Wandering Wisely: Seven Questions for Every Ethical Adventurer
(25-minute read)
I'm familiar with the tried-and-tested tips – leave no trace, learn how to say hello, don’t ride animals – but, let’s be honest, litter picking on pub crawls and eating plant-based food isn’t going to negate the gentrification and colonialism embedded in my white-girl travel plans.
Although establishing basic guidelines can be a great place to start, ethical adventure isn’t always as simple as do and do not. Oftentimes, we’re flying by the seat of our pants and need a more nuanced moral compass. In this post, I’ll share how I keep tabs on my impact as I roam using prompts for critical thinking in any situation.
Travel is about learning, unlearning, flying, touching base, getting lost and getting discovered anew. It’s not all fun and games. Getting lost can feel unsettling at best and mentally debilitating at worst. In these moments, I turn to my list of entirely selfish check-ins. The list keeps me grounded by questioning aspects of my current existence such as what I’m grateful for, what I need and what I’m putting off.
These self-care check-ins are important because I can’t pour from an empty cup... but they somewhat neglect the people whose worlds I’ve stepped into. The seven prompts below aren’t about self-care, but they’re equally important. Read on for deep dives on each or, if you’re in a pinch, just take them and run. Either way, I hope they will help you to scrutinise the impact you’re having on those around you and reduce the negative consequences of your travel.
Where is my money going?
An informed decision is a good decision, so do your research. Your wallet is your vote, use it wisely. In your financial decisions, you might consider...
Shopping local
Convenience is, well, convenient. But consider the journey a humble tomato might take to get to your pizza in Napoli, versus the one it takes to arrive in your toastie in Phuket. The distance and the big neon ‘7-Eleven’ sign raise questions about where those tourism dollars really end up, as well as the carbon footprint they finance.
Globalisation has made us interconnected and cheap. Affordability can sway us towards unethical sellers and mass production, and away from local authenticity. Likewise, the pursuit of comfort can funnel our dollars away from local communities (when we opt for English-speaking tour guides or familiar fast-food chains, for example).
Accommodation choices can also be kept local. Many resorts are owned by non-local entities who bring the negative effects of tourism (e.g., waste production and energy usage) to the locals, and keep the positive impacts (e.g., dollars and positive interactions) within their walls. In some cities, the proliferation of Airbnbs exacerbates this problem, driving up housing prices and displacing locals. Where possible, book local and book direct.
Gentrification
Tourism can provide economic benefits and cultural exchange to a community. It can also cause serious harm. Over-tourism can damage the environment and the cultural and historical heritage of a site. Long-term effects of over-tourism include overloaded infrastructure, destruction of natural habitats, and the alienation and pricing-out of local people. Before choosing a destination, ask yourself, am I able to travel off-peak and/or ‘off the beaten track’?
Prices
When paying for goods and services, consider the currency. I'm from a country with a stable economy and a currency that affords me the external purchasing power to travel in the way I do. When a street food vendor in Vietnam charges me twice what they’d charge a local, I take my hearty $1 lunch with gratitude. I am a tourist, so I pay tourist prices.
I also consider the culture. Bartering can feel awkward when we’re used to Tesco’s scanning machines, but in some cultures it’s expected. I hate tipping culture (if you can’t afford to pay your employees a living wage, you can’t afford to have employees), but I didn’t go to Canada, where servers rely on tips to keep their heating on, thinking I could solve the issue by withholding gratuities. Tip appropriately (i.e., don’t tip if it’s not the norm, and do if it is).
Bonus question: ‘Can I afford this (without squandering my values)?’
2. What might be affecting my judgement?
Preconceptions
I was heavily discouraged from travelling to Morocco for fear of street harassment, and similarly warned against India (neither or which I found particularly troublesome). But the same worried friends were happy with me travelling to Italy, where heckling is painted as something inoffensive or even romantic. What else are we romanticising in Europe whilst vilifying in majority non-white countries? Prioritise safety and try not to let uninformed or subconscious preconceptions cloud your judgment.
