Volunteer Tourism in the Global South

Giving Back in Neoliberal Times

Wanda Vrasti

• Publisher: Taylor & Francis
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9780415694025
• eBook ISBN: 9781136249877
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: International Relations
• Index: Politics & International Relations

This work explores the increasingly popular phenomenon of volunteer tourism in the Global South, paying particular attention to the governmental rationalities and socio-economic conditions that valorise it as a noble and necessary cultural practice.

Combining theoretical research with primary data gathered during volunteering programs in Guatemala and Ghana, the author argues that although volunteer tourism may not trigger social change, provide meaningful encounters with difference, or offer professional expertise, as the brochure discourse and the scholarly literature on tourism and hospitality often promises, the formula remains a useful strategy for producing the subjects and social relations neoliberalism requires. Vrasti suggests that the value of volunteer tourism should not to be assessed in terms of the goods and services it delivers to the global poor, but in terms of how well the practice disseminates entrepreneurial styles of feeling and action. Analysing the key effects of volunteer tourism, it is demonstrated that far from being a selfless and history-less rescue act, volunteer tourism is in fact a strategy of power that extends economic rationality, particularly its emphasis on entrepreneurship and competition, to the realm of political subjectivity.

Volunteer Tourism in the Global South provides a unique and innovative analysis of the relationship between the political and personal dimensions of volunteer tourism and will be of great interest to scholars and students of international relations, cultural geography, tourism, and development studies.

1
Introduction

The history of volunteer tourism (short ‘voluntourism’) is older than the term suggests. As a commercial practice volunteer tourism only gained currency over the past couple of decades, but ‘the idea of combining voluntary service with travel’ (voluntourism.org) is far from new. While its institutional roots can be found in the British Volunteer Service Overseas (VSO) established in 1958 and the US Peace Corps set up in 1961, the first organizations to send private citizens to the Third World for ‘unofficial’ aid and development work, the desire to explore the frontier of industrial modernity for charity and self-betterment is older. It can be traced back to the itineraries of colonial missionaries and educators as well as the nineteenth-century Grand Tour, which I will have more to say about later. But whereas these practices were informed by thinly veiled imperialist motivations and Eurocentric beliefs, volunteer tourism espouses a more recent cosmopolitan vision, reflected also in the rise of sustainable tourism, corporate social responsibility and ethical consumption over the past few decades. Underlying volunteer tourism is a multiculturalist appreciation for cultural diversity, a romantic reverence for nature and tradition and what seems to be a genuine desire to help but also learn from other cultures and people. On top of these noble sensibilities, volunteer tourism also benefits from being anchored in the latest (post-Fordist) forms of education and production, such as study abroad initiatives, continuing education, mandatory service programmes and internships. All of these help make this holiday option seem like sensible investment in the future. So while the idea of volunteer tourism is not unprecedented, its adaptation to contemporary emotional regimes and economic injunctions grants this combination of tourism and aid work unprecedented popularity and profit.

For the first time, during the 1990s, overseas charity work was packaged as an all-inclusive commodity and sold off to conscious consumers (mostly young adults aged 18–25) through travel agencies, for-profit organizations and educational institutions. With 1.6 million participants per year, volunteer tourism is quickly becoming the fastest growing sector of the travel industry (Guttentag 2009: 538). A Travelocity poll from 2007 predicted that the number of Americans planning to take volunteering trips abroad over the next couple of years would increase from 6 per cent to 11 per cent. The Travel Industry Association of America (TIA) is even more confident, forecasting a 28 per cent rise in demand as far back as 2006 (Dalton 2008). In the UK, where the gap year is a far more institutionalized rite of passage, a University of London review from 2004 counted as many as 800 organizations offering volunteering services abroad (Ward 2007). Although not all volunteer tourism providers are for-profit, travel titans such as Travelocity, Cheaptickets, First Choice Holidays, GAP Adventures and Travel Cuts have recently jumped on board, crowding out or joining forces with not-for-profit organizations, such as Habitat for Humanity and United Way (Dalton 2008).

