com (accessed 28 October 2015). Cohen, S. (1972) Folk Devils and Moral Panics. Paladin, St Albans, UK. Euro Weekly News (2008) Available at: http://www.euroweeklynews.com/news/10888.html (accessed 15 October 2008). Hewson, D. (1990) Mallorca. Merehurst Press, London. Ibestat (Institut d’Estadistica de Les Illes Balears) (2016) Turisme. Available at: http://www.ibestat.es/ibestat/ estadistiques/per-territori/07011/b721d169-405f-420d-a300-323d4e76d7e1/es/I208013_m030.px (accessed 7 April 2016). Lloyd, J. (producer) (2013) Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents: Magaluf. BBC Three, 2013. BBC, London. Muirhead, L.R. (ed.) (1958) Blue Guide Majorca with Minorca and Iviza. Ernest Benn Ltd, London. Picornel, C., Benitez, J. and Ginard, A. (1996) Tourism, territory and society in the Balearic Islands. In: Fsadni, C. and Selwyn, T. (eds) Sustainable Tourism in Mediterranean Islands and Small Cities. Med-Campus, Malta, pp. 30–35. Royle, S. (2009) Tourism changes on a Mediterranean island: experiences from Mallorca. Island Studies Journal 4(2), 225–240. Salvator, E.L. (1897) Die Balearen Geshildert in Wort und Bild. K. u. K. Hofbuchandlung von Leo Woerl, Würzburg, Germany. Sand, G. (1956) Un Hiver en Majorque. [A Winter in Majorca (R. Graves, trans)]. Original work published 1855. OMNI S.L., Polígono Son Castelló, Palmanova de Mallorca. Selwyn, T. (1996) Tourism, culture and cultural conflict: a case study from Mallorca. In: Fsadni, C. and Selwyn, T. (eds) Sustainable Tourism in Mediterranean Islands and Small Cities. Med-Campus, Malta, pp. 94–114. Sobrasada of Mallorca (2015) Available at: http://sobrasadademallorca.org/ (accessed 10 December 2015). Stone, C. (producer) (2010) Sun, Sex and Holiday Madness. BBC Three, 2010. BBC, London. Tisdall, M. and Tisdall, A. (1987) Majorca: A Traveller’s Guide. Lascelles, Brentford, UK. Trozzo, J. (dir.) (2013) The Truth About Magaluf. BBC Three, 2013. BBC, London. Twofour (2014) Magaluf Weekender, Series 3. ITV2, February 2014. ITV, London.

17 

Tunisia: Mass Tourism in Crisis?

1

Heather Jeffrey1 and Sue Bleasdale2* University of Bedfordshire Business School, Luton, UK; 2 Middlesex University, London, UK

Introduction Successive governments in post-colonial Tunisia have sought to develop mass tourism as an avenue for social and economic development. Political instability and increasing media coverage have more recently led to a dramatic reduction in foreign tourist arrivals. Tunisia provides insights into the intersections of modernity, mass tourism, authoritarianism and terrorism, and in a world marred by terrorist attacks it becomes increasingly important to analyse the specific contexts from which these emerge. This chapter aims to address some of these issues by evaluating mass tourism development in Tunisia, highlighting the social and economic advances Tunisia has achieved, before analysing the situation since the ‘Jasmine Revolution’ of 2011. In order to fully analyse mass tourism in Tunisia, we draw on our own experience, which includes over 30 years of research in Tunisia, and fieldwork carried out shortly after the March 2015 Bardo Museum attack in the capital city Tunis. Finally, the chapter looks towards the future of mass tourism in Tunisia, arguing that while mass tourism has delivered positive advances, if it is to continue to do so the industry must be diversified and adapted to meet new needs.

The Development of Tourism in Tunisia Since independence from France in 1956, tourism has become an integral part of Tunisia’s development strategy, with the initial impetus coming from Habib Bourguiba, the first President. National Five Year development plans consistently featured a strong role for tourism development, based largely upon expected economic benefits (Bleasdale and Tapsell, 1999). Tourism began to grow under these interventions, which included the founding of the ‘Société Hôtelière et Touristique de Tunisie’ (National Society of Hotels and Tourism, SHTT) in the 1960s, responsible for 40% of accommodation constructed between 1960 and 1965 (Cortés-Jiménez et al., 2011). Initially, the accommodation sector was state led and almost entirely controlled by SHTT in 1962, but incentives provided by the government and infitah (the process of opening the country to private investment, mostly Tunisian) later meant that by 1968 almost 83% was privately owned, mostly by members of the Tunisian elite (Hazbun, 2008). In the 1960s foreign direct investment (FDI) in the tourism sector stood at around 3%, but by the early 1970s, assisted by the World Bank, this had grown to 10%. By 1977, petrodollar finance

*[email protected] © CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)

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became a major source of FDI, which rose to 11.7%, increasing even more to 32% in the early 1980s (Hazbun, 2008). Between 1970 and 1995, bed capacity in the country as a whole grew by 127,201, almost five times the capacity in 1970 (Poirier, 1995). By the 1970s, Tunisia was one of the fastest growing tourist destinations in the world (Poirier, 1995), and a clear upward trend in international arrivals can be seen from Fig. 17.1, as can the impact of the Jasmine Revolution of 2011. The tourism product developed and sold by the Tunisian government has historically been based on coastal mass tourism, which is organized through large-scale package holidays. The government initially experimented with luxury accommodation in the 1960s, before shifting to meet the needs of the dominating market segment of mass tourism (Cortés-Jiménez et al., 2011). Tourism has been heavily concentrated in the area of Hammamet-Nabeul, which in the 1990s held over 70% of hotel bed capacity (Poirier, 1995), and in 2010 38% of all tourist nights were spent in the Hammamet-Nabeul and Sousse-Kairouan area (Office National du Tourisme Tunisien, 2010). Other major resort areas include the artificial man-made resort of ­Yasmine-Hammamet, Monastir-Skanes, Mahdia-­ Sfax and Djerba-Zarzis. In the 1990s, the Tunisian government sought to diversify the industry by initiating ‘le tourisme saharienne’ (desert tourism)

and in 1990 there was the first direct flight between Europe and Tozeur (Gant and Smith, 1992). However, this initiative largely failed to attract new markets or entice mass coastal tourists inland (with the exception of excursionists), and in 2010 approximately 90% of all bed nights were spent in coastal resorts (Office National du Tourisme Tunisien, 2010). The prominence of Tunisia’s tourism model was noted in two chapters of de Kadt’s (1979) seminal text on mass tourism. Smaoui (1979) highlighted the importance of the industry in providing indirect employment in both agriculture and handicrafts, suggesting that the most disadvantaged in society were benefiting. Several risks were also highlighted including: (i) enclavism meant that tourist zones received improved infrastructure, which could later lead to host–guest friction (Smaoui, 1979); and (ii) strain was put on water supplies (Groupe Huit, 1979). Indeed, enclave tourism in Tunisia ‘succeeds in making the intercultural contact transitory but does not entirely limit the impact. In many beach enclaves, European values and activities reign supreme’ (Poirier, 1995: 204). It could be argued that enclave tourism in Tunisia has led to tensions between Tunisians and Europeans, as Tunisian culture and values differ significantly from the European. However, for many Tunisians this is not so. Similarities of ‘host’ and ‘guest’ are often underestimated, and

8 7 6

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5 4 3 2 1 0 1965 1967 1969 1971 1973 1975 1977 1979 1981 1983 1985 1987 1989 1991 1993 1995 1997 1999 2001 2003 2005 2007 2009 2011 2013 2015 Year

Fig. 17.1.  The evolution of international tourist arrivals. (Created from data available in Portail Open Data, 2016 and the Republic of Tunisia Ministry of Tourism and Handicrafts, 2016a.)



Tunisia: Mass Tourism in Crisis?

have been promoted by a secular government since independence (Hazbun, 2008). Furthermore, while the infrastructure in the tourist zones was initially improved, later even the most rural areas received such improvements as electricity and wells for water supply. This is exemplified by the rural electrification programme which led to a dramatic increase in rural households with access to electricity, from 6% in the 1970s rising to 88% by the end of 2000 (Cecelski et al., 2005). In the mid-1970s, hotels attempted to increase prices, only to be opposed by international tour operators, who were unable to charge more for the standardized product. This led to a lack of investment and many hotels were left in a state of disrepair (Hazbun, 2008). Tunisia’s relationship with tour operators dates back to the 19th century, when Thomas Cook and Son included the country as part of a tour, but since then the relationship has become more unequal. By 1972, 68% of all hotels were non-luxury and 5 years later tourism officials began to ‘diversify’ the tourism product, which led to the construction of the tourist enclave of Port el Kantaoui near Sousse, a man-made resort complex in an Andalusian style, providing 15,000 bed spaces, an artificial marina and other leisure facilities such as golf courses (Hazbun, 2008). This style of artificial holiday village became a prototype and in the 1990s Yasmine-Hammamet was created south of Hammamet. Yasmine-Hammamet is home to some of the most luxurious hotels in Tunisia, a man-made medina, a family theme park, religious museum and a golf course. However, although the resort offers luxury, one hotel manager explained that even in 2012 tour operators still dictated the prices. While some might consider the resorts of Port el Kantaoui and YasmineHammamet distasteful and inauthentic, the artificial marina just outside Sousse attracts many members of the Tunisian middle class, as does the man-made medina in Yasmine-Hammamet. In both resorts second homes for wealthier Tunisians dominate the private villa residences (local resident, 2011, personal communication). According to Mintel (2012), there are no official statistics on domestic tourists, but domestic expenditure has consistently risen since 2005, stagnating only in 2011. It has been suggested that domestic tourists were previously priced out of the tourism market because they

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did not benefit from the low prices achieved by European tour operators (Mintel, 2012). This may have been the case but, according to a tour guide in 2012, the Tunisian middle class has taken advantage of second homes and holiday homes in coastal areas, often to the detriment of locals wanting to buy or rent a first home. Furthermore, such family theme park attractions as Park Hannibal in Yasmine-Hammamet attract domestic tourists rather than international tourists, who primarily visit Tunisia for its beaches. While tourist and host interaction may have been limited by enclave developments, European-style hotels became an iconic symbol of status and Tunisians able to afford them wanted to share the same space as the Western ‘Other’ (Groupe Huit, 1979). Since even recent tourism policy has continued to focus on coastal mass tourism, a key challenge for mass tourism to Tunisia has been, and remains, to diversify the market away from the key sources of France, Germany, Italy and the UK (Republic of Tunisia Ministry of Tourism and Handicrafts, 2016b). The search for new and additional markets has been a continual theme in tourism policy since the 1990s, but is now more urgent.

Key Tourist Markets More recently, Tunisia has attracted increasing numbers of North African tourists. In 2010, they constituted 42.4% of all arrivals but only 4% of bed nights (Portail Open Data, 2016). By contrast, Europeans stay longer and spend more (Poirier, 1995; Office National du Tourisme Tunisien, 2010). In 2010, more than 82% of all tourist nights were spent by Europeans, and the key tourist-generating countries for Tunisia were (in order of prominence) France, Germany, the UK, Italy, Russia, Belgium and Poland (Office National du Tourisme Tunisien, 2010). Tunisia has had an especially productive relationship with the European Union (EU): in 2005 it was responsible for 67% of capital flows into Tunisia, a large share of in-bound tourists, and home to the largest community of expatriate Tunisians (World Bank/ISDB, 2005). At the same time, this undoubtedly leaves Tunisia vulnerable to external developments. Surprisingly, after 9/11, the terrorist attack in the Tunisian island resort of Djerba (2002), and the global economic

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c­risis of 2007–2008, tourism arrivals recovered quickly (Fig. 17.1). Tunisia continued to be seen as a cheap destination (ILO, 2011), and promotional campaigns, price reductions and the continuing process of an open skies agreement helped maintain tourist arrivals (Weisskopff and Schlumberger, 2012). Before the Sousse beach attack in 2015, the open skies agreement made flights between Europe and Tunisia (previously limited to the scheduled flights of Tunisair, the national carrier, and tour operator charter flights) more competitive. Yet, while Europeans may have been spending more than North African tourists, tourist receipts (per capita) in Tunisian resorts remained much lower than in such competitors as Spain, Morocco, Egypt, Turkey and Croatia (UNWTO, 2015). This could be explained by the type of tourist they attract, or a lack of opportunities to spend, and there are clear opportunities for the country to increase tourist spending, for example through promoting and developing the thalassotherapy (sea water) spa industry. Until 2013, the promotion of Tunisian tourism was organized by the Tunisian National Tourism Office (TNTO), which worked with other agencies, such as Rooster in the UK, but it was then taken over by Publicis, a French agency. There were many changes after the Jasmine Revolution. According to a TNTO representative, interviewed in 2015, the organization allocates on average over half of its marketing budget on Germany, the UK, Italy and France, and the rest of the budget is directed at secondary markets, mainly in Europe. Further evidence of the focus on Europe is illustrated by the fact that promotional material for ‘Be in Tunisia’, a current tourism campaign, is available only in English, French, German, Italian and Japanese. TNTO purposefully distanced itself from Islam, always avoiding religious symbols when organizing stands at travel markets, for example; a reflection of the policy of seeking growth and recovery among traditional mass tourists, albeit in additional new markets. However, while promotional activities are skewed towards the predominant European markets, in 2011 the Middle East was one of the few growth markets (Portail Open Data, 2016). Moreover, Kairouan, in Tunisia, is one of the holiest places in Islam, and many religious and spiritual travellers would be attracted if both the supply and the promotional activities were directed towards this market.

The Middle East and North Africa (MENA) markets are not the only potential areas for growth. A growth rate of 157.4% in arrivals from China was observed between 2010 and 2011 (from 4612 to 11,872 visitors) (Portail Open Data, 2016). Just 2 weeks after the Bardo attack of March 2015, a tour guide, with a group of more than 30 Chinese tourists, explained they were unaware of the political instability of the country or the recent terrorist attack, and the manager of the tour company stated that the Chinese market was the only one that had remained constant, and offered further opportunities for Tunisian tourism. In addition, the tendency of Chinese tourists to travel in groups would allow for the existing mass tourism infrastructure to accommodate them quickly.

Employment and the Economy The Tunisian economy has diversified from a mainly resource-based economy focused on the export of oil and gas to textiles, tourism and the production of olives and cereals. The limited possibilities in non-tourism sectors have increased the overall attractiveness of tourism as an employer. Only 3% of arable land is irrigated, oil and gas reserves are depleting, and textile production is facing increasing global competition, especially from China and Bangladesh (ISDB, 2005). Interestingly, the increase in unemployment beginning in 2008, which contributed to the rise of dissatisfaction leading to the Jasmine Revolution in 2011, can be mainly attributed to job losses in the textile sector and a growing bottleneck on emigration due to the global financial crisis (ILO, 2011). By 2006, the tourism sector was employing about one-third of the Tunisian working population (ILO, 2011). In 2010, approximately 96,611 people were directly employed by the industry, while an estimated 289,833 were indirectly employed (Office National du Tourisme ­Tunisien, 2010). According to the World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC), by 2014 the tourism industry was contributing (indirectly and directly) 15.2% to Tunisia’s gross domestic product (GDP) and directly supporting 230,500 and indirectly supporting 473,000 workers, or 13.9% of total employment (WTTC, 2015).



Tunisia: Mass Tourism in Crisis?

Although the quality of jobs in the tourism sector is often discussed, tourism provides a higher level of job security when compared with other sectors. Around 58% of all tourism jobs are under temporary contracts, compared with more than 68% of textile jobs, where 80% of the workers are female (ILO, 2011). Nevertheless, women take up 22.5% of jobs in the tourism sector, which is less than the overall percentage of female workforce participation (26%), and horizontal segregation is a challenge within the sector, as over 70% of female jobs are thought to be in housekeeping and reception (Karkkainen, 2010). Overall, investment in human development has not yet translated into increasing the proportion of women workers and while Tunisia has the highest rate of overall female labour force participation in the region, the tourism industry must work harder to change social norms and provide more jobs deemed appropriate for women.

Social Development Tourism has undoubtedly provided jobs for Tunisians and contributed to the growth of GDP over several decades but other, less tangible contributions are made by the industry. President Habib Bourguiba, educated in France and drawing on the policies of Ataturk in Turkey and of the French to develop his country, viewed tourism as a vehicle for modernization, and one which could portray Tunisia as a forwardthinking friend of Western countries (Hazbun, 2008). His policies to secularize Tunisia included ‘un-veiling’ Tunisian women, and mooted the abolition of Ramadan. He also introduced such dramatic legislative changes as the Family Status Code, which improved the legal status of women, as part of his focus on human resource development and modernity (OECD/African Development Bank, 2008). Ultimately, tourism played an important role in creating a positive external image for Tunisia, based on women’s rights, friendliness towards Western powers and openness (Hazbun, 2008). Bourguiba’s ‘modernizing’ ideology was the source of his downfall, and in 1989 an Islamist uprising led to his replacement by President Ben Ali (Hazbun, 2008). However, while the leadership changed, the ideology did not.

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Ben Ali maintained Bourguiba’s modernizing project, continuing to focus on tourism as a tool for development and attempting to secularize the nation by introducing such laws as the prohibition of veiling and beards (Louden, 2015). Both leaders used political Islam to justify their own policies, utilizing a fear of jihadism to legitimize authoritarian rule and secular policies (Louden, 2015). Ultimately, corruption, rising levels of youth unemployment and poverty, along with regional inequalities, culminated in the Jasmine Revolution and the downfall of President Ben Ali. Although there has been a dearth of democracy in many MENA countries, numerous social and economic advances were achieved by Bourguiba and Ben Ali. By 2005, the per capita income was US$2000, two and half times that of 1975 (ISDB, 2005), and in the 11th National Plan the figure for 2006 was calculated to be US$4064 (Republic of Tunisia, 2007). Since the 1970s, Tunisia also made dramatic advances in social indicators, reducing the poverty rate from 40% to 4% by the year 2000, and by the mid1990s almost all children received primary education (ISDB, 2005). Between 1970 and 2013, infant mortality was reduced from 122.2 to 13.1 (per 1000 live births), and female and male life expectancy rose from 52.288 and 50.052 to 75.9 and 71.5 years, respectively (World Bank, 2016). One of the most notable areas of progress has been in gender equality, in which Tunisia has led the MENA region. Gender gaps in education are low, and the gender parity index for primary and secondary enrolment changed from 0.6 in 1971 (a disparity in favour of boys) to 1.01 (a disparity in favour of girls) in 2011 (World Bank, 2016). While it is impossible to attribute these advances solely to tourism, it has to be recognized that tourism has been pivotal in all Tunisia’s development plans (Bleasdale and Tapsell, 1999; Hazbun, 2008).

Tourism and Terrorism The targeting of tourists by terrorists brings publicity, economic disruption and promotes ideological opposition to tourism (Sönmez, 1998), and when tourism is a major feature of an economy, it is especially vulnerable. After the

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2011 Jasmine Revolution, tourist arrivals in Tunisia fell dramatically, though tourism from some markets, notably France, Germany and Italy, fell more than others (42%, 41% and 67%, respectively) (Portail Open Data, 2016). Steady recovery in these markets from 2012 came to an end with the terrorist attacks of 2015. At the time of writing, international tourist arrivals are showing no signs of recovery from the 2015 terrorist attacks at the Bardo Museum and the coastal tourist resort of Sousse (see Fig. 17.1), but it is important to note these were not isolated events. Tourist reactions to terrorism are often delayed because of the expense of cancelling a holiday abroad, and the belief that lightening does not strike the same place twice (Sönmez, 1998). This could explain why several hotel managers interviewed in Sousse directly after the Bardo Museum attack reported few immediate cancellations, but no new reservations. It is sometimes argued that the practice of veiling reflects opposition to tourism (Poirier, 1995), and Dluzewska (2008) has suggested host–guest friction might be reduced if tourists with closer cultural norms and values were attracted. Yet in Tunisia there is little evidence of host–guest friction, although according to a local tour guide there is some friction between Tunisians working in tourism and those not. While many Tunisians are happy with European mass tourism and tourists, a few (especially those marginalized by the industry, often in the interior of the country) are resentful. Some Tunisians mimic European styles, while others choose more traditional ways of life. The situation is complex, and although tourism is undoubtedly a factor in such tensions, it needs to be situated within the wider social and political context. Tourism was promoted as a vehicle for development, but not all Tunisians approve the direction in which it is heading.

Looking to the Future of Tourism in Tunisia However, if the recent attacks were designed to attract media attention, demonstrate ideological opposition to tourism and disrupt economic activity, initially they were only partly successful.

The major impacts were felt only after the Sousse beach attack. This led major tour operators to suspend all forward bookings to Tunisia, and in January 2016 Thomas Cook and TUI suspended bookings to Tunisia until October 2016 (Porter, 2016). In February 2016, European government travel advisories were still warning against travel to Tunisia due to a perceived lack of security in the country. As long as such advisories remain, tourists will be unable to obtain travel insurance and tourism from the EU will be severely compromised (cf. FCO, 2016 or European Commission Travel Advice, 2016). This has undoubtedly led to a severe and ongoing decline in tourist arrivals. The Tunisian ambassador, interviewed on BBC Radio 4 on 25 May 2016 noted a decline of 90% in UK visitors to Tunisia in 2016. The overall impact of the terrorist attacks of 2015 will not be known until arrival statistics for 2016 become available. As previously noted, European tourists might be enticed to spend more, provided Tunisia is seen as more stable and secure. Until recently, the image of the country as a cheap destination has proved an advantage in the face of global financial crises. However, Tunisia has a wealth of tourism resources, for example thalassotherapy, desert safaris, the English Patient and Star Wars film sets, and it possesses some of the best conserved Roman, Phoenician and Punic heritage sites, which could be the basis of new products. If this potential is to be realized, though, the sites must be improved and the accommodation sector upgraded. Such a transformation will require a medium- to long-term development strategy and considerable investment, which is difficult to achieve in the current very uncertain context of Tunisia (Euromonitor International, 2015). Arising from this discussion, five potentially viable trajectories could be followed by the tourism sector in Tunisia, as indicated in Table 17.1. First, as previously noted, arrivals from the Middle East (MENA market) and China (emerging markets) increased after the Jasmine Revolution, and while accommodation would need improving to further entice high-spend tourists from the Middle East, little change in tourism infrastructure would be required to accommodate the small but growing number of Chinese mass tourists. Secondly, the wealth of religious resources could be promoted to attract religious and cultural



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Table 17.1.  Tourism alternatives for the future. (Authors’ own elaboration, 2016.) Alternatives to existing mass tourism MENA market

Islamic tourism

Domestic market

High-spend niche markets

Emerging markets

Strengths and weaknesses •  Small number of high-spend tourists from Saudi Arabia and Qatar at present (e.g. hunting parties) •  Middle East one of the few growth markets after Jasmine Revolution •  Growth will require tourism infrastructure of a higher quality (i.e. investment) •  Lower spend tourists from North Africa limited due to regional instability •  If regional stability is attained, may have the greatest potential for sustainable growth of mass tourism •  Tunisia could become a ‘religious’ destination for Islamic tourism from lower socio-economic groups •  Similar to current mass tourism with a religious ‘overlay’ •  Potential political and social opposition •  Growth would fit readily into the existing tourism infrastructure •  Domestic tourists tended to use tourist infrastructure during the high season before the Jasmine Revolution competing with European mass tourists for accommodation •  Growth is unlikely given the reduced GDP arising from falling international tourist numbers fuelling the rise in unemployment •  Potential to attract domestic tourists during the cheaper low season •  Would require re-direction of promotional activities, new investment in accommodation and improvements to transport facilities •  Potential to address regional inequality •  More likely to succeed in the medium and long term if investment is available •  Positive short-term option. Chinese and Russian markets resilient and fit readily into the mass tourist infrastructure •  Long term may be undermined by shrinking Chinese and/or Russian economy •  Greater cultural distance between China and Tunisia than existing markets; language problems would be considerable despite the Tunisian propensity for learning languages

tourists. However, in view of the growing secular/ religious divide that has emerged in Tunisia, religious tourism would need to be developed both carefully and sensitively. Finally, two other strategies are possible: (i) to develop domestic tourism, which would be difficult in the current economic climate; and (ii) to attract niche markets, which would demand the costly adaptation of supply and promotion. Ultimately, any strategy will depend upon achieving a secure and stable destination. Whatever strategies are to be followed, other constraints remain. Tunisia is an arid country, and water already has to be transferred from region to region (WTO, 2003). Supplies are irregular, and in the summer months many cities do not receive running water in the daylight hours – as experienced by one of the authors during 6 months spent in Sfax in 2012. Indeed, the demand for water is highest in the dry summer

season when tourists, locals and farmers compete for water. International tourists, in particular, consume nine times as much as domestic tourists in areas already suffering shortages. In Djerba, for example, the supply capacity of water is 0.36 m3 per person/day, but the average daily tourist consumption is 0.76 m3 (Bourse, 2011). Not surprisingly, in Tunisia the tourism sector has the highest rate of water consumption across all sectors (Eurostat, 2009). The situation is likely to be exacerbated by climate change, but the 1st International Conference on Climate Change and Tourism, held in Djerba, Tunisia, in 2003, highlighted intense water usage by tourists and the tourism industry, and suggested that, regardless of climate change, water rationing might be necessary (WTO, 2003). Other environmental issues relating to future sustainability include land-use patterns, desertification, waste management, beach erosion,

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e­nergy consumption and biodiversity (Bourse, 2011). Tourism plays a role in all of these, particularly waste management and energy consumption and more obviously beach erosion but if these environmental issues are not controlled they will negatively impact the tourism industry, as well as the Tunisian population. In 2008, it was noted that ‘The scarcity and fragility of natural resources is in fact the most disturbing problem, because mobilization of Tunisian water and land resources has reached its limits’ (OECD/African Development Bank, 2008: 595). Tunisia has introduced some measures to manage issues relating to climate change, such as subsidies for the use of solar power in hotels, but, regardless of these measures, global climate change will undoubtedly intensify water supply shortages (WTO, 2003).

