Tourism, Tradition and Culture

A Reflection on their Role in Development

David Harrison

• Publisher: CAB International
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781789245912
• Topic: Business
• Subtopic: Hospitality, Travel & Tourism Industry
• Index: Business

David Harrison has contributed to the academic study of tourism over the last 30 years. This book brings together a collection of his published material that reflects the role played by tourism in 'development', both in societies emerging from Western colonialism and in societies previously part of the Soviet system. The overarching theme looks at how, promoted as a tool for development, tourism can lead to conflict between competing elites, but can also empower groups previously subject to constraint by traditional authorities. Tradition is intensely manipulatable and always reflects power relations. Such pressure on tradition is but one aspect of tourism's wider social impacts. This includes changes in economic and social structure, which, for many, constitute social problems that need to be addressed. At the same time, 'sustainability', though apparently a worthy aim, can be a problematic concept, especially when applied to 'traditional' cultures, and may conflict with such ideals as egalitarianism.

1

Essaying Tourism: Reflections on Three Decades of International Tourism

For much of my life, I have seldom been far from the sea. A Londoner, but born in wartime Blackpool, England, with annual holidays spent largely on the Kent coast at my grandparents’ home and, later, a doctorate based on fieldwork in a coastal village in Trinidad, I worked for more than two decades at the University of Sussex, Brighton, and latterly spent nine years in Fiji. It was perhaps no accident, then, that I should be attracted to international tourism, especially as it impacted on islands, and numerous events in my private life, some quite tragic, served to reinforce the tendency. Such influences are not recorded in any published output but, in reality, they have been at least as influential as any (quite often contrived) academic justification for any particular strand of research.

While these individual events and challenges were (more or less randomly) influencing my fledgling academic career, the wider world was also changing. Tourists had been travelling in increasingly large numbers since the mid-19th century, but only after the Second World War, as the middle class of the West flexed its financial muscle, and entrepreneurs began to utilize aircraft made surplus to post-war military requirements, did they begin to travel overseas. In 1950, a mere 25.3 million international tourist trips took place. By 1960, this had increased to 69.3 million; in 1970 it was 165.8 million and by 1980 it was 278.1 million (Harrison and Sharpley, 2017, pp. 1–3). And so on and so on, until in 2018 it had reached 1.4 billion (UNWTO (United Nations World Tourism Organization), 2019). International tourism was big business and, it seemed, then, its growth was unstoppable.

Tourism’s social and economic benefits impacts increasingly permeated ‘the Third World’ and, later, the ‘emerging economies’ of the former Soviet bloc and, most recently, China, the once-sleeping giant of the East, until such regional distinctions became blurred in the global travel network. And as overseas resorts gained in tourist numbers, the share of the market taken by long-established resorts in the West correspondingly declined. The reasons, though complex, were succinctly summarized in a postcard written in 1980 by a disgruntled visitor to Blackpool: ‘Weather foul. And there is nowhere worse than this place if its raining!’

This book contains a selection of my writing, mainly on international tourism, over three decades, a juggernaut which, despite concerns about overtourism (Dodds and Butler, 2019), showed no signs of abating until 2020. Because of the reflective approach I have adopted, this introduction is deliberately personal, and readings are sometimes contextualized by reference to positions I held at the time.

Chapters 2 and 3 of this book focus on tradition and its relationship to tourism. In Chapter 2, Tourism, Capitalism and Tradition (1992), tradition is portrayed in ‘Not in front of the Tourists,’ a (very partial) British TV documentary on Turkey, as highly vulnerable to international capital, a position also taken by such tourism academics as MacCannell and Graburn. ‘Authentic’ traditional life is replaced by commerce and commoditization, much of what was once given freely is now for sale, and local capital (by implication favoured by both film maker and academic) is swallowed up by the juggernaut of international tourism.