Volunteer tourism in the developing world, which is the focus of this study, represents only a fraction of the gap year industry: it accounts for 10,000 participants a year and rising (Simpson 2005: 448). Although reliable statistics on for-profit voluntourism in the Global South are painfully absent (the few that exist offer widely dissimilar figures and should, therefore, be viewed with caution), there can be no doubt about the rising popularity of this trend (Guttentag 2009: 538). No longer is overseas charitable work limited to eccentric dropouts, skilled humanitarian personnel and state-sanctioned development initiatives. Middle-class young adults from Western countries, eager ‘to undertake holidays that might involve … alleviating the material poverty of some groups in society, the restoration of certain environments or research into aspects of society or environment’ (Wearing 2001: 1), now has a variety of organizations, placements and destinations to choose from.

At first glance, there are at least two possible explanations for the growing popular success and moral appeal of this form of travel. First, volunteer tourism presents itself as an alternative to and critique of mass tourism and its notoriously destructive effects. Phrases like ‘giving back to the community’ and ‘making a difference in the world’ that litter the brochure discourse are meant to tickle the post-materialist and anti-modernist sensibilities of the Western ethical consumer looking to demonstrate their superior social capital by ‘travelling with a purpose’. In addition, the institutionalization and professionalization of this practice have turned volunteer tourism into a ‘standard requirement for higher education and career development’ (Simpson 2005: 448). For students and young graduates eager to distinguish themselves in an increasingly precarious and competitive economic climate, the promise of gaining exotic cultural knowledge and professional expertise outside of the classroom is particularly relevant.

As we shall see, there is ample evidence for both interpretations throughout this book, but these stories alone cannot explain the root of this seduction. We still need to ask: where does this yearning for travelling with a (humanitarian) purpose come from? Why is an escape from modern society pleasurable and even desirable? What is it about the present moment that requires individuals, especially young adults, to organize their lives, even their spare time, around imperatives of cosmopolitan sensibilities and personal responsibility? And why have these imperatives become shorthand for entrepreneurial action expected from good neoliberal subjects? Together, these questions betray a deeper curiosity about the kinds of political subjects and social relations volunteer tourism produces and about whether these consolidate or deviate from already existing formations of power. The approach adopted in this book combines the typically Foucauldian preoccupation with subject formation with a more Marxian inquiry into the duplicitous effects of self-making. It pays special attention to the ways in which even the most well-intentioned attempts at making ourselves into ‘the moral subjects of our own actions’ (Foucault cited in Nelson 2009: 130) can be used to strengthen the logic of capital. At the same time, the question resonates with the postcolonial critique of Orientalist forms of representation and cultural fantasies that allow some people to affirm their sense of self by taking a detour through other people’s version of everyday life.

I knew from the very beginning of this project that I did not want to treat volunteer tourism as a sub-section of the tourism industry. I did not want to provide a technical assessment of the effectiveness of volunteer tourism or formulate recommendations for enhancing the day-to-day operations of voluntourism organizations. Static approaches such as these are responsible for most of the lifeless sociological analyses that currently dominate the field of tourism studies (Franklin and Crang 2001; Hutnyk 2006, 2007). It was also not my ambition to unveil the hidden motives or underlying nature of individual volunteers. The question of whether volunteers are hypocritical or selfless figures lies in the territory of social psychology and does not concern me. Whether volunteers believe in the normative desirability of their actions (which I believe most of them do) or participate solely to boost their résumés does not do anything to change the fact that this practice carries with it a certain moral and material weight. The approach I have chosen instead situates the increasingly popular phenomenon of volunteering in the Global South at the intersection between subjectivity, biopolitics and capital in neoliberal governmentality. It uses volunteer tourism as an opportunity to explore what about the present moment requires individuals, especially young adults, ‘to bring [themselves] to labour in an enterprising fashion’ (Kiersey 2009: 381), and why this ethos of entrepreneurship relies in equal measure upon economic rationalizations and emotional dictums.