Living like a local
Arriving in an unfamiliar place is exciting. Everything is novel to us – the architecture, the animals, the colour of the grass – so we enter wide-eyed and ready to fill our camera rolls. Though this show of appreciation can be just that, it must be kept in check, especially where people are involved. Don’t take pictures of people without asking their permission, and don’t be offended if they say no. When taking photos, ask yourself, would it be appropriate to take this picture’s equivalent at home (e.g., of a child you don’t know)? When sharing your photos, ask, what story does this picture paint? What values does it promote?
How would you feel if you were living your day-to-day life, playing in the garden with your kids, when an awe-struck stranger stopped to take pictures while chatting to their friend excitedly in a language you couldn’t speak? People are not tourist attractions. We must be careful to appreciate the lives of those around us with respect and dignity.
Don’t let learned BS let you treat others as anything less than fellow people. Smile, have empathy, let your guard down, show affection, lean in and seek to understand the locals and their situations. Most people lead lives as complex, interesting and human as your own. Scrutinise and challenge your hesitance to take the bus, shop at the market, be sociable and live like a local.
Living like a tourist
All that being said... don’t expect to be treated like a local when you’re not one. Remember that complaining about your chosen travel destination being packed with tourists is like sitting in your car and complaining about the traffic. Question your station and ask, am I an immigrant? A tourist? A foreigner? An expat? A backpacker? A gringo? What is the difference? How do I see myself and how do the locals see me? Why?
Different priorities
I judge travellers unfairly all the time. I judge those who only stay in one place for two nights before moving on. Those who take up space. Those who don’t. Those who share every moment on Instagram. Those who try hard. Those who don’t. Those who eat scorpions. Those who don’t. Those who spend lots. Those who don’t.
My judgement of these actions isn’t usually a product of morality, but one of insecurity, jealousy or ignorance.
There are many situations that affect travel plans or exclude people from travel altogether (and some people just don’t want to travel). We all have different wants and needs. We're all complex and worthy of gentle, generous compassion.
3. I’d have struggled to get here without...
My passport, body size and ability, ethnicity and mother tongue have granted my unobstructed access to many incredible experiences. I’ve caught myself googling visa requirements in the queue to check my luggage. I have never had to research if the tourist attraction I’m excited to visit has wheelchair access. In hostels full of myriad languages, my mother tongue is the usual lingua franca. I have seen, heard and danced in every country I’ve visited.
Acknowledging privilege is a crucial step towards responsible travel. Whether you hold a ‘strong’ passport (which grants visa-free entry to numerous countries) or benefit from other socio-economic advantages, it’s key to notice the factors that implicitly and entirely shape your journey. Recognising our privileges informs our understanding of how we can appreciate them, leverage them for positive change, advocate for equitable treatment of marginalised communities, and amplify voices that often go unheard in the tourism industry.
4. Are my travel habits perpetuating colonialism?
What has colonialism got to do with tourism?
Colonialism involves the domination and subjugation of one people by another, and the exploitation of resources and culture. Foreign powers swoop in and reshape colonised societies in pursuit of their own interests, plundering wealth and maintaining political allegiance to their country of origin.
Often, tourism looks suspiciously similar.
The two have a tangled history, with each feeding off the other. There can be an underlying colonial impulse in travel; the thrill of venturing into strange lands and looking condescendingly at the ‘beautiful people’ we come across (whom we most often find in roles of servitude). It's like colonialism in vacation mode.
Tourism can lead to the commercialisation of sacred traditions and the erosion, exploitation and commodification of cultures, land and wildlife. Indigenous peoples often find themselves on the receiving end of disrespectful interactions from uninvited tourists who feel entitled to intrude. Meanwhile, border towns close to reservations thrive on cultural appropriation, offering tourists a sanitised, inauthentic version of Indigenous culture. This exploitation perpetuates a sense of displacement and alienation among Indigenous populations, echoing the experience of colonialism.
Tourism has become a crutch for many colonised economies, but its unchecked growth risks further entrenching colonial dynamics and economic dependency, particularly in the Global South.
How can I step away from colonialism as I travel?