It is noteworthy that Greenwood’s angry condemnation of the ‘commoditisation’ of the alarde of Fuentarrabia is in similar vein, only for it to be later retracted (Greenwood, 1989, pp. 171–185). Indeed, the 1990s formation of the Jaizkibel Company, a procession that included women, continues to offer a radical and much-disputed alternative to ‘tradition’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg9dXIncMec, accessed 4 December, 2019) thus supporting my general argument that tradition, far from being a delicate flower that withers at the first exposure of social change, is a highly malleable set of institutions that can be harnessed to support a range of social groups anxious to strengthen their access to power.

The case study of tourism in Swaziland in Chapter 3, Tradition, Modernity and Tourism in Swaziland (1992), continues themes raised earlier. In the period prior to independence in 1968, King Sobhuza II and his allies revived and interpreted Swazi tradition, leaning heavily on the support of Hilda Kuper, a social anthropologist, firmly ensuring it bolstered their own position. At independence in 1968, this highly partisan package of Swazi culture, along with a revival of Swazi ceremonies and the promotion of the Swazi language, became official. The position of the king was legitimated and the monarchy became both the guardian and the epitome of Swazi ‘culture’. ‘Tradition’ was also central to the marketing of tourism, in which the monarchy was also heavily involved. Here, the Swazi were (and are) presented as an exotic and picturesque people. However, this marketing ploy gave rise to contradictions: tradition, with all its paraphernalia, was a justification of the present by an appeal to the past, and where this was questioned, for example, by those who queried the authority or behaviour of the king, the status quo was quickly reinforced. Hopes that Swaziland would become a modern state proved unfounded as the language of tradition bolstered the absolute power of the monarchy and ensured its pre-eminence over modernity.

The fourth reading, Tourism and Prostitution: Sleeping with the Enemy? (1994), was specifically written to counter assertions that prostitution was increasingly providing the basis of tourism in Swaziland (Crush and Wellings, 1983, 1987), a position which seemed to me to be somewhat sensationalist. The overall findings were that prostitution clearly predated tourism, was often linked to migrant labourers returning from the Republic of South Africa, and that where tourists (often male business tourists – a minority of tourists visiting the country) were involved, their relationships with Swazi women varied considerably in intensity, ranging from casual sex arranged at a discotheque to stable relationships across the colour line that were not possible under apartheid in the Republic.

One prominent critic of the above paper complained that it lacked theory, thus implying that such case studies were an inadequate form of research. That is not the position taken here. There is a place for empirical investigation that subjects popular views to scrutiny, and in the Swazi case it was simply untrue to suggest that tourism was based on prostitution. However, reflecting on these early contributions to the tourism literature, I recognize they could be seen as a somewhat disjointed defence of international tourism, a charge to which I must plead guilty. It was a reaction to the way both sensation-seeking journalists and serious academics were demonizing international tourists when, in fact, with all their differences, and despite our relatively unsuccessful attempts to categorize them, they are similar, if not identical, to the populations from which they are drawn. Put differently, they are us! To focus only on ‘deviant behaviour’ (as did many social scientists) may make for good copy, but does international tourists, and by extension the tourist ‘industry’, a disservice, and has led to frequent accusations concerning the tourist ‘industry’, which has now become reified to the position of an important but largely impersonal actor.

In fact, in Tourism and the Less Developed Countries: the Social Consequences (1992) (reading five), I attempted a more theoretical approach to tourism, in which I discussed tourism’s possible social consequences and related these to social problems, as perceived by key actors in the continued tension between tradition and modernity. The approach taken here was quite structural, focusing as I did on economic and social institutions which were exposed, changed or which newly emerged as a result of the appearance of tourism. Social change was not inevitable. However, where tourism involved increased commoditization, for example, there was also change in the social structure and patterns of ownership and entrepreneurship. The occupational and family structure were also likely to be impacted, possibly with pressure put on traditional patterns of behaviour and beliefs, with new social institutions and new patterns of social interaction.

None of these changes can be taken for granted. Society is comprised of economic, social and cultural institutions, which will be more or less impacted by tourism, but just how much they change will depend, inter alia, on their resilience and, importantly, any changes that do occur are not, in themselves, good or bad, positive or negative. Rather, how they are assessed will depend on the value judgements exercised by critics, including social scientists. This institutional approach to tourism seemed then, and does now, to be productive, allowing as it does an initial focus on institutions, and then an analysis of how – if at all – they change when faced with increased tourism.