Drawing upon ethnographic material gathered during two volunteering programs in Guatemala and Ghana, I argue that, notwithstanding its practical and ethical deficiencies, volunteer tourism is not a bait and switch strategy that tricks volunteers into paying large sums of money with nothing to offer in return. Even if voluntourism does not result in the kinds of social change, authentic encounters with difference and professional expertise volunteers are led to expect (and enticed to purchase), even if volunteers constantly complain about ‘not feeling needed’ either because the local population is not ‘poor enough’ to require foreign assistance or their placements are not well-structured enough to endow them with any meaningful work experience, volunteer tourism still fulfils its promise in different ways. Whether it is by allowing tourists to demonstrate their superior social capital through ethical forms of consumption (as was the case in Guatemala) or by helping them develop various affective and entrepreneurial competencies needed to navigate the challenges of flexible capital (as in Ghana), volunteer tourism helps young adults from the Global North assume a type of political subjectivity that, in its fidelity to neoliberal injunctions, embodies a new normative ideal. In other words, the effectiveness of volunteer tourism should not to be assessed in terms of the goods and services it delivers to the global poor or the emancipatory alternative it presents to liberal modernity, but in terms of how well it helps (re)produce subjects and social relations congruent with the logic of capital in seemingly laudable and pleasurable ways.

To take issue with a model of action so seeped in noble intentions and transformative ambitions may seem like a callous, even misanthropic gesture. (As someone once said to me after I had explained the subject of my dissertation: ‘Your thesis is mean’.) Because volunteer tourism is thought to be a spontaneous act of kindness in response to other people’s needs and suffering, it becomes a standard of reference for what it means to be good, ascribing value (in the form of human and social capital) to anyone involved in this practice. Stories about building houses in Latin America or distributing medical supplies in Africa have come to occupy a (suspiciously) firm moral grounding that demands applause. But it is precisely because voluntourism enjoys such una-bashed support that we should interrogate its claims, strategies and ambitions. In other words, it is less the novelty or magnitude of volunteer tourism that should trouble us, but the virtuous place it occupies in our collective imaginary, from self-righteous participants, enthusiastic parents, educators, employers, all the way to the congratulatory coverage in popular and scholarly publications. This line of inquiry goes back to critical theory’s original intent, which is not about providing expert solutions to predetermined problems (such as, how to address the technical problems of voluntourism to make this a more transparent and accountable industry) but about interrogating our received notions of order, progress and justice together with the power relations that allow them to pass as normative truth (Foucault 1980; Cox 1983).

In what follows I offer an introduction to this project and the study of volunteer tourism in general, starting with a review of the literature, a section on ethnographic methods, some preliminary thoughts on theory, a note on the contribution to international relations research and finally a chapter outline of the book.

The seductions and discontents of volunteer tourism

None of the conclusions about volunteer tourism I advance in this book were apparent from the start. I meandered through promotional literature, scholarly apologias and critiques of volunteer tourism as well as ethnographic surprises, theoretical reflections and several editing stages. My initial thoughts about volunteer tourism were shaped by the brochure discourse, in particular voluntourism.org, a sprawling web platform meant to ‘educate, empower and engage’ tourists, NGOs, tour operators, communities and corporations to embrace this practice. Volunteer tourism, the website boasts,

represents the blending of your favourite passions and, perhaps, pastimes. History, culture, geography, environment and the recreation of exploration meet the inspiration of your voluntary efforts in serving a destination and its residents. Body, mind and soul respond to the awakening of thoughts, feelings, emotions, via a labour of gratitude that is offered as a part of your overall itinerary. VolunTourism provides you with perspective and balance. You are able to utilize your ‘six’ senses and interact with your destination in ways that had previously existed beyond your capacity of expectation. This is travel that unites your purpose and passion and ignites your enthusiasm in ways unimaginable.