Conclusion Tourism has contributed much, directly and indirectly, to the social and economic development

of Tunisia, and has been promoted by successive heads of state as a vehicle for modernization and a way to portray the country as modern and European. While it is difficult to attribute the dramatic social and economic advances outlined in this chapter solely to mass tourism, mass tourism has been part of the development project instigated in Tunisia since independence from France and has contributed significantly to social gains, especially in poverty reduction, education, health care, employment and gender equality. It has also provided jobs that are more secure than those in other industries, for example the textile industry, and has been a consistent source of revenue. Until the terrorist attacks of 2015, mass tourism made an important contribution to the economy. Terrorism is not new in Tunisia; what is new, though, is the use of social media by tourists to engage with the phenomena, and this could be an avenue for future research. However, long-term strategies must be implemented to increase the environmental, economic and social sustainability of tourism. The future of tourism in Tunisia will be far from straightforward.

References Bleasdale, S. and Tapsell, S. (1999) Social and cultural impacts of tourism policy in Tunisia. In: Robinson, M. and Boniface, P. (eds) Tourism and Cultural Conflicts. CAB International, Wallingford, UK. Bourse, L. (2011) Profile of Sustainability in Some Mediterranean Tourist Destinations. Plan Bleu United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)/Mediterranean Action Plan (MAP) Regional Activity Centre, Nice, France. Cecelski, E., Ounalli, A., Moncef, A. and Dunkerley, J. (2005) Rural Electrification in Tunisia: National Commitment, Efficient Implementation and Sound Finances. The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/World Bank, Washington, DC. Cortés-Jiménez, I., Nowak, J. and Sahli, M. (2011) Mass beach tourism and economic growth: lessons from Tunisia. Tourism Economics 17(3), 531–547. de Kadt, E. (1979) Tourism: Passport to Development? Perspectives on the Social and Cultural Effect of Tourism in Developing Countries. Oxford University Press for World Bank and United Nations ­Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), Oxford. Dluzewska, A. (2008) The influence of religion on global and local conflict in tourism: case studies in Muslim countries. In: Burns, P. and. Novelli, N. (eds) Tourism Development: Growth, Myths, and Inequalities. CAB International, Wallingford, UK, pp. 52–67. Euromonitor International (2015) Consumer Markets Post Arab Spring – What’s Next for Tunisia and Egypt? Part 1: Tunisia Desperately Seeking Investment. Available at: www.euromonitor.com (­accessed 4 ­January 2016). European Commission Travel Advice (2016) Consular Protection for European Union Citizens Abroad. Available at: http://ec.europa.eu/consularprotection/traveladvice/search_en?f%5B0%5D=im_field_ country_of_origin%3A%5B*+TO+*%5D&f%5B1%5D=im_field_target_country%3A282&solrsort=ss_ ms_country+asc (accessed 10 April 2016). Eurostat (2009) MEDSTAT II: ‘Water and Tourism’ Pilot Study. European Communities, Luxembourg. Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) (2016) Foreign Travel Advice Tunisia. Available at: https://www. gov.uk/foreign-travel-advice/tunisia (accessed 10 April 2016).



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Gant, R. and Smith, J. (1992) Tourism and national development planning in Tunisia. Tourism Management 13(3), 331–336. Groupe Huit (1979) The sociocultural effects of tourism in Tunisia: a case study of Sousse. In: de Kadt, E. (ed.) Tourism: Passport to Development? Perspectives on the Social and Cultural Effect of Tourism in Developing Countries. Oxford University Press for World Bank and United Nations Educational, ­Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), Oxford, pp. 285–304. Hazbun, W. (2008) Beaches, Ruins, Resorts: the Politics of Tourism in the Arab World. University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota. International Labour Organization (ILO) (2011) Studies on Growth with Equity, Tunisia a New Social Contract for Fair and Equitable Growth. ILO (International Institute for Labour Studies), Turin, Italy. Karkkainen, O. (2010) Women and Work in Tunisia Tourism and ITC Sectors: A Case Study. European Training Foundation, Turin, Italy. Louden, S.R. (2015) Political Islamism in Tunisia: a history of repression and a complex forum for potential change. Mathal 4(1), 2. Mintel (2012) Travel and Tourism – Tunisia – August 2012. Available at: http://academic.mintel.com/­ display/634675/?highlight#hit1 (accessed 1 April 2016). Office National du Tourisme Tunisien (2010) Le Tourism Tunisien en Chiffres 2010. Republique Tunisienne Ministère du Commerce et du Tourisme, Tunis, Tunisia. Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)/African Development Bank (2008) Country Report Tunisia. African Economic Outlook. African Development Bank and OECD, Paris. Poirier, R. A. (1995) Tourism and development in Tunisia. Annals of Tourism Research 22(1), 157–171. Portail Open Data (2016) Statistiques du Secteur du Tourisme. Available at: http://www.data.gov.tn/fr/index. php?option=com_mtree&task=viewlink&link_id=16&Itemid=0 (accessed 27 February 2016). Porter, L. (2016) Thomas Cook and Thomson cancel all Tunisia summer holidays. The Telegraph (London), 27 January. Republic of Tunisia (2007) 11th National Development Plan. Ministry of Development and International Cooperation, Tunis. Republic of Tunisia Ministry of Tourism and Handicrafts (2016a) Tourism in Figures. Available at: http://www. tourisme.gov.tn/en/achievements-and-prospects/tourism-in-figures/figures-2015.html (accessed 29 February 2016). Republic of Tunisia Ministry of Tourism and Handicrafts (2016b) Mise en oeuvre de la Strategie Tourisme Tunisien VISION 3+1. Available at: http:// tourisme.gov.tn (accessed 11 April 2016). Smaoui, A. (1979) Tourism and employment in Tunisia. In: de Kadt, E. (ed.) Tourism: Passport to Development? Perspectives on the Social and Cultural Effect of Tourism in Developing Countries. Oxford University Press for World Bank and United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), Oxford, pp. 101–110. Sönmez, S. (1998) Tourism, terrorism, and political instability. Annals of Tourism Research 25(2), 416–456. United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2015) UNWTO Tourism Highlights 2015. UNWTO, Madrid. Weisskopf, N. and Schlumberger, C.E. (2012) Open Skies in North Africa: Is Tunisia the Next Morocco? European Institute of the Mediterranean, Barcelona, Spain. World Bank (2016) World Data Bank World Development Indicators. Available at: http://databank.worldbank.org/data/reports.aspx?source=2&country=TUN&series=&period=# (accessed 29 February 2016). World Bank/Islamic Development Bank (ISDB) (2005) Tunisia: Understanding Successful Socioeconomic Development A Joint World Bank–Islamic Development Bank Evaluation of Assistance. The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/The World Bank, Washington, DC. World Tourism Organization (WTO) (2003) Climate Change and Tourism. Proceedings of the 1st International Conference on Climate Change and Tourism, Djerba, Tunisia, 9–11 April 2003. WTO. Available at: http://sdt.unwto.org/event/1st-conference-climate-change-and-tourism (accessed 8 December 2016). World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC) (2015) Travel and Tourism Economic Impact 2015 Tunisia. WTTC, London. Available at: http://www.wttc.org (accessed 10 April 2016).

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From Blue to Grey? Malta’s Quest from Mass Beach to Niche Heritage Tourism

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Gregory J. Ashworth1 and John E. Tunbridge2* University of Groningen, Groningen, The Netherlands; 2 Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada

Introduction ‘Tourism destinations reinvent themselves for various reasons. Product life-cycle analysis (­Butler, 1980) even suggests that all tourism destinations are in necessary continuous process of change, leading to either decline or reinvention’ (Ashworth, 2008: 58). This chapter examines the motives, processes and results of one specific type of such repositioning of tourism destinations, namely, the deliberately planned shift from ‘blue’, seaside resort-based tourism, to ‘grey’, heritage-based tourism (Ashworth and Tunbridge, 2003, 2005a, b). This transition has been especially important in Mediterranean countries and the single case of tourism development on the Maltese islands is considered here as an example. This began quite recently and quite suddenly as a reaction to externally induced strategic economic and political change. A tourism based upon the well-known homogenous sea-sun-sand package, sold largely on the basis of price, on a mass market was developed. The argument of this chapter is that the government of Malta and, in particular, the tourism authority, have been advised almost from the beginning of these developments, and have latterly attempted, to modify the beach-resort mass tourism product and attempt a blue–grey transition,

that is a shift from a tourism dependent upon beaches to one dependent upon heritage and culture more broadly. The resource basis for, and the intentions, progress and difficulties of this transition are described and lessons relevant to other destinations are drawn.

The Origins and Development of Tourism in Malta Strategically situated in the Mediterranean, Malta (current population of some 450,000 on 316 km2), is one of the world’s smallest, most densely populated countries. It now relies heavily on international tourism, but such dependence was not inevitable. Although its government recognized its tourism potential as early as the 1920s, prior to the 1960s tourism was an incipient activity essentially confined to British Service families (Boissevain, 1965). In the late 1950s and early 1960s, several broad trends coincided. One was the extension of holiday horizons in the main Western European tourism-generating countries, especially the inclusive, generally air-based, package tour well described elsewhere in this book, which facilitated new tourism markets and new sun destinations. Compared with other Mediterranean

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destinations, Malta was slow to take advantage of these tourism trends; unlike most of them, it was not shifting its economy from dependence on agriculture, but from providing services to the Royal Navy (RN), its ships and personnel. Tourism development was thus a consequence of changes in UK defence policy, arising from Malta’s loss of strategic importance in the late 1950s, as detailed in the British Defence White Paper of 1957, which envisaged winding down the military role that had been the mainstay of  the Maltese economy since its adhesion to the British Empire some 150 years before. The rundown of the naval base supporting the RN Mediterranean Fleet from 1962 created an urgent need for replacement employment, a new commercial use of the dockyard, light industry and tourism, processes which were accelerated by British financial aid around Malta’s independence in 1964. In 1958, the Malta Government Tourist Board was established, albeit with modest funding, and the government started a programme to improve access to beaches and promotion. Malta had already launched itself on the British holiday market, initially stressing its own Britishness: 12,500 visitors in 1959 grew to 38,500 by 1964, reaching 144,000 (nearly 75% British) in 1969 and 334,000 (still mostly British) by 1975 (Boissevain, 1977). Tourism became Malta’s fastest growing industry, outstripping employment in manufacturing and government services. However, throughout the 1960s, the tourism sector was hampered by poor accessibility, the high cost of travel, the reluctance of local people (used to a quite different skill-based economy) to become involved in the tourism industry, and limited accommodation. Mass tourism in small islands is especially dependent on air transport and in 2014 97% of visitors to Malta arrived by air. Civil aviation became concentrated on the ex-Royal Air Force (RAF) base at Luqa and a new passenger air terminal, financed by Britain, was inaugurated in 1958. A new and longer runway for larger jet aircraft was built in 1977 and work commenced on the extension of the air terminal in 1987. Malta International Airport became fully operational in 1992 and, by January 2015 had scheduled services to over 50 destinations. In 1974, the formation of Air Malta, the national airline, reduced Malta’s dependence on foreign

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airlines and low-cost holidays became one of the hallmarks of Maltese tourism, aided by the arrival of low-cost airlines, which now account for over one-third of all passengers. Consequently, attracted by the sun and the sea, tourist arrivals increased in the late 1970s, as did the demand for new hotels and self-catering accommodation, especially around St Julian’s and St Paul’s Bay, where most leisure activities and restaurants could be found, leading to the emergence of problems in the supply of water and electricity. Despite possessing only a few sandy beaches and a largely rocky coastline, its tourism development followed a traditional summer-focused, ‘blue’-oriented mass-tourism trajectory, which was only minimally guided by local or national planning. This arose despite a 1964 report by Italian consultants which stressed Malta’s cultural and historical assets (Pollacco, 2003). There were, in fact, three further consultants’ reports between 1972 and 1989 which broadly concurred with the first. Basically reflecting ideas popularized by the 1987 Brundtland Commission, they advocated integrated national planning intervention to diversify markets, extend seasons and tourist products that provided an acceptable balance of socio-economic and environmental costs in line with the overall national development needs of these densely populated islands. Nevertheless, mass ‘blue’ tourism outlasted them all: a planning authority was instituted only in 1992 and the development model was seriously challenged only after 2000. The mass ‘blue’ tourism approach persisted for four decades for several reasons (Pollacco, 2003). One was the prevalence of a military-base mentality associated with generally low standards of facility provision, catering and (probably) expectation. Malta’s post-independence adherence to the Sterling Area, at a time of severe exchange controls, gave it a competitive edge but thereby inflated its share of the budget tourism market. Most (90%) of the early tourists, mostly British residents, came by air on special return fares offered by BEA (British European Airways). Many were on charter packages mainly controlled by overseas tour operators, who offered traditional ‘blue’ holidays in the price-sensitive mass tourism market rapidly expanding in the 1960s’ Mediterranean. Hotels proliferated without adequate architectural or environmental controls, self-catering villa occupancy and retiree

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second homes, similarly British-dominated, proliferated, and cruise tourism developed (McCarthy, 2003a, b). Coastline development north of Valletta, formerly a villa environment, extended from Sliema into St Julian’s and beyond, with a diminishing gap northwards to further growth around Bugibba and St Paul’s Bay, so that by the late 20th century the national development focus was skewed from the capital to a congested coastal sprawl. As financial downturns in the 1970s and 1980s weakened the dominant British mass market, the Maltese government subsidized currency exchange with a UK forward buying rate (FBR) to support British tour operators, thereby unwittingly perpetuating the narrowly focused, low-return, excessively seasonal and environmentally unsustainable character of the country’s tourism development. When the FBR was removed in the 1990s, tour operators withdrew from Malta, and it was replaced with other schemes, albeit more closely policy supportive, until European Union (EU) accession in 2004 made this impossible. Vicissitudes in Malta–UK relations also created political vulnerability: the 1972 crisis over rent demands for the residual British military bases, for example, led to a damaging downturn in tourism arrivals that year, while imprudent expansion of hotel rooms during good tourism years exacerbated low ­occupancy rates in lean years, resulting in heavy discounting to overseas tour operators (Mangion, 1999). Despite successive consultants’ reports, and competition from other, more spacious, distant, exotic and wage-competitive destinations, this mass tourism growth model prevailed until the millennium, perpetuated by external tour-operator dominance, which ensured Malta would lose both revenue, through leakages, and industry control. From 2000, however, the Malta Tourism Authority (MTA) has made a sustained effort to capitalize on the tourism resources in which Malta possessed a clear competitive advantage, namely its unique cultural/historical endowment. Such efforts were unexpectedly assisted by the availability of cheap flights that followed Malta joining a decontrolled EU in 2004, and by the availability of cheap transport and accommodation over the Internet which loosened the grip of external tour operators. This must now be considered as a preliminary to ­answering the question of how far Malta has succeeded in moving from its deeply entrenched

mass tourism groove, with all its accompanying inertias of plant, infrastructure and attitude, along a ‘blue-to-grey’, mass-to-diverse, tourism trajectory.

The Potential Heritage Resources and Possibility of Blue–Grey Transition Malta is endowed with an embarrassment of historical riches. Its geographical location has prompted successive waves of occupation or influence from the Neolithic period onwards, notably by Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, the Knights of St John, French and – well within living memory – the British. All have left traces of ‘heritage’; indeed, Malta has three existing United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) World Heritage Sites, and several more on tentative lists, supported by a growing popular and governmental interest. Indeed the ‘embarrassment’ is in ‘The sheer concentration of features of historic interest worthy of conservation in Malta’ that ‘represents a major international challenge’ (Chapman, 1999: 26). The maintenance of such riches in such a small country raises the temptation that tourism could contribute to the solution of this heritage problem. This is the ‘windfall-gain model’ that views any potential tourism use of heritage as a zero-cost extra profit from an already existing and maintained resource. At its simplest, tourism could provide a use for the significant amounts of the historic fabric that are currently under-used or disused and direct earnings from tourism may defray some of the costs of restoration and maintenance (Chapman, 1999: 262). In practice, most such legacies are localized, fragmentary or intangible (as in the linguistic affinity between Maltese and Arabic); moreover, heritage tourism development has primarily favoured the Neolithic and Knights periods, the former being the world’s oldest surviving monuments. While holding the allure of mystery as well as age, their fragility disqualifies them from mass tourism use, and their visitor numbers are strictly limited. Among the Knights’ endowments, Valletta, the walled capital, is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and in general the Knights have a romantic appeal – arguably



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more than they deserve (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 2016) – as defenders of Christendom against would-be Ottoman invaders, and their Baroque architectural legacy is both extensive and robust, especially the massive fortifications. By contrast, the abundant British legacy, including Malta’s democracy, many of its related institutions, and the English language, tends to be too recent and too post-colonially equivocal to be generally valued as a heritage tourism resource. However, two great siege events provide prominent heritage narratives, necessarily more recent than Neolithic events, which are lost in prehistory. The first is the Knights’ successful defence against the Ottoman siege of 1565, which led to their construction of Valletta as a new and formidably defended capital. The second is the British–Maltese defence against the Axis air forces in 1940–1943, in which the defenders again prevailed, by a slender margin but with far-reaching consequences for the Second World War in North Africa and beyond. While the first siege is safely removed in time and abundantly marketed, its successor requires more nuanced presentation, for its traumas remain in living memory and involve post-colonial sensitivities, notwithstanding the George Cross in Malta’s flag which symbolizes its shared gallantry. Moreover, a heritage that appeals to the British market may be dissonant to the now numerous Italian and German visitors. Indeed, the British naval base, which was the main object of the Axis siege and was closely associated with the wartime Malta convoys, could generate many other heritage narratives from its broadly 175-year history which have been neglected at least until recently (Tunbridge, 2008). While some resources from British military history have been popularized by the NGO (non-governmental organization) Fondazzjoni Wirt Artna (Malta Heritage Trust), for example Fort Rinella, which defended Grand Harbour and the noon-gun firing from Valletta’s ramparts, other legacies, whether British or from earlier periods, remain unused in tourism and so do not advance a ‘blue–grey’ transition. A renewed interest in heritage is evident in many recent renovation projects. These include: (i) the redesign and new functions of the largest public space within the walled city, St George’s Square in front of the Grand Master’s palace; (ii) the pedestrianization of Merchants’ Street in 2008; (iii) the redesign of the Upper Barrakka Gardens; and (iv) the re-installation of a lift to the old Customs

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House on the waterfront in 2012, where a new public ferry service over the Grand Harbour to the historically important Dockyard Creek in ‘the Three Cities’ has been initiated. In addition, the buildings of Dockyard Creek are being renovated and redeveloped, largely for tourism; and Fort St Elmo, at the end of the Valletta peninsula, has been renovated. Such projects were stimulated by the planned cruise terminal in the historic Pinto Stores on Grand Harbour (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 2003; Tunbridge, 2008, 2014), while the recent redesign of the city gate area is the climax of a much wider series of urban regeneration projects over the last decade (Ashworth and Tunbridge, 2016). Governments, and those responsible for managing the tourism industry, have appreciated the value of such heritage attractions within the existing tourism development. This possible blue–grey transition seems to offer the tourism industry access to flexible resources at little or no cost, with a marginal addition to demand and political justification for the continued preservation and management of heritage sites, an extension of the ‘windfall-gain model’ mentioned above. In addition to the wider society, there appear to be economic, spatial and even psychic advantages in pursuing a blue–grey agenda for tourism, as the daily expenditure of heritage tourists is greater than that of beach tourists, thus offering the prospect of higher income at lower cost. Such expenditure permeates more of the local economy, and tourism is less seasonally concentrated and more spatially dispersed beyond beach resorts. Finally, there may also be a perceived contribution to vague but important notions of the enhancement of locality and community, the self-esteem and civic consciousness of local residents, and even a perceived link with environmental sustainability through preservation and reuse of structures and sites. However, the blue–grey transition is not only a promise for the future but also a threat to the present. From the 1960s, Mediterranean coastal resort tourism has been a successful homogeneous product in ever-widening markets with falling costs, but it is threatened by two main trends: (i) there has been an increase in ‘special interest’ and ‘place specific’ tourisms, which stress the uniqueness of heterogeneous tourism experiences and are almost the antithesis of the cost-conscious, organized, homogenous and packaged product; and (ii) there has been a slow growth, if not saturation, in the ‘traditional’

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mass blue market, which has an uncertain future. The natural resources on which Mediterranean beach holidays are based are in plentiful global supply and decreasing costs of air travel have fostered competing destinations, in the Mediterranean and elsewhere, offering similar holidays at substantially lower costs. It is not surprising, therefore, that successive governmental reports, and the MTA (MTA, 2002; Ministry of Culture and Tourism, 2007; Ministry of Culture, Tourism and the Environment, 2012), recognized the advantages in shifting ‘blue’ to ‘grey’ although they were often vague on the detail and the consequences such a shift entails. What the MTA has called ‘building on Malta’s competitive advantage’ (MTA, 2002: 18) implies that tourism, especially heritage tourism, has been identified as such an international competitive advantage whose exploitation is thus immediately pressing. ‘The repositioning of Malta’ within which ‘Malta’s unique value proposition’, in practice its heritage centred or enhanced tourism product, is a ‘corporate objective’ (MTA, 2002: 34). A fundamental shift was therefore set in motion, where the Malta product was redefined to rest on Malta’s distinctive comparative advantage, away from the more traditional ‘plain vanilla’ sun and sea product to one which adds ‘our rich heritage’. Malta was to be repositioned as a different type of destination, where ‘every visit would be a unique experience’ (MTA, 2002: 6). Tourism is thus seen as a potential solution to a serious heritage problem while heritage is viewed as a resource to be utilized as part of a solution to the tourism problem. The resulting synergy provides the competitive advantage for a reinvigorated local development. It is this combination that is the focus of policy in the early years of the century (Pollacco, 2003; Ashworth and Tunbridge, 2003: 5; Ministry of Culture and Tourism, 2007; Ministry of Culture, Tourism and the Environment, 2012).

