White Skin, Hippy Mask
Photos from Lausanne, Switzerland to Aliaga, Spain.
Source: Fletcher, R. (2014). Romancing the wild. Duke University Press.
Introspective.
The importance of social science is gaining more and more recognition as of late, with many groups or movements such as BLM, feminists, and climate activists exposing (or at least voicing) how injustices are systematically carried out. Having done my master’s project using a postcolonial analysis, it is important to think about how this cycling “project” also enters into a framework of injustice. What are the ideas behind doing this? Why can I do this and not others? Why do I “enjoy” being smelly and muddy and cold?
Prévérenges, Switzerland
This post will be self-criticism and a criticism of bicycle touring in general. Most of this post will use the analysis by Robert Fletcher in his book “Romancing the Wild: Cultural Dimensions of Ecotourism”.
Privilege
The first (and most obvious) thing that needs to be addressed is privilege. I come from perhaps the most privileged background possible: I’m a white, heterosexual male from Switzerland, and am from the upper-middle class. I also have a university degree and support from my friends and family. Because of these things, I am able to travel without worry, and take a year (or so) off without making money. Beyond that, I’m not worried about being discriminated against in any fashion basically anywhere I go, and the purchasing power in Switzerland is much higher than anywhere in the entire world (as I’m reminded during many discussions with people in France and Spain, and when the bill for a coffee is half the price I would pay in Lausanne…).
Near Mourex, France
Geneva, Switzerland
The ability to go bumbling about on a bike is a very ostentatious display of privilege, as it signals that I do not need to find productive work to make a living (at least for a time). It also signals that I am not afraid of anything bad happening to me whilst outside of my home country. Both of these things are true, and it is important to recognize that the ability for me to do a long trip is based upon this privilege.
Grand Colombier, France
However, I would have been privileged had I not taken this trip, or if I had done some other form of tourism. Had I taken a plane to vacation for a few weeks on a beach in south-east Asia, or spent a day skiing in the Alps, or applied for an unpaid internship with an international organisation, I would also have been displaying privilege. Looking specifically at bicycle touring under the “ecotourism” umbrella as a cultural practice, using Fletcher’s work and his “Bourdieusian” and “Foucauldian” analysis is pertinent.
After climbing out of Aoste, France
Bicycle touring as a cultural marker
Fletcher starts off by highlighting Bourdieu’s famous work on cultural capital. For reference, these are ways it is possible to display one’s class and wealth through activities and routines (which are of course dependent on specific cultural contexts). For example, at the time of his work, in France, someone from a lower economic class would be more likely to be called “Bryan”, and play the accordion or football. Someone from the upper class would be more likely to be called “Hippolyte”, and play the cello or tennis. He then uses this combined with a more Foucauldian approach to show how we train ourselves, both conscientiously and not, to adhere to these cultural practices, therefore participating in and reproducing a given social circle. Of course, over time and space these cultural markers are subject to change, and if say a lower class started playing more tennis, an upper class would likely move to other ways of displaying wealth and affluence.
On the Dolce Via greenway, Ardèche France
Basically this is to say that ecotourism, at least in a “Western” [n.b. the term “Western” is itself subject to much criticism but I’ll use it anyway for simplicity] context (meaning North America and West Europe) can easily be seen as a cultural practice of the white upper-middle class who tend to vote more “liberal” (from the centre to the left) on the political scale. This is of course very broad and many exceptions exists. For example in Switzerland, it is normal to go for a hike in the mountains or go skiing regardless of political background. I would argue though that those from cities in Switzerland who participate in these activities are those with certain affluence and status, and who attempt at least partially to adhere to a certain “Swiss” ideal. This ecological imaginary (of which the Swiss imaginary can be applied) comes with certain cultural values, such as a certain aestheticism of landscape and practices such as keeping the area as clean as possible. The cultural values of ecotourism in a “Western” context are very similar, even if the participants are not.
