I start with this provocative moral question despite being so obviously pro-travel because – let’s face it – it is a massive multi-trillion dollar industry, and that fact alone conjures images of billowing smokestacks and cigar-chomping tycoons – or at least (for me) of mega cruise ships crammed with thousands of people brought to ports of call lined with nothing but jewelry shops. Anything of that size is bound to have serious implications for our increasingly fragile planet. While this is definitely a subject much too weighty and complex for this little blog article, my purpose in raising the question is not to try and answer it, but to encourage mindfulness of our own environmental, economic and cultural impact as we roam.
Many of us take it for granted, but the ability to access nearly any point on earth in a matter of days and at relatively low cost is still a freakishly recent phenomenon. This has made opportunities to explore the wider world – or just go somewhere warm to have a good time – available to the less than fabulously wealthy masses for the first time in human history. Being someone who is both afflicted with middling funds and an acute case of wanderlust, I definitely feel fortunate to be living in this glorious jet age of ours. But there’s also no getting around the fact that those speedy aircraft (and other modes of fossil-fuelled transportation) make up the lion’s share of global tourism’s carbon footprint. The industry as a whole accounts for around 8% of the global tally of greenhouse gas emissions. Those are numbers that are impossible to ignore, and like any major sector of the world economy, finding more environmentally sustainable models are of the utmost urgency.
Equally impossible to ignore is the economic significance that tourism has for many countries and communities. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, tourism-related business activity generated nearly US$10 trillion per year – or about 10% of the earth’s overall GDP. According the World Tourism & Travel Council, this translates into hundreds of millions of jobs around the globe, which in turn can contribute to improvements in infrastructure and standards of living in many places. However, when the COVID outbreak forced urgent restrictions to travel in 2020-21, people and businesses in locations most reliant on tourism found themselves in dire straits and governments found themselves facing steep declines in tax revenue when it was most needed. Dependency on mass tourism can also have serious impacts on the precious cultural and physical attributes of a particular destination – the very things that draw visitors in the first place.
A stark example of the collision between the natural world and financial necessities presented itself when staying on the Riviera Maya in Mexico a couple of years ago. I noticed the massive amount of effort the beachfront hotels were putting into clearing putrid mounds of sargassum seaweed from their shorelines. In a place where access to white sand and turquoise Caribbean waters is the big draw for tens of millions of sun-seekers who contribute 80% of the coastal state’s annual GDP, this environmental distress also threatens economic catastrophe. In this context, the sizable investment and urgency put into the cleaning these beaches for foreign visitors to enjoy is perfectly understandable.
However, after learning that the exponential growth in sargassum blooms in the Gulf of Mexico over the past decade are attributed to deforestation of the Amazon rainforest and rising ocean temperatures, I began to wonder if they weren’t also sweeping some real in-your-face evidence of man-made climate change under the rug (or into the jungle, as it happens). Out of sight, out of mind – or more importantly, out of any meaningful political agenda? A visit to any wild, or less-cared-for beach on the Yucatán also reveals the shocking amount of plastic waste washing in with the waves. (Don’t get me started!) Of course I’m not saying that the tourism industry is responsible for these environmental degradations all on its own, but given its size and increasing penetration into fragile ecosystems, it is worth keeping a close eye on it – and ourselves.
How you respond to the question I’ve posed with this article probably depends on how you feel about big business and polluting industries in general. I certainly lean towards “it’s evil!” when packed like a sardine in interminable airport hell or see a tour bus disgorge a pack of selfie-seekers in a place where I sought to quietly commune with a wonder of nature. While airports are nearly impossible to avoid, I am perfectly happy to skip the big corporate resorts in favor of more eco-friendly and/or locally-owned establishments. Others may feel more secure in choosing the familiarity of a preferred hotel chain and being surrounded by crowds of fellow tourists. I’m not here to judge. Ultimately, all the personal choices we make start to add up, and when enough people make similar choices, it can start to impact things like business models and the natural environment.
I don’t think travel is evil. In fact, I set up this blog to celebrate it! But I want to lay it out plainly at the outset that I am sensitive to the stress billions of people on the move have on the planet – and that I am most cognizant of my own contributions to this stress. As an independent traveler, I want to make choices that keep the impact of my footprints on the earth as light as possible, and hope the thoughts and experiences I share here will fully reflect this desire. Perhaps they will inspire others to make mindful travel choices as well.