Stalled Progress? A comparison of tourism statistics over a 10-year period reveals a relative increase in heritagemotivated tourists but only as part of a more general diversification of both product and market. Analysis is complicated because, until recently, the MTA classified holidays only according

to the main stated purpose of visit, which led to a binary division of sun and culture, with the former dominant (75%), and most ‘heritage’ consumed as an add-on to beach resort holidays. However, while culture-orientated activities were thus discounted as the primary interest, most visitors also went sightseeing (84%) or visited historic sites (76%) at some time (MTA, 2013). Recently, the binary distinction has been modified with an intermediate category and, in 2014, 28.7% of holidays were primarily sunbased, 15.3% primarily culture-based, and a further 18.4% were an amalgam of both (MTA, 2015). Malta is undoubtedly now promoted as a heritage as well as sun destination and history now supplements but does not replace the existing ‘blue’ advertising straplines: the ‘sun drenched’ ‘leisure island’ with ‘200 kilometres of coastline’ and ‘clear and transparent waters’ is now also advertised as ‘7000 years of history’, ‘an enigma of prehistory’ and an ‘Island of mystery’. However, despite such additions, the foreign perception of Malta remains dominantly ‘blue’ rather than ‘grey’ and 57% of visitors agree their main purpose for visiting Malta was ‘agreeable climate’, while only 39% chose history and culture (MTA, 2015). Government attitudes to the selection of Valletta as European Capital of Culture for 2018 are symptomatic of this partially thought-out approach to culture and heritage, and it is assumed that a pre-existing culture will automatically provide a unique opportunity for the tourism industry, increasing tourism revenues despite it being also assumed that the principal beneficiaries of this exercise will be not tourism but the ‘pride of the Maltese people’ (Baldacchino, 2009). Although in 2014 the UK still accounted for about one-third of the visitors, this was less than half of those in 1991. The market has diversified, at least partly because agent-booked corporate-run holiday packages have declined and there has been a corresponding rise in individual Internet bookings, which in 2014 were 776,000 and 913,000, respectively (MTA, 2015). As a consequence, there has been a decline in seasonal concentration, with notable increases in the shoulder months of October and November and the winter period, and Malta has become one of the least seasonal Mediterranean tourism destinations, outperforming such island states



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as Cyprus with a more balanced seasonal distribution of tourists. However, two quite fundamental conditions complicate a substantial blue–grey transition. These relate to the characteristics of heritage tourism and more generally the nature of heritage itself. The first concerns the nature of the tourism involved. Although there is an overlap between beach- and heritage-motivated tourists, the latter are more diverse, represent several niche markets and interests, and are highly fickle in destination choice and fashion consciousness. Arguably, grey tourists, in particular, represent the worst possible combination of immutable products and fickle markets. In addition, heritage tourists can be characterized as independent and more spatially diffuse and, on average, stay less than half as long as beach tourists, while visits to any one city or site may be a matter of hours. In Valletta, for example, visits average 4–6 hours (Mangion and Trevisan, 2001). A successful transition, therefore, involves the continuous development of new products, and new investments in accommodation and transport infrastructure to support them and new markets in a highly competitive field. There are three possible transition scenarios. First, mass beach tourism might be replaced by a more variegated heritage tourism, which necessitates the most radical shift in investment, marketing and product development. Secondly, heritage tourism could be developed in parallel to existing beach resort tourism, using different resources and serving different markets simultaneously. Thirdly, and least radically, heritage tourism products could supplement the existing mass beach product, playing an ancillary rather than determining role, as already occurs. A second reason for limited progress concerns the nature of heritage, which serves other non-economic and specifically non-tourism uses (see for example the Maltese case in Mitchell, 1996). Local political, social and cultural uses of heritage sites may compete with, and be prioritized over, tourist interests (Boissevain, 1996). Indeed, the ‘windfall-gain model’ mentioned earlier is valid only if heritage is valued equally by locals and tourists, and if the experience of the former does not exclude or even detract from that of the latter – a scenario anticipated by those supporting Valletta as European Capital of Culture in 2018.

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Unfortunately, though, such a convergence of interest does not always occur. Frequently, blue–grey heritage tourism transition will serve different users and will thus be uneven, multi-vocal and even contested. In Malta, for example, accounts of the two dramatic sieges, in 1565 and 1940–1943, involve demonizing, in the first case, Turks and, in the second, the Germans and Italians, all of whom are or could be important tourism markets. In the last few years, a number of developments have weakened the drive for blue–grey change. A symbol was the splitting of the Ministry, with culture being subsumed in a Ministry of Education and a separate ‘Ministry for Tourism’ being established in 2013. This published a ‘national policy document’ (Ministry for Tourism, 2014) which recognized the importance of the ‘historical urban areas such as the Three Cities, Mdina/Rabat, Victoria, Gozo and the historical cores of numerous towns and villages’ (p. 35) but also noted that ‘such a conscious shift requires a much broader definition of culture beyond historical sites, museums and traditional manifestations to include other tangible and intangible elements of Maltese life which are ultimately connected to the lifestyle experiences which tourists are increasingly seeking’ (Ministry for Tourism, 2014: 35). Against this expectation needs to be set two disturbing observations. First, the number of visitors to museums and historical sites is actually dropping and secondly, albeit contradictorily, some of the available attractions may be facing ‘capacity constraints’. ‘This suggests that as tourism volumes have expanded, a more generic type of visitor who is less interested in specific attractions and more interested in general sightseeing is being drawn to our shores’ (Ministry for Tourism, 2014: 49). More bluntly the drive to shift from the generic blue tourist to the more variegated grey visitor is stalling. Moreover, as indicated earlier, many heritage resources, especially prominent archaeological sites in Malta cannot readily sustain mass tourism use.

The ‘Wild Cards’: Casinos, Conventions and Cruises In Malta, as elsewhere, the attempted move from a mass ‘blue’ to a diversified ‘grey’ tourism economy

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is further complicated by the growing importance of tourism sectors which fit into neither category and obscure the extent of any such transition. While some niche special-interest tourisms are intrinsically distanced from mass ‘blue’ tourism and are more associated with ‘grey’ tourism (e.g. military tourism), other forms of tourism (e.g. casinos, conventions and cruise ship tourism) exhibit both mass ‘blue’ and diverse ‘grey’ characteristics or associations. Casinos have become a major component of Malta’s tourism and have attracted considerable overseas investment. While three are located in coastal resorts and might be considered central elements in the recent internationally competitive amenity upgrading of the ‘blue’ environment, another occupies a historic naval building in Grand Harbour and constitutes, with its associated marina facilities, a deliberate use of upmarket ‘blue’ amenities as an instrument to revitalize the ‘grey’ environment of Dockyard Creek (McCarthy, 2003a, b, 2004; Buhagiar and Schembri, 2006). Moreover, two others are located by historic seafronts in and near Valletta, leaving just one inland. Conventions, too, often directly or tangentially figure in promotions of Malta’s ‘grey’ tourism. Many of the best convention facilities are, however, in the elite ‘blue’ hotels of St Julian’s, where they help increase the occupancy rate in the low season; and in Valletta, too, conventions can be held at hotels but also at the Mediterranean Conference Centre, which is located in the unequivocally ‘grey’ environment of the former Knights’ hospital. Cruise ship tourism is also increasing, and in 2014 there were 471,000 passengers (MTA, 2015). To cater for such visitors, terminal facilities have recently been expanded in Grand Harbour, again using refurbished Knights’ buildings for the port and its retail amenities. However, cruise ship tourists cannot be considered exclusively ‘grey’; ships offer tours to Malta’s historic attractions but cannot control where passengers choose to spend their time, and while smaller ships commonly offer history-themed itineraries, larger vessels also provide in-port, on-board activities which more reflect mass ‘blue’ tourism expectations (Jaakson, 2004). To conferences, cruises and casinos should be added such diverse activities as diving (6% of holidays), which is mixed ‘blue/grey’ with respect to marine archaeology, and English language

schools (4.6%). Together, such types of tourism blur both the distinction between mass ‘blue’ and heritage ‘grey’ tourism and the analysis of any transition from the former to the latter. Arguably, what has occurred is less of a transition and more the addition of new products, which utilize existing resort infrastructure, and which often might be more ‘blue’ than ‘grey’. All, however, represent an effort in Malta – which is repeated in all destinations with which it competes – to diversify the tourism product.

Lessons from the Malta Experience While not unique, attempts in Malta to move from ‘blue’ to ‘grey’ tourism have a wider relevance to other beach resort destinations, not least around the Mediterranean. It should be noted, though, that heritage tourism involves more than the consumption of heritage; it must be accompanied by the consumption of other tourist ‘products’, for example food, wine, speciality shopping, cultural performances and evening entertainment, all of which supplement and provide an atmospheric backdrop to heritage tourism activities. This ‘enhanced heritage tourism package’, which could here be labelled ‘La vie Méditerranée’, is a composite of the above features within a relaxed ‘Latin’ lifestyle. Unfortunately, though, while Malta possesses numerous relics of history, there is a chronic shortage of such supplementary attractions (MTA, 2002) and, as already indicated, such recent additions as casinos and night clubs in Paceville in ‘blue’ St Julians, do not necessarily support a focus on heritage. Small islands have both advantages and disadvantages in this transition (as illustrated in Briguglio et al., 1996). In their favour, they have an established image, their relative isolation ‘captures’ the tourist for a longer stay, and they are often sovereign entities, which can plan more effectively and single-mindedly. In this respect, Malta and Cyprus have advantages over the Balearic, Ionian or Aegean islands, considered elsewhere in this volume. The major disadvantage of islands is their insularity, which matters little with static, flight-dependent beach tourism but which makes it difficult to create heritage tourism packages and networks, other than on more specialist themed cruises. In a different geographical context, for example, major tourist-historic cities,



Malta’s Quest from Mass Beach to Niche Heritage Tourism

like Valletta in Malta or Famagusta in Cyprus (cf. Ashworth and Tunbridge, 2000), would be part of wider heritage tourism circuits, accommodating visitors on short stays as part of networks of similar cities accessible to each other. The multiple role played, for instance, by Malaga, Granada or Gerona in relation to Spanish Mediterranean beach tourism; by Montpellier, Nimes or Arles in Languedoc; by Ravenna to the Italian Adriatic or, more recently, Acre to Israeli Mediterranean beach resorts, is an option largely denied to island destinations. Moreover, the intra-European cultural affinity circuits promoted by the EU, linking Roman or Viking Europe, for example, are difficult to establish across seas, though a focus on the Knights of St John would otherwise be a highly promising heritage tourism itinerary, linking ­Palestine, Cyprus and Rhodes to Malta. Infrastructural constraints also make the transition from blue to grey tourism difficult. Malta’s hotel plant, together with its ancillary retail, restaurant and related commercial amenities and its public investment in roads and piped services, is disproportionately focused on the coast north-west of Valletta, thus discouraging major shifts in tourism mode, particularly for commercial interests which have invested heavily in ‘blue’ casino or conference facilities, which might otherwise have gone to Valletta or other historic milieus. In addition, despite the relatively short distances involved, Malta’s population density and the consequent congestion inhibit efforts to re-orientate tourist travel from blue to grey. Such a mismatch between tourism plant investment and historic destinations is not unique to Malta; in Cyprus, for example, hotel concentrations near Paphos and Limassol are not in prime heritage tourism locations; in fact, some of the most important of these are across the ‘Green Line’ in the largely unrecognized Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC). Other constraints to the transition from mass ‘blue’ to heritage ‘grey’ tourism have already been indicated. Many archaeological sites in Malta and the wider Mediterranean, for example, are difficult to visualize and interpret and are often physically unsuited to intense visitor pressures. More creative management, including for example, advanced timed tickets, is necessarily employed. Important, too, is the ­ intrinsic dissonance of heritage itself which, ­ as  demonstrated by reference to previous

207

i­nternational conflict in Malta, invariably carries dormant or germinating seeds of discord with some individuals, groups or interests, including tourism authorities and tourists from different backgrounds (Tunbridge and Ashworth, 1996; Harrison and Hitchcock, 2005; Ebejer, 2009; Smith, 2010), all of which can be mitigated through knowledge, recognition and sensitive market-­orientated management. However, lessons from the Malta experience do not unequivocally chart the limitations of heritage tourism and the resilience of mass tourism. Transition is possible. First, the move from travel operators to individual Internet booking, and access to cheap flights, which have already created the potential for more individually selected holidays in Malta and elsewhere, is likely to continue. Secondly, as the Asian tsunami, Bali bombs and the Tunisian beach attacks show, mass tourism is particularly vulnerable to disaster and terrorism. Thirdly, mass beach tourism on limited coastal resources such as Malta’s can potentially create unsustainable environmental overloads and the consequent need to limit numbers and/or redirect them to other types of tourism, of which heritage tourism in the fullest sense described in this chapter is the most obvious (Pollacco, 2003). It can be concluded from the Malta case that the blue–grey transition is motivated by the separate concerns about the future of the tourism industry and the economic sustainability of heritage sites. Its implementation, however, ­necessitates actions far beyond the remit of tourism, including in the fields of heritage site management, transport, cultural policy, housing and indeed urban planning in general. Heritage tourism is intrinsically more deeply embedded in other aspects of government policy than is the more spatially and functionally isolated resort tourism. Thus a blue–grey transition necessitates the existence of agencies capable of operating widely. Small island states have advantages in these respects, but the process is not automatic and the advantages of political autonomy are often offset by a powerlessness in the face of external forces. The answer to the question, ‘can Malta effect a blue–grey transition?’ depends upon who is going to do it and whether they have the instrumental structures and political will to do it. The current answers of ‘sometimes’ may not be enough.

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Gregory J. Ashworth and John E. Tunbridge

References Ashworth, G.J. (2008) The blue–grey transition in Mediterranean tourism destinations. In: Mamadouh, V., de Jong, S.M., Thissen, F. and van Meeteren, M. (eds) Dutch Windows on the Mediterranean. Geographical Studies 376, Utrecht, The Netherlands, pp. 58–65. Ashworth, G.J. and Tunbridge, J.E. (2000) The Tourist-Historic City: Retrospect and Prospect of Managing the Heritage City. Elsevier, Oxford. Ashworth, G.J. and Tunbridge, J.E. (2003) Malta Makeover: Prospects for the Realignment of Heritage, Tourism and Development. Report, Malta Tourism Authority. URSI 304 Urban and Regional Studies Institute, University of Groningen, The Netherlands. Ashworth, G.J. and Tunbridge, J.E. (2005a) Move out of the sun and into the past: the blue–grey transition and its implications for tourism infrastructure in Malta. Journal of Hospitality and Tourism 3(1), 19–32. Ashworth, G.J. and Tunbridge, J.E. (2005b) Moving from blue to grey tourism: reinventing Malta. Tourism Recreation Research 30(1), 45–54. Ashworth, G.J. and Tunbridge, J.E. (2016) Multiple approaches to heritage in urban regeneration: the case of City Gate, Valletta. Journal of Urban Design. Published online 1 February 2016. Available at: www. tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13574809.2015.1133230?needAccess=true (accessed 12 December 2016). Baldacchino, J. (2009) Pangs of nascent nationalism from the nationless state: Euro coins and undocumented migrants in Malta since 2004. Nations and Nationalism 15(1) 148–165. Boissevain, J. (1965) Saints and Fireworks. Religion and Politics in Rural Malta. Athlone Press, London. Boissevain, J. (1977) Tourism and development in Malta: development and change. Tourism Management 8(4), 523–538. Boissevain, J. (1996) ‘But we live here!’ Perspectives on cultural tourism in Malta. In: Briguglio, L., Butler, R., Harrison, D. and Leal Filho, W. (eds) Sustainable Tourism in Island and Small States: Case Studies. Pinter, London, pp. 220–240. Briguglio, L., Archer, B., Jafari, J. and Wall, G. (eds) (1996) Sustainable Tourism in Islands and Small States: Case Studies. Pinter, London. Buhagiar, S. and Schembri, J.A. (2006) Yacht marina development in Malta. Paper presented at International Conference on the Management of Coastal Recreational Resources: Beaches, Yacht Marinas and Ecotourism, Gozo, Malta, 25–27 October. Butler, R.W. (1980) The concept of a tourist area cycle of evolution and implications for management. Canadian Geographer 24(1), 5–12. Chapman, D. (1999) Malta: conservation in a transitional system. Built Environment 25(3), 259–271. Ebejer, J. (2009) It’s the national identity. Times of Malta, 23 May. Harrison, D. and Hitchcock, M. (eds) (2005) The Politics of World Heritage: Negotiating Tourism and Conservation. Channel View Publications, Clevedon, UK. Jaakson, R. (2004) Beyond the tourist bubble: cruise ship passengers in port. Annals of Tourism Research 31(1), 44–60. Malta Tourism Authority (MTA) (2002) Strategic Plan 2002–4. Malta Tourism Authority, Valletta, Malta. Malta Tourism Authority (MTA) (2013) Malta Tourism Statistics 2012. Malta Tourism Authority, Valletta, Malta. Malta Tourism Authority (MTA) (2015) Malta Tourism Statistics 2014. Malta Tourism Authority, Valletta, Malta. Mangion, M.-L. (1999) The Economic Impact of Tourism in Malta. Malta Tourism Authority, Valetta, Malta. Mangion, M.-L. and Trevisan, C.Z. (2001) The Significance of Valletta as a Tourism Product: Findings of a Tourism Survey. Research and Information Division, Malta Tourism Authority, Valletta, Malta. McCarthy, J. (2003a) Spatial planning, tourism and regeneration in historic port cities. The Planning Review 39(154), 44–60. McCarthy, J. (2003b) The cruise industry and port city regeneration: the case of Valletta. European Planning Studies 11(3), 341–350. McCarthy, J. (2004) Tourism-related waterfront development in historic cities: Malta’s Cottonera Project. International Planning Studies 9(1), 43–64. Ministry of Culture and Tourism (2007) Tourism Policy for the Maltese Islands 2007–11. Government of Malta, Valetta, Malta. Ministry of Culture, Tourism and the Environment (2012) Tourism Policy for the Maltese Islands 2012–16. Government of Malta, Valletta, Malta. Ministry for Tourism (2014) National Tourism Policy 2015–2020. Government of Malta, Valletta, Malta.



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Mitchell, J. (1996) Presenting the past: cultural tour-guides and the sustaining of European identity in Malta. In: Briguglio, L., Butler, R., Harrison, D. and Leal Filho, W. (eds) Sustainable Tourism in Island and Small States: Case Studies. Pinter, London, pp. 220–239. Pollacco, J. (2003) In the National Interest: Towards a Sustainable Tourism Industry in Malta. Fondazzjoni Tumas Fenech, Malta. Smith, A. (2010) The role of national identity and tourism in city planning: the case of Valletta. Urban ­Research and Practice 3(1), 63–84. Tunbridge, J.E. (2008) Malta: reclaiming the naval heritage? International Journal of Heritage Studies 14 (5), 449–466. Tunbridge, J.E. (2014) Malta revisited: a broader renaissance unfolds. Dockyards (The Naval Dockyards Society) 20(2), 14–17. Tunbridge, J.E. and Ashworth, G.J. (1996) Dissonant Heritage: The Management of the Past as a Resource in Conflict. John Wiley & Sons, Chichester, UK. Tunbridge, J.E. and Ashworth, G.J. (2003) Reclaiming Malta’s Naval Heritage: An Argument for the Revitalisation of Dockyard Creek. Report, Malta Tourism Authority, Valletta, Malta. Tunbridge, J.E. and Ashworth, G.J. (2016) Is all tourism dark? In: Hooper, G. and Lennon, J. (eds) Dark Tourism: Practice and Interpretation. Routledge, Abingdon, UK, pp. 12–25.

19 

Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean: The Mess of Mass Tourism Paul Wilkinson* York University, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Introduction Tourism in general, and cruise tourism in ­particular, are characterized by complexity, uncertainty and rapid change, factors which, in turn, create ‘messes’: Managers are not confronted with problems that are independent of each other, but with dynamic situations that consist of complex systems of changing problems that interact with each other. I call such situations messes. Problems are abstractions extracted from messes by analysis. Managers do not solve problems, they manage messes. (Ackoff, 1979: 99–100)

Others have articulated the complexities of messes and the difficulties of managing under ‘turbulent’ conditions (e.g. Trist, 1980; Cartwright, 1991; Mitchell, 2002). Relationships among variables tend to be non-linear, and economic actors who can collaborate in small groups can usually exploit the chaotic worlds of small-scale decision makers who face even higher degrees of uncertainty. Such oligopolistic behaviour appears to describe the worlds of the cruise ship industry on one hand,1 and the multiple cruise ship destinations on the other. The consumers of the products and services of the cruise ship conglomerates are both cruise passengers and, in another sense, destinations, which vie with

each other to attract cruise ships to dock at their ports and, thus, boost their national and local economies. So while the conglomerates face a high degree of uncertainty (e.g. world economic conditions, costs of fuel, political or climatic crises, outbreaks of disease), cruise ship destinations face even more chaotic environments, given their relative inability to affect major trends, their isolation and their de facto competition with large and changing numbers of other potential destinations. The entire complex of macro- and micro-­management is aptly ­described as a ‘mess’. It is argued here that mass tourism in general, and cruise tourism as a form of mass tourism in particular, represent such messes. Their messiness, however, is not recognized by tourism decision makers – at least those in the government sector who appear to be willing to believe that cruise tourism and its expansion is an acceptable and successful route to economic ­ growth – who ignore or are ignorant of the complexity of tourism and cruise tourism and of the nature of the turbulent environment in which they exist. On the other hand, cruise-industry decision makers appear to be rational in that they are motivated by – and, presumably, are achieving – financial profitability from their pursuit of increased cruise ship capacity and cruise tourists.

*[email protected] 210

© CAB International 2017. Mass Tourism in a Small World (eds D. Harrison and R. Sharpley)



Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean

There are many definitions of mass tourism, but Vanhove’s (1997: 50) simple one will be used here: Mass tourism is related to two main characteristics: (a) participation of large numbers of people in tourism and (b) the holiday is standardized, rigidly package and inflexible. . . . The key benefits of mass tourism are income and employment generation. For both benefits input–output analysis is the best form of assessment. The key cost elements are the so-called incidental costs. These lead to quality of life costs and or fiscal costs.

Vanhove (1997: 50) then presents Fink’s (1970) basic elements of mass tourism:

• • • •

participation of large numbers of people; mainly collective organizing of travelling; collective accommodation; and conscious integration of the holidaymaker in a travelling group.

These characteristics and elements certainly match those of cruise tourism. Moreover, the primary goals of government decision makers in fostering cruise tourism are income and employment generation. The evaluation of these benefits, however, does not appear to take place in the form of input–output analysis or benefit– cost analysis, focusing rather on simple numerical measures of numbers of cruise tourists and expenditures and ignoring costs.2 This chapter will demonstrate that this is indeed the case in terms of a sample of Caribbean island cruise destinations.

A Note on the Caribbean Destinations in the Sample A large number of organizations collect and publish tourism data for the Caribbean. Each destination has some form of governmental agency (e.g. department/ministry of tourism, tourism board, national statistics agency), with varying levels of completeness, reliability and frequency of data dissemination. There are also a number of non-governmental organizations providing data (often collected from individual governmental agencies) and data analysis, such as the Caribbean Tourism Organization (CTO), the United Nations (UN), the United Nations

211

World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) and the World Bank. Finally, there are also industry-­ related organizations, including the Florida-­ Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) and the World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC). There is, however, no single source of information which provides consistent, complete data for all destinations, either internationally or regionally, over a significant time period. As noted, one of the major arguments, if not the major argument, for promoting tourism development on the part of national governments is that of economic benefits, both direct and indirect, in terms of such measures as gross domestic product (GDP) (with tourism expenditures often being used as a surrogate metric) and employment. Data on total tourism expenditures are relatively available, but not on employment; the lack of basic data on cruise tourism is even more prevalent. Data on simple measures of tourism arrival numbers and tourism expenditures documented by organizations such as the CTO are available for Caribbean tourism destinations, although there are gaps owing to lack of or tardiness in reporting by some national organizations. Data on the economic impacts of cruise tourism are, however, noticeably absent. The exception is the FCCA: The FCCA is a not-for-profit trade organization composed of 19 member cruise lines operating more than 100 vessels in Floridian, Caribbean and Latin American waters. Created in 1972, the FCCA’s mandate is to provide a forum for discussion on tourism development, ports, safety, security and other cruise industry issues. By fostering an understanding of the cruise industry and its operating practices, the FCCA seeks to build cooperative relationships with its partner destinations and to develop productive bilateral partnerships with every sector. The FCCA works with governments, ports and all private/public sector representatives to maximize cruise passenger, cruise line and cruise line employee spending, as well as enhancing the destination experience and the amount of cruise passengers returning as stay-over visitors. (FCCA, 2016)

The FCCA has published four reports on the economic impact of cruise tourism in the ­ ­Caribbean; the sample size for each of these ­reports has generally increased over time, but

212

Paul Wilkinson

not all destinations are represented in all four reports (presumably because each destination was required to pay a portion of the costs of the research). The final report contains data on 22 Caribbean island tourism destinations; these 22 destinations are used as the sample for this chapter, despite the gaps in those reports and in other time-series data available from other sources. Nearly all Caribbean island cruise destinations are represented, with some exceptions, such as Haiti and Bermuda, because of the absence of much other data. Other destinations in the FCCA report are not included here because they are located in mainland countries (e.g. ­Cozumel, Mexico) and it was not possible to disaggregate data for the island from the nation as a whole. Nevertheless, this sample does present a broad picture of Caribbean cruise tourism, ranging from major to minor players in the cruise system. While the FCCA reports begin their cruise expenditure analysis for the 2004– 2005 cruise year, an attempt is made to present other data beginning in 2000 in order to give a better sense of the trajectory of the situation that immediately preceded those data.3

Positioning Caribbean Tourism and Caribbean Cruise Tourism Of the estimated 221 countries and dependencies in the world4 (CIA, 2016), the islands of the Caribbean are among the smallest in area, but, more significantly, in population (see Table 19.1). They range in rank from 87th largest, the Dominican Republic (population 10,529,000), to 221st, Bonaire (population 18,000). Indeed, 18 of the 22 islands meet the criteria for being microstates. The term ‘microstate’ has been used to describe a variety of types of political units. First applied to small countries by Harrigan (1974), it usually refers to independent nations with populations under 1 million. It has also been used to include various other forms of government, including associated states, territories and dependencies (e.g. US Virgin Islands, Cayman Islands). While such areas are not ­independent and therefore not completely autonomous in decision making, they are at least potentially involved to some greater or lesser ­degree in determining policy, including tourism

development (Wilkinson, 1989). In total, approximately one-third of the world’s countries and dependencies have populations under 1 million (CIA, 2016). The sample islands have two characteristics in common: (i) they are tourism destinations (in terms of stayover tourists, i.e. tourists who stay in a destination for more than 24 hours) in general; and (ii) they are cruise tourism destinations in particular. There are, however, major differences both in trends over time and in absolute numbers of cruise, stayover and total tourism arrivals for the islands. These islands are, on the whole, major tourism destinations, both relatively and absolutely. The number of stayover tourists that these islands attracted in 2014 ranged from the Dominican Republic with 4,690,000 to St Vincent and the Grenadines with 72,000. Despite their small population sizes, the number of stayover tourists that they attract is relatively larger than would be expected if population numbers were to be ­related to stayover tourist numbers. For example, the Dominican Republic is the 87th largest country in the world in population but the 46th in the number of stayover tourists, a difference of 41 rankings. At the other end of population rank, the British Virgin Islands is the 215th largest in population, but 133rd in stayover tourists, a difference of 82 rankings. The difference in rankings ranges from 21 (St Vincent and the Grenadines) to 98 (Bahamas), with an average of 60.5. A similar pattern exists for total tourism expenditures which range from the Dominican ­Republic with US$5064 million (42nd in the world and 87th in population, a difference in rankings of 45) to Dominica with US$78 million (157th and 202nd in population, a difference of 45). The range in rankings is from 25 for St  Maarten (213th in population and 97th in tourism expenditures) to 116 for Aruba (190th and 74th). The difference in rankings ranges from 25 (St  Maarten) to 117 (Bahamas), with an average of 76.4.5 Based on these data, therefore, it is concluded that these islands, despite their relatively small populations, have much larger stayover tourist figures than would be expected based solely on population size. This warrants their being described as relatively major tourism destinations.

