Abstract
This paper explores activism in tourism amid a global rise in environmental and social protests that increasingly affect tourism destinations and the industry at large. Tourism activism, defined as any tourism-related collective action, possesses unique cultural, political, and social elements. Although academics have examined this phenomenon from diverse perspectives, its conceptual essence and the underlying mechanism remain elusive. A narrative-based theorizing approach is used here to establish a framework clarifying the interplay between tourism and activism. Grounded in social constructivism, we contextualize activism within tourism to illuminate relevant social issues, participation motivations, power dynamics, and their consequences. Our observations challenge dominant narratives surrounding the general notion of activism. This conceptualization process places a novel lens on tourism-related activism and lays a foundation for future research.
Keywords
Introduction
Various titles and headlines in academia and the media capture the vibrant debates surrounding issues in tourism, which lead to different types of activism campaigns: “I will never go to Hong Kong again!” (Luo & Zhai, 2017); “‘I’m not your toy’: rejecting a tourism boycott” (Shepherd, 2021); “Protests in Spain: ‘Tourists, Go Home’” (Huehnken, 2024); and “Protests in Europe Target Mass Tourism With Squirt Guns and Roller Bags” (Castro-Root & Bayer, 2025). These sources reflect tourist responses to travel-related social and political discourse by either taking part in or rejecting it.
Similar to other activism campaigns, tourism activists generally seek to either hurt the “enemy” or to draw attention to their cause. Tourism activists sometimes even sabotage high-profile sites (e.g., landmarks, museums, galleries, mega-events) to meet their aims. For instance, Just Stop Oil protesters in the United Kingdom covered Stonehenge in powder paint in 2024 (Boobyer & Harcombe, 2024); a climate activist in Paris stuck a protest poster on Monet’s “Poppy Field” at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, France in 2024 (The Independent, 2024). These examples illustrate a controversy: activism campaigns, despite often arguing for the greater good, can at times involve tactics that provoke public debate or cross ethical and legal boundaries. The blurred lines between tourism-related activism and other forms also pose challenges to research. Tourism intertwines with consumption, the environment, heritage, and cultural interaction. Therefore, associated activism can have diverse triggers and unintended consequences (Lyons et al., 2012).
Tourism activism demands closer attention due to the large-scale mobility and intercultural interactions, leaving it susceptible to conflict and politicization. It thus serves as fertile ground for solidarity and confrontation (Lyons et al., 2012; Richter, 1983). Tourism’s complexity and socioeconomic importance further complicate scholars’ and practitioners’ understanding of related activism; questions persist about its features, applications, and effects. Digital technologies have enhanced the ease with which activism can be mobilized while extending campaigns’ reach. Although these developments have enabled positive changes, they have intensified polarization, occasionally to the point of collectively harming individuals and societies. As the literature on tourism activism expands, so does the need to critically assess this topic’s coverage.
Activism refers to collective efforts to promote, direct, or intervene in social, political, economic, or environmental reform for a perceived greater good (Tarrow, 1998). Different types of activism (e.g., consumer activism, environmental activism) involve distinct actors, targets, or approaches. In this paper, we consider “tourism activism” as a subtype of activism to be any tourism-related collective action (driven by tourism-affiliated motivations, involving diverse actors, methods, and outcomes) that meant to promote the greater good without intending to oversimplify this concept.
To conceptualize tourism activism, we first synthesize key literature streams and identify three main aspects of tourism activism: 1) its historical and disciplinary foundations; 2) key drivers (i.e., overtourism, identity, and ethics); and 3) debates surrounding power, participation, and greenwashing. By delineating these research lines, we show how typical knowledge of activism manifests in tourism when intertwined with power. We next adopt a narrative-based theorizing approach to identify underlying mechanisms (Cornelissen, 2017).
Then, drawing on social constructivism, we build a tourism activism framework to describe the interplay between activism and tourism (Kindermann et al., 2024). We specifically explore why these campaigns occur, who participates, who is viewed as the “enemy,” how these campaigns are conducted, and what their impacts are. We finally suggest directions for future work.
Existing Research on Tourism Activism
Activism in Tourism Scholarship: Historical and Disciplinary Foundations
Departing from social movements that primarily challenge governments over suppressed civil rights tied to class oppression, tourism activism increasingly centers on emotional and psychological dimensions in supporting modern rights (Botterill, 1991). Tourism activism research began in the 1980s and has been fairly sporadic since. Societal changes have informed authors’ views: technological advances (e.g., faster, more comfortable, and affordable transportation); the rise of grassroots consumers and their expenditure; and the rise of the service economy. Tourism activism has mainly been examined through the lenses of political science (e.g., Richter, 1983; Roehl, 1990), ethical development (e.g., Botterill, 1991; Lea, 1993), and environmental sustainability (e.g., Kousis, 2000). Stakeholders’ value conflicts underpin much of the literature (Gössling et al., 2020). The nonprofit sector’s role in advocating for social changes has also been considered (Botterill, 1991; Hilton, 2007; Kozinets & Handelman, 2004).
