Beyond Likes and Landmarks: reclaiming Authenticity in a hyperreal travel economy
Travel. It used to be a simple act — a way to physically get from Point A to Point B. When I was younger, I was consumed by the desire to see as many destinations as possible. Oh, that sweet and fresh joy of discovery. But now, it changed, or to be exact, matured into something different. My travel obsession has taken a more introspective turn. I find myself less consumed by the “where” and more fascinated by the “why.”
What is this powerful urge to escape the familiar? Social media feeds us with never-ending travel photos, and modern society seems to view travel as a status symbol. John Urry, a sociologist whose work I recently stumbled upon, offers curious sociological insights in his book “The Tourist Gaze: Leisure and Travel in Contemporary Societies”. He argues that travel experiences are becoming increasingly “commodified,” blurring the lines between genuine cultural immersion and a kind of glorified shopping spree.
In this article, I follow the author’s concept of a universalized “tourist gaze,” where authenticity is manufactured and experiences become trophies for social media validation. Here, I will simply observe these cultural shifts, void of judgement.
“Not to go away is like not possessing a car or a nice house. It has become a marker of status in modern societies and is also thought to be necessary for good health”. John Urry
Same same but different: religious pilgrimage 2.0
The message of the book is beautiful yet sobering: sightseeing, going away, booking a trip, taking a vacation is a substitute for a religious ritual. Just think about it: You break from a shabby routine by visiting the shrines of high culture (popular travel destinations) and gazing upon them. This experience brings a sense of connection to something larger than ourselves associated with the sublime.
Sublime? Explored by philosophers like Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant, this concept describes an intimate and vulnerable encounter with something vast, powerful, and beyond our comprehension. We are no longer just individuals caught up in our daily routines, but part of something grander and more complex.
Awe-inspiring travel experience can look like:
- In the 18th and 19th centuries, the Grand Tour for wealthy young men was a journey across Europe to experience art, architecture, and history. This was a kind of a secular pilgrimage, through which they were seeking connection to the “greatness” of past civilizations and to hedonistic pleasures of the present, less familiar to them, civilizations.
- The Hike to Machu Picchu: Climbing the challenging Inca Trail to reach the ancient city of Machu Picchu can be a physical and mental ordeal. Reaching the summit and witnessing the breathtaking landscape can be a transformative experience, with a religious flavour for some.
- Visiting the Louvre: For others, spending a day wandering the halls of the Louvre museum in Paris, surrounded by masterpieces of art, can be profound and awe-inspiring.
- A Yoga Retreat in Bali: Travelling to a remote location for a yoga retreat can be a way to break the mold and live out some spiritual practices of the locals.
“And it is this which is the central characteristic of mass tourism in modern societies, travel somewhere else to gaze upon it and stay there for reasons basically unconnected with work”. John Urry
Staged Authenticity: the debt journey
It is beautiful when tourists are motivated to become temporary participants in another way of life. But as the industry itself became wide-scale and profit-oriented, so did the motivations of many. The tourist’s pilgrimage becomes part of the larger consumer culture. Just like tourists, consumers are constantly bombarded with images and promises of new experiences, products designed to offer a break from the mundane.
In Paris, workers at the Louvre went on strike over what they said were dangerously overcrowded conditions 2019.
Social media amplifies the so-called experiences of authenticity which are just “a click away”. Influencers share their “curated” and sponsored trips, luring their viewers to replicate them. And we keep forgetting they’re not representative of reality. Isn’t it funny that travel has become a competition for social status measured in likes and followers?
The consumer’s pilgrimage of the latest and greatest can trap us in a cycle of debt and dissatisfaction. Unique experiences and personal growth are constantly presented as things to be purchased, often in expensive pre-packaged tours or all-in-one adventures. But true happiness isn’t a souvenir or an Instagrammable moment. Advertising floods us with the illusion that it is, leaving many feeling disillusioned by these manufactured realities.
Speaking of manufactured realities
Places like Rome, Paris, London, Beijing, Bali, Costa Rica, and countless islands paint postcard-perfect pictures, capturing tourists with romanticized visions of the cultural past. However, beneath the glossy veneer often lies a reality more complex than the staged performances and sanitized narratives.
Examples:
1
Certain historical sites, particularly those associated with ancient Rome, are advertised with staged performances of gladiatorial combat (a far cry from the brutal realities of ancient Roman entertainment). Gladiatorial combat was a violent spectacle with a high mortality rate. While combat was central, gladiatorial games also featured staged hunts, animal displays, and even executions. They were a complex social phenomenon, reflecting Roman society’s obsession with violence, power, and death.
Ridiculous costumes, dramatic music, and choreographed fights create a thrilling, but historically inaccurate, experience. These shows become a case study in commodifying history, prioritizing entertainment over getting curious about the true complexities of the past.
2
Once vibrant cultural centers can become generic, focusing on creating attractions and experiences that appeal to everyone. Museum gift shops are a great example of how mass tourism can lead to insensitive portrayals.
Here we have a Marie Antoinette hairbrush from the Palace of Versailles gift shop.
Marie Antoinette was a controversial figure, often associated with excess and blamed for the fancy lifestyle. This hairbrush, along with tea sets and cake stands referencing the “Let them eat cake!” quote, reduces her to a caricature of luxury. These overly pink and ornate souvenirs trivialize a serious historical figure and the French Revolution itself.
It doesn’t stop there. T-shirts, mugs, magnets, phone cases, and what not with Marie Antoinette’s image or playful quotes cheapen the historical significance of the place. These mass-produced items become a kind of hyperreality, as described by Umberto Eco. They create an exaggerated or simulated version of history, detached from the complexities of the past.
Eco, building on the ideas of Jean Baudrillard, says that in a hyperreal society, simulations and signs become more important than the things they represent. The act of buying and displaying these trinkets becomes more significant than understanding the true story behind them.
Imagine visiting a museum, a place dedicated to preserving and sharing pieces of human history. Instead of leaving with new knowledge or deeper understanding, you walk out with a fridge magnet — a two-dimensional simulacrum of the experience. The museum itself becomes a stop on a tourist consumption conveyor belt.
Too many tourists, not enough space
In 1950, the number of international tourist arrivals was estimated to be 25 million. By 2018, that number had jumped to over 1.4 billion.
Cheap souvenirs, representing a superficial connection to a place, become a symptom of this larger disease: overtourism. The relatively new term, coined over a decade ago. A research of a French startup, Murmuration, shows that 80% of travellers flock to just 10% of the world’s tourist destinations. This uneven distribution creates huge pressure on a limited number of places.
Overtourism has a profound impact on the lives of local residents. Landlords, lured by the promise of short-term rentals, are evicting long-term tenants, leading to a rise in housing prices and a squeeze on the availability of affordable housing. And, skyrocketing prices, excessive queues, crowded beaches, exorbitant noise levels, damage at historical sites and the ramifications to nature.
Meanwhile, the very foundation of late capitalism — infinite economic growth — seems like a house of cards waiting to fall. So, what does the future hold for travel? I don’t know. But I want it to be not about external validation but personal transformation. I am talking about the focus on self-discovery, instead of escape. Travel could become a tool for personal growth, a chance to reconnect with nature, and a way to forge deeper connections with ourselves. It wouldn’t be about escaping reality, but about returning to ourselves with a renewed sense of purpose and clarity.
Call it pessimistic, but in the face of an unsustainable present, this inward turn might be the most transformative journey of all.