(i) Population Destination

(iii) Total tourism expenditures

(000s)

(Rank in world)b

Rank ­difference between (i) and (ii)

(US$ millions)

(Rank in world)b

180 211

1,363 291

82 139

98 77

2,305 NAc

63 NA

117 –

91 29 72 10,529 468 405 3,684 55 38 106

198 215 202 87 175 177 131 210 213 195

244 366 86 4,690 487 490 3,200 107 467 703

143 133 174 46 128 121 52 165 122 120

52 82 28 41 47 56 79 45 91 74

299 421 78 5,064 671 484 3,334 101 871 1,232

132 122 157 42 105 115 51 151 97 86

66 93 45 45 70 62 80 59 25 109

103 286 18 161 106 184 109

190 181 221 189 191 187 196

979 509 84 441 116 319 72

97 120 NA 124 162 135 175

93 61 – 75 29 49 21

1,511 992 NA 778 120 354 92

74 91 NA 95 128 129 101

116 90 – 94 63 58 95

1,334

160

434

130

30

NA

NA

–

59 2,799

207 139

345 2,008

134 71

73 69

480 2,074

116 64

91 75

(Rank in world)a

383 34

(000s)

Out of 221 countries and dependencies. Out of 203 countries and dependencies. c NA, Not available.

Rank ­difference between (i) and (iii)

Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean

Bahamas Turks and Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and Barbuda British Virgin Islands Dominica Dominican Republic Guadeloupe Martinique Puerto Rico St Kitts and Nevis St Maarten US Virgin Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba Barbados Bonaire Curacao Grenada St Lucia St Vincent and Grenadines Trinidad and Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman Islands Jamaica

(ii) Total tourism stayover arrivals



Table 19.1.  Rank difference in measures of size (2013). (From Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), United Nations (UN), United Nations World Tourism O ­ rganization (UNWTO), World Bank, World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC).)

a

213

b

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Paul Wilkinson

A similar analysis cannot be presented for cruise tourism as worldwide data are not available. In terms of available passenger bed days (i.e. the number of days that all berths could be occupied at 100% capacity), the Caribbean is currently the premier cruise destination in the world and has been so for a number of years (see Table 19.2). The Caribbean’s 36.1 million bed days in 2004 were the largest of the five major cruise regions, representing 46.8% of the global total of 77.2 million bed days. The Caribbean’s total, which had risen 54.8% to 55.9 million bed nights, was still first in 2014, although its proportion of the total 142.0 million had fallen to 39.4%. This drop in proportion was a result of quite remarkable growth in other regions, notably increases of 175.5% for Northern Europe and 112.3% for the Mediterranean and 315.0% for the rest of the world. This analysis, therefore, supports the contention that the Caribbean islands in this sample represent major stayover and cruise tourism destinations. Despite this conclusion, the patterns over time are very dynamic and increasing numbers of tourists is not a universal characteristic of all of these islands; rather, the patterns of total stayover and cruise tourist annual totals are varying and complex.

Patterns of Tourist Arrivals Of the 22 destinations, 15 saw overall growth of tourist arrival numbers in the period 2000–2014;

seven (Guadeloupe, Martinique, Puerto Rico, Barbados, Grenada, St Vincent and the Grenadines, and Trinidad and Tobago) have seen decreased numbers (see Table 19.3a). The statistical trends over that time period have been either negative or nearly zero, but these trends have often been complex and are not linear. The positive growth in other destinations has ranged from modest (Cayman Islands) to dramatic (­Dominican Republic, Bahamas). In order to better understand these patterns, it is necessary to disaggregate total arrivals into stayover and cruise tourist numbers because overall growth masks, in some cases, notable declines in stayover or cruise numbers. Six of the 22 destinations (Bahamas, Guadeloupe, Martinique, Puerto Rico, Barbados, and St Vincent and the Grenadines) have seen an absolute decline in stayover arrivals for the period 2000–2014 (see Table 19.3b). The trend for other destinations (Bahamas, Antigua and Barbuda, British Virgin Islands, Dominica, St  Kitts and Nevis, St Maarten, Bonaire, Grenada, St Lucia, Trinidad and Tobago, and Cayman Islands) is positive. These trends are caused by the fact that, while the numbers rose from the beginning to the end of the 2000–2014 period, there were substantial increases within that period, with the numbers then decreasing but not falling below the number at the beginning of the period. Only the Dominican Republic and Jamaica saw substantial increases over the ­ period. (One possible reason for the latter two destinations’ impressive growth is that stayover arrival growth might be related to the increased

Table 19.2.  Global deployment of cruise ship capacity (millions of passenger bed days)a. (From CLIA, 2014, 2015.) Year

10-year growth (%)

Region

2004

2008

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

Caribbean Other North America Northern Europe Mediterranean Rest of the world Total

36.1 14.9

36.9 20.0

39.1 17.7

46.2 16.5

45.5 16.6

48.0 16.0

48.1 15.0

55.9 15.6

54.8 4.7

4.9

10.2

10.2

9.7

11.4

13.2

13.9

13.5

175.5

15.5 5.8

29.4 11.3

29.4 13.2

31.7 13.8

38.1 15.1

35.5 20.7

35.7 21.8

32.9 24.1

112.3 315.5

77.2

107.8

109.6

117.9

126.7

133.4

134.5

142.0

83.9

Passenger bed days, The number of days that all berths could be occupied at 100% capacity.

a

Table 19.3.  Tourist arrivals. (From Caribbean Tourism Organization (CTO).) (a)  Total tourist arrivals (’000). Year Destination

2000

Bahamas 4066.6 Turks and NAa Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 666.1 Barbuda British Virgin 469.6 Islands Dominica 309.4 Dominican 3155.8 Republic Guadeloupe 995.3 Martinique 816.4 Puerto Rico 4768.0 St Kitts and 237.2 Nevis St Maarten 1300.6 US Virgin 2314.3 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 1211.3 Barbados 1078.0 Bonaire 94.8 Curaçao 500.6 Grenada 309.2 St Lucia 713.5 St Vincent 159.1 and Grenadines Trinidad and 480.8 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 1385.0 Islands Jamaica 2230.3

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

4089.5 NA

4315.3 213.7

4480.4 219.6

4921.3 227.4

4686.9 243.4

4678.6 334.2

4498.4 580.1

4324.1 739.6

4582.8 768.6

5173.1 898.9

5507.7 1009.5

5855.5 968.7

6072.7 1069.9

6215.9 1406.8

630.8

536.7

634.0

768.6

712.2

725.3

934.6

846.7

947.2

787.6

847.5

798.2

778.0

771.3

498.1

511.8

622.1

771.1

786.3

830.3

933.3

917.7

839.1

831.8

822.5

741.6

733.4

764.1

274.0 2986.0

194.2 3040.2

250.1 3666.5

463.7 3625.4

380.6 3980.5

463.7 4279.5

431.0 4364.5

465.9 4454.9

607.3 4489.0

594.5 4477.1

417.5 4654.3

352.2 4900.8

316.6 5113.7

373.6 5576.9

882.7 661.7 4654.6 322.8

683.8 654.1 4436.8 234.1

634.1 721.7 4577.7 219.4

NA 630.3 5065.5 372.1

444.7 577.2 5001.0 343.8

447.9 599.6 5060.0 336.0

NA 573.2 5124.2 368.5

NA 568.3 5108.8 503.9

458.0 511.4 4729.5 NA

497.0 552.7 4870.0 NA

419.0 538.1 4172.4 NA

487.0 580.9 4120.7 639.3

645.0 593.8 4376.3 478.2

NA 667.8 4602.8 548.1

1270.4 2419.3

1435.8 2258.9

1599.3 2311.8

1823.5 2508.3

1956.3 2601.9

1889.4 2570.7

1894.6 2606.2

1821.2 2435.2

1655.3 2246.6

1955.8 2550.1

2080.2 2688.0

2210.2 2642.1

2252.7 2701.5

2501.0 2814.3

1178.7 1034.7 90.9 504.7 270.8 740.3 147.2

1224.8 1027.2 94.2 536.4 268.0 640.7 147.9

1184.2 1090.3 106.8 500.8 289.3 670.1 143.5

1304.5 1273.1 116.5 442.8 363.7 779.7 164.3

1285.3 1111.1 102.6 498.3 373.6 712.3 165.3

1285.8 1101.7 125.4 555.9 337.2 662.1 203.9

1254.1 1220.6 171.9 640.6 399.5 897.9 234.2

1382.7 1165.2 250.0 761.8 423.1 918.4 200.8

1419.4 1154.3 280.2 789.7 456.2 977.8 224.9

1394.9 1196.9 296.2 724.7 439.7 979.4 183.4

1468.9 1186.8 NA 790.9 427.6 942.0 162.9

1486.3 1053.7 NA 851.6 358.5 878.9 151.0

1667.6 1078.8 232.9 1030.4 313.3 913.1 152.2

1739.1 1067.4 NA 1081.1 369.1 979.5 156.2

465.4

444.2

464.6

496.9

530.5

543.3

526.2

481.2

491.5

489.8

491.3

504.0

466.9

455.8

1548.9

1877.6

2112.5

1953.2

1966.8

2197.4

2007.2

1855.4

1792.3

1886.1

1710.6

1829.4

1720.9

1992.6

2116.8

2131.8

2482.9

2514.6

2614.5

3015.9

2880.3

2859.5

2753.4

2831.3

3077.5

3306.1

3273.3

3503.8

(b)  Stayover tourist arrivals (’000). Destination

2000

Bahamas 1554.0 Turks and 151.4 Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 236.7 Barbuda British Virgin 281.1 Islands Dominica 69.6 Dominican 2972.6 Republic Guadeloupe 603.0 Martinique 526.3 Puerto Rico 3466.1 St Kitts and 73.1 Nevis St Maarten 432.3 US Virgin 545.9 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 721.2 Barbados 544.7 Bonaire 51.3 Curaçao 191.2 Grenada 128.9 St Lucia 269.9 St Vincent 72.9 and Grenadines Trinidad and 398.6 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 354.1 Islands Jamaica 1322.7

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

1537.8 165.2

1513.2 153.7

1510.2 164.1

1561.3 173.1

1608.2 176.1

1600.1 248.3

1527.7 264.9

1463.0 352.7

1327.0 254.7

1370.0 281.0

1346.4 354.0

1421.3 292.0

1363.5 291.0

1411.2 435.0

222.0

227.0

248.3

245.8

245.4

253.7

261.8

265.8

234.4

229.9

241.0

247.0

244.0

249.0

295.6

281.7

317.8

304.5

337.1

356.3

358.1

345.9

308.8

330.3

337.8

351.0

366.0

386.0

66.4 2777.8

69.2 2793.2

73.1 3268.2

80.1 3443.2

79.3 3690.7

84.0 3976.1

76.5 3979.6

79.5 3979.7

74.9 3992.3

76.5 4124.5

76.0 4306.4

86.0 4562.6

86.0 4689.8

87.0 5141.4

521.0 460.4 3303.8 70.6

479.0 446.7 3233.9 67.5

439.0 453.2 3343.1 69.0

456.0 470.9 3684.1 117.6

372.0 484.1 3685.9 126.9

375.0 503.5 3722.0 133.0

408.0 501.5 3687.0 121.1

412.0 481.2 3716.2 106.4

347.0 441.6 3550.5 93.1

392.0 478.1 3678.9 98.0

317.0 497.0 3048.0 102.0

325.0 487.0 3069.0 104.0

487.0 490.0 3200.0 107.0

NA 490.0 3246.0 114.0

402.6 527.9

380.8 520.2

427.6 537.9

475.0 543.6

467.9 689.4

467.8 667.2

469.4 688.3

475.4 678.1

440.2 664.3

443.1 691.2

424.0 679.0

457.0 737.7

467.0 703.0

499.0 730.4

691.4 507.1 50.4 204.6 123.4 250.1 70.7

642.6 497.9 52.1 218.0 132.4 253.5 77.6

641.9 531.2 62.2 221.4 142.4 276.9 78.5

728.2 552.0 63.2 223.4 133.9 298.4 86.7

732.51 547.5 62.6 222.1 98.5 317.9 95.5

694.4 562.6 63.6 234.4 118.6 302.5 97.4

772.3 572.9 74.3 299.7 129.1 287.5 89.6

826.7 567.7 74.3 408.9 130.4 295.8 84.1

812.6 518.6 67.0 366.6 113.4 278.5 75.4

825.5 532.2 70.5 341.7 106.2 309.4 72.5

869.0 567.7 NA 390.0 118.0 312.0 74.0

904.0 536.3 NA 420.0 116.0 307.0 74.0

979.0 508.5 83.9 441.0 116.0 319.0 72.0

1072.0 509.5 NA 452.0 134.0 338.0 71.0

383.1

384.2

409.1

442.6

463.2

457.4

449.5

432.6

371.9

388.0

431.0

455.0

434.0

413.0

334.1

302.8

293.5

259.9

167.8

267.3

291.5

302.9

272.0

288.3

309.1

322.0

345.0

383.0

1276.5

1266.4

1350.3

1414.8

1478.7

1678.9

1700.8

1767.3

1831.1

1921.7

1952.0

1986.0

2008.0

2080.0

(c)  Cruise tourist arrivals (’000). Destination

2000

Bahamas 2512.6 Turks and NA Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 429.4 Barbuda British Virgin 188.5 Islands Dominica 239.8 Dominican 183.2 Republic Guadeloupe 392.3 Martinique 290.1 Puerto Rico 1301.9 St Kitts and 164.1 Nevis St Maarten 868.3 US Virgin 1768.4 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 490.1 Barbados 533.3 Bonaire 43.5 Curaçao 309.4 Grenada 180.3 St Lucia 443.6 St Vincent 86.2 and Grenadines Trinidad and 82.2 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 1030.9 Islands Jamaica 907.6 NA, Not available.

a

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

2551.7 NA

2802.1 60.0

2970.2 55.5

3360.0 54.3

3078.7 67.3

3078.5 85.9

2970.7 315.2

2861.1 386.9

3255.8 513.9

3803.1 617.9

4161.3 655.5

4434.2 676.7

4709.2 778.9

4804.7 971.8

408.8

309.7

385.7

522.8

466.9

471.6

672.8

580.9

712.8

557.6

606.5

551.2

534.0

522.3

202.5

230.1

304.3

466.6

449.2

474.0

575.2

571.7

530.3

501.5

484.7

390.6

367.4

378.1

207.6 208.2

125.0 247.0

177.0 398.3

383.6 182.2

301.3 289.8

379.6 303.5

354.5 384.9

386.4 475.2

532.4 496.7

518.0 352.5

341.5 347.9

266.2 338.2

230.6 423.9

286.6 435.5

361.7 201.3 1350.8 252.2

204.8 207.4 1202.9 166.6

195.1 268.5 1234.6 150.4

NA 159.4 1381.4 254.5

72.7 93.1 1315.1 216.8

72.9 96.1 1338.0 203.1

NA 71.7 1437.2 247.4

NA 87.1 1392.6 397.5

111.0 69.7 1179.0 NA

105.0 74.6 1191.1 NA

102.0 41.1 1124.4 NA

162.0 93.9 1051.7 535.3

158.0 103.8 1176.3 371.2

158.3 177.8 1356.8 434.1

867.8 1891.4

1055.0 1738.7

1171.7 1773.9

1348.5 1964.7

1488.5 1912.5

1421.6 1903.5

1425.2 1917.9

1345.8 1757.1

1215.1 1582.3

1512.6 1858.9

1656.2 2009.0

1753.2 1904.5

1785.7 1998.6

2002.0 2083.9

487.3 527.6 40.5 300.1 147.4 490.2 76.5

582.2 529.3 42.1 318.4 135.6 387.2 70.3

542.3 559.1 44.6 279.4 146.9 393.2 65.0

576.3 721.1 53.3 219.4 229.8 481.3 77.6

552.8 563.6 40.1 276.2 275.1 394.4 69.8

591.5 539.1 61.8 321.6 218.6 359.6 106.5

481.8 647.6 97.6 340.9 270.3 610.3 144.6

556.0 597.5 175.7 352.9 292.7 622.7 116.7

606.8 635.7 213.2 423.1 342.9 699.3 149.5

569.4 664.7 225.7 383.0 333.6 670.0 111.0

599.9 619.1 NA 400.9 309.6 630.0 88.9

582.3 517.4 151.0 431.6 242.5 571.9 77.0

688.6 570.3 149.0 589.4 197.3 594.1 80.2

667.1 557.9 170.0 629.1 235.1 641.5 85.2

82.3

60.0

55.5

54.3

67.3

85.9

76.7

48.7

119.6

101.8

60.3

49.0

32.9

42.8

1214.8

1574.8

1819.0

1693.3

1799.0

1930.1

1715.7

1552.5

1520.4

1597.8

1401.5

1507.4

1375.9

1609.6

840.3

865.4

1132.6

1099.8

1135.8

1337.0

1179.5

1092.3

922.3

909.6

1125.5

1320.1

1265.3

1423.8

218

Paul Wilkinson

­ opularity of all-inclusive resorts, a topic which p merits research.) The pattern for cruise tourist arrivals is equally complex. The same four destinations (Guadeloupe, Martinique, St Vincent and the Grenadines, and Trinidad and Tobago) that saw declines in overall and stayover tourists also had declining numbers for cruise tourists (see Table 19.3c). (One reason for these declines appears to be either the lack of cruise-ship berthing facilities or berthing facilities which cannot accommodate new mega ships.) As with stayover tourists, other destinations (British Virgin Islands, Dominica, Puerto Rico, St Kitts and Nevis, St Maarten, Aruba, Barbados, Bonaire, Grenada, St Lucia, and Cayman Islands) had absolute increases in cruise tourists, indicating growth within the period, followed by declines later but with numbers still above the beginning of the period. Only the Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Antigua and Barbuda, Dominican Republic,6 St Maarten, US Virgin Islands, Curaçao, St Lucia, and Jamaica had relatively constant increases in numbers. These results suggest that examining the raw numbers of tourists results in little clarity about the overall pattern of arrivals. The question arises as to whether data on the economic impacts of tourism in general, and cruise tourism in particular, provide the basis for deciding whether or not mass tourism is beneficial to destinations.

The Economic Impacts of Stayover and Cruise Tourism With the exception of the FCCA data discussed below, there is no published research that documents comparative cruise tourism expenditures for the sample destinations. National data presented by such organizations as the CTO, UNWTO and the World Bank cover only total tourism expenditures and their relationship to other economic measures, such as employment. On the whole, total tourism expenditures have, for the most part, increased considerably for the sample destinations (see Table 19.4). The expenditure data, however, are reported in current (or ‘nominal’) currency values; that is, they represent amounts in currency (usually US dollars) spent in a particular year. With two exceptions, these data appear to present an optimistic p ­ icture

of continuing growth in tourism expenditures, sometimes dramatically so. For example, expenditures in the Dominican Republic increased from US$2860 million in 2000 to US$5637 million in 2014, an increase of 97% in total or an average of 7.5% per year. The two exceptions to increased expenditure were the US Virgin I­slands (virtually unchanged from US$1206 million in 2000 to US$1232 million in 2013) and the ­Cayman Islands (from US$559 million in 2000 to US$480 million in 2013, a 14.3% decrease). There is no obvious reason for the US Virgin ­Islands, but the decrease for the Cayman Islands may be due to the decrease in cruise visitors over this period which might in part be related to the lack of berthing facilities for larger ships. A totally different picture, however, emerges when national inflation rates are taken into ­account and the current expenditure figures are translated into constant (or ‘real’) dollars, a measure of the true value of expenditure adjusting for the effects of price inflation.7 All of the destinations (including the Bahamas, Dominica, St  Kitts and Nevis, St Maarten, Curaçao, and Grenada, which all had real growth) performed below their patterns for current expenditures. The largest increase was for Curaçao, with US$227 million in expenditures in 2000 and US$557 million in current dollars in 2014. Reflecting the highest inflation rates in the sample, the largest decrease was for the Dominican Republic, which dropped from US$2860 million in 2000 to US$1984 million in real dollars in 2014 and Puerto Rico, with US$2388 million in 2000 and US$1898 million in 2014. This analysis leads to the conclusion that, in real terms, the general overall picture of seeming growth in tourism expenditures in these Caribbean destinations is not mirrored in real dollar values. The question arises as to whether there are other, more positive indicators of the economic benefits of tourism to these destinations. Again, time-series data are not readily available, but a snapshot is available in data presented by the WTTC in its numerous annual economic impact reports (e.g. WTTC, 2015) (see Table 19.5). Data are available for contribution to GDP and contribution to employment.8 Indirect expenditures are normally two or more times the amount of direct expenditures for the sample destinations. The Dominican Republic in 2014 had the largest total contribution

Table 19.4.  Total tourism expenditures by destination (US$ millions). (From CTO, UNWTO, World Bank.) Tourism expenditure per yeara 2000 Destination

2001

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant Current Constant

Bahamas 1753 Turks and 285 Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 291 Barbuda British Virgin NA Islands Dominica 48 Dominican 2860 Republic Guadeloupe NA Martinique NA Puerto Rico 2388 St Kitts and 58 Nevis St Maarten 441 US Virgin 1206 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 850 Barbados 733 Bonaire NA Curaçao 227 Grenada 79 St Lucia 281 St Vincent and 82 Grenadines Trinidad and 371 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 559 Islands Jamaica 1577

1753 285

1665 311

1632 NAb

1773 292

1701 NA

1770 NA

1649 NA

1885 304

1738 269

2081 NA

1889 NA

2066 NA

1831 NA

2056 NA

1778 NA

291

272

263

274

257

300

273

337

298

309

266

327

274

338

276

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

393

356

NA

NA

NA

NA

437

354

48 2860

46 2798

45 2569

46 2730

45 2383

52 3128

50 2255

60 3180

58 1927

57 3518

54 2046

72 3917

68 2117

74 4064

69 2071

NA NA 2388 58

NA NA 2728 62

NA NA 2588 61

NA NA 2486 57

NA NA 2246 55

NA NA 2677 75

NA NA 2271 70

315 291 3024 103

NA NA 2420 94

NA NA 3239 121

NA NA 2450 107

NA NA 3369 132

NA NA 2418 108

315 305 3414 107

NA NA 2332 84

441 NA

484 1234

475 NA

489 1195

478 NA

538 1257

518 NA

613 1366

582 NA

659 1432

601 NA

651 1467

576 NA

665 1512

660 NA

850 733 NA 227 79 281 82

825 706 NA 271 83 233 89

804 688 NA 266 81 221 88

835 666 NA 217 91 210 91

806 643 NA 208 89 200 89

858 767 NA 223 104 282 91

815 729 NA 211 99 266 88

1056 784 84 224 86 326 96

989 734 NA 209 80 303 90

1097 1081 NA 244 71 382 104

968 954 NA 212 64 342 94

1064 1235 NA 277 94 294 113

937 1087 NA NA 81 257 100

1213 1224 84 329 114 302 110

1027 1036 NA 277 95 256 91

371

361

342

402

366

437

383

568

480

593

469

517

378

621

421

559

585

571

607

576

518

476

523

461

356

289

509

413

509

404

1577

1495

1397

1482

1293

1621

1282

1733

1207

1783

1077

2094

1165

2142

1090

(Continued)

Table 19.4.  Continued. 2008 Destination

Current

Bahamas 2155 Turks and NA Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 334 Barbuda British Virgin NA Islands Dominica 76 Dominican 4166 Republic Guadeloupe NA Martinique NA Puerto Rico 3535 St Kitts and 110 Nevis St Maarten 667 US Virgin 1157 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 1352 Barbados 1244 Bonaire NA Curaçao 383 Grenada 127 St Lucia 311 St Vincent and 96 Grenadines Trinidad and 557 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 518 Islands Jamaica 2222

2009

2010

2011

2012

2013

2014

Constant

Current

Constant

Current

Constant

Current

Constant

Current

Constant

Current

Constant

Current

Constant

1783 NA

2025 304

1641 236

2159 304

1727 231

2157 NA

1672 NA

2333 NA

1773 NA

2305 NA

1746 NA

2470 NA

1844 NA

266

305

237

298

226

312

232

319

231

299

211

330

246

NA

374

267

389

264

388

263

397

254

421

265

NA

NA

75 1919

77 4176

70 1897

94 4209

88 1799

105 4391

96 1730

79 4687

73 1983

78 5064

72 1835

81 5637

75 1984

NA NA 2304 86

293 299 2926 126

NA NA 1823 92

510 472 3211 110

NA NA 1924 80

582 516 3143 94

NA NA 1817 64

NA 462 3193 95

NA NA 1823 63

671 484 3334 101

NA NA 1886 67

NA 483 3348 104

NA NA 1898 68

516 NA

633 1197

462 NA

681 1021

491 NA

729 1085

500 NA

854 1153

565 NA

871 1232

561 NA

NA NA

NA NA

1059 974 NA 299 98 246 72

1223 1122 121 NA 112 296 88

924 848 NA 290 86 238 66

1254 1074 121 438 112 309 86

896 767 NA 330 84 241 63

1358 983 NA 540 117 321 92

887 642 NA 397 85 243 66

1412 947 NA 676 122 337 94

882 592 NA 482 86 245 65

1511 992 NA 778 120 354 92

927 609 NA 541 85 254 63

1632 947 NA 812 128 360 101

1020 592 NA 557 91 249 69

337

548

310

630

322

650

316

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

387

458

331

465

327

472

326

470

318

480

320

NA

NA

927

2070

788

2095

708

2060

648

2069

608

2074

558

2255

560

Current, Current currency values representing amounts in currency (usually US dollars) spent in a particular year; Constant, constant (or ‘real’) dollars which take into account national inflation rates (this is a measure of the true value of expenditure adjusted for the effects of price inflation). NA, Not available.

a

b

Table 19.5.  Economic impact of travel and tourism by destination (2014). (From WTTC, 2015.)