Scholars have employed a variety of theories to unpack associated triggers, actors, and processes. For example, Yu et al. (2020) have illuminated how emotions (e.g., animosity) emerge in response to destination-specific campaigns from the perspective of social psychology. Cognitive appraisal theory has been used to evaluate secondary crisis communication on social media and its impact on activists’ momentum (Luo & Zhai, 2017). Framing theory clarifies how tourists become socially mobilized through experiences at sites of memory and trauma, such as Holocaust Museums (Soulard et al., 2023). Cyberfeminism offers a lens into women’s empowerment in cyberspace, such as to overcome travel-related constraints (Kiani et al., 2024). Critical race theory has been leveraged to analyze how power and oppression continue to affect marginalized populations (e.g., Black tourists; Dillette & Benjamin, 2022). The range of theories and frameworks indicates progress in tourism activism research and reveals fluid yet fuzzy disciplinary boundaries. Studies have tended to assume singular perspectives on specific campaign aspects. We argue that a systemic framework is needed to shed light on this subtype of activism and its defining features.
Key Drivers of Tourism Activism: Overtourism, Identity, and Ethics
Table 1 summarizes three major drivers of tourism activism: anti-tourism and anti-overtourism, identity, and ethics based on discourse analysis (Hardy & Maguire, 2016; see Appendix A for sample literature). Tourism activism often arises from concerns over environmental, social, and ethical effects (Botterill, 1991; Lea, 1993). Campaigns have mostly coincided with the explosion of mass tourism in the West since the 1980s. Anti-tourism/overtourism campaigns have sought to raise awareness of tourism’s disruption to local communities and host destinations’ quality of life. They also endeavor to safeguard residents’ rights, counter problematic tourism development practices, and advocate for environmental sustainability (Gössling et al., 2020).
Understanding Key Drivers of Tourism Activism via Discourse Analysis.
Early studies, such as Lea’s (1993) exploration of residents’ resistance to the tourism industry’s expansion in Goa, India, laid the groundwork for understanding how ethical and place-based concerns fuel local activism. These tensions came to a head in 2017 when large-scale anti-tourism protests erupted across Western Europe. These events have sparked a wave of campaigns around residents’ rights, especially since 2019. Strain among players in the tourism ecosystem including visitors, investors (e.g., second-home owners), affiliated businesses (e.g., cruise lines, Airbnb), and locals continues to be a focus of tourism research (Garay et al., 2020; Larsson & Müller, 2019; Paredes-Rodriguez & Spierings, 2020).
Beyond anti-tourism/overtourism, identity politics and cultural values are powerful engines of activism. As social movements shift from class-based struggles to questions of identity, lifestyle, and representation, certain groups (e.g., LGBTQ+, the rising global middle class) have mobilized to request recognition and equitable treatment within the tourism sphere. Geopolitical stress and regional wars can stoke these demands (de Mooij, 2019). Different from locals, who usually wish to protect their living spaces and well-being, tourists seldom engage in activism unless their identities are threatened. In some cases, what begins as a simple consumer rights dispute can escalate into protests tied to cultural or identity-based grievances. For example, Yu et al. (2020) ascribed destination boycotts to tourists’ responses to cultural misunderstandings or perceived insensitivity from tourism providers. Holder et al. (2021) found that tourists often avoid destinations, products, and experiences seen as discriminatory, citing worries such as xenophobia, racism, and other forms of prejudice. Political and religious ideologies catalyze tourism activism as well (Siyamiyan Gorji et al., 2022). Campaigns rooted in political strife and identity-based tensions can easily compromise host–guest relationships (Zhang et al., 2023). In essence, the drivers of tourism activism reflect societal shifts and continue to redefine how tourism is perceived and contested.
Other forces include ethical consumerism and movements such as “voluntary simplicity” in the 1990s. Consumption-based changes have seeped into tourism as ethics, sustainability, and social responsibility have elicited greater attention. The #MeToo movement (Mendes et al., 2018) and Greta Thunberg’s “Fridays for Future” initiative (Berndsen, 2020) spotlighted how social concerns influence consumers’ behavior. These cultural currents have informed tourism campaigns on human rights, animal welfare, and environmental sustainability (Shaheer et al., 2019). Ethically minded travelers may engage in volunteer tourism, alternative tourism, and transformative travel (McGehee & Santos, 2005). All are potential remedies to overtourism (Botterill, 1991) and can alleviate tourism-related inequality (McGehee, 2012).
Contemporary Debates: Power, Participation, and Greenwashing
Tourism activism is increasingly shaped by debates around consumer power, participatory justice, and ethical practices’ authenticity. The values and social groups implicated in these conversations mirror transformations in the political and moral economy of tourism. Such discussions have also contributed to questions about how tourism is developed, governed, and consumed.
Stakeholder power relations are at the heart of tourism activism, as the dominant party often molds campaigns’ intent. Tourists, as consumers, largely hold the power in deciding which destinations to target (Yu et al., 2020). At the same time, capitalistic governance can encourage tourism development that jeopardizes residents’ rights; local activists may then seek to rebalance the dominant powers (Joseph & Kavoori, 2001; Smith et al., 2019).
Campaign engagement also varies. The concept of participatory justice has been particularly influential in studies of Indigenous tourism, community-based tourism, and postcolonial critiques (Tripura et al., 2024). For instance, host communities are frequently sidelined in decision-making processes despite their cultural and natural resources being instrumental to tourism development (Briassoulis, 2011). Activists and academics alike have thus advocated for frameworks that promote genuine participation, local control, and equitable benefit distribution. Yet participatory processes are often constrained by power asymmetries, bureaucratic path dependencies, and the pressures of global capital.