The gloomy Ardèche plateau, France
Bicycle touring can easily be interpreted as a form of ecotourism in which I bring these cultural values with me. For example, being leftist, I am concerned about climate change and the fact that my bicycle doesn’t consume gas is something that I value. When riding, I do aim to go to roads, paths, and areas with certain aesthetic qualities, and not take the fastest highway next to industrial zones. I am always careful about how I dispose of my waste, and I aim to spend much of my time in more “natural” landscapes, meaning small-scale agricultural or in national parks (this last part touches upon an interesting subject which is the human-nature dichotomy, but that is a topic for another post and another time). When bicycle touring, I’m therefore both adhering and perpetuating cultural values which are shared by my specific social circle. Fletcher goes even further in his analysis, showing how other cultural values of the upper-middle class can be brought into things which are perceived as pleasurable.
This snowstorm on the plateau made me change course
Fletcher’s main point is that the upper-middle class, and especially the more left-leaning upper-middle class, is marked by certain practices which distinguish them from others and which are unconsciously transmitted throughout the social circle. These practices and values become desirable characteristics and personality traits within white-collar working conditions. One of the most important aspects is asceticism: working hard without indulging in certain pleasures, or at least delaying them until work is finished. When bicycle touring, I spend a lot of time suffering up hills and slogging through mud, under the rain and sun. This is the need for constant progress through deferral of gratification, and it is present in both white-collar work and bicycle touring. Whilst, I complain, I also derive a certain pleasure because I am conditioned to from my upbringing and social circle. As my dad would say: “It builds character”. Paradoxically, it is always the hardest moments which make the best stories and which make me want to go out on the bike again… But I’ll get into the storytelling aspect in a little moment. Another aspect is strict time discipline, with rigid working hours. Again, when riding, I try my best to be off by a certain time, and to complete a certain numbers of kilometers per day depending on the conditions, and to do the same thing day in day out. These aspects of bicycle touring highly resemble white-collar work, where people slog through meetings and jobs and must comply to strict deadlines. These aspects are not likely to appeal to, or be understood by, someone from another social background. For example, I have seen Westerners complain in Burkina Faso that things were not on time, or that people were “lazy”, when in fact it is just that their value system is different. But it is as if we (as I expect most people reading adhere to a similar background as mine) perceive our cultural background as normal or inherent, and are then confused when others don’t conform to our expectations. Fletcher goes on to show how ecotourism projects in “remote” locations can be seen therefore as examples of cultural hegemony where “Western” values are pushed onto locals who are expected to adopt certain behaviours in order to attract customers. Finally, in the “Western” upper-middle class, risk is highly valued, and it is expected for one to question, push limits, reach new heights, and to be ambitious. Risk is present within ecotourism in many ways. Fletcher uses river rafting as his example, as he was himself a white-water rafting guide, but how risk extends to bicycle touring is slightly different and extremely interesting, and deserves its own section.
Flamingos in a lagoon near Narbonne, France
On risk (and adventure)
In white-water rafting, the risk is obvious. You don’t want to be thrown over the side of the boat (or something like that, I’ve never actually done it), and as such the discipline and work needed to properly manage the rapids successfully corresponds highly to the work needed in white-collar jobs, though this time with a rush of adrenaline. In this context, the risk that is run brings about a sort of feeling of adventure, and for an adventure to be such, it is supposed that a certain amount of risk is required.
Las Illas, border between France and… Catalunya
When I’m told I’m on an adventure, it seems nice at first, but I don’t think I’m actually on one as I can’t think of what risk I’m running. I actually avoid risk as much as possible, and the main one that I can think of is traffic, and as such I stick to small roads with few cars (or none) and slow speeds. Using a classic understanding of what risk is: a factor of vulnerability times exposure to threat (Risk = Vulnerability x Threat) it is possible to delve into this a bit further. It is certain that I am more vulnerable living under a tent. I am more exposed to elements, and I require the assistance of the people that I meet, and having all my possessions strapped to my bike means that if something breaks I’m in trouble. I perceive the increase in vulnerability of the trip as a huge positive and as a way to meet people, it is how connections are formed and discussions started (though it is also a way in which I display privilege, as shown earlier). This social aspect can be seen as a form of resilience to risk. I don’t, however, perceive many threats . The main one which I’ve thought of (other than traffic) is malaria, and as such I have anticipated how to both avoid and deal with it should it occur again (I have already caught it once its not fun). Now with increased vulnerability and very little to no threats, the actual risk of a bicycle expedition is very low. Which then begs the question: why am I told that I am on an adventure?
