Introducing inclusive tourism
Robin Biddulph and Regina Scheyvens
Tourism is often understood and experienced as an exclusive activity. In supporting the concept of inclusive tourism, this volume seeks to counter that tendency by seeking out ways in which those who are typically marginalized by, or excluded from tourism can be brought into the industry in ways that directly benefit them, or that they can gain more control over tourism. This introduction to the special issue first presents a conceptual article that defines the concept of inclusive tourism and discusses seven different elements, which may constitute lines of inquiry in investigations of tourismâs inclusiveness. It then presents five empirical articles that illustrate some of the ways in which an inclusive tourism approach might inform discussion of the potentials and limitations for tourism to generate wider social and economic benefits. The examples provided are from a wide range of geographical contexts, from Cambodia to Australia, Sweden, Turkey and Spain. Inclusive tourism is offered here as both an analytical concept and an aspirational ideal. We do not ever envisage minimum standards for inclusive tourism. We rather hope that there will be a restless quest to find ways to include new actors and new places in tourism on terms that are equitable and sustainable.
For as long as there has been tourism, there have been scholars interested in its wider social benefits and seek to understand how those benefits may be maximised. This special issue asserts that the concept of inclusive tourism may be a valuable addition to the family of terms (e.g. responsible tourism, social tourism, peace through tourism, pro-poor tourism, accessible tourism) which constitute this field of scholarship. As presented in this special issue, inclusive tourism is defined as âTransformative tourism in which marginalized groups are engaged in ethical production or consumption of tourism and the sharing of its benefitsâ (Scheyvens & Biddulph, this volume). Our impulse is normative: tourism should be inclusive, and scholars should be seeking to identify ways in which it can be more inclusive. Our impulse is also, of course, critical, highlighting the need to ask how inclusive any particular initiative really is, and to investigate structural limits to inclusion both within the industry and in the wider political economy.
In recent decades almost every country around the globe has had campaigns seeking to develop and grow their tourism sector. There is an assumption that such growth is good because it leads to jobs, government revenue and other national benefits, such as preservation of natural and cultural heritage. With the development of communications and transport technology and reduced costs for travel in many cases, along with growing numbers in the middle classes around the world, tourism has duly grown and money has flowed. But the shine of tourism is rubbing off for many. As an industry it has been criticised for causing environmental problems, cultural desecration, negative social impacts and economic inequality. Things came to a head in the summer of 2017 when residents of European hotspots such as Venice, Barcelona and Dubrovnik protested, violently in some cases, against âover tourismâ which had led to crowding of their streets and parks, increased prices for housing and a lower quality of life for locals: these places are now bracing themselves for the summer ahead (Papathanassis, 2017; Seraphin, Sheeran, & Pilato, 2018; Sharpley, 2018b). It is time to find a new way forward. Can âinclusive tourismâ offer any guidance on this?
The central questions asked by an inclusive tourism approach âWho is included? On what terms? With what significance?â (Scheyvens & Biddulph, this volume) are not geographically restrictive. Tourism can be more or less inclusive in any region of the world. The cases that first prompted us to reflect on inclusiveness were local initiatives that our colleagues at the Centre for Tourism in Gothenburg were collaborating with, for example, Gothenburgo (http://www.gbgo.se/om-oss.html), a small NGO which made tourist maps for wards in the city which are not usually considered tourist attractions, or Tikitut (http://tikitut.se/home/), a social enterprise in a marginalized area of the city which offers homestays, cooking experiences and guided walking tours, all of which alert visitors to the social and natural richness and diversity in an area of the city which many city residents would not otherwise consider visiting. These local initiatives, which included new people and new places in tourism in ways that promised social, spatial and economic integration, in various ways reminded us of other initiatives in areas of the Global South which also had similar effects (e.g. Scheyvens, 2006).