Scholars have additionally pondered whether ethical tourism truly exists. That is, does it represent a genuine break from dominant systems, or does it merely place conventional tourism under a moral veneer for the sake of greenwashing? The commercialization of sustainability raises queries about who defines what is “ethical” and if consumers can meaningfully reshape the tourism industry. Skepticism over performative activism and “greenwashing” persists alongside a boom in “green customers” (Berrone et al., 2017). Contemporary debates increasingly concern what ethical tourism looks like, who benefits from it, who gets to participate, and whether sustainability claims can be substantiated (McGehee et al., 2014). These matters highlight the contested terrain on which tourism activism operates. It is accordingly necessary to describe such activism and its underlying mechanisms in greater depth.
Conceptualizing Tourism Activism
To address the abovementioned knowledge gaps, we conceptualize tourism activism based on where, why, when, with/to whom, and how it occurs as well as the consequences it produces. In doing so, we follow Cornelissen’s (2017) narrative style of theorizing. This approach is well suited to discussing tourism activism, a phenomenon that is dynamic and context-dependent. The narrative form accommodates temporal flow, evolving relationships among actors, and shifting settings. It is therefore appropriate for unpacking the often-contested processes of activism. Pentland (1999) noted that narratives’ sequential structure, focal actors, evaluative stance, and contextual embedding make them ideal vehicles for developing process-based theories. Diverse voices, motivations, and ideological positions intersect in tourism activism. Narrative theorizing respects this complexity without reducing it to linear causality. Moreover, this method’s natural subjectivity is not a limitation but a strength when examining socially entrenched and politically charged phenomena like activism. Rather than being neutral, narrative theorizing embraces a reflexive stance that foregrounds meaning making and lived experience (Rhodes & Brown, 2005). It hence enables a more nuanced sense of tourism activism as encountered, constructed, and contested by actors. Figure 1 depicts a generative mechanism that underpins tourism activism across contexts.
The framework of tourism activism mechanisms.
Where and Why: Principle of Proximity and Interest Rationalization
In conceptualizing tourism activism, we first broach the question of why individuals participate. Two factors interact in this regard. First, tourism’s distinctive characteristics (e.g., shared spaces, lifestyle interactions, population mobility) shape the context in which tourism activism occurs, defining its boundaries. One’s physical, psychological, and social proximity to the roots of a tourism activism campaign inform its mechanisms. Second, activism involves collective action and the pursuit of social change. Activists often position themselves as advocates for moral causes, seeking to protect marginalized or oppressed groups (Kozinets & Handelman, 2004). However, their motivations for engaging in activism may vary based on personal interests and strategic objectives. Essentially, the answers to “where” and “why” elucidate tourism activism: participants’ priorities dictate their likelihood of taking action.
Principle of Proximity
The principle of proximity suggests that people are more inclined to care about or engage with things that are physically, socially, or psychologically close to them. Social psychologists have argued that proximity boosts one’s empathy and willingness to help others. Batson et al. (1981) noted that individuals are more open to aiding those who are physically or emotionally close to them.
Physical proximity refers to spatial rather than “personal” closeness (Mencl & May, 2009). Tourism requires residents and visitors to share physical space (Kim et al., 2021). Local resistance has become a defining feature of anti-tourism and anti-overtourism campaigns, particularly in European destinations such as Spain, Italy, Malta, and France (Gössling et al., 2020). Protests targeting mass tourism and the touristification of cities have been organized in response to an overwhelming influx of visitors. Resident–visitor tensions intensify when crowds disrupt locals’ routines, invade living spaces, and strain urban infrastructure. Tourism activism is prominent in destinations with ineffective tourist management (Smith et al., 2019). Research on residents’ social psychology has identified numerous factors that contribute to frustration, ultimately fueling activism (Lee et al., 2018).
Social proximity involves shared group identities (i.e., a common religion, language, national ideology, or cultural inheritance; Olson, 1971). Tourism normally entails consumption outside one’s everyday environment. Visitors have opportunities to express their identities through leisure activities that affirm their personal or aspirational self-concept (Yang et al., 2021). In short, tourism is highly associated with identity construction. When navigating multicultural and foreign settings, tourists may align themselves (consciously or unconsciously) with a particular group. This identification becomes especially relevant when visiting destinations whose political, cultural, or social backgrounds differ from one’s own. Conflicting ideologies or sociocultural standards can trigger tourism activism (Kozinets & Handelman, 2004). Moreover, perceived threats to national identity can quickly incite boycotts toward destinations accused of discriminating against tourists of a particular nationality (Yu et al., 2020). Social proximity is thus crucial in tourism activism campaigns when tourists identify strongly with activists.
Psychological proximity is based on subjective perceptions of emotional closeness to others (Trope & Liberman, 2010). Individuals who feel psychologically connected to activism campaigns are more likely to feel a personal responsibility to act on behalf of those affected (Ghorbani et al., 2013; Lee et al., 2018). Tourists may readily empathize with others in certain circumstances (e.g., experiencing or witnessing discrimination, such as from Airbnb hosts), which can prompt a sense of shared concern and emotional solidarity. This solidarity fosters emotional connection (e.g., animosity), understanding, and identification with affected groups. A “common cause” might then encourage people to support activism even when they are not directly affected (Joo & Woosnam, 2020; Siyamiyan Gorji et al., 2022). For example, pet lovers may feel psychologically close to animal caretakers and express ingroup solidarity by supporting anti–animal cruelty efforts. Residents of areas facing overtourism are more likely to have emotional solidarity with anti-tourism campaigners: shared experiences of disruption and frustration can engender mutual concern (Woosnam et al., 2009). The following proposition therefore applies.