Steep descent in the pyrenees
This question brings forth a harsh criticism of long-expedition bicycle touring as a whole. The “ideal” long-term bicycle tour puts forward a colonial imaginary of exploration, with the “brave adventurer” going through uncharted lands with hostile natives in the backdrop. Having volunteered at a bicycle touring exposition in Lausanne, all (with one exception) presenters were like me: white, privileged, with exotic stories from around the world. Talking with other volunteers and people in the public, what brings them to the conferences is precisely the exoticism of distant lands, and the “bravery” of the adventurer-poet who dares leaves their comfort zone in search of these far-away places. Those who gave the conferences adhered more or less to this, though to differing degrees, and this comes down to framing and storytelling.
Pantà de Sau, Spain
Storytelling
The youtube algorithm proposes videos that you may like based upon what you have already been watching, and I was recently proposed to watch a video of some white dude traveling in Nigeria with a stupid clickbait thumbnail to the likes of “Nigeria: YOU WON’T BELIEVE!!”. I wasn’t expecting much, but I clicked on it anyway. The person went into markets to film the way butchers sold meat (I guess to show unsanitary conditions?), and would ask random people in the street questions about their safety (“Am I in danger here?”). Basically, they had framed and composed their story even before having lived it, as in stories, reality is secondary to the emotions that you want to convey.
My favourite campspot to date, outside of Vic
Stories about Africa as a whole typically follow the same narrative. I’ll use one of the worst movies I’ve ever watched as an example: Hector and the Search for Happiness. Hector (played by Simon Pegg) goes on a trip around the world, and at one point goes to “Africa” (country unnamed). He arrives on a plane which is falling into pieces, and when he voices his concern to the black woman next to him, she just says that he needs to have faith in god, whilst he looks on incredulously. Once he’s arrived, he spends time with his (white) friend who runs a hospital for malnourished children (what else is there to do in Africa?) and is amazed that nobody is concerned about all the wild animals roaming around. He does a video call on shoddy internet to his half-dressed girlfriend, and all the local men quietly gather to watch her (yet again promoting a false and constructed vision of African men as lecherous), and who Hector shoos away like children once he notices. Finally, Hector is abducted by a local militia, completing the bingo-card for classic narratives involving a typical trip in “Africa”. I can’t remember how he was saved or how he out-thought his kidnappers, but it was probably pretty stupid.
Near Gratallops, Catalunya
The discursive power that stories have in framing “reality” from other places is strong. Typically, as Fletcher shows in his book, we tend to act out the story that we wish to tell. Just as the youtuber in Nigeria was trying to play out a story of insecurity to showcase his uniqueness and bravery, many cycle tourists (and I’m no exception) do the same. We (as white “Westerners” and as cycle tourists) tend to play out a colonial narrative that uses imagery called the “white gaze”. This can be attributed to a certain number of different characteristics, but a good example is where uncommon things are in recognizable locations, such as a Himba woman in a supermarket in Namibia, or a rundown shack in Burkina Faso called “Galeries Lafayette”. The way in which we frame and perceive other places is skewed by our own cultural values, and also by our expectations and conditioning. What “we” are conditioned to notice and value is different to people from other places and backgrounds. The “white gaze” is also, though not necessarily intentionally, belittling. This reproduces patterns of inequality and paternalism which still persist. All of this because when we tell stories, it is usually an emotional narrative (dramatic or funny) which is prioritized over reality.
The Terra Alta near Gandesa
To get back to the cycle touring conferences, this way of following and playing out a certain narrative is done by most speakers to a certain degree, some much more than others. The best conferences were by those where the people they met were not just a background but were given their dignity, and where a certain narrative was not pushed. However, the issue is that the discursive power remains in the hands of those who travel and come back to report on their journey. The narrative of these other places is constructed not by those who live there, but by those who pass by. The injustice in this is huge.
