Taking it slow, making it personal: Redefining the ethos of tourism in the era of pandemics

10 min readMay 31, 2020

The writing is on the wall, they say. It is quite apparent now that the tourism industry, as we stare at one of the worst economic crises since the Great Depression[i] of the 1930s, will be one of the worst hit sectors. Not that it comes as a surprise, for it is a well-known fact that tourism sector has always been susceptible to circumstances that are often beyond its control — terror attacks, military turmoil, currency fluctuations, and now pandemics (though that too, has happened earlier).

The UN World Tourism Organization estimates that we’ve already lost US$ 80 billion in tourism exports in the first quarter of 2020 with a reduced footfall of around 67 million tourists, and over the course of the year this could translate into a 60–80% decline depending upon how the lockdown scenarios develop around the world.[ii]

Majority of the airlines are already tottering on the brink of bankruptcy, hotel chains and tour operators are looking at a similar fate, with recovery expected to be painstaking slow, and occupancies expected to suffer due to social distancing norms. Smaller enterprises, that anyway survived on a season-to-season basis (a metaphorical hand-to-mouth one could say), could do anything but go bust, or go back to the orchards, if they had the wherewithal.

Livelihoods at the bottom of the pyramid are already gone, those in the middle are evaporating with every passing day, and the ones at the top have started scouting for alternatives. Cruise ships have become a house of horrors[iii], 5-star hotels have metamorphosed into hospital dorms and wards[iv], the paraphernalia and extravagances of MICE industry are fast dissolving into oblivion[v], and the tour guide’s stories are in tatters[vi]. Doesn’t it all seem like a house of cards?

Of course, one could say that every sector will project the bleakest of scenarios to stake claim at a larger piece of the bailout pie, but even with an optimistic outlook, it would be fair to say that we are still quite far from the shore. Humanity has come through scenarios worse than this before, not once but in fact a few times every century, and this silver lining has been driving the resilience of people and economies around the world.

Every crisis presents an opportunity, they say. For the tourism sector, this is a chance to take a step back, forget about the numbers for a while, and take a deep, long look at where it started from, why it has come to this juncture where everything in sight seems to be falling apart, and how we need to revive the spirit of travel before reviving the tourism sector.

From ‘What’s Beyond the Next Hill’ to ‘The Horrors of Mass Tourism’

Travel is inextricably intertwined to the growth of civilization. Curiosity drove discoveries, of new lands and the treasures they beheld… as men battled merciless mountains, raging rivers and choppy seas. There was the bard of a soldier, the acuity of a researcher, ingenuity of a farmer, the navigation skills of a sailor, the instincts of a miner and so on.

All of them were tourists, for they were not only seeking resources, but also experiences. Their quest for survival and growth of civilizations enlightened them to feelings of pleasure that were intangible. We still feel those emotions today, stravaiging[vii] about city roads or the countryside, knowing that moments spent in purposelessness are essential to strengthen the purpose itself.

The next wave of tourists followed the footsteps of these pioneers, not venturing into the unknown anymore but still having to face whatever travails the journey would conjure up. Not everyone had to be an adventurer, but the motivations for travel, if not dictated by a threat to survival, had to be personal in nature, a ‘thirst’ that had to be quenched. Empires were built, and along with them enterprises. What were the first businessmen if not tourists? Or even kings and conquerors for that matter?

One could argue that all of this is primitive exploration, and one cannot expect adventures lurking in every corner in the modern world, nor would it be wise to deliberately go on creating or chasing some based on nostalgic, romantic musings. True, but then artists conjure up masterpieces holed up in dank basements and authors pen their massive pièce de résistance about walking in streets and alleys on a gloomy day[viii]. To travel, or to become a tourist, is about umwelt[ix] too, and a significant part of the experience has to do with the individual itself rather than any element of the external surroundings.

The beginning of the dilution of this ethos started happening in the early parts of the 20th century, although the cost of travel was still prohibitive for a majority of the masses, but the royalty could afford to chart the seas or take to the sky — the globetrotter was emerging. World War, Great Depression, another World War — the chain of events brought about a lull that rebounded into a boom.

Generations coming out of violence sought solace in travel, to live as if there was no tomorrow, and commercial air travel was germinating just at the right time. Flying across continents, cruising on highways, wandering around cities. The age of freedom had arrived, and there was a travel pamphlet for every pocket.

Destinations might be finite, but experiences are not, or so it seemed until the internet made us holler and hoot about our excursions beyond the kith and kin to the whole world. Splattering reveries across social media, we laid bare our intentions of breaking stereotypes while we (rather amusingly) were creating new ones. We went off the beaten path and made sure everyone else followed, and in a matter of decades, crowded out every city and summit, stuffed the oceans’ bellies with plastics[x], and made it impossible to discern rivers from sewers. Not all of this happened due to tourism, of course, but one wouldn’t be so naïve to say that it didn’t play a part.