Interest Rationalization
The principle of proximity is not the lone impetus for tourism activism; it works in tandem with people’s rationality for taking collective action (Czech, 2016), including self-interest, group identity, and moral obligation. Under instrumental rationality, individuals act based on a calculated assessment of costs and benefits to achieve optimal results. This notion has long informed theories of collective action (Olson, 1971). Normative rationality, where people act not because of personal gain or group loyalty but out of moral conviction and a sense of duty to uphold ethical principles, is a similarly important activism motivation.
Individuals driven by
Group identity is another powerful motivator that instrumental reasoning cannot fully explain. According to social identity theory (Tajfel & Turner, 2001), people derive meaning from social-group membership and are inclined to protect those groups’ interests. Social identity informs activism participation: individuals who strongly identify with a particular social group (e.g., in terms of race, gender, religion, culture, or political ideology) are more apt to support activism that speaks to that group’s interests (Mencl & May, 2009). People who agree with a group’s values are prone to mirroring its interests as well (Batson et al., 1981). Taking part in an activism campaign organized by a group with which one identifies helps preserve one’s sense of belonging while potentially yielding group benefits (Hwang et al., 2012). People who engage in “identity-affirming” activism (e.g., for solidarity around clan, race, or national group interests) are not always in close physical proximity; they can come from distant communities (Glickman, 2012). For example, LGBTQ+ tourists worldwide tend to boycott destinations (regardless of location) that do not recognize sexual minorities’ rights (Olson & Park, 2019).
Moral obligations are potent motivators as well, exemplifying normative rationality for people joining tourism activism campaigns. These individuals are often guided by internalized beliefs about justice, equity, and the public good. Tourism is linked to environmental sustainability, social justice, and ethical consumption. The tourism sector regularly encounters moral dilemmas as a result (Kousis, 2000; Silva et al., 2022; Wegerer & Nadegger, 2023). Activists inspired by normative concerns or sociotropic considerations may seek to improve tourism practices or reduce harm, even in the absence of personal stakes. Alison Stancliffe, founder and initial coordinator of the British nongovernmental organization (NGO) Tourism Concern, was motivated by her worries over tourists contributing to economic exploitation in developing regions and sought to reform tourism practices. Relatedly, animal rights activists in Scotland led the Morecambe Dolphin Campaign (1989–1991) to protest the captivity of dolphins; participants advocated for ethical wildlife tourism and promoted alternatives such as wild dolphin watching (Hughes, 2001).
Instrumental and normative rationality are neither mutually exclusive nor static; they evolve in line with pertinent conditions and campaign stages. A tourist may boycott a destination because it conflicts with their values (normative), affects a group with which the person affiliates (identity-based), and could produce a meaningful outcome (instrumental). Understanding how these reasons interact can justify people’s activism engagement. The following proposition is put forth.
Propositions 1 (Proximity) and 2 (Interest Rationalization) reflect triggers of tourism activism but do not function in isolation; activism often emerges from their intersection. Proximity (physical, social, or psychological) can amplify or mitigate how people rationalize their engagement. For example, someone who is geographically distant from a tourism conflict may still feel involved due to shared identity, empathy, or moral reasoning (e.g., Farmaki et al., 2025). Conversely, those in close proximity may disengage if self-interest or an ideological match is lacking (e.g., Shepherd, 2021).
To further describe this proximity–interest dynamic, Table 2 blends spatial, social, and cognitive dimensions of proximity with three modes of rationalization: self-interest, group-based alignment, and sociotropic concern. This perspective captures how motivations can converge, align, and conflict in tourism activism.
Dynamic Interactions Between Principle of Proximity and Interest Rationalization.
Who and Whom: Power Struggle and Dialectical Contradiction
Power is a core theme in activism research. Scholars have reported that activists challenge dominant narratives, ideologies, and power structures when confronting disparities in economic wealth, human resources, competencies, and institutional authority (Dozier & Lauzen, 2000; Stein, 2009). Unequal resource distribution frequently places activists at a disadvantage, particularly in terms of financial capital.
French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu conceptualized society as a social space of continuous tension, where actors compete for resources to advance their interests (Honneth et al., 1986). He repeatedly emphasized power struggles between resource-rich elites and underrepresented groups. This force is also inherent to activism (Friedman, 2011), which is characterized by conflict and a lack of compromise (Stokes & Rubin, 2010). Finding common ground can be unrealistic or even undesirable. The power asymmetry between activists and their targets further reinforces this divide (Mkono, 2018).
Dialectical contradictions inform activism as well. Put simply, seemingly opposing ideas can coexist as truths. As Bourdieu and Accardo (1999) asserted, activism necessitates an acknowledgement of competing perspectives: prevailing discourses are countered by rejecting singular, centralized viewpoints. This process aligns with the argument that identifying stakeholders and choosing adversaries/targets (“enemies”) are primary components of activism.
Although tourism activism stakeholders (e.g., individuals, organizations, governments) resemble those of broader social movements, the tourism industry’s characteristics influence the former group. Tourism activism stakeholders may be consumers; more specifically, they are visitors consuming tourism-related products and services. Businesses involved in tourism activism are principally associated with hospitality, travel, and destination management.