Tourism is often understood â and also marketed â as an exclusive activity. The more exotic the destination, the more lavish the experience, the higher the price that can be demanded. As we go to press, there is renewed talk of opportunities for space tourism: with costs of US$100 million per person for a space walk (with untold environmental implications), this may be the ultimate example of exclusive tourism. In supporting the concept of inclusive tourism this volume seeks to turn that notion on its head, seeking out ways in which those who are typically marginalized by or excluded from tourism can be brought into the industry in ways that directly benefit them, or that they can gain more control over tourism. This could be as producers of tourism products (see Biddulph on social enterprises in Cambodia, this volume), as consumers of tourism (see Evcilâs article on wheelchair users as tourists, this volume), as those influencing policy and practice (see Nyanjom et al., this volume), as beneficiaries of enlightened corporate policies (see Zapata Campos et al., this volume), or as employees whose rights and wellbeing are assured (see Cañada, this volume, who shows why this is desperately needed).
The conceptual article by Scheyvens and Biddulph (this volume) which begins this special issue situates inclusive tourism as a response to tendencies towards social, economic and spatial exclusion in tourism. These authors provide a definition and a conceptual framework featuring seven different elements which may constitute lines of inquiry in investigations of tourismâs inclusiveness. The article distinguishes inclusive tourism from other similar-sounding terms such as all-inclusive tourism and inclusive business approaches, and also sets it in the comparative context of existing concepts which are also concerned with the wider social benefits of tourism. Finally, the article uses the elements of the conceptual framework to review illustrative cases of inclusive tourism within existing literature concluding with a discussion of factors that constrain tourism inclusiveness.
Robin Biddulphâs article (this volume) on five social enterprises in Siem Reap, Cambodia, provides insights into how inclusive forms of tourism are being implemented in practice. The Soria Moria initiative, for example, demonstrates how tourism can transform power relations. It describes how the Norwegian owners of a hotel in Siem Reap handed over ownership and control of their award-winning boutique establishment to the staff, many of whom had grown up living hand-to-mouth lives in poor rural villages. This ambition was not fully realized, but, as Biddulph suggests, it provides lessons and may act as a source of inspiration for other similar worker cooperatives to allow them to find a more substantial foothold in the tourism market. In another example, Phare circus shows how young Cambodians have authored variations on traditional Cambodian performance for tourist audiences, which in turn raise funds for cultural schools for budding performers in another province, far away from the tourist eye. Biddulph suggests that this is illustrative of a growing range of social enterprises which seek not only to generate a tourism product, but also to create spaces for self-expression and cultural development which are grounded in host preferences and tastes, rather than primarily being attuned to touristsâ whims. Founded as all social enterprises are, on a social mission, such enterprises thus show considerable potential for delivering on inclusive tourism; however it is important to reflect that they are only a niche of the tourism sector currently and are unlikely to be able to significantly transform tourism overall.
Truly transformational tourism could occur if the multinational companies which dominate the hotel and tour operator segments would change their policies and practices, making the mass tourism sector more inclusive. Two-thirds of the European market is dominated by a few tour operators, a consolidation of power which characterizes the contemporary industry. As the employers of people from many marginalized groups, at least indirectly, and being able to influence supplier procurement policies, large tour operators can actually wield significant influence in terms of encouraging sustainable and inclusive practices. To date, Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) efforts by tourism companies have been somewhat tokenistic (de Grosbois, 2012; Hughes & Scheyvens, 2016; Kalisch, 2002). However, Maria JosĂ© Zapata Campos, Michael Hall and Sandra Backlund (this volume) alert us to possibilities for corporates to adopt more inclusive approaches. Specifically, they analyse the CSR policy and practices of Swedish tour operator, Apollo. While Apollo has made positive strides in terms of implementing its parent company, Kuoniâs, Travelife system and supplier code of conduct, Zapata Campos et al. show that codes of conduct risk becoming a type of âsymbolic complianceâ because they are not monitored. Thus, based on an analysis of the processes by which inclusive tourism issues might become part of a CSR agenda, these authors caution against superficial adoption of inclusive tourism principles by multinational tourism businesses; they concurrently assert the need for a focus on the social dimensions of their practice and on equity. Encouragingly, this article demonstrates how Apollo was able to exert influence over its parent organization, Kuoni, by bringing concerns of inclusivity into its transnational CSR policy.