Forget the rant of this critic for a moment, but we knew mass tourism was slowly but surely becoming more detrimental than enlightening. Travel-related emissions were rising, cultures were being commodified, living standards of local populations were being affected, tourism-centric economies were ignoring the need to diversify into other sectors and maintain resilience to sudden shocks. We plundered and encroached upon the very landscapes that enthralled us, and busy in making moolah off the past, very nonchalantly waived off the need to make something in the present.

It is rather climatic that a virus made everything fall like dominoes. Karma, anyone?

Where do we go from here?

Our ways might have been a bit errant, but that is no reason to write off the modern tourism industry altogether. Travel (and tourism) will remain an integral part of our lives, and although almost all parts of the industry might have taken a beating in the current scenario (and some for good reason), enterprises and entrepreneurs who are committed to sustainability will still come through the turmoil.

However, we need to take a closer look at what constitutes a tourism ‘experience’, assay our roles individually as well as collectively… as tourists, service providers and large enterprises. We are inherently selfish in the way that when it comes to travelling, our physical and emotional needs supersede our impact upon the people and places we visit, but with some introspection, that can change too.

There is nothing wrong with promoting mass tourism or the fact that a large number of people earn their livelihoods from such activities, if it respects physical and cultural carrying capacities and boundaries. We need to acknowledge that this industry is only a few decades old, within which there have been several instances of serious damage to the environment as well as cultural and social fabrics. No point being an ostrich to these facts, and the pandemic offers us the opportunity to rescind from the rat race that the industry was becoming, both from supply and demand sides.

The following tenets might be helpful in realigning our approach on how tourism evolves going ahead. All of these try to focus on the ‘experience’ first which would ensure the sustainability of the business model to be built around it.

· Local becomes hyperlocal

Even before the pandemic, it was a well-accepted fact that domestic tourism is the safety net for the industry, far less susceptible to economic, natural or political shocks and often driven by motivations stronger than just ‘leisure’ or ‘recreation’ (pilgrimages for instance). The current crisis offers the prospect to take this even further and go hyperlocal[xi]. Large cities are often an attraction in themselves for their inhabitants, and this model could be extended to Tier II and III cities as well.

Ideas like ‘near me’ mobile apps and ‘weekend destinations’ have already demonstrated a reasonable amount of success, products like local city tours or farm tours in the suburbs have a promising future, and this will also help in faster recovery of local economies through its own citizens.

· Intensive instead of extensive

Mass tourism often makes us fall into the honey trap of covering as much as possible within the shortest frame of time, be it destinations or attractions, advocating it as a ‘value for money’ proposition. In recent years, the concept of slow travel[xii] has been growing as an antidote. Instead of covering as many destinations, it is eventually far more rewarding to focus on a minimum number of destinations or attractions, and maximizing the amount of time spent there, which eventually, is more enriching in terms of the ‘intangible experience’ or ‘pleasure derived’. As lockdowns around the world will be lifted in a phased manner, with some amount of travel restrictions to persist in the mid-term, travellers will only have a limited number of options, and this approach will help both tourists and destinations alike to make the best out of the situation.

· Repeating instead of sprinting

This further expands the hyperlocal approach by proposing that we spend even more time on each specific element of a destination. For instance, rather than covering 10 historical monuments in a city in a day, why not cover 1 monument a day for 10 days, an approach that will not only enhance the tourist’s ‘engagement’ and ‘connect’ with such destinations, but also generate more economic value.

· Not only Social, but Natural distancing too

The pandemic has forced us to re-evaluate our relationship with the natural world. Considering that humans are just one cog in the entire schematic of environment and biodiversity, is it really essential for us (as tourists, not researchers) to interact with such a large gamut of flora and fauna? Consider this, how many of us would actually want to go near a large predatory cat if not for the comfort and safety of safari jeeps. Just because we ‘want to see’ a certain species, is it worth it if the risks include dangers such as the current pandemic.

For ecotourism operators[xiii], this means a real overhaul of existing models. Traditionally, eco-/ community based/ nature and wildlife tourism has… kind of always… been viewed as a win-win for tour operators, communities and the environment. But if COVID-19 is just the starting point for similar pandemics arising in the future, what do we do with a model whose very core is interaction with nature? We may not have an answer now but will definitely need to come up with one soon. Until then, it is but wise to keep mum during contemplation.

There is also some hullaballoo about Virtual Reality et al[xiv], and how it will forever change tourism as we know it. Highly doubtful. Sure, in certain instances like educational tours of museums and historical sites, business trips, or space tours (which have been ‘virtual’ in any case), but travel is at its core a highly physical (and sensory, in an instinctive manner) experience that goes beyond sensory perceptions, and until the time that our transformation into androids is complete, virtual tours will remain a ‘likeness’ of the ‘real’ experience[xv], a short term novelty, but not a replacement in any way.

Conclusion

The Danes have a word, hygge, for contentment within the small confines of one’s own life, or finding joy in the small, commonplace things in life. Most spiritual doctrines profess this approach to life in one form or the other, and as the tourism industry rebuilds itself in a post-pandemic world (might be premature to say that, but one remains hopeful), it needs to let go, of business models that might tend to ‘over-commodify’ the sector and thereby spell its doom. It is by ‘wandering’, and not ‘travelling’, you see, that one gathers honey.