Main questions in tourism activism campaigns include “Who is the bad guy?” and “How can we change the bad guy to a good guy?” (Friedman, 2001). Activists must strategically select adversaries to target; the identity of the “bad guy” is not fixed, reflecting the fluidity of power dynamics within tourism activism. The activist–adversary relationship cannot be uniformly defined, either, because it depends on the sociopolitical and economic conditions under which activism unfolds.
Who: Activists
Activism campaigns aim to facilitate social change, raising fundamental questions: who seeks change? Who benefits from it? Who has the power to enact it? These issues are tied to the proximity–interest dynamic, which helps explain activists’ engagement (Jenkins, 1983). Stakeholders in tourism activism campaigns tend to focus on specific entities with different motivations, capacities, and forms of participation. Their attitudes and behavior toward campaigns also vary contextually depending on their positions (see Table 3 for details).
Dynamics Among Stakeholders in Tourism Activism.
Residents and local citizens have received considerable academic attention. They may come into conflict with other entities: visitors; tourism developers; major industry players (e.g., Airbnb, Booking.com); and governments. Tourism investments, policies, and practices directly affect this group, triggering resistance to overtourism and engagement in grassroots movements against unsustainable tourism. For example, a 2017 citizen-led campaign in Budapest, Hungary, successfully pressured the government to withdraw its Olympic Games bid (Smith et al., 2019).
Tourists, as consumers of tourism products and services, hold economic leverage in activism campaigns. Their purchasing power enables them to act as advocates, particularly in destinations heavily reliant on tourism revenue. They constitute a unique consumer group: tourists depend on destination services while traveling (van Wijk et al., 2013), and their economic influence is highly perishable. A boycott-driven protest, for instance, can inflict short-term economic damage on a destination when tourists cancel bookings and limit spending (Yu et al., 2020).
The tourism supply chain comprises accommodation, transportation, food and beverage, travel agencies, etc. Despite belonging to this key stakeholder group, most small tourism businesses lack the resources to lead activism efforts; their livelihoods depend on both residents and visitors. Larger industry players, such as airlines, have more capacity for activism. Virgin Airlines publicly prohibited the transportation of hunting trophies, supporting an anti-trophy hunting campaign (Mkono, 2018). More modest businesses can find themselves in the crossfire of activism. Nevertheless, their stances on political and ethical issues can affect tourists’ behavior, travel patterns, and campaign momentum (Mkono & Holder, 2019).
Institutions have their own roles in tourism activism: they mobilize resources for tourism development and navigate complex social landscapes. Collective ideologies and political history inform institutions’ activism strategies (Ibrahim, 2011). Governments and nongovernmental organizations routinely exert political pressure on destinations through sanctions supporting tourism activism campaigns, as seen in Myanmar (Henderson, 2003). Another notable example is the trade dispute between Japan and South Korea, which led South Koreans to strongly boycott Japanese products and travel: trip bookings from South Korea to Japan plummeted by up to 70% in 2019 (Statista, 2024).
The interconnected nature of residents, tourists, and livelihood (i.e., throughout the tourism supply chain) largely determines resource mobilization. Resource acquisition guides tourism activism campaigns’ movement and organization (Jenkins, 1983). Targets must be chosen and the campaigns themselves need to be coordinated, with resources being distributed accordingly (McCarthy & Zald, 1977; Tilly, 2019). Tangible assets (e.g., money, communication tools, facilities) and intangible ones (e.g., time, human contributions, political power, legal competence, general labor support) mold campaign development (Freeman, 1978). However, imbalanced resource allocation may prioritize certain groups’ interests over societal welfare, reinforcing power disparities (Olson, 1971). We propose the following.
Whom: Targets
Activism campaigns require adversaries to structure their movements effectively (Kozinets & Handelman, 2004). Organization becomes challenging without a clearly defined opponent or “enemy.” Identifying adversaries serves a strategic purpose, as it helps justify a campaign’s objectives and mobilization efforts (Friedman, 2001). Targets of tourism activism encompass institutional and non-institutional opponents, ranging from individual tourists to nation-states.
Choosing targets for campaigns is complicated due to tourism activism’s entanglement with ruling elites, such as large corporations, influential policymakers, and governments (Boutilier, 2017). As mentioned, resource availability greatly determines targets (Jenkins, 1983). When direct action against an institution or group is impractical, activists may instead choose symbolic or easily accessible targets (e.g., destinations, famous landmarks, artwork) to represent their cause (Yu et al., 2020).
To challenge or negotiate with opponents, activists tend to select destinations that deeply depend on tourism. Common tactics include boycotts or sanctions. Tourism sometimes serves as a scapegoat for broader social issues, such as anti-tourism or overtourism movements. In other words, tourism’s consequences are highlighted instead of underlying governance failures, financial mismanagement, or unchecked real estate speculation (Smith et al., 2019). Activists may also target tourist attractions, landmarks, or artwork to gain media visibility and public recognition of perceived injustices (Friedman, 1991). However, various stakeholders within the tourism industry (e.g., hospitality workers, service providers, local businesses) can be victimized collaterally. Those stakeholders may face economic repercussions despite not being direct adversaries.
Once tourism activism campaigns have established objectives and anticipated outcomes, identifying a target becomes more straightforward. Non-institutional entities, such as tourist groups and private companies (e.g., Airbnb), are largely targeted because doing so brings quick and visible collective benefits. In the case of Queensland, Australia, communities protesting coal seam gas mining mobilized both locals and visitors to promote sustainable tourism initiatives (Hales & Larkin, 2018).