For decades, there has been a recognition that ‘development’, if it is indeed to be considered (as the term suggests) a form of progress, must involve consideration of wider, non-economic features of the environment, namely the physical environment and (less often) the social and cultural aspects of social life. In Chapter 6, Sustainability and Tourism: Reflections from a Muddy Pool (1996), an effort is made to explore such concepts and, in particular, some of the ramifications of social and cultural ‘sustainability’ which, though important, are rarely prominent in the debate over whether or not ‘development’ is occurring. If they are prioritized, it soon becomes evident that problems arise. Many host societies, for example, are traditionally far from egalitarian, and difficulties inevitably arise in determining who should benefit most from tourism-fostered growth. More particularly, it is difficult to say how far culture remains the same when major changes occur over time, as in the transition from fishing villages to centres of tourism. Indeed, the longer the timescale involved, the greater the changes that may occur in social and cultural practices.

In Chapter 7, Learning from the Old South by the New South? The Case of Tourism (1994), focus is on the implosion of the Soviet system in 1989, disintegration of the ‘Second World’, and the subsequent ‘emerging economies’, which were thus distinguished from the ‘new states’ of the 1950s and 1960s. Clearly, the ‘emerging’ economies had more developed industrial sectors, but in many other respects they had much in common with the ‘old south’ There was intense pressure to reform Soviet-oriented economies and replace them with market economies, the old ruling class was challenged by new entrepreneurs (sometimes with links to the former regimes), ethnicity and nationalism were on the rise, and aid was sought from the West, primarily the European Union.

It was suggested that these ‘new states’ should not abandon planning, which was necessary if tourism development were to occur and that, similarly, the state should monitor and set limits to such development. At the same time, it should be recognized that tourism has the potential to contribute to social unrest, especially when wide differences in culture and wealth between tourists and members of the receiving society are present.

Much of my writing has been a reaction to positions taken by other commentators of tourism or to important events outside tourism in the wider world – hence the papers on tourism and prostitution and on changes in the world order. My 1996 move to Fiji led to a more pronounced focus on tourism’s role in the development of small island states. In reading eight, The World Comes to Fiji: Who Communicates What, and to Whom? (1998), I revive the notion of the ‘plural society’, a somewhat discredited approach when applied to small Caribbean societies but much more applicable in the Fiji context, and examine the portrayal of ethnic Fijians and Indians in the tourist brochures. Utilizing a quite basic form of content analysis, I examine the content of tourism brochures for Fiji and the potential they bring for cultural change. While the literature commonly considers tourism’s role in changing attitudes and/or behaviour of members of the receiving society (especially that of young people and women), the so-called ‘demonstration effects’ or inward acculturation - it tends to ignore possible changes among tourists - which I term ’outgoing acculturation. The paper finds that the people portrayed in the brochures are almost entirely ethnic Fijian. East Indians, while employed in the tourism sector, are usually backroom staff and virtually absent from the brochures. At the same time, the culture of ethnic Fijians is largely protected from inward acculturation by their continued residence in traditional villages, where the position of the chiefs and elders continues to dominate (though access to alternative world views is provided by the Internet. Tourists are not the only exemplars of modernity).

A more historical approach is taken in Chapter 9, Islands, Image and Tourism (2004). Recognizing the current attraction of tropical island destinations, in particular, for Western tourists, I examine how they have been portrayed as utopian escapes from Western reality or dystopian harbours of dark and unknown human and non-human forces, sometimes used to isolate the criminal, rebel, or dissident in prisons and detention centres or – even today – place the sick in quarantine (Kingdon, 2015). Such tropical islands have retained their fascination through the ages, morphing from travellers’ tales and Tudor exploration to adventures of Victorian children and their rousing stories for the nation’s children, through to arenas of bloody battles of the Second World War and, in peacetime, ‘paradise’ for the global tourist, if not for the residents of these islands, many of whom seek residence in the very same countries tourists want to leave.