Contribution to GDP Direct Destination

US$ millions

Total

Direct

Indirect

Total

US$ millions

%

US$ millions

%

Number

%

Number

%

Number

%

19.4

2,101.4

24.4

3,784.1

43.6

51,000

27.0

47,000

24.6

98,000

51.6

15.5

543.3

42.8

740.3

58.3

5,000

15.9

11,500

37.1

16,500

53.0

30.3

534.1

55.6

824.4

85.9

3,500

34.5

6,000

60.0

9,500

94.5

10.0 5.0

105.4 6,950.6

22.0 11.0

153.6 10,099.3

32.0 16.0

3,000 188,000

9.1 4.4

6,650 436,000

20.0 10.3

9,650 624,000

29.1 14.7

2.4 2.9 2.4 6.7

1,148.1 744.4 4,990.9 150.2

13.8 9.1 3.9 18.8

1,353.1 982.4 7,418.7 203.4

16.0 12.0 7.3 25.5

4,000 4,500 20,000 1,500

3.3 3.3 1.9 6.6

17,500 11,500 47,000 4,500

13.2 10.0 4.4 17.6

21,500 16,000 67,000 6,000

16.5 12.3 6.3 24.2

11.3

843.9

18.6

1,354.0

29.9

5,000

10.8

16.2

12,000

27.0

28.6 10.8 7.0 13.8 5.4

1,573.3 1,175.7 139.7 350.9 104.6

58.8 25.3 17.2 25.7 14.5

2,330.2 1,685.1 196.8 538.5 143.7

88.4 36.1 24.2 39.5 19.9

16,500 14,000 3,000 15,500 2,000

32.5 11.1 6.4 20.4 5.0

29,500 31,000 7,500 18,500 6,000

58.3 24.6 15.7 23.7 13.2

46,000 45,000 10,500 34,000 8,000

90.8 35.7 22.1 44.1 18.2

3.2

1,321.8

5.5

8.7

27,500

4.4

45,000

7.2

72,500

11.6

7.5

734.9

20.6

1,002.6

28.1

3,000

9.1

7,000

20.9

10,000

30.0

8.1 3.1

2,700.9 5,216.1 billion

19.1 5.7

3,855.6 7,580.9 billion

27.2 9.8

7.3 3.6

1,94500 141.4 million

17.4 5.8

2,102.00

82,500 105.4 million

7,000.0

277,000 276.8 million

24.7 9.4

221

%

Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean

Bahamas 1,682.7 Eastern Caribbean Antigua and 197.0 Barbuda British Virgin 290.3 Islands Dominica 48.2 Dominican 3,148.7 Republic Guadeloupe 205.0 Martinique 238.0 Puerto Rico 2,427.8 St Kitts and 53.2 Nevis US Virgin 510.1 Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba 754.8 Barbados 909.4 Grenada 57.1 St Lucia 187.6 St Vincent and 39.1 Grenadines Trinidad and 781.2 Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman 267.7 Islands Jamaica 1154.7 World 2,364.8 billion

Indirect

Contribution to employment

222

Paul Wilkinson

to GDP from cruise tourism, at US$10,099.3 million or 16% of GDP, ranking 43rd in the world, and the smallest was St Vincent and the Grenadines, at US$143.7 million or 19.9%, ranking 36th in the world. Aruba, with US$2330.2 million ranked 1st in the world with 88.4% of GDP being contributed by tourism. These data reinforce the conclusion noted (based on Table 19.1) that these Caribbean island destinations, although small, are proportionally among the major tourism destinations of the world, a point underlined when compared to average contribution per country worldwide of 3.1% or direct contribution and 9.8% of total contribution to GDP by tourism. This conclusion is supported by the estimates of the contribution of tourism to employment in 2014. Again, the Dominican Republic had the largest figure for direct employment contributed by tourism at 188,000 or 4.4% of the national workforce (ranking 68th in the world) and 624,000 of total employment or 14.7% of the workforce (ranking 49th); St Kitts and Nevis, the smallest, had 1500 in direct employment (6.6% of the workforce and ranking 21st) and 6000 in total employment (24.2% and 10th). Aruba also merits recognition here, with 16,500 in direct employment (32.5% and 3rd) and 46,000 in total employment (90.8% and 2nd). Three destinations (Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and Trinidad and Tobago) have large figures for contribution to both GDP and employment, but relatively smaller proportions of the total amounts due to the large sizes and complexities of their economies, with tourism playing a much smaller role proportionally than the smaller (population) islands. These data give a picture of how important economically tourism is to the sample destinations, but say nothing about the contribution of cruise tourism. The only available data on the economic contribution of cruise tourism by destination in the Caribbean (or any other cruise region) have been published by the FCCA (2006, 2009, 2012a, b, 2015a, b) for four ‘cruise years’: 2005/2006, 2008/2009, 2011/2012 and 2014/20159 (see Table 19.6)10. Cruise tourism expenditures related to a particular destination have three sources: (i) passengers; (ii) crew; and (iii) the cruise line. Passenger expenditures always represent the

biggest proportion of total expenditures, with expenditures per capita in different ports ranging widely, presumably because of such factors as lay-over times in a port, frequency of visit to a port, and the range of purchases and services available in a port. Crew expenditures are much less than those of passengers, but show similar patterns of variation. In the 2014/2015 cruise year, for example, expenditures per passenger ranged from US$191.26 in St Maarten to US$42.58 in Trinidad, with an overall average of US$86.98 (see Table 19.7) It is important to note, however, that the data do not indicate whether the expenditures were made by passengers on board the ship while it is in port or on land in the port destination itself. For example, shore excursion tickets are widely sold on board ship, with some major proportion of the price going to the cruise line as an agent’s fee; anecdotally, this proportion is said to be as high as 40%. On average, passengers spent US$24.04 on shore excursions; therefore, perhaps up to US$9.62 did not go into the local economy. Similarly, cruise ships have a wide range of shops on board, often including ones with high-end luxury goods. For example, Royal Caribbean’s new mega Oasis of the Seas includes the first-ever free-standing Tiffany & Co. boutique at sea (Caribbean Journal, 2015a). With passengers spending an average of US$29.52 on watches and jewellery per destination, some large portion of that expenditure might be spent totally on board. In both cases of excursions and jewellery, the total gross expenditure on an item or some major proportion of it, therefore, might be reported as being spent in that destination, but, in reality, that total amount does not enter the local economy. A more serious issue is ‘leakage’ from the local economy: what is the net value to an economy of the purchase of a particular good or service after the import cost (including profit) of the item leaks out of the country and is exported to the manufacturer in the origin country? For example, some large proportion of the average US$1.57 spent on retail liquor purchased in a destination (an amount which may seem surprisingly low, but which reflects the common policy of cruise lines forbidding passengers from bringing liquor on board in order to encourage on-board liquor purchases) leaks out of the economy on such goods as a bottle of Scotch or

Table 19.6.  Total economic contribution of cruise tourism by destination by cruise year. (From FCCA, UN, World Bank.) 2005/2006 Expenditures (US$M)

Destination Bahamas Turks and Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and Barbuda British Virgin Islands Dominica Dominican Republic Guadeloupe Martinique Puerto Rico St Kitts and Nevis St Maarten US Virgin Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba Barbados Bonaire Curacao Grenada St Lucia St Vincent and Grenadines

2008/2009

Employee wage income (US$M)

Employment

Expenditures (US$M)

Employee wage income (US$M)

Employment

Passenger Crew Cruise Total Direct Indirect Total Direct Indirect Total Passenger Crew Cruise Total Direct Indirect Total Direct Indirect Total line Current Constant Current Constant line Current Constant Current Constant 96.0 NAa

5.6 NA

42.8 NA

144.4 NA

131.1 NA

34.3 NA

26.6 NA

60.9 NA

55.3 NA

2235 NA

1730 3965 NA NA

169.5 18.6

32.9

4.1

4.0

41.0

37.2

6.1

4.3

10.4

9.4

720

490 1215

38.3

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

9.7 NA

2.6 NA

1.5 NA

13.8 NA

13.1 NA

1.9 NA

1.1 NA

3.0 NA

2.8 NA

255 NA

135 NA

390 NA

10.6 17.9

NA 3.0 115.0 5.4

NA 0.5 18.6 0.4

NA 0.5 36.4 0.9

NA 4.0 170.0 6.7

NA NA 128.6 5.9

NA 0.5 30.4 0.9

NA 0.3 25.0 0.6

NA 0.8 55.4 1.5

NA NA 41.9 1.3

NA 70 2225 125

NA NA 45 115 1640 3865 80 205

189.3 288.3

46.2 50.6

10.9 22.7

246.4 361.6

224.7 NA

57.0 77.7

42.3 57.9

99.3 135.6

90.6 NA

3210 3525

54.2 45.3 NA 13.5 13.2 28.6 NA

7.0 6.3 NA 1.6 1.3 2.4 NA

5.0 5.7 NA 2.9 1.8 3.8 NA

66.2 57.3 NA 18.0 16.3 34.8 NA

56.7 50.6 NA 16.1 14.7 31.1 NA

14.1 9.7 NA 4.4 2.1 4.5 NA

10.5 7.1 NA 3.1 1.0 2.2 NA

24.6 16.8 NA 7.5 3.1 6.7 NA

21.1 14.8 NA 6.7 2.8 6.0 NA

985 950 NA 250 320 685 NA

280.0 48.5 3.5 3.0

246.1 25.1

203.7 20.0

60.3 4.9

40.1 2.8

100.4 7.7

83.1 6.1

3692 304

2527 6219 169 473

4.5

48.3

40.3

7.3

4.6

11.9

9.9

813

502 1315

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

1.5 2.8

14.2 23.5

12.9 10.8

2.0 2.0

1.0 1.1

3.0 3.1

2.7 1.4

263 508

142 280

405 788

NA NA 118.8 33.2

NA NA NA NA 29.2 34.2 7.8 3.0

NA NA 182.3 44.0

NA NA 119.0 32.7

NA NA 32.5 3.8

NA NA 30.7 2.1

NA NA 63.2 5.9

NA NA 41.2 4.4

NA NA 2366 491

NA NA NA NA 2032 4398 265 756

2380 5590 230 6165

170.5 304.0

48.7 11.0 51.3 28.6

230.3 384.4

178.3 NA

58.6 79.9

47.7 66.7

106.3 146.6

82.3 NA

3057 3589

2474 5531 3099 6688

725 1710 685 1635 NA NA 170 420 165 485 340 1035 NA NA

42.6 42.0 NA 28.0 13.4 36.5 4.2

54.1 53.6 NA 39.3 21.7 45.7 6.8

38.9 42.0 NA 30.7 16.7 36.1 5.4

12.0 9.5 NA 7.5 2.4 6.2 1.0

9.9 7.7 NA 5.5 1.5 3.1 0.5

21.9 17.2 NA 13.0 3.9 9.3 1.5

15.7 13.5 NA 10.2 3.0 7.4 1.2

735 875 NA 432 364 797 105

595 1330 790 1665 NA NA 316 748 217 581 408 1203 54 159

5.5 NA 2.1 2.8

6.5 6.4 NA 6.8 1.9 4.3 0.3

5.0 5.2 NA 4.5 6.4 4.9 2.3

(Continued)

Table 19.6.  Continued. 2005/2006 Expenditures (US$M)

Destination Trinidad and Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman Islands Jamaica Bahamas Turks and Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and Barbuda British Virgin Islands Dominica Dominican Republic Guadeloupe Martinique Puerto Rico St Kitts and Nevis St Maarten US Virgin Islands

2008/2009

Employee wage income (US$M)

Employment

Expenditures (US$M)

Employee wage income (US$M)

Employment

Passenger Crew Cruise Total Direct Indirect Total Direct Indirect Total Passenger Crew Cruise Total Direct Indirect Total Direct Indirect Total line Current Constant Current Constant line Current Constant Current Constant NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

138.3

12.0

29.4

179.7

151.8

37.2

28.8

66.0

55.7

2090

615 3705

NA 241.5 46.3

NA 79.3 5.0

NA 73.0 9.3

NA 393.8 60.6

NA 305.3 41.8

NA 85.6 11.9

NA 60.6 6.7

NA 146.2 18.6

NA 113.3 12.8

NA NA NA 4987 3681 8668 715 400 1115

34.2

6.2

4.5

45.0

35.5

6.9

4.6

11.5

9.1

760

486 1246

34.2

4.6

23.7

3.1

3.5

30.3

19.8

5.7

3.6

10.0

6.5

313

191

504

21.4

14.1 16.5

1.9 1.0

2.0 3.8

18.0 21.4

16.4 8.4

2.4 2.0

1.3 1.1

3.7 3.1

3.4 1.2

308 478

176 268

484 746

NA NA 131.4 61.1

NA NA 22.6 4.6

NA NA 32.6 4.9

NA NA 186.6 70.6

NA NA 107.9 47.7

NA NA 35.9 5.7

NA NA 34.4 3.4

NA NA 70.3 9.1

NA NA 40.6 6.2

NA NA NA NA NA NA 2684 2314 4998 712 411 1123

294.1 263.5

45.2 47.3

16.9 28.9

356.2 339.8

244.2 NA

85.9 74.4

73.9 65.2

159.8 139.6

109.5 4274 NA 3375

NA

NA

849 8123 2974 6349

1.8

0.5

0.6

2.9

1.8

1.0

0.5

1.6

1.0

93

50

143

126.4

21.8 26.1

174.4

130.4

38.7

30.8

69.5

52.0

2073

1658 3731

81.8 243.5 78.0

7.7 11.9 59.7 69.9 7.1 9.9

101.5 373.1 95.0

42.3 278.6 65.5

14.0 81.0 10.5

8.6 57.5 18.6

22.6 138.5 29.1

9.4 103.4 20.1

2398 4568 590

1467 3865 3386 7954 1064 1654

5.1

43.9

32.8

6.9

4.2

11.1

8.3

740

400

1170

2.1

2.8

26.2

16.2

5.0

3.7

8.7

5.4

289

176

465

11.5 31.9

1.1 2.1

1.6 27.0

14.2 61.0

13.1 21.5

1.0 5.5

1.9 2.4

2.9 8.0

2.7 2.8

137 1211

236 703

373 1914

27.8 18.2 124.0 75.3

2.0 1.8 35.0 3.9

8.4 2.7 39.2 5.1

38.2 22.7 198.2 84.3

NA 4.0 NA 1.3 112.4 38.7 55.2 7.3

2.1 2.4 36.3 3.9

6.1 3.7 75.0 11.2

NA 465 NA 161 42.5 2814 7.3 838

59 724 292 453 2395 5209 455 1293

354.7 276.3

45.0 38.7

23.3 29.2

422.9 344.3

266.3 101.6 NA 66.0

87.5 75.0

189.1 141.0

119.1 4897 NA 3001

4362 9259 3396 6397

Southern Caribbean Aruba Barbados Bonaire Curacao Grenada St Lucia St Vincent and Grenadines Trinidad and Tobago Western Caribbean Cayman Islands Jamaica

50.9 39.8 NA 29.2 11.2 NA 1.6

8.8 5.9 NA 5.0 2.0 NA 0.1

4.0 8.0 NA 5.2 1.9 NA 1.3

63.7 53.7 NA 39.4 15.2 NA 3.0

43.9 35.1 NA 29.0 11.0 NA 2.3

14.2 10.3 NA 7.5 1.9 NA 0.5

11.7 8.0 NA 5.5 1.0 NA 0.3

25.9 18.3 NA 13.0 2.9 NA 0.8

17.8 11.9 NA 9.6 2.1 NA 0.6

824 947 NA 424 270 NA 52

718 1542 847 1794 NA NA 311 735 164 434 NA NA 18 80

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

121.5

11.3

24.9

157.7

108.8

36.7

29.9

66.6

45.9

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA

NA, Not available.

a

61.3 43.3 8.0 37.0 9.4 47.3 NA

6.0 4.5 0.5 5.8 1.6 4.8 NA

4.6 9.6 0.9 8.3 1.2 5.1 NA

71.9 57.3 9.4 51.0 12.2 57.2 NA

50.3 35.8 7.1 35.0 8.7 39.6 NA

13.2 8.6 1.3 7.1 0.8 10.0 NA

16.0 10.9 1.9 9.6 1.5 7.7 NA

29.2 19.5 3.2 16.7 2.3 11.7 NA

20.4 12.2 2.4 11.5 1.6 8.1 NA

799 860 75 383 129 480 NA

917 1716 985 1845 116 191 520 903 213 342 942 1422 NA NA

2.8

0.2

0.4

3.3

1.3

4.7

7.9

12.6

5.0

515

820 1295

1974 1573 3547

167.2

10.8

29.6

207.6

136.4

39.6

47.4

87.0

57.2

2001

2453 4454

NA

160.9

12.4

25.3

198.6

49.3

16.8

29.3

46.1

11.5

2573

4494 7067

NA

NA

NA

Table 19.7.  Expenditures (US$) by cruise (transit) passengers by destination in 2014/2015 cruise season. (From FCCA, 2015a, b.)

27.23 15.84

11.8 11.09

4.27 1.14

11.33 37.43

11.71 8.99

0.99 0.01

6.86 4.30

0.83 0.27

7.89 5.79

1.26 2.15

0.02 0.01

0.13 0.03

82.83 88.75

243.5 78.0

23.53

4.69

2.71

11.98

8.20

0.18

4.41

1.76

4.86

0.57

0.09

0.05

64.88

34.2

23.01

4.99

9.46

3.36

19.16

0.38

4.55

3.37

0.07

0.06

NA

69.43

21.4

26.87 21.62

2.96 4.17

1.64 5.39

5.59 7.76

2.67 2.75

NA 0.32

2.44 8.28

0.29 0.73

7.69 10.46

0.46 0.91

0.02 0.05

0.01 0.17

50.81 62.88

11.5 25.6

54.04 21.63 10.29 42.71

5.36 4.00 10.34 4.61

7.77 3.67 27.70 2.88

3.72 2.43 16.79 37.19

7.98 11.04 9.38 13.24

0.01 0.05 0.70 0.73

11.22 8.17 11.00 4.20

1.01 0.91 0.58 0.39

5.66 5.14 7.29 5.48

1.77 2.82 2.08 1.45

NA 0.08 0.17 NA

0.13 0.03 0.10 0.12

96.65 64.00 71.37 111.30

11.4 13.0 67.1 75.3

23.32 21.73

8.97 6.83

6.33 6.12

119.77 79.65

13.99 8.94

0.43 0.60

12.98 12.49

1.68 1.56

5.98 4.97

3.48 2.96

2.56 1.41

0.47 0.22

191.26 150.21

354.7 276.3

20.50 20.53 17.20 20.53 17.13 29.67

5.50 4.66 4.99 6.11 3.09 3.60

2.14 4.84 1.31 1.75 3.30 3.02

101.80 16.29 12.10 22.86 3.40 21.21

12.13 10.06 5.39 9.37 4.58 8.07

1.39 0.25 0.43 1.03 0.02 0.01

7.54 8.05 3.92 6.39 5.06 4.99

2.24 0.85 0.16 1.45 0.53 0.74

6.21 7.03 7.51 5.42 7.01 6.17

0.22 1.82 0.61 2.87 1.40 0.88

0.13 0.28 0.07 0.15 0.03 0.03

0.19 0.03 0.03 0.04 0.05 0.07

112.10 75.85 54.22 77.55 46.55 78.44

61.3 33.0 8.0 37.0 9.4 47.3

23.23

1.58

1.57

0.75

3.04

0.23

5.90

0.11

5.61

0.56

NA

0.05

42.58

0.5

18.80

10.15

1.80

52.13

9.37

0.10

15.24

1.30

6.23

2.14

0.07

0.03

115.60

167.2

25.49 24.04

7.40 6.04

2.64 4.83

52.39 29.52

11.29 9.11

0.44 0.42

8.48 7.60

0.36 1.06

8.58 6.40

2.47 1.57

0.20 0.30

0.14 0.10

119.29 86.98

160.9 82.7

F & B, Food and beverages consumed in restaurants and bars. NA, Not available. c Data for Trinidad only. a b

NAb

Paul Wilkinson

Bahamas Turks and Caicos Eastern Caribbean Antigua and Barbuda British Virgin Islands Dominica Dominican Republic Guadeloupe Martinique Puerto Rico St Kitts and Nevis St Maarten US Virgin Islands Southern Caribbean Aruba Barbados Bonaire Curacao Grenada St Lucia St Vincent and Grenadines Trinidad and Tobagoc Western Caribbean Cayman Islands Jamaica Average

226

Destination

Watches Perfumes Local Telephone Taxis/ground & Clothing Entertainment/ Other & crafts & Retail Electronics & Total per Total per Shore F&Ba at excursions restaurants transportation jewellery night clubs/ purchases cosmetics souvenirs liquor Internet passenger destination & bars casinos (US$M)



Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean

French wine. This is an issue even for expenditures which might appear to be ‘local’, such as food in restaurants, with, for example, much of the cost of an imported steak leaking out. Even items for which the total purchase price might be supposed to flow completely into the local economy are often questionable: for example, anecdotal evidence suggests that some ‘local crafts and souvenirs’ are manufactured totally or completely off-shore, as is frequently the case with destination-branded clothing, such as T-shirts. Personal inspection of items for sale in local stores has revealed the use of sea shells in the production of items which are not indigenous to regional waters, thus suggesting that they were manufactured elsewhere despite local labels (e.g. ‘Welcome to Island X’). Moreover, there are no data on which stores or other establishments selling goods or services are locally owned or which hire local residents; both of these factors would affect the amount of profits and wages that remain in the country’s economy. An additional unknown is the amount of remittance income exported out of a country by non-resident employees. In other words, who actually benefits from the cruise tourist – or, for that matter, any kind of tourist – is unknown, as is the actual impact of such expenditures on local economies. Cruise-line expenditures in destinations similarly represent a wide range. Data are not available on the purchase of local goods by cruise lines or individual ships. Most cruise ships begin their cruise totally stocked with food, liquor, fuel and so on. Even in the case of destinations where cruises begin and end (e.g. Puerto Rico, Barbados), most if not all of these items are imported and may be the subject to no local taxes in duty-free zones in ports. Cruise ships do pay for such services as dockage and tug boats, but others are often available at no cost, such as water or sewer services. Cruise-line expenditures in general (which, in turn, become tax income for governments) would include a head tax per cruise passenger (usually whether or not the passenger disembarks in that destination), but not all destinations impose such a tax. When they do, it is often very low, ranging from US$5.00 in St Maarten to US$15.00 in St Vincent and the Grenadines (Cubas et al. 2015). It would appear that no destination charges cruise lines for such – often major and invisible – direct services such as immigration and customs personnel, police, port road

227

construction and maintenance, with cruise lines arguing that the head tax covers those costs, let alone the provision of services such as tourism education and training in local schools. Only in a small number of destinations have cruise tourism expenditures seen impressive growth in recent years. For example, in 2005/2006, the US Virgin Islands had the highest total expenditure at US$361.6 million; that fell to US$344.3 million in 2014/2015. In contrast, St Maarten saw US$246.4 million in cruise tourism expenditures in 2005/2006, the second highest amount, compared with US$422.9 million in 2014/2015; however, in real (2000) terms, there was only a minor increase from US$244.2 million to US$266.3 million for a real increase on average of only 2.2% per cruise year. Many other destinations received virtually the same or declining expenditures, whether in current or real terms. It is clear that cruise tourism expenditures represent only a small proportion of total tourism expenditures in the destinations, although the lack of similar base years (to say nothing of inexact and varying definitions of expenditures) does not allow for exact comparison (see Tables 19.1 and 19.6). There is, however, a great range in the gap, largely depending on the overall nature of the tourism business of particular islands. For example, St Maarten’s US$422.9 million in total cruise expenditures in 2014/2015 was nearly half of its 2013 US$871 million in total tourism expenditures; in contrast, the Bahamas cruise expenditure of US$373.1 million was only about one-sixth of its total US$2305 million. For Puerto Rico, another major tourism island, the cruise figure was US$198.2 million, representing only about 6% of total US$3334 million. The FAAC data include direct and indirect employment income related to cruise tourism, but there are no comparable figures for total tourism. Comparable employment numbers are also difficult to find, but cruise tourism clearly accounts for only a small proportion of total tourism employment, both directly and indirectly (see Tables 19.5 and 19.6). The range is quite remarkable: the US Virgin Islands’ 6397 cruise-related employees in 2014/2015 are about half of its 12,000 total tourism employees; in contrast, the Dominican Republic’s 1914 cruise-related employees are only a fraction of 1% of its 624,000 total tourism employees.

