Hi, my name is Sam, and I firmly believe that we need to change the way we approach vacations. In these series of blogs, I will reflect on tourism and peace, and my personal stories that have turned travel into something more for me than just sightseeing. With a background in political science and international relations, I look at the places I visit through a particular lens, one that oftentimes sees the layers of conflict and war beneath the surface. When I travelled, I always carried my little notebook with me, which I filled with scribbles and thoughts. I’ve been waiting for the right time to write down what I experienced and how I’ve reflected on it over the years. Now, that time has come.
This is a perspective I inherited, in a way, from my parents. When they were younger, they traveled a lot, and they travelled far. They didn't have much money, but that didn't matter all that much, because they saved up all year long. While other couples were saving up to build a house, my parents visited the farmlands of New Zealand, the bustling streets of India, and the rainforest in Malaysia. I don't know what it was like in other parts of Europe back then, but I think it was really something unique for people from a rural background, such as my parents, to travel all around the world. I always wondered what it must have been like growing up in a time when traveling to distant continents was a rare luxury. It is hard to imagine from today’s perspective, right?
Well, what was more of an exception back then has become the norm today. Travel, once a privilege for the wealthy, has become accessible to the Western working class. Today, it is common to have friends who’ve explored every secretive corner of the world, have visited unique places and encountered the remotest areas of this world. It has become normalized. Good for the people, good for personal growth, and good for intercultural exchange.
Over the years, my parents returned to some of those places they had visited as youngsters. Every time they came back, they were shocked: “It’s unbelievable how much everything has changed!”, I heard them say time and again. Back in his 20s, my father visited Koh Phi Phi Leh (the Thai island where famously ‘The Beach’, starring Leonardo di Caprio, was filmed) before a fleet of cruise ships started crowding the bay daily, carrying hordes of tourists thirsty of good pictures. He picked that up from documentaries or reports. After being closed for four years due to overcrowding, the beach was able to reopen in 2022 under very strict supervision.
But it wasn’t just Thailand, the same pattern, the same damn picture emerged just about everywhere. Something’s not quite right with tourism—or at least with the way we currently consume and experience it. The impact of our sheer presence as tourists, combined with the mass influx of visitors to popular destinations, places an unreasonable burden on the local ecosystem, both natural and human. I don’t know about you, but at least I’ve often felt bad after booking another flight. And what for? Only to end up standing in line for three hours at a tourist attraction or crammed onto a beach like sardines in a can? To be very frank, it looked better on Instagram.
Tourism impacts the environment: it generates waste and pollution, it can strain limited resources, all while travel-related emissions accelerate global warming. And most importantly, the ecosystems which sustain tourism, such as forests, reefs, and wildlife, are the most vulnerable to its impacts. Those impacts are not only visible, but also measurable across the globe. According to the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), under a business-as-usual scenario, tourism’s consumption of key resources could increase energy consumption by 154%, greenhouse gas emissions by 131%, and water consumption by 152% by 2050.
Overtourism can also affect relations within local communities. The concentration of tourism-related benefits in the hands of a few businesses or residents may deepen existing inequalities and create tensions among community members. Rising housing costs, overcrowding, and competition for local resources can further fuel conflicts between residents and visitors, as well as among different groups of residents. Over time, these pressures may weaken community bonds and alter local identities and traditions. The relationship between tourism and local communities is especially important in post-conflict societies, where poorly managed tourism can exacerbate inequalities and revive tensions over resources. In the early 1990s, war devastated the former Yugoslavia, with Bosnia and Herzegovina suffering particularly severe consequences. For example, the long siege of the capital, Sarajevo, gave rise to a certain trend toward war tourism. In a way, this culture of remembrance prevents reconciliation by constantly recalling the war.
Barcelona is also a case in point. The city has become so overcrowded due to mass tourism that its residents shoot water guns at foreigners. They just cannot take any more tourists, and that’s their way to protest. I think it’s time for a change or maybe even protest against oneself. There must be another way to conceive a voyage than following a trodden path of mass tourism. One such alternative could be the kind of traveling that combines tourism and peacework. This is what I have practiced throughout my studies and professional life
By visiting places of previous conflict, learning about their histories, interacting with the local communities and learning about their way of life, one creates shared spaces, encourages cultural exchange, and supports local economies. All these things can serve as a platform for reconciliation and long-term peacebuilding.
Tourism and peace are thus closely linked, as travel can shape how people understand and relate to different societies. When done responsibly, it fosters direct engagement with local communities, reduces prejudice, and strengthens mutual understanding. Sustainable travel can therefore function as a form of informal peacebuilding by connecting individual experiences with broader questions of coexistence and global interdependence.
I resonate very much with these words. And if you do too, then perhaps it is time to rethink together how to travel, and how we can shape the industry of the future. And I get it—I don't want to be a killjoy either. I would never want to deny people who work 40 hours a weak all year long the right to lie on a beach sipping on a Piña Colada and simply switch off and relax. That has its place. What I am calling for, however, is to view the act of traveling as an opportunity for encounter, listening, and learning. For, as with so much else in life, it is the ‘other’ that holds up a mirror to our subconscious, our behavior, but also our desires and dreams. So, let me take you, dear reader, on a little journey where I’ll share some thoughts about my experiences in travelling, my reflections about it. In the following articles you will learn about how peace and tourism found their place in my journeys to Israel and Palestine, Northern Ireland, and finally, my origins in South Tyrol have taught me the most about peace and tourism.
