The Dangers of Tourism
Its been a while since I last wrote on this website, but that time has helped give me perspective on my time in Morocco.
Prior to departure, the north African country was one of those that I anticipated most, as it was one of the ones in which I would likely spend the most time due to its terrain and size. The diversity of the country is also quite extreme, in terms of cultures, landscapes, and livelihoods. The bustling north with its ancient cities sees much more rainfall than the Saharan south, and as such feels very distinct. The middle Atlas feels very familiar, like the Jura mountains in Switzerland in terms of climate and landscape, and the high Atlas are unlike anything I had seen previously.
Within these settings is a complex and varied population, with many different lifestyles. This means that very unique dynamics can happen in one area, when they can be extremely different only a few kilometers away. What I’m going to focus on in this post is (my view on) tourism dynamics in Morocco, which are just as varied as the landscapes, and frequently problematic.
Traveling by bicycle, you have to go through places which are both touristy and not touristy. The non-touristy parts of Morocco have been my favourites. The time with the Laaroussi family near the Al Wahda dam, the remote tracks in the middle and anti-Atlas, and the village of Adghars N’Warfaln were my absolute highlights of the country, while also being places where few tourists, both internal or external, visit.
While its easy (and cliché) to label these places as more “authentic”, and it is not the best terminology as it reduces people and places, I’ll use it anyway, hoping that you’ll excuse it. Encounters here are, as always, skewed through power relations, but don’t bear the weight of touristic expectations. In Morocco, but everywhere I’ve been so far, the less touristy a place is, the more heartfelt encounters are. It is easier to talk to people, and people are more willing to help me out.
The road to Ibn Yacoub, not far from Adghars, was tough, but the many people who stopped to make sure I had food and water made me feel welcome and cared for, and the discussions with the Laaroussi family were wonderful, with genuine interest and sharing from both parties. Nomads in the middle Atlas were always helpful in pointing my way through the complicated tracks, and the remote paths through the anti-Atlas were interspersed with friendly meetings with locals.
But the word “authentic” is a bit paradoxical. Everywhere is authentic in its own right, but in some places tourism has strongly affected most aspects of life. This happens (almost) everywhere, and Switzerland is a good example. Lauterbrunnen is a landmark for Swiss tourism, but it was easily one of the spots in the Alps which I couldn’t stand, as it was packed with tourists and all the shops sold fancy watches, cheese, and souvenirs. It makes the place feel “fake”, inauthentic. A place to take a photo and leave without being a part of what makes travel so fantastic, which are the encounters.
Lauterbrunnen is an example of a place where mostly external tourists visit, with encounters being created only through that lens. In Morocco it is the same. When I go to a touristy area, such as Ouarzazate, Fez, Chefchauen or Sidi Ifni, even if these are places which I enjoyed, there is a role that I am expected to play, and a role that locals play in relation to tourists. Everything becomes framed by tourism. Even when you meet interesting people, the power relations involved steer the encounter in a certain way. As much as one may seek “authenticity” in these places, the truth is that under the framing of tourism one party makes a living providing for the other. The tourist is a resource, but has all the decision-making power. I don’t want to be cynical and say that friendships and great encounters cannot happen in these spaces, but it is always important to acknowledge the unequal power distributions under these settings.
Not being a typical tourist, looking to put up my tent, these are not ideal conditions. I am expected to act as other tourists and spend money on a hotel and fancy food, to hire a guide and go on a tour. Bumming about is not what expect nor want from me in places where I should be a resource. Usually, going too much against the standards in these places will only create frustration, and entering into the frame, at least partially, makes life much easier. This is one reason why I avoid touristic places and aim to go on the less-beaten path, though some touristic places are touristic for good reasons and always worth visiting.
In Morocco and in Switzerland, there is another interesting touristic dynamic, that of internal tourism. In Switzerland, where Verbier is well known for being the ski resort where all the Brits go, Villars is known for being where all the Lausannois go. In Morocco it is very similar, with the middle Atlas being a choice place for city-dwelling Moroccans to spend their vacation, but with very few external tourists. Places such as the Oum Errabiaa sources see many visitors, but almost exclusively groups and families coming from Fez or other cities for a weekend out in nature or a celebration.
As someone from the exterior in these places, there is not really an expected way in which I should act, and I’m not perceived as an essential source of income. These places are not as frequent in Morocco, but were always enjoyable. They can also highlight power inequality within the country. The manager of a campground near Tafraoute explained that most of her clients were “Arabs from Casablanca” who came during the summer holidays. Distinguishing people as “Arabs” showcases a fracture between Berbers, also known as the Imazighen, and the economic elite who live along the coast and in cities. I’ll talk more about this in a little bit, but first its imperative to analyze the behavior of external tourists.