Greenway near Bot
During my cycling trip, I’m also constructing a story. I’m probably putting forward a story about how I had to heroically overcome some obstacle or another, all whilst putting forward pretty imagery or mountains and dusty roads. I’m not going to tell you about the time I cycled through the industrial zones of Béziers and Perpignan! I’m not going to show images of the mining vehicles in Spain (well actually I am, but whatever). It is important that as a reader, you remain conscious that I am constructing a story based upon what I value and what interests me, and not based upon reality. The story is likely to have me as a protagonist, when actually I’m just riding my bicycle (not very interesting tbh) and have to create some kind of drama, or at least play it out to a degree. I will not however, push colonial narratives, and will prioritize the recognition of local voices over whatever I have to say.
Mining near Molinos, Spain
Fletcher uses Don Quixote as his example of the ecotourist. Don Quixote has imagined the story he wants to live, and perceives windmills as giants. Don Quixote has framed and told his story, but the reality is actually something else. I’m a bit like the famous idiot fighting windmills.
Lifestyle and individualism
Fletcher goes on to show how ecotourists adopt a certain lifestyle aesthetic. This is something that I have done. I have the right kind of bicycle, the right kind of bags, the right clothes, the right tent… Basically, unlike what my pannier manufacturer says, I’m not very unique. I’m doing what other have done before, and I have invested in the “correct” way to belong to this certain lifestyle, therefore both adhering to and reproducing it. As Fletcher has shown, this lifestyle is not actually alternative, as I bring a specific cultural baggage with me.
A “self-timer photo” momemt
What I briefly mentioned before is that the idea of the “self-made man” is an ideal of the white-collar middle class, where someone, after much contention and hard work, is able to achieve higher status (continuing on the ideal of continuous progress and advancement). In the bicycle touring imaginary, this is very much present. The idea is that I’m doing something extremely unique and difficult, but that through perseverance I will overcome whatever obstacle (as I said before, that I create myself to act this ideal out) in my way. The reality is always less heroic than the imagined, as really I’m just moving my legs.
Near Aliaga, Spain
Finally, this “lifestyle” that I’m living is not actually that different from the work which I would do had I chosen to try to find a job in my field. Its just maybe more physical (there is a comment to be made on hegemonic masculinity here, and how I may be trying to conform to some masculine ideal with the physical nature of cycle touring, but I don’t want to get TOO deep into that). In the first paragraph of his book, Fletcher talks about a man he knew who was a white-water guide, who lived just above the poverty line, and idealized himself as a backpacking rebel à la “The Road” by Jack Kerouac. One day he was guiding white-water trips in a remote part of the world, and the next he was a stockbroker on Wall Street. This goes to show that no matter how I may feel like I may be an individual living a more rebellious or alternative lifestyle, the upper-middle class baggagery follows me around and is a part of my world-view and values.
Near the Boca del Infierno, Spain
So if this is all true, then what’s the point of doing this bicycle journey?
Why I do this
Fletcher notes that “adventurers” are usually ambivalent on their own positionality, with high levels of self-deprecating comments. This is my case, though I wouldn’t call myself and adventurer. The truth is that I want to visit these places and meet people, and being vulnerable on a bicycle lets me do these things. I’m interested in visiting places and being immersed in landscapes, and the bicycle lets me do this. On a bicycle tour like this I can talk to truck-drivers, miners, store-owners, other tourists, and Mr. and Mrs. everybody. Of course, the main criticism of this point of view is that I’m maybe so far removed from their realities that I have become able to perceive these people as exotic. But I don’t necessarily believe this is true. Whilst for sure, the interactions that I have are skewed by many levels of power and privilege, that does not mean that I don’t have the highest respect for everyone I meet. It also doesn’t mean that were I working for an NGO, or a bank, or doing anything else, these things wouldn’t be true either. In fact they could even be made worse.
Near Aliaga, Spain
I enjoy bicycle touring, but ignoring how it is problematic, or falling into certain colonial ways of thinking, are pitfalls I wish to avoid. However, addressing the issues, whilst important, does not make them go away. I will attempt to find ways to alleviate the cultural baggage than I bring with me. I also don’t want to fool anyone into thinking that I’m brave or something. This remains a pretty selfish trip in many ways, but I’ll do my best to make it as respectable as I can. I’m going to continue to enjoy it as well, as despite all that I’ve said, it is still very fun.
Aliaga, where I’m taking a short break (to write this up)