Overall, though, institutions remain the most prominent targets. They are expected to address societal concerns through policy reforms, thereby legitimizing the changes that activists seek (Amenta & Young, 1999). For example, the killing of Cecil the lion and his cub, Xanda, triggered an international backlash against Zimbabwe for allowing trophy hunting and conveyed resistance to institutional governance. Calls to establish larger “no-hunting zones” around national parks were intended to prevent similar incidents (Mkono & Holder, 2019).
Different from consumer activism, where participants believe their actions directly influence corporate policies and market practices, tourism activism campaigns operate within a more complex dialectical dynamic. Stakeholders can simultaneously be both activists and targets. For instance, anti-tourism protesters in a destination may call for tourists to “go home”; in response, tourists might boycott the destination altogether. We suggest the following.
When: Kairos
Resource mobilization is paramount to social movements. Coordination costs, such as reaching a consensus on shared interests, pose difficulties for large groups. Collective action may or may not materialize in such instances. Unlike nongovernmental organization-led activism, which is well established and mostly systematically organized, tourism activism campaigns typically emerge from crises or turning points. The advent of the Internet, social media, and smartphones has greatly reduced resource mobilization costs (Millward & Takhar, 2019). People with similar interests can now identify one another, set up meetings, and organize large-scale events with relative ease. Online platforms thus provide a global stage that amplifies negative events and transforms them into large-scale campaigns (Morris, 2000).
In activism studies, the point when conditions align for action, change, or opportunity is known as a “kairos moment” (Smith, 1969). “Kairos” refers to an opportune time for speech or action—a temporal opening in which persuasion can be most effective. Emotionally resonant conditions heighten its potency in cases of activism (Bradford & Sherry, 2023). Emotional triggers do not simply accompany a moment of opportunity; they often construct that moment by reinforcing urgency, legitimacy, and identification (Jasper, 1998). In this sense, kairos is more than a strategic window: it is a felt moment that catalyzes a shift from passive concern to active engagement.
In contemporary activism, kairos often unfolds digitally through hashtags, livestreams, or viral media that function as affective instruments (Bettis et al., 2021). Emotions such as collective grief (e.g., climate change), pride (e.g., Indigenous tourism resurgence), or fear (e.g., overtourism threats) are shared across platforms, as are moral shocks (e.g., viral images of animal cruelty). These sites enable the real-time creation of kairotic affect, wherein people experience emotional simultaneity and act in synchrony. Researchers have explored how such affect can reach a tipping point that transforms debates into organized activism and protests (Luo & Zhai, 2017; Zhai et al., 2019). In tourism activism, these triggers might include footage of displaced communities during mega-events (e.g., the Yulin Dog festival; Shaheer et al., 2023) or discriminatory practices at tourist facilities (e.g., at Shanghai Disney; Su et al., 2022). When such information circulates widely and strikes a moral chord, it leaves room for collective action, particularly when feelings are intense (Luo & Zhai, 2017; Mkono & Holder, 2019).
Echoing McAdam’s (1982) acknowledgement that grievance alone is not sufficient for mobilization, a combination of emotional arousal and perceived efficacy is usually considered the last step in translating latent discontent into action (Goodwin et al., 2001). Animosity (Yu et al., 2020), shame, perceived betrayal (Su et al., 2024), moral outrage (Zhai et al., 2019), and frustrations over overtourism (Gössling et al., 2020) can convert spectators into participants, especially when accompanied by images of injustice, exclusion, or exploitation. Notably, these reactions are not confined to individuals; They are social in that responses are shared and amplified through emotional contagion. That is, emotions transfer from person to person, namely via digital platforms (Zhai et al., 2019). Algorithmic amplification then rapidly scales to transmute personal sentiment into collective affect.
Activism can involve a rationalization process. Emotions, which may be seen as irrational, intertwine with people’s cognitive beliefs and moral values (Watson & Tellegen, 1985). Feelings help ignite participation and engender sustained activism (Chesters & Welsh, 2010). However, emotions that are immediate responses (e.g., based on an event’s personal significance) are not merely internal (Fredrickson, 2001); they are socially constructed and reinforced through interaction, readily intensifying collective efforts (Burkitt, 2005). When emotions are stimulated during a kairos moment, they infuse it with normative stress, pushing individuals beyond sympathy toward an ethical responsibility to intervene (Holder et al., 2021). Given these observations, we propose the following.
How: Constructive vs. Confrontational Approaches
Activism’s success depends on action and has long relied on resistance strategies. Demonstrations typify grassroots movements that challenge elites and authorities (Botterill, 1991). Consumer activism is based on buying decisions and purchasing power; it can involve boycotts, buycotts, or corporate-targeted protests (Seyfi et al., 2023). Tourism activism is distinct from other types in its mobility, geographical scope, and stakeholder diversity. Related campaigns frequently extend beyond local boundaries.
Whereas many traditional social movements gain momentum through sheer numbers, tourism activism campaigns usually involve confrontational groups holding similar power (e.g., residents vs. tourists or local businesses vs. multinational tourism corporations). These intricacies give way to a pair of broad approaches: constructive and confrontational. The two modes have unique strategic orientations, goals, and methods (Table 4). The confrontational approach adopts the traditional adversary’s stance, using disruption or public pressure to challenge perceived injustices or harmful tourism practices. The constructive approach seeks social changes through collaboration, engagement, and capacity building, often working within existing systems to propose solutions. Both approaches may be applied at different stages or blended to achieve activism aims.