If more people like me search for more “authentic” places, we may unconsciously change them, and not in a good way. The tourist has a huge responsibility, as the tourist has huge transformative power. There are many examples of the destruction that tourism can bring. Venice has been gutted from AirBnb, and Vang Vieng in Laos became tainted from the recreational drug use and antics of Aussie backpackers. For this reason, the tourist needs to be aware of their responsibility, and in cases where the power relations are as skewed as they are in Morocco, where people with high purchasing power come to a cheap and poorer country, the power distribution leans too strongly towards the tourist and their expectations. The expectation of many tourists when traveling to a “third world” country (still hate this term) is to enter a development framework. The tourist is supposed to hand stuff out, money or clothes, without thinking of the consequences. They’re doing something kind right?
Of course, this is completely dehumanizing, treating and viewing people as only “poor”. In Morocco this goes even further, with the Imazighen being viewed through the lens of exoticism by these tourists. The Berbers, an important indigenous group, are viewed not so much as humans but as a part of the landscape, another photo to bring back to show family and friends when the tourist goes back home.
The worst example I was made aware of was that of a French couple who would come to Morocco yearly, with big bundles of clothes, handing them out randomly to villagers. Firstly, people don’t need clothes, they aren’t walking around naked. Second, this undermines local values and craftsmanship, as now they’ll being wearing a T-shirt made in Bangladesh. Third, it places the giver as a “white saviour”, a hero, and the receiver as just a poor soul to be saved. Finally, the fact that they go themselves handing clothes out instead of going through a local organization who could hand out clothes equitably confirms that they don’t actually care about really helping, just about feeling like heroes.
It turns out that a lot of tourists act like this. Unfortunately it made the high Atlas, otherwise a stunning area, the only place where I felt unease along the trip as of Guinea (where I write this). Many travelers in big convoys of 4x4 vehicles and motorcycles travel the mountain roads, and give handouts to the Berbers who live here, especially to the children. The people living here are extremely marginalized within their own country by the economic elite who live in cities and who view them as backwards, and have been trying to change their traditions for many years. These people are also viewed with the exoticism lens by western tourists, rendered only as part of the landscape’s aesthetic.
Its no wonder why people in this part of the world, marginalized and dehumanized, should be both resentful of outside interference, and dehumanize the same travelers who dehumanize them. But actually most people I met here were welcoming and kind. I had tea with a group of people on a mountain pass, and an elderly man let me take shelter in his shop when a brief storm hit.
However, children (boys) are not nearly as kind. In one village I was mobbed, and was only helped out when an adult finally got them to leave me alone, as they were pulling on my bags making it impossible to move. In multiple villages, with adults there, they through small stones at me. The worst was when going down a hill, a boy blocked my way and pulled on my handlebars sending me sprawling, thankfully only cutting my knee, before sprinting away.
Although upset, annoyed, and a bit scared of what I’d find around the next corner, I can’t really blame the boys. I want to use this experience to highlight the impact that tourists have on the dynamics of the places that they travel to, and of being informed on other internal power relations that may be present in the countries that they visit. Indigenous groups across the world face similar dehumanizing transformations from westerners and marginalization from State powers, when they are frequently those who are on the frontlines against the climate crisis. Indigenous Peoples hold approximately 20% of the Earth’s lands, but over 80% of its biodiversity. They live in ways which frequently go against the destructive nature of capitalism, and as such should be promoted, as marginalizing them would not only lead to the loss of culture, which makes the world so diverse and beautiful, but also to furthering the exploitation of the earth.
What I hoped to convey in this post is that, as always, it is essential to be aware of one’s position of power, and how that power can shape places. I hope that more people from Western countries, especially visiting countries which are considered “Third World”, get rid of their exoticism and development lenses and start treating people as people. Ever since I’ve arrived on the African continent, I’ve encountered tourists who like to (using a phrase from Victoria in Dakar) do “Cosplay Colonialism”, acting as if they are above everyone else. This can be done in many different ways, but it boils down to a perception of oneself as superior, or even as conquerors. One thing that this bike tour is doing and that I’ve slowly been realizing is that my mindset is being decolonized, even though I thought I had done that before. There are many books and resources that can assist with this without having to travel however. I’d also guide people to Survival International, one of the few organizations doing interesting work in the field of development.