Through colonisation, tourism has become economically crucial for many marginalised communities and is therefore often encouraged. But before visiting these communities, pause for thought. Is your presence a help or hindrance? What would happen to the community if tourism was suddenly prevented, like it was during the pandemic? Are you able to support marginalised communities in a different way that doesn’t feel so voyeuristic? In what ways are you centring yourself? In what ways are you centring the people whose lives you’re stepping into? Are you a welcome guest?
If your research tells you visiting is encouraged, look out for initiatives that centre local and Indigenous hosts (like Hawai'i's ‘decolonising’ tours which give Indigenous communities a voice and agency in the tourism industry). Our research must be thorough; some tours and experiences choose to cater to foreigners’ appetites rather than using their platform to share culturally appropriate and accurate stories. By supporting local businesses that respect Indigenous rights and culture, we can contribute to positive change.
There are many ways we can step away from colonialism as we travel. Instead of finding knock-off versions of Indigenous products in border towns, seek out authentic experiences that honor and celebrate Indigenous heritage. Explore your own backyard; it’s the closest you’ll ever get to living like a local! Wherever you go, respect the land and hold yourself accountable to it – how will your presence affect the land and wildlife? Be mindful of your choices, movements and attitude. Listen to the locals’ stories. Spend conscientiously. Try to learn the language, and don’t expect to communicate in yours.
By recognising and addressing the parallels between settler colonialism and contemporary tourism, we can work towards a more equitable and sustainable approach to travel.
5. What’s my motive?
There are a million reasons a person might choose to travel, and these can vary from generation to generation. If I am to keep this section (relatively) short and sweet, I’m going to need to summarise, but please do take some time to explore the following questions and links.
Why am I volunteering?
Voluntourism is the combination of volunteering and tourism. It involves do-gooder (or not-so-do-gooder) types heading to underprivileged areas to lend a hand. Done well, voluntourism can empower local communities, spread awareness of issues, and achieve genuinely helpful outcomes. Done badly, it can perpetuate white saviourism, allocate resources inefficiently, dismiss long-term solutions, lack cultural sensitivity and have negative environmental, social and economic impacts.
Before embarking on a voluntourism adventure, do your research. Ask yourself, am I approaching this from a place of learning and generosity, or one of performative activism? Do I thoroughly understand the issue I’m hoping to resolve? Would I do this in my own country? Do I need to travel this far to volunteer? Am I the best person for this job?
What am I getting off on?
Dark tourism means visiting places where some of the darkest events of human history have unfolded – genocide, assassination, incarceration, ethnic cleansing, war or disaster (natural or accidental). When visited with dignity, compassion and respect, such sites can provide opportunities to reflect and learn, making us better informed and able to contribute to a kinder world.
But before visiting a place that’s witnessed disaster, consider the lives of those affected. Are there still emergency aid and humanitarian workers on the scene? Is the disaster still front-page news? If so, it’s likely too soon; visiting now could use up valuable resources, put you in danger and obstruct lifesaving efforts as well as taking up emotional space that may be needed for mourning and adaptation.
Locals might be desperate for tourists to return and boost the economy, or they might need to hold on to their limited resources, grieve and adjust to a new reality without having to serve amused and unaffected strangers.
If your motives are money-oriented (i.e., Yay! That country just suffered a hurricane, it’ll be really cheap to travel there now!), do you feel okay about that?
Are you approaching the destination from a place of voyeurism or learning? Are you taking smiley selfies in Auschwitz-Birkenhau?
We must behave respectfully towards those affected by disasters and put their needs and dignity before our wanderlust.
If I couldn’t take any pictures, would I still want to go?
We’ve all heard this one before, so I’ll keep it short. Do it for you. Or do it for others! Even better, do it for you and others! Just be sure to stay in touch with your purpose. Be aware of whom you’re doing it for. Whose story are you telling? Are you writing it, or rewriting it? Why?
Who’s paying for this?
If you’re travelling somewhere in pursuit of cheap booze, readily available drugs or sex-fuelled parties, consider the culture your extended teenagehood might be treading over.