Constructive and Confrontational Tourism Activism Approaches.
The confrontational approach in tourism activism mirrors common resistance tactics through direct public challenges to tourism systems and practices. Methods include protests, boycotts, civil disobedience, and even collective violence. These strategies are intended to create instant pressure and to bring attention to urgent issues by disrupting normal operations or highlighting grievances (Friedman, 1991). For example, small businesses in London removed physical barriers from their neighborhoods during the London Olympics to encourage local spending; some business owners threatened to handcuff themselves to the barriers for media attention (Duignan et al., 2019). Barcelona anti-tourism protesters fired water pistols at visitors in the streets (Guy, 2024). Outbound tourists have organized boycotts against destinations as a form of economic punishment (Yu et al., 2020). In addition, governments experiencing geopolitical tensions have used tourism sanctions to retaliate against opposing nations/regions, leveraging tourist flows as a political tool (Seyfi et al., 2022). Some activists may also engage in protest tourism by traveling to places for political demonstrations (Monterrubio, 2017). In such cases, landmarks, attractions, and destinations often become symbolic targets, serving as intermediaries for broader social and political messages.
By contrast, the constructive approach intends to promote positive social change through collaboration, education, and long-term solutions. These techniques prioritize cooperation over rivalry and include donations, lobbying, petitions, and sustainable tourism practices. For instance, online petitions were used to raise public awareness and garner support against the Copenhagen Zoo’s decision to euthanize a giraffe named Marius (Mkono & Holder, 2019). Alternative tourism, volunteer tourism, regenerative tourism, and transformative tourism also stress moral travel choices as a means of effecting social change (Gard McGehee, 2002; McGehee & Santos, 2005; McGehee, 2012; McGehee et al., 2014). During volunteer tourism, participants engage in social and environmental projects such as assisting Indigenous communities (McGehee et al., 2014). Ethical consumerism in tourism advocates for animal protection (Lovelock, 2008; Shaheer et al., 2023). Constructive approaches try to find a middle ground among activists, targets, and other stakeholders. Solutions can therefore balance economic sustainability, ethical tourism, and local interests. Yet the actual benefits of these methods remain to be seen: their long-term effectiveness in improving social, environmental, and economic conditions is debatable. The constructive approach continues to be plagued by growing suspicions of “greenwashing” as well.
Whereas constructive approaches are more socially acceptable and associated with fewer adverse effects, confrontational approaches (e.g., civil disobedience) usually attract greater public attention. They also carry the potential for arrests, backlash, or unintended repercussions. In extreme cases, activists may resort to misinformation or violence to achieve their goals, which can ultimately damage their cause and provoke further opposition. These insights lead us to propose the following.
What: Magnitude of Consequences
The magnitude of consequences refers to the scale of impact resulting from an action, decision, or event, whether positive or negative (Mencl & May, 2009). This concept is crucial in activism because it helps activists assess the possible outcomes of their strategies, resource allocation, and campaign outcomes (Mencl & May, 2009). Activists often allocate campaign resources based on consequences’ perceived severity and reach (Olson, 1971). In short, participants evaluate whether their actions will have far-reaching effects that influence millions or immediate, intense effects on a smaller population.
Activists have varied incentives and adhere to different ethical frameworks. Ethics research has classified decision-making approaches under utilitarianism (teleology) and principle-based reasoning (deontology; Ferrell et al., 1989). People making ethical choices tend to reflect on their responsibility toward others (Fraedrich & Ferrell, 1992). As a component of teleology, utilitarianism suggests that actions should be appraised based on their consequences, aiming to maximize collective benefit and minimize harm. Principle-based evaluation, grounded in deontological ethics, assesses actions based on their moral alignment with established principles regardless of outcomes (Mencl & May, 2009). Utilitarian-driven campaigns mainly focus on immediate, short-term effects, whereas principle-based activism aims for long-term and systemic change (Table 5).
Matrix of Consequences.
Depending on the nature of tourism activism, utilitarianism-driven campaigns can bring people together to swiftly realize tangible gains for group members with shared interests. This type of collective action can occur even if a single member bears the costs as long as the advantages outweigh that person’s contributions (Czech, 2016; Olson, 1971). A few dedicated individuals who feel that the benefits of their actions supersede costs can effectively advocate for the rights of residents and visitors. Community-based collective action in Jeju Island, South Korea, illuminated the dynamic relationship between residents and tourism; benefits were mutually attainable for the community and long-term tourism development (Hwang et al., 2012). Utilitarianism-oriented outcomes are also reflected in agreements between campaigners and targets. A campaign adversary may make temporary concessions to address a call for change (e.g., by providing short-term privileges via policy and regulatory updates). Yet these sorts of outcomes risk spotlighting the interests of the loudest and most powerful groups (Boutilier, 2017). For example, Booking.com and similar platforms dominate today’s accommodation market and detract from local, non-profit booking systems’ income. This prevalence affects rural accommodation providers and local organizations that offer support, training, and destination marketing (Gössling & Lane, 2015).
From a long-term view, tourism activism participants may seek new collective identities that have long been fought for. Black tourists, for instance, have taken on the collective label of the “Black Travel Movement.” They hope to leverage activism and community mobilization to challenge inhospitable touristic environments for Blacks and people of color when traveling (Dillette & Benjamin, 2022). By solidifying their group values and cultural significance, they expect to see greater social acceptance of their cause, perspectives, and the changes for which they are advocating within and beyond tourism. In a similar vein, “low-budget” alternative tourism is a form of justice tourism, which reflects sociocultural resistance from grassroots travelers seeking structural justice in status-led tourism. It counters the financial inequalities embedded in tourism consumption and aims to rectify justice-related concerns in the tourism industry (Yang, 2023).