Chapter 10, Tourism in Pacific Islands, is a review of tourism throughout the region. Bringing together themes raised in earlier papers, it situates tourism in the colonial experience, and shows that its development has often been constrained by political upheaval and unrest and, sometimes, ‘traditional’ land tenure. In some countries, however, linked to the USA, mass tourism has been able to develop. At the same time, sustainable tourism development is the subject of much rhetoric, which regrettably is rarely matched in practice.

Chapter 11, Contested Narratives in the Domain of World Heritage (2004) focuses primarily on how ‘heritage’ is interpreted by various social actors, either individually or collectively. What is ‘natural’ is contested; heritage is a performance, and debates occur as to what is genuine, authentic or fake. Memories, too, are selective: victors in power struggles ignore or downplay shameful historical episodes in favour of those that show them in a favourable light, and World Heritage status is usually accorded only to sites that have gone through a rigorous negotiation process to determine which of them is of universal value (and reflects most favourably on the dominant government and interest groups of the time).

Throughout this paper, and in many of the others reprinted here, my emphasis is on social realities that are the result of choice and human action. Nothing is inscribed on tablets of stone. This is not to deny the difficulties involved in challenging traditions and the established ways of doing things. Those who support the status quo more often than not have control of the big battalions. However, today’s innovation can become tomorrow’s tradition, and the young Turks of today may become tomorrow’s elite (which applies inter alia to academia, as discussed in Chapter 20 of this book).

In the early 2000s I was a member of a team of consultants for South-east Asia for the Asian Development Bank (ADB) – perhaps the most enjoyable project in which I have ever participated. This involved extensive travel in South-east Asia, visiting areas proposed by governments to be developed as tourist attractions. The research skills I had accumulated as an academic were highly appropriate to the more ‘quick and dirty’ research carried out by consultants, who often relied upon publications such as the Lonely Planet guides for most of their information. In the course of this consultancy, I came across the Nam Ha Ecotourism Project in Lao PDR, then a flagship project of the ADB, and recipient of considerable funding (some million US dollars) from a variety of overseas agencies (overseen by my co-author, Stephen Schipani). I also researched private sector tourism development of small hotels and guest houses on the island of Don Det in southern Laos. It soon became evident that the quite different basis of their development – private capital, often raised through the sale of cattle or buffalo – would repay careful research. The key result of the research, reported in Chapter 12, was that the development of small hotels and guest houses by the private sect...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Acknowledgements
• 1. Essaying Tourism: Reflections on Three Decades of International Tourism
• 2. Tourism, Capitalism and Tradition
• 3. Tradition, Modernity and Tourism in Swaziland
• 4. Tourism and Prostitution: Sleeping with the Enemy? The Case of Swaziland
• 5. Tourism to Less Developed Countries: The Social Consequences
• 6. Sustainability and Tourism: Reflections from a Muddy Pool
• 7. Learning from the Old South by the New South? The Case of Tourism
• 8. The World Comes to Fiji: Who Communicates What, and to Whom?
• 9. Islands, Image and Tourism
• 10. Tourism in Pacific Islands
• 11. Contested Narratives in the Domain of World Heritage
• 12. Lao Tourism and Poverty Alleviation: Community-based Tourism and the Private Sector (with Stephen Schipani)
• 13. Pro-poor Tourism: A Critique
• 14. Cocoa, Conservation and Tourism: Grande Riviere, Trinidad
• 15. Tourism Culture(s): The Hospitality Dimension (with Peter Lugosi)
• 16. Towards Developing a Framework for Analysing Tourism Phenomena: A Discussion
• 17. Tourism and Development: From Development Theory to Globalization
• 18. Looking East but Learning from the West: Mass Tourism and Emerging Nations
• 19. Mass Tourism in a Small World (with Richard Sharpley)
• 20. Tourists, Mobilities and Paradigms
• 21. Anthropologists, Development and Tourism Networks: Encounters and Shadows of a Colonial Past
• 22. Looking Ahead
• Index
• Backcover