Perhaps it’s not the cost that entices you, but the freedom your privilege provides you with in an underprivileged place. An apparent lack of restrictions can lead us astray. I’ve been there. Sometimes, it’s helpful to ask ourselves, would my behaviour be appropriate (or even legal) in my home country? If not, why? Who is paying the price for my debauchery? Do I feel proud of myself?
The facelessness of a new place can lead us to personal growth or seduce us into transient revelry. Which will you choose?
Who benefits from my visit?
Ethnic tourism, also known as cultural tourism or heritage tourism, involves travel experiences that explore the customs, traditions, arts, history, and lifestyles of specific (often isolated) cultural groups. This kind of tourism can increase awareness of minority cultures, preserve cultural heritage, stimulate struggling economies, facilitate cultural exchange and promote pride among ethnic groups through showcasing traditions and arts. However, the commercialisation and commodification of ethnic culture for tourism can also lead to the exploitation, objectification and disruption of communities and a loss of authenticity.
The challenge lies in balancing tourism development with cultural preservation and respecting the dignity and autonomy of ethnic communities.
Before heading out for a bit of cultural tourism, consider your trip’s beneficiaries.
Can we learn about the culture without interrupting the community’s way of life? Can we support their way of life without intruding on it? Does the community welcome visitors whole heartedly, or have economic struggles pushed them into inviting us? Will our visits contribute to the community’s preservation or its deterioration? How are the profits of our visit distributed? Is it a cultural exchange or a one-way performance?
6. What am I leaving behind?
Leave no trace is a guiding principle for many eco-conscious travellers. It usually refers to our physical trail. To be environmentally less traceable, you might bring a reusable bag, cutlery, and tubs; learn how to say no plastic please in the local language or figure out where you can refill your water bottle (this is also easier on the budget). You might use a menstrual cup and reef-friendly sunscreen (or slip on a shirt and slap on a hat); pick litter (or at least don’t leave it) and choose not to mark trees or stack rocks. And while some tourists may offer better tips for off-trail excursions or wildlife chases, you might make it clear that you prioritise the safety and well-being of the local flora and fauna over getting up-close encounters.
These practices are valuable and worthwhile. But we cannot pretend that our travel leaves no trace, physically nor socially.
Our social media leaves a trace. Insta pics tell stories which can influence public perception of places and people. Furthermore, we might excitedly geotag where we’ve been, inadvertently attracting overtourism or even poachers.
Our use of resources leaves a trace. Are you taking full advantage of the hotel’s free laundry services and washing your towels after every use? Do you leave the lights, heating or aircon on when you leave your room? You might not be footing the bill for these luxuries, but the local environment and economy will.
Our conscientiousness (or lack thereof) leaves a trace. Are you learning about the local issues? Are you leaving the community in further drought by draining their water supply? Have you taken precautions against bushfires, or left hazards behind? Where might the community notice increased demand because of your visit?
Our departure leaves a trace. When you leave, look around. Is everyone else leaving with you? Are you leaving the place to struggle through off-peak seasons? What happens when the party’s over?
Our movement leaves a trace. Movement is energy and that energy is, more often than not, supplied by fossil fuels. How are you getting from A to B?
Our presence has an impact, so let’s make it a good one and leave traces of kind actions and conscious thought.
7. Am I trying my best?
Trust your gut. Listen to the little niggle that tells you something might not be ethical (it’s probably got a point). Be honest with yourself; are you cutting corners? Are you choosing the right path, or the easy one?
Sometimes, we need a habit reset. Check in with yourself and see which of your habits have slipped or could change for the better, and then re-establish them.
Hold yourself accountable. Research. Take responsibility and educate yourself. If you’re feeling low effort, go back to basics and consult the baseline ethical travel lists – learn bits of the local language, go vegan or veggie, offset your airmiles, don’t be a dick...
When you need a moral compass more complex than do and do not, come back to these questions. I hope they help you on your adventures. And who knows, you might find they aren’t as selfless as they seem — the ethical choice is often the challenging one and therefore the rewarding one, and it’s always good to give what you hope to get. Wherever your travels take you, go well and bon voyage!