228

Paul Wilkinson

In summary, cruise tourism does provide apparently considerable expenditures and employment to these island destinations (particularly when the precarious employment situation of most of these islands is concerned) but the available data demonstrate that, with the exception of the US Virgin Islands, no island has an economy in which cruise tourism is a major force. Destination tourism decision makers, however, seem to continue to believe that the cruise tourism is clearly a major solution to their national economic situations when, in reality, a decision has been made to depend on the ‘simple’ solution of cruise tourism as an economic tool rather than to recognize that cruise tourism is a complex system of changing problems that interact with each other and create a ‘mess’ which by definition is not being well managed. This conclusion is supported by the ongoing support given by destinations for the expansion of their cruise tourism in the immediate and long-term future as witnessed by recent decisions by cruise lines and governments.

The Changing Stock of Cruise Ships and Cruise Ports The cruise industry – and national governments which continue to welcome ‘growth’ (i.e. expansion in the form of ship and cruise tourist numbers) in the cruise industry – clearly believes that there is a profitable economic future in cruise tourism. One indicator of this belief is to be found in the construction of more and larger ‘mega’ ships. These new ‘mega’ cruise ships are coming to the Caribbean. For example, the 4324-passenger MV Britannia landed for the first time in Barbados, its new winter homeport, while the 3967-passenger Norwegian Getaway landed for the first time in St Kitts and Nevis, both in November 2015. An even more significant event occurred on 24 March 2016, when three mega luxury cruise liners – Oasis of the Seas (the second largest cruise ship in the world, with 6400 passengers), Navigator of the Seas (3807 passengers) and Costa Favolosa (3780 passengers) – brought nearly 14,000 passengers to St Kitts and Nevis in one day. In addition to these new mega ships, cruise ships, both new and old, continue to be welcomed as they make first calls to many Caribbean ports.

For example, in 2015–2016, the Norwegian Breakaway (4028 passengers) docked in the US Virgin Islands, Antigua and Dominica for the first time, as did the Disney Wonder (2400 passengers) in the British Virgin Islands. In order to attract more cruise passengers in general and those on the mega ships in particular, Caribbean island destinations are building new cruise docking facilities, such as a second cruise pier in St Kitts at Basseterre’s Port Zante (Caribbean Journal, 2015b), an enlarged cruise pier at Tortola in the British Virgin Islands (Travelpulse, 2015), a US$150 million cruise ship pier in Georgetown, Grand Cayman, allowing cruise ships to dock for the first time, rather than ferry passengers to shore in lighters (Travelpulse, 2015), a US$43 million second cruise pier in Williamstad, Curaçao, and a US$85 million cruise port facility in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic (Travelpulse, 2015). A number of other new cruise ports have been opened or are planned (Caribbean 360, 2016), such as Norwegian Cruise Lines’ US$50 million Harvest Caye in Belize, Carnival Corporation’s proposed US$70 million project on Tortuga (Haiti), similar to its developments in the ports of Grand Turk (Turks and Caicos), Amber Cove (Dominican Republic), Mahogany Bay (Roatan, Honduras) and Half Moon Cay (Bahamas). Another trend is the creation of ‘private island’ destinations for particular cruise lines. For example, Carnival has proposed to build a private port on Grand Bahama, perhaps to replace its visits to Freeport, with its cruise facilities located there in a relatively unpopular industrial port (Caribbean 360, 2016); MSC Cruises (Más Grandes Compañías de Cruceros) will build its own US$200 million private-island experience called Ocean Cay MSC Reserve, an artificial 95-acre island 20 miles south of Bimini and 65 miles east of Miami which is a former sand extraction station (Caribbean Journal, 2015c). These ships and facilities will have major impacts, but perhaps not the positive economic impacts that cruise destinations hope for. These hopes for massive positive economic impacts from cruise tourism have frequently been expressed – without apparent hesitation – by many island government decision makers. For example, with respect to the MV Britannia, Barbados Tourism Minister Richard Sealy welcomed the ship, saying, ‘We are going to see a 17 per cent



Cruise Ship Tourism in the Caribbean

increase in our home porting activity which will have a larger impact on the local economy. I am very pleased with what is happening with our home porting area’ (Caribbean Journal, 2015d). Similarly, St Kitts and Nevis Minister of Tourism Lindsay Grant welcomed the Norwegian Getaway, commenting, ‘It augurs well with our tourism product. I believe the synergies between Norwegian and our tourism product speaks well for us in the future’ and projecting 1 million cruise passengers for the cruise year (Caribbean Journal, 2015f). Grant, also commenting on the second cruise pier at Basseterre’s Port Zante, stated that it will be built without industry financing, in order to avoid ‘the mistakes of others’ (Travelpulse, 2015). It is not clear what the Minister means by that statement, but one type of mistake would be to avoid enhanced cruise ship facilities that do not provide real economic benefits to a destination. With respect to increased cruise capacity in Tortola, Claude Skelton-Cline, Managing Director at the British Virgin Island Ports Authority, notes that ‘The cruise tourism industry is growing rapidly. . . . We . . . welcome an increased number of ships to our shores and will continue to work closely with our partner cruise lines to ensure continued sustainable growth’ (Caribbean Journal, 2015e), presumably correlating sustainable growth with increased numbers of cruise tourists. Similarly, the Premier of the Cayman Islands, Alden McLaughlin, stated that ‘The decision to be made is not whether we want to build cruise berthing [in Georgetown], it is whether we want to remain in the cruise business in any significant way’ (Travelpulse, 2015). The analysis presented here suggests that the

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Cayman Islands government has not considered the reality of that question.

Conclusion Cruise tourism is a form of mass tourism and it is a mess – a dynamic situation that consists of complex systems of changing problems that intersect with each other (Ackoff, 1979). The analysis presented in this chapter results in the conclusion that, while the cruise industry may be managing – and perhaps even recognizing – their part of the mess quite well (as measured by realised present and expected future profits), destination government decision makers have taken actions that demonstrate little, if any, appreciation or analysis of the economic problems and/ or the less-than-hoped-for positive economic benefits involved in this mess. As a result, they have failed to manage the mess, relying instead on dreams that are not reflected in the economic reality or even existence of such simplistic measures as cruise tourism arrival numbers, expenditures and employment. These decision makers need to begin anew with more realistic analysis of existing data and begin to gather more realistic and accurate data in order to avoid being overwhelmed by the mess of cruise tourism.

Acknowledgement I would like to thank Dr William C. Found for his long-standing friendship and critical eye. This chapter benefited greatly from his wise critique.

Notes   The cruise ship industry, in general, and the North American/Caribbean and European markets, in particular, are dominated by five companies, some of which operate under a number of brands:

1

• • • • • 2

Carnival Corporation and plc (106 cruise ships, over half of all cruise ships, plus nine on order), under the brands of AIDA, Carnival, Costa, Cunard, Holland America, Ibero, P&O, P&O Australia, Princess, and Seabourn; Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd (RCCL) (46 cruise ships, plus six on order), under the brands of Royal Caribbean International, Celebrity, Pullmantur, Azamara Club and CDF Croisières de France; Norwegian Cruise Lines (14 cruise ships, plus three on order); MSC Cruises (or Más Grandes Compañías de Cruceros, part of Mediterranean Shipping Company) (12 cruise ships, plus four on order); and Walt Disney Company (four cruise ships, plus two on order).

  Note that the issue of costs is not dealt with in this chapter due to length restrictions.

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  While significant research reports are noted in the References of this chapter, a complete listing of data sources for the tables presented is simply too lengthy to be included, notably because of the large number of websites that were accessed to gather the data. Some tables, for example, are based on as many as 30 websites; however, data were often found in multiple sources with, for example, overlapping time series. The author, therefore, is confident of the relative accuracy of the data presented. 4   Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) (2016) lists 238 countries and dependencies, but the smallest 17 (including, for example, the smallest one, Pitcairn Island, with a population of 48) are omitted here because their small size means that they do not appear in UNWTO (2014) data as a result of few if any comparable statistics that are relevant or available. This results in the CIA sample size being closer to the UNWTO sample size of 203, making rankings relatively comparable. 5   These patterns for expenditure rankings are also reflected in Table 19.5, which presents the rankings for tourism’s contribution to GDP and employment in 2014 for the sample destinations. 6  The Dominican Republic appears to be continuing this pattern of growth on a major scale, with 2015 cruise ship arrivals totalling 574,000, a 31.7% increase over 2014 (Tourism Review, March 28, 2016). 7   As presented in UN and World Bank data, annual inflation rates for the sample of Caribbean destinations covered a wide range, from a high of 51.5% in 2004 in the Dominican Republic to 0.0% in Dominica in 2013. 8   These data include ‘direct’ expenditures by residents, tourists and national governments on tourism and travel items, not just by tourists, and thus cannot be directly compared to the data presented in Table 19.5. The data also include the ‘indirect’ contribution spending: (i) tourism marketing and promotion; (ii) aviation, administration, security services; (iii) resort-area security services; (iv) resort-area sanitation services, etc.; (v) domestic purchases of goods and services by the sectors dealing directly with tourists (e.g. purchases of food and cleaning services by hotels, of fuel and catering services by airlines, and IT services by travel agents); and (vi) the ‘induced’ contribution of spending of those who are directly or indirectly employed by the travel and tourism sector (WTTC, 2015). It is important to note that these expenditures are seen as being ‘contributions’ to GDP, i.e. a ‘benefit’ to the economy of the individual item; rarely is there any reference to these expenditures as being ‘costs’. For example, the expenditure on salaries of port security personnel is seen as an ‘induced’ expenditure related to tourism; nowhere is its cost side presented, as would occur in a real cost–benefit analysis. That is, those salaries have to be paid out of some source, most likely taxes. Those taxes could be, for example, from income or other national taxes or from a ‘head tax’ levied on cruise ships for government services provided in proportion to the number of passengers per ship, taxes which might be either directly or indirectly charged to passengers in the price of their cruise or charges. 9   A ‘cruise year’ is the period from the beginning of May of one year to the end of April of the following year (i.e. the period from the spring to the winter (in the northern hemisphere) of a cruise season that is considered to end with winter). Data gathered by other organizations is usually for the calendar year; therefore, the time periods in the various tables are not exactly comparable. Note that the FCCA reports do not include all of the destination islands in every report, presumably because not all destinations paid for the gathering of data for every report. 10   Constant dollar values in Table 19.6 are calculated based on inflation for each island since 2000 in order to correspond with constant dollar data presented in the other tables. Also note that the data presented in Table 19.6 are very extensive and only a few significant points will be covered here. 3

References Ackoff, R. (1979) The future of operational research is past. Operational Research Journal 30(1), 93–104. Caribbean Journal (2015a) A Floating Tiffany Boutique. 29 November. Available at: http://www.­caribjournal. com/2015/11/29/a-floating-tiffany-boutique/ (accessed 10 March 2017). Caribbean Journal (2015b) Another Cruise Pier Coming to St Kitts. 13 November. Available at: http:// www.caribjournal.com/2015/11/13/another-cruise-pier-coming-to-st-kitts/ (accessed 10 March 2017). Caribbean Journal (2015c) MSC Cruises to Build $200 Million Private Island in the Bahamas. 20 December. Available at: http://www.caribjournal.com/2015/12/20/msc-cruises-to-build-200-million-private-island-inthe-bahamas/ (accessed 13 March 2017). Caribbean Journal (2015d) A New Cruise Ship in Barbados. 9 November. Available at: http://www.caribjournal. com/2015/11/09/a-new-cruise-ship-in-barbados/ (accessed 10 March 2017). Caribbean Journal (2015e) This Caribbean Island’s Cruise Arrival Boom. 20 November. Available at: www. caribjournal.com/2015/11/20/this-caribbean-islands-cruise-arrival-boom/ (accessed 20 November 2015).



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Caribbean Journal (2015f) Norwegian Getaway Makes First Visit to St Kitts and Nevis. 11 November. Available at: www.caribjournal.com/2015/11/11/norwegian-getaway-makes-first-visit-to-st-kitts-and-nevis (accessed 11 November 2015). Caribbean 360 (2016) New Cruise Ports Coming to the Caribbean. 4 January. http://www.caribbean360. com/news/new-cruise-ports-coming-to-the-caribbean (accessed 10 March 2017). Cartwright, T.J. (1991) Planning and chaos theory. Journal of the American Planning Association 57(1), 44–56. Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) (2016) The World Factbook. CIA, Washington, DC. Available at: https:// www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/ (accessed 10 March 2017). Cruise Lines International Association (CLIA) (2014) Global Cruise Impact Analysis. CLIA, Exton, Pennsylvania. Available at: http://cruising.org/docs/default-source/research/global_cruise_impact_analysis_2013. pdf?sfvrsn=2 (accessed 10 March 2017). Cruise Lines International Association (CLIA) (2015) The Global Economic Impact of Tourism 2014. CLIA, Exton, Pennsylvania.Available at: http://cruising.org/docs/default-source/market-research/clia_2014eis_ global.pdf?sfvrsn=4 (accessed 10 March 2017). Cubas, D., Briceno-Garmendia, C. and Bofinger, H. (2015) OECS ports: an efficiency and performance assessment. Policy Research Working Paper 7162. Organization of Eastern Caribbean States, Castries, St Lucia. Fink, C. (1970) Die Massentourismus [Mass Tourism]. Verlag Paul Haupt, Stuttgart, Germany. Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2006) Economic Impact of Cruise Tourism on the Caribbean Economy. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2006Caribbean-Cruise-Analysis.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2009) Economic Contribution of Cruise Tourism to the Destination Economies: Volumes I and II Destination Reports. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2009-FCCA-Cruise-Analysis-Vol-I-and-2.pdf (accessed 10 March 2010). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2012a) Economic Contribution of Cruise Tourism to the Destination Economies: Volume I Aggregate Analysis. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2012-Cruise-Analysis-vol-1.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2012b) Economic Contribution of Cruise Tourism to the Destination Economies: Volume II Destination Reports. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2012-Cruise-Analysis-vol-2.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2015a) Economic Contribution of Cruise Tourism to the Destination Economies: Volume I Aggregate Analysis. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2015-cruise-analysis-volume-1.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2015b) Economic Contribution of Cruise Tourism to the Destination Economies: Volume II Destination Reports. FCCA, Pembroke Pines, Florida. Available at: http://www.f-cca.com/downloads/2015-cruise-analysis-volume-2.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017). Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA) (2016) Website for the organization. Available at: http:// www.f-cca.com (accessed 1 February 2016). Harrigan, N. (1974) The legacy of Caribbean history and tourism. Annals of Tourism Research 2(1), 13‑25. Mitchell, B. (2002) Resource and Environmental Management. Prentice Hall, Harlow, UK. Tourism Review (2016) Cruise tourism in the Dominican Republic increased by 63% [in February]. 28 March. Available at: http://www.tourism-review.com/cruise-tourism-in-the-dominican-republic-growing-fast-news4945 (accessed 10 March 2017). Travelpulse (2015) Larger Ships Prompt Expanded Caribbean Cruise Ports. 19 November. Available at: http://www.travelpulse.com/news/cruise/larger-ships-prompt-expanded-caribbean-cruise-ports.html (accessed 10 March 2017). Trist, E. (1980) The environment and system-response capability. Futures 12(2), 113–127. United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) (2014) Tourism Highlights. Available at: http://www.eunwto.org/doi/pdf/10.18111/9789284416226 (accessed 10 March 2017). Vanhove, N. (1997) Mass tourism: benefits and costs. In: Pigram, J. and Wahab, S. (eds) Tourism, Development and Growth: The Challenge of Sustainability. Routledge, New York, pp. 50–77. Wilkinson, P. (1989) Strategies for tourism development in island microstates. Annals of Tourism Research 16(2), 153–177. World Travel and Tourism Council (WTTC) (2015) Travel & Tourism Economic Impact 2015: Bahamas. WTTC, London. Available at: http://www.caribbeanhotelandtourism.com/wp-content/uploads/data_center/ destinations/Bahamas-WTTC-EconomicImpact2015.pdf (accessed 10 March 2017).

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Conclusion: Mass Tourism in the Future Richard Sharpley1* and David Harrison2 University of Central Lancashire, Preston, UK; 2 Middlesex University, London, UK

1

Introduction Much of this book has been concerned with both the historical development and the contemporary manifestations of mass tourism, the former providing a conceptual foundation for exploring the latter. More specifically, the overall purpose of this book has been to address a notable gap in the tourism literature, namely, an analysis of mass tourism from a global perspective. This is not to say that mass tourism has not benefited from academic attention; its evolution from the mid-19th century onwards and, in particular, the socio-economic processes underpinning that evolution are well known. However, the extent to which those historical processes might inform our knowledge and ­ understanding of contemporary tourism has remained largely unexplored. That is, few if any attempts have been made to establish a link between historical and present studies of tourism. At the same time, mass tourism in particular, though not ignored, has primarily been the focus of often severe criticism, particularly as a vehicle of development while, in contrast, significant attention has been paid to alternative and allegedly more sustainable forms of tourism. Yet, as has been revealed throughout this book, mass tourism not only remains globally prevalent but is also a fundamental factor in the

socio-economic development of many counties. In short, mass tourism cannot be ignored. The purpose of this final chapter is to look beyond the past–present analysis of mass tourism towards its future. Inevitably, such an endeavour is, to an extent, speculative although it is possible to identify at least shorter-term future trends and challenges based on what is occurring in the present. Therefore, by way of introduction, this chapter returns to an issue highlighted in Chapter 1 of this volume, namely, the restrictions being placed on further tourism development in Barcelona. More specifically, in June 2015, the mayor-elect of Barcelona, Ada Colau, announced that she intended to place a limit on the number of tourists visiting the city. Fearing that it would become another Venice (Badcock, 2015) – increasing concerns regarding the impacts of tourism on the physical and social fabric of Venice have led the United Nations (UN) to warn that the city will be placed on the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO) list of endangered heritage sites if giant cruise ships are not banned there by 2017 (McKenna, 2016) – Ms Colau introduced plans to restrict further growth of tourism in the city. In particular she placed a moratorium on further accommodation development, and more generally she developed a plan for sustainable tourism which will include

*[email protected] 232

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redistributing tax income from tourism into social and environmental schemes. Yet in many respects, Barcelona has been a tourism success story. In 1990, the city welcomed some 1.7 million tourists; however, having hosted the Olympic Games in 1992, its image was dramatically transformed (Smith, 2005) and it rapidly became one of Europe’s most popular city destinations. In 2000, 3.14 million international tourists visited Barcelona, a figure which had grown to 7.88 million by 2014 (Statista, 2016) while, significantly, total visitor numbers, including domestic day visitors, amount to an estimated 29.3 million. Not surprisingly, therefore, tourism has become fundamental to the city’s economy. In 2013, for example, direct tourist expenditure was €26 million/day (approximately 15% of local gross domestic product (GDP)), while the sector directly supported more than 120,000 jobs (data from Barcelona Tourism, 2015). However, this apparent success has not been without cost. Barcelona’s population of 1.6 is dwarfed by the sheer volume of tourists while excessive crowding and unruly behaviour has been an increasing problem. Moreover, the city has experienced rapid growth in its unlicensed accommodation rental market to the extent that many areas have become tourist ghettos. Hence, it is not only the mayor who is concerned about mass tourism in Barcelona; in 2015, local residents organized a number of protests against the uncontrolled expansion of tourism. And recently, such concerns have spread elsewhere in Spain. For example, it has been reported that anti-tourism graffiti have been daubed on walls in the historic quarter of Palma de Mallorca (Spanish News Today, 2016; see also Chapter 16, this volume). Of course, the experience of Barcelona (i.e. rapid growth in tourism resulting in a variety of social and environmental challenges) is neither unique nor a recent phenomenon. Not only are many other tourist cities facing the dilemma of how to balance the evident economic opportunities offered by the continued development of tourism with the well-being of their residents, but also this is a dilemma that has long faced many ‘traditional’ city destinations. For example, Maitland (2006) explores how the university city of Cambridge in the UK has grappled with the challenge of establishing and implementing an

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effective tourism management policy over the last quarter of a century, during which period annual tourist arrivals have doubled. More generally, in a study of seven heritage cities across Europe in the early 1990s (since when European city tourism has grown exponentially, primarily as a result of the growth in low-cost air travel) van der Borg et al. (1996: 306) found that, even then, ‘tourism [was] menacing not only the vitality of their local economies, but also the integrity of their heritage and the quality of life of their residents’. Nevertheless, despite the evident need for policies to control tourism, the study revealed that tourism management in the cities was largely concerned with only their marketing and promotion. What is unusual, if not unique, about the case of Barcelona, however, is that the city’s elected leader, perhaps responding to the concerns and protests of residents but undoubtedly adopting a longer term (and, arguably, enlightened) view with regard to the costs and benefits of further tourism growth, is proactively seeking not only to halt the relentless growth of tourism but to enhance the benefits accruing to the city through the redirection of tax funds from tourism marketing to social and environment programmes. In short, the mayor of Barcelona is attempting to stand up to the forces that throughout the history of modern tourism, and as considered in many of chapters in this book, have driven the growth of mass tourism. Whether this represents the beginnings of a more widespread tourism ‘resistance movement’ is debatable. Not only have Ada Colau’s plans for restricting further tourism development in Barcelona met, not unsurprisingly, with some opposition from tourism businesses, but also attempts to limit the growth of tourism at other popular destinations have foundered. Most notably, the UN’s recent ‘ultimatum’ to Venice, referred to above, follows previous unsuccessful attempts to limit the number or size of cruise ships that have failed in the face of local business opposition (Kirchgaessner, 2015). This is despite the fact that tourism had wrought significant impacts on the social and environmental integrity of the city. For example, Settis (2016: 8) notes that, partly as a result of tourism, the resident population of Venice has halved over the last half century, from 108,426 in 1971 to 56,072 in 2015. He goes on to argue that:

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A tourist monoculture now dominates a city which banished its native citizens and shackles the survival of those who remain to their willingness to serve . . . [Tourism is] . . . a plague which afflicts it and it is wiping out its inhabitants while tearing apart its social fabric, cohesion and civic culture. (Settis, 2016: 10)

Nevertheless, as discussed shortly, many city destinations are at the forefront of the continuing growth of mass tourism and, arguably, face some of the greatest challenges in absorbing that tourism. Hence, the experience of Barcelona raises the question: what is the future for what this book has defined as mass tourism? Can it continue to grow in response to its principal drivers: (i) ever-increasing demand; (ii) a tourism sector eager to satisfy (and profit from) that demand; and, as a number of the chapters in this book have revealed, (iii) destinations that view tourism as an economic panacea and hence, compete for a share of the market? Or, is there an alternative future for mass tourism? To address these questions, the following section identifies some potential future trends in mass tourism more generally.