(Clemmons 2009)

According to the website, volunteer tourism contains benefits for all stakeholders involved: it allows tourists to travel beyond ‘the boundaries of the brochure’, host communities to share their cultural richness with others, NGOs to generate revenue in a sustainable way, tour operators to differentiate their product in a ‘responsible’ manner, hotels and suppliers to ‘green’ their operations and reduce costs, corporations to demonstrate their commitment to social responsibility, build employee morale and provide innovative training for their staff and educators to enhance their classroom experience. Volunteer tourism offers something for everyone. It is a win-win situation, for volunteers especially, who get to explore new depths of their own personas while making a charitable contribution to the world. For the first time, the personal and the global, the pleasurable and the altruistic and ‘the joy and fulfilment associated with them, [can] be synergized and harmoniously blended into one consumable opportunity’ (ibid.).

The Lonely Planet guide Volunteer: A Traveller’s Guide to Making a Difference Around the World (2007) adopts a slightly more tempered tone. Well-aware of the common charge that voluntourism is ‘part of a long tradition of people from the West setting off to help or change the countries of the Global South and have adventures while they do it’, the Lonely Planet authors stress the continued need for individual responsibility. ‘[W]hether international volunteering is the new colonialism or not is, in large part, down to the attitudes of you, the volunteer and the organization you go with’ (ibid.: 10), which is why the book spends much of its time charting the vast and somewhat confusing spectrum of volunteer organizations to help readers pick not only the most ‘responsible’ tour provider but also the best-suited placement for their personality. Still, time and time again it is made clear that the success of the experience depends on ‘personal attitude’. Volunteers are encouraged to show open-mindedness and humility towards local culture and people. They should acknowledge that, although voluntourism implies a commitment to humanitarian aid and assistance, host communities are not passive recipients of foreign altruism, but also have a lot to offer in terms of cultural wisdom, foreign languages, technical skills and exotic adventures. Being grateful for their hospitality and respectful of their culture can go a long way to ensure that volunteer tourism remains an equitable encounter.

The growing scholarly literature on volunteer tourism coming out of leisure and hospitality studies oscillates between these two options: it is either openly celebratory of the transformative potential of volunteer tourism or it claims that this potential, even if not entirely altruistic, can be realized with some minor technical adjustments. As Wearing and Neil put it: ‘Living in and learning about other people and cultures, in an environment of mutual benefit and cooperation, a person is able to engage in a transformation and development of the self’ (2001: 242). Overseas volunteering is understood as a morally admirable encounter between hosts and guests that breaks with the vacuity of mass tourism to foster cultural exchange, social transformation and personal development (Wearing 2001, 2002; McGehee and Santos 2005; Wearing et al. 2008). There is now also a growing number of empirical case studies dealing with the ‘mutually beneficial’ impact of volunteer tourism in Australia (Higgins-Desbiolles 2009), Thailand (Broad 2003), Indonesia (Galley and Clifton 2004), South Africa (Stoddart and Rogerson 2004), Costa Rica (Campbell and Smith 2006) and Latin America (Söderman and Snead 2008) to confirm these exuberant conclusions. Even in those rare instances when leisure and hospitality scholars notice the structural inequality foundational to voluntourism, they insist that with better industry regulations in place this problem can be smoothened out. Invariably, the commitment behind this research is to fine-tune the tourism industry by making volunteer organizations more accountable and sustainable, designing more effective placements, taking into account local needs and priorities, increasing the transparency of payment schemes and improving industry credibility (Guttentag 2009; CBC Radio One 2009). It rarely questions the ethico-political rationalities that make overseas volunteering necessary and valuable in liberal capitalist societies.

There are both disciplinary and technical reasons for this limited understanding of voluntourism. On the disciplinary front, international volunteering restores the field’s confidence in the transformative powers of travel, allowing management and hospitality studies to continue its unholy alliance with the tourism industry. On the technical front, the discipline’s behavioural orientation precludes any serious engagement with the political implications and subjective complexities of volunteer tourism.