One component of inclusive tourism spelled out by Scheyvens and Biddulph is the transformation of oppressive power relations. The importance of this is exemplified in Ernest Cañadaâs research (this volume) which focuses on the erosion of labour rights in the tourism sector in the face of economic restructuring. Unfortunately, labour rights and employee wellbeing are relatively neglected areas of tourism research (Baum, 2007; Baum et al., 2016). Cañada specifically examines how, following the global financial crisis, there were changes in Spanish law involving deregulation and outsourcing, which have left hotel maids effectively in a race to the bottom, competing for jobs which are ever more precarious and poorly paid. There are over 400,000 hotel workers in this âsocially invisibleâ group who clean, dust, wash, vacuum, mop and pick up our rubbish so that we â the privileged â can enjoy a holiday in the sun. For too long the assumption has been that job creation equals good development. Inclusive tourism demands that we look well beyond this and instead focus on the International Labour Organizationâs concept of âdecent workâ when considering whether tourism is actually contributing to inclusive development. To read Canadaâs study of maids in Spain is to be reminded of the forces in the wider political economy which work against attempts to provide decent work and instead create a society which is more exclusive. Cañadaâs findings about the decrease in pay of maids, job insecurity, work overload and declining health of maids, do not lead him to dismiss the concept of inclusive tourism. Rather, he uses it to argue that it is vital that there is the opportunity for a wide range of actors to make decisions about tourism, noting that in this case, freedom for trade unions and womenâs organisations is important so they can assert workerâs demands for better labour relations, working conditions and to be treated with dignity. Cañadaâs work also stresses that inclusive tourism must consider class and gender divisions in order to develop a more equitable model for labour in the tourism industry.
It is notable that in this special issue we have two articles that go to the roots of inclusivity in tourism, in that the term inclusive has, to date, mostly been used in discussions of accessible tourism for those whose mobility is impaired (e.g. Darcy & Dickson, 2009). Both articles point to the importance of hearing the voice of people with disabilities when planning for tourism development. Their lived experience of disability offers unique insights into ways in which tourism destinations could better plan to cater for those whose mobility is impaired. Julie Nyanjom, Kathy Boxall and Janine Slavenâs article approaches this from the perspective of how stakeholders need to cooperate effectively to develop accessible tourism. Their research with 19 participants in the town of Margaret River in Australia, found that there was minimal evidence of collaboration among government agencies, tourism providers, agencies for people with disabilities, and disabled people themselves. In particular, they argue that people with disabilities need to be the main stakeholder group at the collaborative table, and they need to not only be dialogue partners, but also to have significant influence in governance and decision-making.
Following this, AyĆe Nilay Evcil provides an interesting case study of issues faced by wheelchair users in one of the pre-eminent tourism attractions of Turkey, Sultanahmet Square in Istanbul. 125 respondents noted that they had particular problems with sidewalks, ramps, stairs and parking. Reflecting on the value of the concept of âuniversal designâ, which is based on the principal of equity, Evcil thus notes that conservation and restoration goals in a heritage location such as this can clash with accessibility goals for those with disabilities. Essentially, a lack of accessibility creates social inequality.
As laid out in this volume then, inclusive tourism is offered as an analytical concept and as an aspirational ideal. It can be used to evaluate current tourism practices to help to detect where changes are needed, as well as to guide new tourism development. We neither hope nor expect that inclusive tourism will be adopted as a form of certification or an industry-brand where businesses can be defined as âinclusiveâ or not. Other concepts clearly perform this valuable function, but in doing so their analytical usefulness can be compromised (Burrai & Hannam, 2018; Sharpley, 2018a; Wheeller, 1990). One danger is that this certification function c...