Mass Tourism: Future Trends Perhaps one the most remarkable characteristics of modern mass tourism or, more broadly, tourism as a mass social phenomenon, is its continual growth. As outlined in Chapter 1, over the last half century or so annual international arrivals have demonstrated significant and consistent growth, from just 25.3 million in 1950 (largely restricted to travel to and within Europe and North America), breaking the 1 billion barrier in 2012 to reach 1133 million in 2014 (see Table 1.1 in Chapter 1). In 2015, international arrivals totalled 1186 million (UNWTO, 2016). At the same time, the demand for (generating countries) and supply of (destinations) tourism has become global, and more equitably shared. The Asia and Pacific region now attracts 24% of global international arrivals and 33% of receipts (UNWTO, 2016: 7) – though much of that increase is accounted for by intra-regional travel, particularly from China – while, more generally, few if any countries of the world are not now

tourism destinations. As Telfer and Sharpley (2016: 2) observe, the United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) publishes tourism statistics for around 200 countries while more than 70 annually attract in excess of 1 million international visitors. It is not the absolute figures, however, nor the increasingly global spread of international tourism, that are of particular interest here – ­although the latter is of course of significance from a development perspective (Sharpley, 2015); rather, it is the continual growth of international tourism more generally. As can be seen from Table 20.1, between 1950 and 1970, international tourist arrivals increased at an annual rate of around 10%, reflecting both the rapid development of the tourism sector and the latent demand it was able to meet during this period. Over subsequent decades, the annual rate of growth has gradually declined, from 5.6% in the 1970s to 3.4% in the 2000s. Two points deserve emphasis, however. First, only on rare occasions (e.g. 2001, the year of ‘9/11’) has the number of arrivals actually experienced a decline. Hence, over the years, tourism has demonstrated remarkable resilience in the face of a variety of external forces, from natural disasters to global economic downturns. And second, since 2005, the annual growth rate has begun to increase again – at the time of writing, growth of up to 4.5% is predicted for 2016 (UNWTO, 2016: 3). Together, these points suggest that the UNWTO’s current forecast that international tourism will continue to grow at an annual rate of 3.8% between 2010 and 2020 is likely to be achieved and, moreover, that the forecast of 1.8 billion arrivals by 2030 will prove to be realistic (UNWTO, 2016: 3). In other words, it is relatively certain that international mass tourism will continue on its Table 20.1.  International tourism arrivals 1950–2015. (Adapted from WTO, 2005; UNWTO, 2011, 2016.) Decade 1950–1960 1960–1970 1970–1980 1980–1990 1990–2000 2000–2010 2005–2015

Arrivals (average annual increase %) 10.6 9.1 5.6 4.8 4.2 3.4 3.9



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growth path, though not equally; the Asia Pacific region in particular is likely to increase its share of global tourist arrivals and as a tourism generator. Moreover, this growth will be underpinned by what Pollock (2012, 2015) refers to as the ‘industrial model’ of tourism development, a model which neatly summarizes the processes, discussed throughout this book, that have long defined and continue to define the development of tourism around the world. Specifically, the industrial model represents an exploitative, growth-fixated and profit-oriented process of tourism development, fuelled by a growing global economy and a growing global population. Thus it is no surprise, for example, that China, a country that has experienced annual average economic growth of around 10% since the early 1980s and in which currently some 225 million households are described (in wealth terms) as middle class (The Economist, 2016: 2), is now the world’s largest source of international tourists who account for 13% of global tourist spending (see Chapter 1, this volume). Moreover, while 75% of UK residents and 46% of US residents currently hold passports, just 5% of 1.3 billion Chinese residents do so. Simply stated, the Chinese now have the time, money and freedom to travel en masse, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future in ever increasing numbers. Consequently, it is equally unsurprising that many destinations are targeting Chinese tourists although, as Erik Cohen discusses in Chapter 14, this volume, this has proved to be a double-edged sword. What is less certain is the extent to which not the scale but the nature of mass tourism demand will evolve in the future. More than 20 years ago, the notion of the ‘new’ tourist was first proposed (Poon, 1993), contributing to the then nascent (though rather fallacious) mass versus alternative tourism debate. Since then, a variety of labels have been attached to tourists or niche tourism products to appeal to those who consider themselves morally superior to the socially constructed ‘mass tourist’ (Butcher, 2003; and Chapter 3, this volume) – as Culler (1981: 130) once observed, tourists ‘can always find someone more touristy than themselves to sneer at’! Conversely, the so-called ‘post-tourist’ (Feifer, 1985) views tourism as a game and recognizes their role in that game, thereby rendering obsolete categorizations of tourists as mass/alternative,

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or good/bad. However, irrespective of these arguments, if most if not all tourism can be defined as mass tourism according to the criteria outlined in Chapter 1 then, implicitly, most if not all tourists are mass tourists. Nevertheless, there is evidence of transformations in the overall tourism market. For instance, a number of demand factors will influence the nature and scale of tourism flows, including:

• • • • • •

an emerging middle class in many developing countries, travelling initially in groups but then independently; demographic change, in particular ageing populations with specific travel desires and needs; smaller families and couples with no children, travelling more frequently and independently; emergence of specific groups, such as the gay or ‘pink’ market; growth in immigration/emigration, resulting in increases in international ‘visiting friends and relatives’ (VFR) tourism; and increased use of technology/Internet to research, book and report on travel experiences, facilitating growth in independent travel.

Similarly, according to one report (Horwath, n.d.), there are a number ‘megatrends’ in tourism, among which relevant to this chapter are: 1.  Silver-haired tourists: a growing market segment reflecting global demographic change; relatively affluent and ‘time rich’, they may spend more of their disposable income on travel than other segments. 2.  Generation Y and Generation Z: Generation Y, the ‘Millennials’, ‘focus . . . on exploration, interaction, and emotional experience’ (Horwath, n.d.: 5). Generation Z are expected to be better educated, and seek dynamic lifestyles characterized by living and spending fast. 3. A growing middle class, particularly in the Asia Pacific regions, with a preference for independent/autonomous travel as opposed to organized tours. Collectively these again support the argument that participation in tourism will continue to grow, with specific forms of tourism increasing in popularity more quickly than others.

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For  example, related to growth in the ‘silver’ market, participation in health tourism is expected to increase rapidly (Horwath, n.d.) while cruise ship tourism, currently one of the fastest-growing sectors, will become increasingly popular. Equally, trends already evident in established markets, such as a shift towards cultural/ educational experiences, shorter, more frequent breaks and, of course, growth in independently organized travel, go some way to explaining (along with the historical factors considered by John Heeley in Chapter 8, this volume) why cities in particular are some of the fastest-growing destinations in the world (Horwath, n.d.). In other words, cities may benefit most from the continued growth in tourism; however, they also face some of the greatest challenges. As established economic and social centres, many cities not only are inevitably limited in the extent to which they can absorb tourism (as demonstrated by the case of Barcelona), but also point to a rarely asked question: tourist arrivals may leap to 1.8 billion by 2030, but can destinations cater for these numbers? That is, is there an inevitable limit to mass tourism?

Cities: Destinations on the ‘Front Line’ As Sharpley and Roberts (2005: 161) observe, ‘towns and cities have, throughout history, been a focus of tourist activity’. Spa tourism in the 16th century and resort-based seaside tourism in the 18th and 19th centuries (see Chapter 10, this volume) both developed in urban contexts while the Grand Tour was structured around the culturally significant cities of Europe (Towner, 1996). However, it is only more recently that the significance of city tourism has come to be recognized, particularly as an agent of post-industrial urban regeneration, not only in Europe but also in East and South-east Asia, Australia and the Middle East (Maitland and Ritchie, 2009; Dumbrovská and Fialová, 2014). Following the lead of Baltimore where, in the late 1970s, the inner-harbour area was revitalized through the development of business and leisure facilities (Shaw and Williams, 2002: 257–260), cities around the world have adopted tourism as part of their socio-economic development policies (Page and Hall, 2003). Specifically, tourism has played a significant role in

enabling cities to transform from centres of production (industry) to centres of consumption (services) – a notable example in the UK being Glasgow’s renaissance in the early 1990s – and, as Fainstein and Judd (1999: 12) observe, ‘some cities managed to make smooth transition from industrial wasteland to tourist mecca’. However, such regeneration processes have not been unproblematic (Jones, 1998), and nor have they always achieved their objectives. For example, it has been argued by some that Glasgow’s transformation was nothing more than a ‘makeover’ (Law, 2002: 154) that failed to solve many of the city’s deep-rooted challenges (MacLeod, 2002). The debates surrounding the role of tourism in urban regeneration are beyond scope of this chapter (see for example Law, 1992). The important point is, however, quite simply that ‘urban tourism has been booming since the early 1980s’ (Popp, 2012: 50), a phenomenon that has been particularly prevalent in Europe (Heeley, 2011; Berger, 2015; Pasquinelli, 2015) but is now becoming a global one. Both within Europe and increasingly elsewhere, the enormous popularity of city tourism has been boosted by improved connectivity, particularly through the rapid growth of low-cost airlines – Ryanair, for example, carries around 117 million passengers annually between more than 200 destinations primarily in Europe (Ryanair, 2016). Not only has this led to the emergence of new destinations, thereby extending the spread of tourism into previously less well-known areas, but has also offered new opportunities to established destinations (Vera Rebollo and Ivars Baidal, 2009; Farmaki and Papatheodorou, 2015). At the same time, it has impacted ‘strongly on travellers’ flows both quantitatively and qualitatively’ (Pasquinelli, 2015: 7). In other words, low-cost airlines have, in a sense, been one of a number of factors that have placed many cities on the ‘front line’ of mass tourism growth; they have contributed not only to increased arrivals (typically concentrated in specific areas of the city), but also to the development of new forms of city tourism, such as so-called ‘stag weekends’, which bring additional social impacts (Thurnell-Read, 2012). As a consequence, many city destinations have reached or exceeded their capacity to absorb tourism or, as Dumbrovská and Fialová (2014: 23) put it with reference to Prague, ‘the tourism intensity indicators refer to



Conclusion: Mass Tourism in the Future

overload of tourism’, with the Old City being transformed into a ‘tourism ghetto’. Clearly, not all city destinations face the extreme problems of Prague or, indeed, Barcelona; larger cities with more diverse economies, attractions and facilities are better able to integrate tourism into their socio-economic systems while some, notably Dubai, are being developed to become global tourism centres. Nevertheless, many tourist cities are ‘confronted with massive problems’ (Popp, 2012: 50) and recognize the need for action, particularly to regulate or indeed reduce demand. As suggested in Chapter 1, this volume, the common (and indeed, common sense) reaction is to call for controls and more effective planning of tourist numbers. Yet, the evidence (and specifically the experience of Venice) suggests that such action might be difficult to implement, with market forces overriding social and environmental concerns. And if this is the case, what are the implications for the future of mass tourism more generally?

Mass Tourism: an Alternative Approach? A theme throughout this book is that, globally, the development of tourism has long adhered to a set of processes that define it as mass tourism – and, indeed, continues to do so. It is these processes that have underpinned the remarkable growth and spread of tourism which, on the one hand, has not only brought undoubted benefits in terms of economic and social development to many (but not all) destinations (Sharpley and Telfer, 2016) but also, as a ‘social victory’ (Krippendorf, 1986), provided ever more people with the opportunity to participate in tourism. On the other hand, the relentless growth of tourism has, of course, equally long attracted criticism for its potentially deleterious impacts on destinations’ environments and societies (see Chapter 7, this volume), from the early and, arguably, elitist condemnation of tourism by commentators such as Mishan (1969) to more considered assessments of tourism’s consequences (e.g. Wall and Mathieson, 2006). While there undoubtedly exist ‘hotspots’, such as Venice, Barcelona and other cities, which have reached or even exceeded their tourism capacity, these negative impacts have not, in general, been as

237

apocalyptic as predicted by Croall (1995). Nevertheless, adherence to the ‘industrial model’ of tourism development referred to earlier in this chapter has, according to Pollock (2012, 2015), resulted in global tourism reaching a precarious position, a tipping point where further growth along the ‘industrial’ path may lead to inevitable decline as the negative consequences of tourism increasingly outweighs its benefits. The characteristics of the industrial model of tourism development are summarized in Table 20.2, as are those of an alternative, ‘conscious’ approach to tourism development. The industrial model follows the ‘traditional’ mindset of capitalist production: (i) an anthropocentric perspective that views the world’s resources as capital to be exploited for profit; (ii) increased profits dependent on increased growth (it is no coincidence that the tourism policies of many destinations focus on increasing visitor numbers); (iii) a focus on products, frequently differentiated by price; and (iv) marketing and promotional strategies targeting particular market segments, typically ‘quality’ or ‘higher spending’ tourists who will contribute to higher profits. In contrast, a ‘conscious’ approach to tourism development should, according to Pollock (2012, 2015), necessarily adopt an environmental ethic, specifically a ‘prudent anthropocentrism’ perspective (Dwyer, 2016) that, similar to what some refer to as ‘responsible’ tourism development (Goodwin, 2011), recognizes human responsibility for the natural world and, hence, advocates the wise use of natural and human resources to the mutual benefit of humanity and the natural world. For the tourism sector, those benefits should be thought of as net benefits (i.e. all externalities or costs are taken into account) that accrue to all stakeholders, including the Table 20.2.  Industrial versus conscious tourism. (Adapted from Dwyer, 2016.) Industrial approach

Conscious approach

Anthropocentric ethic Profit Growth/exploitation Product Price Space Promotion

Environmental ethic Benefit Protection People Value Place Pull

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tourism business, its employees and suppliers, its environment and the wider community. For destinations, net benefits should be considered not only in terms of visitor spending but also of the wider well-being of destination communities. Protection, as opposed to growth, places the emphasis on resource sustainability, social justice and cultural integrity, while a focus on people (not product) recognizes that tourism is essentially a social phenomenon for both tourists and destination communities. Hence, tourism policy should seek to optimize the experience of both tourists and ‘hosts’, thereby contributing to the destination becoming a unique place that is valued, shared and enjoyed, not a tourist space to be consumed by visitors. A detailed discussion of ‘conscious tourism’ is not possible here (see Pollock, 2015). Nevertheless, although there are clear arguments in favour of its adoption (e.g. it is evident that a number of cities have reached or are approaching the tipping point), critics may suggest that it simply represents yet another idealistic ‘alternative’ approach to tourism development; conversely, there are evident similarities between ‘conscious tourism’ and what David Weaver

­refers to (Chapter 6, this volume) as ‘enlightened mass tourism’. In many destinations, in particular resorts or urban centres that have evolved with tourism (e.g. beach resorts around the Mediterranean and Caribbean, where the economy and society have grown with and adapted to tourism to the benefit of local communities), such enlightened mass tourism may in fact already exist. In other destinations, particularly those where tourism represents a relatively recent intrusion into established socio-economic structures, conscious or enlightened mass tourism may be desirable but unrealistic. Either way, it is certain that in the shorter term at least, the pressures of, on the one hand, ever more destinations seeking to underpin their economies by securing a share of a growing yet increasingly competitive tourist market and, on the other hand, myriad travel and tourism businesses seeking to profit from that market, will ensure that the future of mass tourism will generally remain characterized by the processes that have long defined it. And if those processes are to change then, as the experience of Barcelona has demonstrated, that change may only be brought about through regulatory action by destinations themselves.

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Index

Page numbers in bold type refer to figures and tables. academic studies methods and tools  8, 106 neglect of commercial demand/supply factors 92–93 political narratives and moral climate  34–35 scholarly attitudes to mass tourism  3–6, 28, 31–33, 34 ‘green’ perspectives  45–47 presumed to be unsustainable  64–65 accommodation associated water demand  78 Club Med holiday villages  100 compartmentalization of social classes  87, 90 on cruise ships  95 in holiday camps  96–97 private online booking (Airbnb)  144 types of facility, ownership and management  55, 168–169 US national parks, visitor expenditure  123, 123 Adriatic coast  53, 55, 58 advertising all-inclusive holidays, ‘free’ services  97–98 campaigns financial resources  89 targeting specific tourist markets (Tunisia)  194, 196 regulation, Chinese Travel Law  153 straplines, influence on image  204 tone designed to attract ‘select’ visitors  41, 90 affluence, and tourism development  22, 25, 107, 150 Agenda 21, local  69, 185–186 air pollution  132

air transport airlines as expression of nationalism  138 beneficial side-effects of regular flights to resorts 171 budget flights, opportunities and risks  107, 141, 201, 236 emissions and fuel economy  77, 81 growth in passenger numbers  17, 23, 77, 137–138 links within global tourist clusters  22 regulation competition of Gulf and US carriers  142–143 international treaties and liberalization  139–141, 194 licensing requirements  141–142 Airbnb 144 all-inclusive tourism Butlinism (holiday camp model)  95–99, 103 Caribbean luxury resorts  101–102, 218 Club Med holiday packages  99–101 ‘alternative’ tourism advocacy, and critique of mass tourism  5, 28, 46, 63, 64–65 marketing tactics to address demand  57–58 niche markets and mainstream economics  41, 171, 172 Approved Destination Status (ADS) agreements  153 archaeological sites  207 aristocracy, influence on tourism aiding up-market image of resorts  89, 90 investors in development, and control  87, 88 aspirational sustainability  64, 67–68, 71 AssMed conference themes  57, 58, 60

241

242 Index

authenticity demand for ‘authentic’ places/experiences  57 seen as distorted in mass tourism  31–32 aviation industry see air transport

backpackers  31, 65 Balearic Islands eco-tax introduction  79 geography and history  181–183, 182 global expansion of local tourism companies  47 Barcelona, Spain restrictions on tourism development  4, 232 steamship route to Mallorca  183 tourism success and problems  233 Bardo Museum terrorist attack, Tunisia  191, 194, 196 Beeching, Richard, railway closures  107, 111 behaviour, tourist conformity and choice  56 ethical and moral aspects  34, 35–36, 163 guidance instructions for tourists, China  154, 154–155, 162 levels of action on environmental issues  66, 68, 80–81, 82 reports of salacious behaviour in Magaluf   188 biodiversity protection in national parks  67, 68, 82, 119 risks of loss through climate change  76 biofuels  77, 82, 130 Black Sea coast resorts (Bulgaria)  168, 170, 171, 172, 173 Blackpool, UK amenities and attractions  85, 87, 108, 109 growth and decline as seaside resort  1, 107, 113, 114 rates levied for destination marketing  89 used for party political conferences  109–110 World Heritage Site nomination  109 ‘blue’–’grey’ tourism transition  200, 202–207 Booking.com (online company)  44, 171, 172 Boorstin, Daniel  31 Bourguiba, Habib (Tunisian president)  191, 195 BRIC countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China)  23 Brighton, UK amenities development  88 government reorganization and politics  110 growth as seaside resort  1, 85, 107 image and cultural connections  108 residents’ complaints against tourists  3 Britain Center Parks inland resorts  101 holiday camps, Butlin’s model  95–99 Pimlott’s tourism development model  86–92 Royal Navy presence in Malta  201 traditional seaside resorts  105–114 British Tourist Authority (BTA, formerly British Travel Association)  111

British tourists, catered for in Mallorca  187, 187–188 Brundtland Commission Report  65, 201 Bulgaria benefits of mass tourism economic 170–172 environmental 173–174 social 172–173 tourism development and capacity  168–170, 174, 178–180 assessment criteria  169, 169 improvement strategies and prospects 174–175 Bureau of Land Management (BLM), USA  119 Butlin, Billy  95–96, 97 Buxton (UK), spa resort development  86–87

Calabria, Italy  58–59 Calvià, Mallorca adaptive responses to excessive tourist numbers  69, 185–186 resorts and tourism statistics  184–185, 186, 186 camping holidays  54, 96–97, 101 Canadian Transportation Agency  141–142 Canary Islands  44, 45 Caribbean all-inclusive luxury resorts  101–102, 218 contributions of tourism to national economies  221, 222, 223–225, 227–228 sizes and populations of island states  212, 213, 230n4 stayover and cruise tourist numbers  212, 214–218, 215–217 strategies for tourism development  47 tourism data collection and availability  211–212 tourism expenditure, destinations compared 218, 219–220 Caribbean Tourism Organization (CTO)  211 ‘Carry On’ series (films)  108, 110 carrying capacity of destinations concept, analytical applications  8 and environmental resources  79, 132 exceeded at Calvià, crisis responses  69 overcrowding avoidance measures  149–150, 151, 237 raising thresholds, sustainable options  66–67 cars impact on early mass tourism in US  1–2, 16 private car ownership growth  16, 17, 54, 99 self-driving 24 casinos  18, 109, 150, 206 Centennial Challenge programme  122, 134n1 Center Parcs inland resorts  101 charter flights  17, 30, 44, 159–160, 163 Chiang Mai, Thailand  160, 162–163

Index 243

Chicago Convention, 1944 (air transport)  139–140 China domestic and international tourism, projected growth 24, 25, 149–151 government policies and intervention  152–153, 161 as tourism destination emergence and growth  2–3, 151–152 positive and negative impacts of tourism 154–156 China National Tourism Administration (CNTA)  149, 150, 152 Chinese (outbound) tourists characteristics and patterns of travel  160, 161 reputation and behaviour  154, 162, 163 spending and preferred destinations  3, 150–151 growth in numbers visiting Thailand 159–161, 160, 163 targeted in foreign national tourism policies  4, 194, 196, 235 city tourism growth and global expansion  4, 236 limits to growth  236–237 heritage destinations  91–92, 203, 205, 206–207 integrated with residents’ needs  58, 59, 233 public transport provision  144 Clacton, UK seaside resort  105, 107, 111 climate change  64, 66, 76–77, 81, 132 impacts on tourism  197, 198 Club 18-30 (holiday company)  186–187 Club Med (Club Méditerranée) foundation and influence  43, 99–101 office graffiti in 1968 student protests  33 clusters, global, of tourism development  22, 22–24, 25–26, 151–152 Cohen, Erik  6, 32, 56 Colau, Ada  232, 233 colonialism investments during colonial era  41 legacy and sensitivities in Malta  203 tourist impacts seen as neo-colonialism  4, 37, 42 common pool resources (CPRs)  79 communist regimes Chinese, influence and public support  156, 160 effects of Cold War conclusion  32–33, 34 on tourism in Bulgaria  168 heritage, museums and tours  171, 175 community-based tourism  65 competition benefits of Butlin’s business policy  97 competitive advantage of heritage resources 204 as driver of innovation  67 new business models  140–142, 144

for international tourists, national policies  4, 6, 228 local and expatriate businesses  164–165 pressures on small-scale independent operators 44 seaside resorts, for conference trade  110 in transport markets  138–139, 140, 142–143 concessions, NPS programme (USA) contracts and management plans  126, 130, 130–131, 133 services at specific parks  124, 126, 127–129 conference trade  107, 109–110, 206 ‘conscious tourism’ approach  237, 237–238 constant (‘real’) tourism expenditure value  218 consumer protection  142, 153 Cook, Thomas as champion of mass leisure travel  29 development of package tours  1, 43, 193 coral reefs  76, 78 corporate social responsibility  66 Corps of Engineers, US Army  119 Cromer (UK), image and development  87, 88, 89–90 cruise ship tourism Club Med business venture  100 contribution to destinations economic/employment benefits  222, 223–225 financial leakage from local economy  222, 227 island tourism development  183, 206, 228–229 cruise liners  228 Allure of the Seas ship facilities  95 attempts to limit size  232, 233 growth trends and prospects  24, 214, 214, 229, 236 tourist numbers at Caribbean destinations  217, 218 cultural attractions integrated with traditional sun/sea destinations  57, 206 protection from excessive tourist numbers  59 provided for Chinese group tourists, Thailand 161 scope and demand  205 culture coexistence and identity  59, 60, 134 cultural differences influence on business transactions  46, 164–165 resentment and tolerance  162, 192–193, 196 government promotion, China  153 modernity and changing attitudes  31, 33 reflecting and enhancing resort image  108–109 Cunningham’s Camp  96–97 Cyprus  205, 207