Package tourists have long been ridiculed as self-absorbed, hedonistic masses, with no understanding of local culture, no consideration for natural surroundings and no individuality beyond that which is sold to them through advertising and mass consumption (Butcher 2003). Especially in anthropology and sociology, which have made a business out of disparaging this type of travel (Crick 1989), mass tourism is considered a sad statement on modern existence. Dean MacCannell (1973), the cheerleader of tourism sociology, for instance, explains that while the ambition of modern mass tourism is to give people access to the ‘backstage’, an unedited version of local everyday life, so as to help them make up for the alienated condition of modern life, in reality all tourists get to see is a mise-en-scène of local culture. The inaccessibility or constant deferral of authenticity in tourism is indicative of a larger semiotic aporia: for something to be perceived as authentic it must be marked as such; yet, in this act of marking, the real is instantly pushed further into the distance, never to be reached (Frow 1997). It also speaks to a programmatic difficulty in tourism: local tourism providers often willingly refuse to invite their customers to the ‘backstage’ as a way of resisting the complete commodification of local life forms. All in all, conventional travel seems to be better at mirroring the afflictions of Western modernity (the sense of historical decline, personal fragmentation, moral disintegration and loss of personal freedom) than at alleviating them (ibid.: 80).

Compared to mass tourists, who constantly fall for these tricks, volunteer tourists (or responsible tourists in general) are savvy, resourceful, sophisticated, cultured, sensitive, spontaneous, adventurous and creative (Butcher 2003: 21–22). In making the eradication of global poverty and environmental degradation their raison d’être, volunteer tourists avoid the disappointments of mass tourism and recover a sense of purpose and personal meaning. In choosing intimate cultural encounters over manufactured tourist experiences, they critique the conformism of modern society and the homogenizing effects of globalization. Instead of mass consumption, all-inclusive resorts and ecological destruction, they turn to the rural, authentic, unspoiled, traditional and non-Western other for spiritual regeneration and self-critique. Volunteering gives these tourists access to what mass tourism always aspired to but never delivered: an unedited version of other people’s version of the everyday, an Eden lost to the West in the process of modernization (MacCannell 1973; Cohen 1979; Badone 2004; Bruner 2005). In volunteer tourism, the disease, poverty and pollution afflicting the Global South are not hidden from sight. On the contrary, these ‘disturbing’ realities are what constitute a large part of the appeal and justify the cost of volunteering trips, which can be two or three times the value of classic relax-and-escape packages (Ward 2007). Because overseas volunteering is a small-scale, low-impact form of travel that places community development above profit making, Western tourists (who can afford the trip) are given the opportunity to overcome the proverbial modern alienation and apathy by ‘making a difference’ in the lives of local people (Wearing 2001).

Volunteer tourism also impresses through its promise to resuscitate the nineteenth-century ideals of the Grand Tour where genteel young men embarked on long exploratory trips as part of their studies. The purpose of the Grand Tour was one of education, exploration and sensibilization to the manifold realities of a growingly interconnected world. It was also a way for young men from the upper classes to gain social status and demonstrate a certain sense of maturity and masculinity (Wearing 2002: 243). While modern-day successors of the Grand Tour traveller still exist (backpackers, nomads, pilgrims, drifters and dropouts), mass tourism, beginning with Thomas Cook’s pioneering efforts in affordable tourism for the bourgeois masses in the 1840s, is usually said to have destroyed the Golden Age of travel. Sprawling tourist infrastructure has spoiled natural surroundings and traditional cultures, while swelling tourist hordes have made authentic cultural encounters nearly impossible. By putting travail back into travel (Lisle 2010) volunteer tourism will hopefully recover some of these mythical connotations. The fact that this romantic longing for ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Preface
• 1 Introduction
• 2 The self as enterprise
• 3 Multicultural sensibilities in Guatemala
• 4 Entrepreneurial education in Ghana
• 5 Conclusion: international political life
• Bibliography
• Index