244 Index

debt crisis, 1980s  42, 43, 47 declinism  105, 107, 110, 113–114 democracy local/village level  156, 185 and policy reversals, environmental implications 80 and social progress, MENA countries  195 values targeted by terrorists  36 democratization of travel  36, 41, 47, 173 dependency theory  5, 40, 42, 64 destinations cruise passenger spending  222, 226, 227 investment in image improvement  89–91, 109, 185–186 marketing opportunities  57 mass tourism product diversification  175, 204–206 resilience to increasing visitor numbers  69–70 sustainable growth for niche sites  66–67 developing countries academic viewpoints on tourism in  4–5, 37 emerging middle class, tourism demand  235 location and tourism growth opportunities  23 mobilities framework for mass tourism  145 relationships with former colonial powers  41–42 development alternative models and planning in Malta  201–202 economic emergence of middle class (China)  150 related to tourism success  21–23, 25, 194–195 and transport systems  139, 144 investment as tool of neo-liberal strategies  47 management paths to sustainable mass tourism  65–67, 196–198 planning decisions, parks/protected areas  120, 126 political aspects and power relationships  40, 41–42 of tourism demand and supply model (Pimlott)  86–92 industrial model (Pollock)  235, 237 urban transformation  58, 164, 165, 203, 236 Development of Tourism Act 1969 (UK)  111–112 discretionary income see income, disposable domestic tourism aided by mass tourism low prices  173 importance in high-income economies  22 luxury resorts as middle-class status symbol 193 neglected in UNWTO tourism statistics  18 origins and growth  1–2, 3 promotion of destinations for  153, 183 rate of growth in China  149–150 reliance of British seaside resorts on  106, 111 tourists’ tolerance of crowds and regimentation  98–99, 155, 155

Dominican Republic  218, 222, 230n6 Dubai, UAE  4, 237

eco-taxes 79–80 economic issues direct and indirect returns on investment  88, 90, 230n8 environmental costs, ‘polluter pays’ principle 79 inequality in distribution of tourism surpluses  42, 47 mass tourism revenues and benefits, Bulgaria 170–172 measured regional impacts of national parks 122–124, 125, 133 perceptions of tourism importance  4, 40–41, 82, 211 state planning, China  152–153 tourism added value, countries compared  18–21, 19–20 Caribbean destinations  221, 222, 223–225, 227–228 economic development and clustering  21–23, 22 future growth prospects  23–24, 24, 25 quality and availability of data  211–212, 218 Western post-war consumption boom  29–30, 43, 54–55 ecosystem services  76, 78, 119 ecotourism  36, 46, 68, 81, 82 education higher, tourism and hospitality degrees  172, 175 national park educational programmes  133 Egypt  43, 184 Emirates (Gulf airline)  143 employment in British seaside resorts  112, 113 contributions of Caribbean tourist industry  221, 222 cruise tourism  223–225, 227 economic impact metrics  122, 123, 123–124, 211 opportunities for women  195 opportunities generated by mass tourism  42, 91, 170, 172, 201 paid holiday entitlement  16, 21 in Tunisia, tourism compared with other sectors 194–195 working conditions and pay levels  172, 175 enclaves, tourist concerns and criticisms  98, 186, 192 cruise line private islands  228 mega-resorts, ownership and investment  43, 193 purpose-built, all-inclusive holidays  101

Index 245

engines (economic), for tourism success  22, 24 Englishman’s Holiday, The (Pimlott)  85–86 enlightened mass tourism (Weaver)  67, 68, 69, 70–71, 238 entertainment facilities on cruise ships  95 financing of ‘flagship’ amenities  86–87, 90 live, venues at seaside resorts  109 mass scale provision in holiday camps  97, 98 modernizing development of facilities  56 environmental issues benefits of mass tourism, Bulgarian destinations 173–174 conservation principles, concessionaire compliance  126, 130 damage from large-scale coastal resorts  46, 78, 170 natural resource usage  77–79, 173, 174–175, 197–198 opportunistic eco-friendly corporate measures 66 public concern and behavioural change  66, 68, 80–81 tourism impacts, warnings and responses  4, 56, 75–76, 79–80 rapid tourism development in Mallorca 185–186 situation in Italy  58–59 threats and challenges of climate change 76–77 equilibrium sustainability  64, 67, 71 ethical issues corporate social responsibility  66 freedom versus regulation of experience 35–36 moral claims for alternative tourism  28, 35 tourists’ relationship with nature and wildlife 80–81 trend towards ethical consumption (‘ethical turn’)  33–35, 237–238 Etihad Airways (Gulf airline)  143 Europe aviation market liberalization  140–141 growth in air transport for tourism  17, 44 growth in urban tourism  236 private car ownership  16 ‘Protected Geographical Indication’ products 182 relationship with Tunisian tourism and economy  193–194, 196 European Capital of Culture status  58, 204, 205 exchange, financial competitive currency devaluation  45 controls and manipulation in Malta  201, 202 fixed rates linked to Gold Standard  43 generated by tourism in low-income states 42

tourism expenditure data, inflation adjustment 218 tourism seen as source by governments  168, 184 expatriate communities  164–165, 189, 193

Fascist Italy, tourism policies (1920s/30s)  53–54 Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS), USA  119 Five Year Plans (for national economy) Chinese  149, 152–153 Tunisian  191, 195 flâneurs 60 Florida-Caribbean Cruise Association (FCCA)  211–212, 222, 230n9 food and drink cruise passenger spending, economic leakages  222, 227 imported to cater for tourists’ tastes  187–188 price included in all-inclusive holidays  97, 100 supplied by hotels  163 Fordism budget airlines as exemplar  31 principles applied to packaged mass tourism  79–80, 81 holiday camps  96, 98–99 responses to Fordist working conditions  57 France importance of tourism to national economy  4 introduction of paid vacations  16, 53 Frankfurt School (of political thought)  31–33

gambling  18, 105, 111, 150, 171 gender equality  195 Generation Y/Z  235 Glasgow, Scotland  236 global financial crisis, 2008  6, 138, 153, 184, 194 globalization consequences for tourism  6–7, 47 compatibility of mass and alternative forms 66–67 deregulation of commercial air transport 139–141 information availability and choices  57 countered by national transport protectionism 138 economic features  17–18 limitations of application to tourism  18, 21–23 terrorism seen as rejection of   37 Gold Coast, Australia  69, 70 Golden Week holiday periods (China)  149, 151, 152 government policy aims of Italian Fascist policy on tourism  54 availability of data to support tourism promotion 211–212 construction of competitive transport markets 138–139

246 Index

government policy (continued) eco-taxes, imposition attempts  79–80 interventions into behaviour and morality  34, 154–155, 162 resources for development interventions  93, 191–192 strategies for mass tourism development  43, 45, 110–113, 152–153 diversification attempts  192, 193, 201, 205–206 support for National Park Service, US  122, 131 Grand Canyon NP (USA)  126, 127 Grand Tour (Europe, 17th/18th C.)  1, 3, 86, 236 Great Lakes Restoration Initiative  122, 134n2 Great Smoky Mountains NP (USA)  126, 127 Greece  44, 141 greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions  77, 81 gross domestic product (GDP) contribution of tourism compared with other sectors in Tunisia 194 direct and indirect, Caribbean islands  218, 221, 222 and economic vulnerability  21–22 indicator calculations  18, 26n1, 169–170 national parks visitor spending, US  122 economic growth and development  16, 150 tourism expenditure as surrogate metric  211 gross national happiness  64 group tours, Chinese  160–161 guidebooks, travel  89, 183, 185

Hammamet-Nabeul area, Tunisia  192, 193 Harrogate Wells and Baths Committee (UK)  90–91 Hawaii, USA  44, 69, 78, 134n3 heritage in cities, local economic benefits of tourism  91–92, 171 costs of restoration and maintenance  202 culture used to establish sense of place  108–109 resource development in Tunisia  196 traditional village life, China  155–156 value to locals and tourists  205 WW2, problems of use in tourism  203 hippy trail  33 historical records attitudes to tourists  3, 29 British resort development Pimlott’s analysis  86–88, 92 seaside resorts  106, 107–108 tourism development in Italy  53–58 tourism origins and development, Mallorca 183–184 holiday camps adaptation to contemporary demands  99, 100, 101

Butlin’s model  95–99, 107 disdain for, in 1970s ‘cool’ culture  33 Holiday Makers, The (Krippendorf)  34 Holidays with Pay Act 1938 (UK)  16, 97 ‘honeypot’ concept (Ryan)  173 Hong Kong, China  150–151 hotels bed capacity and star rating, Bulgaria  168 British government support initiatives  111 cliff-top, in British seaside resorts  89 conversion of residential properties into  92 eco-friendly and ethical initiatives  66, 174–175 high-rise, construction  185 local/family-owned hotelier businesses  44–45, 55 preferences of Russian tourists  163, 164 relationships with tour operators  171, 189, 193 staff pay and conditions  175 Huangshan, China  155, 155, 156

illegal practices  59, 161, 164–165 image and attractiveness of city tourism  58 class appeal of spas and seaside resorts  87, 89–90 ‘costa geriatrica’ reputation, British resorts 107 ‘environmental bubble’ created for/by tourists  160, 164, 187–188 national, development potential (Tunisia)  196–197, 197 Palmanova and Magaluf, Mallorca  183, 186–189 reflecting and enhanced by cultural associations 108–109 income, disposable growth, due to economic development  16, 23, 25, 36 levels in different countries  19–20, 21 Indian tribes, American  133–134 indoor resort facilities  108 industrial model of tourism development  235, 237, 237 inflation rates (national economies)  218 infrastructure development  86, 87, 88–90, 153 extended to rural areas, Tunisia  193 mass tourism economies of scale  170–171, 173 to support planned tourism transitions  205, 207 inland resorts (Center Parcs)  101 International Air Transport Association (IATA)  77 international leisure travel global distribution, within and between clusters  23, 234 increase in use of air transport  17, 137–138 statistical records of growth  2, 2–3, 18, 234, 234 in Bulgaria  168–170 in Tunisia  192, 192, 193–194

Index 247

supply and demand trends  56, 234–236 visitors to USA, numbers and activities  121, 121, 122 invasive species spread  131–132 investment capital driven by profit-making motives  47, 88, 210 inequality of access, local and outside interests  154, 164–165 linkages with associated industries  172 for loss-making facilities, loss-leader principle  86–87, 89 public sector support and incentives  112, 122, 131, 184 range of resources for Mediterranean mass tourism  44–45, 191–192 Italy, progress of tourism development in Fascist era  53–54 impacts of globalization  57–60 mass tourism crisis (1970s) and responses 55–57 post-war tourism boom  54–55

Jasmine Revolution (2011), Tunisia  191, 192, 194, 195, 196

Kerouac, Jack  30–31, 36 Knights of St John, heritage legacy  202–203, 206, 207 Krippendorf, J.  4, 34

Lamington National Park, Australia  68 landscape preservation  118–120, 133 language, skills and accommodation  164, 187, 197 licensing, airline  141–142 local authorities impacts of reorganization in Britain  110 involvement in tourism planning  174, 185–186 level of control  59 responsibilities and investment in resorts  87, 88–89, 90–91 local communities characteristics, in British seaside resorts  107, 113 economic impacts of national parks (US)  122–124, 125 empowerment as aim of sustainable tourism 45–46 marketing and communication skills  57, 65 poverty alleviation, Chinese heritage villages  153, 156 long-haul travel  23, 77 Lost in Thailand (film)  151, 162–163 low-cost carriers (LCCs), air transport  107, 141, 236

low income areas countries, challenges for tourism development  21, 23 inequality and control in economic development  42, 43, 46 luxury resorts/facilities all-inclusive Caribbean resorts  101–102 current focus of Club Med products  100 enjoyed by wealthier domestic tourists  193 as ideal of Butlin’s holiday camps  97, 98 luxury goods available on cruise ships  222 Mallorca, historic hotels  183 used as financial speculation vehicle  47

Macau, China  18, 21, 150 MacCannell, Dean  4, 32, 56 Magaluf, Mallorca reputation for tourist rowdiness  183, 187, 188 tourism development, rate and control  185 visitors and tourist facilities  186, 187–188 Maldives  76, 100 Mallorca black pigs and pork consumption  182–183 geography and location  181–182, 182 history and growth of tourism  183–184 recent statistics  181 origins of transnational tourism corporations 45 Malta heritage resources  202–203 history of mass tourism growth  200–202 transition from ‘blue’ to ‘grey’ tourism  203–207 Malta Tourism Authority (MTA)  202, 204 Marcuse, Herbert  32 Marx, Karl  75 Marxist political theory  29, 31–32, 40, 42 mass tourism definitions and interpretations  28–29, 36, 40, 75 drivers of growth  234 management complexity  210 measurable criteria of development  169, 169, 211 perceptions of destructive impacts  5, 32–33, 78, 154, 170 typical features  7, 8, 67, 159 McDonaldization (Ritzer)  98, 100, 102 Mediterranean Association for the Sociology of Tourism (AssMed)  53, 57, 58, 60 Mediterranean destinations competition and prices  194, 203–204 mass tourism ownership and control issues  43–45, 46 rise in popularity  6, 17, 99, 200–201 sun and sea attraction elements  56, 57, 201

248 Index

Mexico  21, 43 microstates, definition  212 Middle East and North Africa (MENA) market  194, 196, 197 Milan, Italy  58 moral autonomy  35–36 Morecambe, UK  108–109, 110 municipal tourist taxes, Bulgaria  170, 172 museums  171, 175, 205

National Park Service (NPS), USA concessions programme  124, 126–131, 127–129, 130 establishment and scope  118, 120 regional economic impacts  122–124, 123, 125 relationship with Native Americans  133–134 visitor numbers  120–121, 121 activity participation  121, 122 impacts of growth, challenges for NPS 131–133 top six parks  124, 124 national parks  67–68, 80, 156 national sovereignty  138, 139, 206 Native Americans, relationship with NPS  133–134 neo-liberalism, principles and consequences  5, 47, 64, 65, 66 NewLeaf company, Canada  141–142 niche tourism see ‘alternative’ tourism nomadic lifestyles  15, 59, 60 nominal (current) tourism expenditure value  218 non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in British military heritage of Malta  203 campaigns against corporate mass tourism  45–46, 173–174 conservation organizations  131 data collection and analysis  211 North African tourists  193, 194, 197 numbers, tourist Caribbean destinations compared  214, 215–217 compared with population size, Caribbean islands 212, 213 control strategies at popular sites  149–150, 232 excessive, impacts on cultural experience  59 limitations of statistical measurement  8, 150, 151, 211 records for Balearic Islands, Spain  181 visitors to US national parks  120–121, 121, 124, 124 zoning and concentration at service oases  67–68, 173

Olympic Games  58, 154, 233 ombudsmen, tourism  185 online travel agencies (OTAs)  44, 47, 48, 171

Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro (Italian recreational club) 54 Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries with/without statutory vacations  16 environmental performance indicators  8 membership as mark of economic development 21

package tours ‘blue’–’grey’ transition  200, 203–207 economic impacts on destinations  43–44, 192, 201–202 effects of individual internet bookings  204–205 ‘free’ goods and services included  97–98 historical origins  1, 43 organized group tours, Chinese tourists  160–161 popularity and affordability  30, 36, 79–80 public sense of entitlement to cheap travel  47 role of tour reps  188–189 paid holiday entitlement  21, 111 Chinese national holiday periods  152 introduction  16, 53 Palmanova  185, 188 Paris Agreement (2015) on global warming  77, 81 Paris Convention (1919), air transport  139 Paris, France student protests (1968)  33, 34 terrorist attacks (2015)  37 Partnership for Open and Fair Skies (US airlines)  143 passport ownership  3, 153, 235 Pattaya, Thailand  160, 161, 163, 164, 165 perceptions of tourism in academic/philosophical studies  3–6, 32–33, 159 in Bulgaria, negative impacts  170 ‘culture wars’ and the ethical turn  33–34 post-industrial sensibilities  59–60 public perceptions of British seaside resorts  106, 114 Phuket, Thailand  160, 164 piers, British seaside  105, 108, 109, 113, 114 Pimlott, John A. R.  85–86 tourism development model  86–92 ‘pleasure periphery’ areas  25–26, 30 politics benefits of stability  43, 191, 197 British political party conferences  109–110 decline of ideological grand narratives  31, 32–33, 34–35 involved in tourism planning and policy  110–113, 185 modernization and secularization in Islamic states 195

Index 249

political economy applied to mass tourism  40–49 air transport and national identity  138 relationship between Malta and UK  201, 202 transition from communism to market economy 168 ports, cruise ship dock construction  227, 228, 229 Prague, Czech Republic  236–237 preservation of historic heritage, Malta  202 of indigenous cultures  134 of natural landscapes  118–120, 133 Priestley, J. B.  31 private sector commercial use authorizations, NPS  124, 126 domestic and foreign investments in tourism  43, 191–192 opposition to eco-taxes  79 roles in British resort development  86–88, 89, 90–91, 112 public transport  144 public–private partnerships  56, 91–92

Qatar Airways (Gulf airline)  143 quality of life environmental elements  64, 76, 132, 186 personal identity and well-being  59–60, 63–64, 81–82 state involvement in delivery, China  152, 153, 156 of tourism destination residents  69–70, 171, 233

railways high-speed trains  23–24 railway company investments in resorts  88 role in birth of mass tourism  1, 15–16, 89, 183 service cuts in Britain (Beeching)  107, 111 treni populari (Italian Fascist popular trains)  54 Raitz, Vladimir  30, 31 real estate speculation  45, 47, 56 Redcoats, Butlin’s holiday camps  98, 99 regional organization benefits of integration for small destinations 57–58 Development Agencies, regeneration plans  109 devolved power, benefits and challenges  185–186 economic regions, NPS definition  122 urbanization impacts and policies  45 religious tourism  194, 196–197, 197 residents marginalized by introduced external factors  154, 196 negative attitudes to tourists  3, 4, 155, 233 objections to new attractions/tourist infrastructure 88 positive appreciation of tourism benefits  5, 203

quality of life in beach resort cities  69–70 separated from tourist enclaves  186 Responsible Travel (company)  35 Rhyl, UK seaside resort  108, 109 Rocky Mountain NP (Colorado, USA)  124, 126, 128 Romagna coast, Italy  54, 55, 56, 57–58, 59 Royal Caribbean Cruises Ltd.  24, 95, 222, 229n1 rural tourism role in countering depopulation (Bulgaria)  173 traditional villages (China)  153, 154, 155–156 Russian tourists characteristics and motives for travel  163, 164 seeking business opportunities abroad 164–165 numbers visiting Thailand  159–160, 160, 163 reputation and behaviour  164

Sandals Resorts (all-inclusive holiday company)  102 Scarborough, UK  87, 108, 112 scheduled flights  17, 107, 140, 201 sea level rise  64, 76 seaside resorts historical development  1, 55, 108, 201–202 private and public investment in development  87–90, 91 regeneration and rebranding  108–109, 114 seasonality  171, 203, 204–205 tourism impact analysis and management  4 traditional, factors in decline  6, 17, 59, 91, 106–107 second homes  58–59, 89, 110, 193 self-catering accommodation  45, 201 September 11 terrorist attacks, New York  37, 186, 234 ‘silver-haired’ tourist market  235, 236 slow tourism  60 small and medium sized enterprises (SMEs)  46, 48, 60 small island states  41, 45, 71, 206–207 air transport dependence  201 dangers from climate change  76 tourist numbers and population size  212, 213 social exchange theory  69–70 social issues benefits of transport accessibility  145 class structure and destination image  87, 89–90 consumer society growth, post-War optimism 29–31 declinism in 1970s Britain  105, 108 knowledge-based approach to study  4 mass tourism benefits in Bulgaria  172–173 in Tunisia  195, 198 philosophical attitudes to the masses  28–29 poverty and social justice  76, 154

250 Index

social issues (continued) sociocultural sustainability Native Americans, NPS policies  133–134 resort residents’ views  69–70 trends in attitudes to holiday experience  56–57, 59–60 value of parks/wilderness areas  118–119 see also politics social media  144, 163, 173, 188, 198 Société Hôtelière et Touristique de Tunisie (SHTT) 191 Sousse beach resort, Tunisia  193 terrorist attack  194, 196 spa resorts  1, 86, 90, 194, 236 Spain  45, 141, 184 Spanish Civil War (1936)  183, 184 spending (by visitors) in and around US national parks  122–123, 123, 125 cruise ship passengers  222, 226, 227 heritage and beach tourists compared  203 high-spending visitors, facilities designed for  89–90, 237 related to tourist origins and opportunities  193, 194 revenue from Chinese tourists  3, 24, 151, 152, 161 Russian tourists, spending habits  163 state-owned enterprise (SOE) model, China  156 state parks, US  120 stayover tourists, Caribbean islands  214, 216 sustainability academic advocacy and viewpoints  5 climate change as threat  76–77 economic, of tourist attractions  171–172, 207 evolution, mass/alternative tourism convergence  64–67, 81, 238 indicators and implementation in tourism  63–64, 71, 126, 131 initiatives challenged by expansionist policies 45 landscape use, in protected areas  118, 126, 130–131 local Agenda 21 initiatives  69, 185–186

taxation eco-taxes, Balearic Islands  79–80 exploitation by online travel agencies  44 income from cruise tourism  227 income redirected to social/environmental schemes 233 municipal tourist taxes, Bulgaria  170, 172 technological innovation capitalist exploitation of opportunities  48 challenges for reducing GHG emissions  77

and communication skills of host communities 57 creating opportunity for new business models  142, 144 Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA), USA  120 terrorism impacts on tourism demand  6, 163, 184, 186, 195–196 sociopolitical motives of terrorists  36–37, 195 Thailand Chinese tourists  159–163, 160 cultural etiquette  162 ecotourism operators  46 Russian tourists  159–160, 160, 163–165 tour operators commission, in ‘zero-dollar’ tours  161 control of holiday prices  193, 202 destinations offered, expansion of range  56 financial economies of scale  43–44 representatives (reps) at resorts  188–189 Tourism Area Life Cycle (Butler) applications of model in research  8 and deliberate repositioning, Malta  200 exhibited by urban beach resorts  68–69 Tourism Authority of Thailand (TAT)  161, 162 tourists attitudes to obstacles and setbacks  59–60 beach- and heritage-motivated, compared  205 Chinese and Russian, compared  160, 164, 165 expectations of holiday experience  55, 188 records of critical attitudes to  3, 29 types, growing markets and demands  235–236 train services see railways transit travellers  169 transnational corporations (TNCs) capital accumulation and distribution  42, 48 cruise ship companies  227, 229n1 major hotel groups and their origins  45, 47 role in attracting international tourists  55, 175 in tourism industry, global power and influence  6, 46–47 transport carbon-centric systems and emissions  77, 81 Chinese motorists, foreign travel access and safety 160 global increase in human mobility  137–138 impacts of technological advances  15–16, 17, 23–24 improved by mass tourism development  171 regulation systems  138–144, 145 road network quality, US national parks  132 see also air transport; cars; railways travel career ladder (Pearce)  7, 151 travellers changing attitudes to travel through history  15 range of motivations for travel  7, 151, 183, 194 traveller–tourist dichotomy  31, 57

Index 251

tree planting  67, 68, 186 Trigano, Gilbert  100 TUI (Touristik Union International) group  100, 196 Tunisia state-encouraged private investment in tourism  43, 191–192 terrorist attacks on tourists  194, 195–196 tourism development and markets  192, 192–194 social and economic impacts  194–195 strategies for future development  196–198, 197 typologies of tourists  6, 7, 32, 165

Uber (transport-sharing service)  142, 144 UKIP (UK Independence Party)  107, 108, 110 United Arab Emirates (UAE), air transport  143 United Nations (UN) Environment Programme (UNEP)  82 International Year of Tourism (1967)  30 Rio Earth Summit (1992)  185 UNESCO World Heritage Sites  109, 156, 202, 232 United Nations World Tourism Organisation (UNWTO) predictions of tourism growth  18, 234 records of international tourism  2–3, 137, 211, 234, 234 tourism ranked against other industries  41 United States Forest Service (USFS)  119 United States of America (USA) air transport regulation and competition  140, 143 car ownership impacts  1–2, 16, 17 public land management agencies  119–120 state parks  120 tax arrangements of online travel agents  44 see also National Park Service urban beach resorts  68–70 Utah national parks (USA)  129, 132

Valletta, Malta  202–203, 204 Varna, Bulgaria  170, 171, 175 Venice, Italy  53, 232, 233–234 villages, as heritage destinations  153, 155–156 volunteer tourism  35, 65, 68

water supply problems  76, 78, 132, 197–198 weather, reliability and extreme events  76 Wilderness Act 1964 (USA)  119 winter sports resorts  76, 100, 173 Wordsworth, William  3, 29, 30 World Bank economic classification of countries  21, 26n2, 150, 230n7 foreign direct investment assistance  191 move from brown to green economy  82 World Heritage Site status  109, 156, 202, 232 World Travel & Tourism Council (WTTC) data  18–21, 19–20, 194, 211, 218

Xanterra Parks and Resorts company  130 Xi Jingping, President  149, 150, 156

Yasmine-Hammamet resort, Tunisia  192, 193 Yellowstone NP (USA)  2, 126, 128–129 Yosemite NP (USA)  2, 126, 128 young people Boy Scouts/Boys’ Brigade camps  96 countercultural values  33 holidays as rite of passage  36 provision of activities for  54, 186 seen as feckless/delinquent  41, 90, 105

‘zero-dollar’ tours  161