Principle-based tourism activism campaigns maintain cohesion and a joint sense of purpose across contexts (Kinder & Kiewiet, 1981). Conflicting values can make the moral evaluation process difficult (e.g., Douglas, 2014). Social norms inform what is considered ethically permissible, with standards only being fully understood within specific cultural settings. Tourism involves visiting places distinct from one’s own. As mentioned, Western animal protectionists deemed the killing of Cecil the lion an act of animal cruelty. Other groups consider trophy hunting to be economically advantageous, and local communities may perceive lions as safety threats (Mkono & Holder, 2019). Principle-based tourism activism campaigns are meant to stoke ethical debates that have broader societal implications.
Finally, committing to longer-term impacts calls for dedication from all stakeholders. Continuous resource investment is required to promote sustainable tourism outside conventional experiences (Silva et al., 2022). Systemic transformations are needed to navigate social and sustainability barriers, as are political and legal efforts (e.g., structural reforms or updated ideologies). These developments affect mainstream institutions’ practices, especially when social norms and policies are revised to align with environmental sustainability, cultural preservation, and ethical tourism (Sen et al., 2001).
Therefore, we argue that effects’ magnitude and consequentialism collectively determine whether people join tourism activism campaigns, what participants do, and how long they remain engaged. Pursuing sweeping, unrealistic societal goals can lead participants to have few defined personal incentives, resulting in bystanders and issues such as “free riding” (Jenkins, 1983). The same problem can arise as group sizes expand: impacts become questionable as the provision of collective benefits becomes less efficient. These conditions diminish individual rewards and discourage activity (Olson, 1971). Utilitarian-minded people in large groups may have limited reasons for contributing to joint efforts due to anticipated high costs and relatively minimal personal gains (Czech, 2016). We therefore suggest the following.
Discussion and Conclusion
Amid a rise in activism campaigns and corresponding research, tourism activism remains underexplored given its linkages among tourism and other social, economic, and political spheres. We have conceptualized this phenomenon and will now recommend avenues for future inquiry based on social constructivism (Table 6).
Tourism Activism Conceptualization.
First, studies should untangle how two key drivers, i.e. interest rationalization (“Why should I care?”) and stakeholder proximity (“How close am I to the epicenter of the place or people affected?”), interact to shape tourism activism campaigns. These forces rarely work in isolation. Their interplay can even pull activists in opposite directions, creating internal dilemmas (Boutilier, 2017). Personal ties to a destination, cultural or sub-cultural identity, past travel experiences, and value alignment all contribute to the way participants justify their decisions: whether to travel, how to travel, and which causes to champion. Some people seek to maximize self-interest; others are inspired by social cooperation and altruism. Individuals have diverse motivations and pursue different kinds of collective benefits, most of which are intangible or difficult to measure (Zhang et al., 2023). Therefore, to move the field forward, we recommend that researchers typologize clusters of personal and collective motives behind tourism activism, identify incentives that make collective gains seem worthwhile, and probe how cultural frames shape activists’ actions. Clarifying these matters will indicate when tourism activism gains traction and when it stalls, offering a practical roadmap for converting individual concern into collective change.
Second, across-border mobility in tourism can turn activism into a double-edged sword and magnifies existing power gaps. Large numbers of visitors often spur political, religious, or cultural incidents that pit one group’s interest against another’s (Higgins-Desbiolles et al., 2019). When activists press for change, the targets they choose and the tactics they deploy may unintentionally hurt marginalize stakeholders who have the weakest voice and the most to lose (Duignan et al., 2019). Many frontline tourism businesses are small or micro-enterprises, serving as the sole income source for families in developing countries. An aggressive tourism boycott or social media storm can bring collateral damage to vulnerable members of the tourism ecosystem (Lovelock, 2008; Mkono & Holder, 2019). Power imbalances can also silence these stakeholders, leaving their perspectives out of public debate. To contextualize this two-sided effect, scholars should examine how multiple facets shape the initiation, evolution, and outcomes of tourism activism campaigns, particularly under conditions of power asymmetry. Topics to consider include resource allocation (who controls capital and information); power structures (formal authority vs. informal influence); institutional settings (laws, certification schemes, labor protections); and social norms (inclusive and equality expectations about gender, class, sexual orientation, and/or ethnicity).
Third, collective action requires selecting “the opposition,” but identifying that entity poses challenges. A campaign’s main antagonist can flip as stakeholders’ motives and priorities evolve. Focal actors may move from government agencies to global tour operators and even to tourists themselves, creating fragmentation and conflicting targets (O’Regan & Choe, 2023; Smith et al., 2019; Wegerer & Nadegger, 2023). Social, economic, and ethical tensions make these shifts even more volatile. Collective action can be halted if alliances splinter (Henderson, 2003). The fluidity of actors’ adversarial relationships in tourism activism suggests that authors should contemplate the following: resource configuration (who controls resources; how resource flows reshape the “enemy”); stakeholder realignments (when allies become adversaries and vice-versa as interests diverge); and dialectical power dynamics (how activists and targets swap roles across contexts, thus revealing power as relational rather than static).
Fourth, tourism activism tactics span a spectrum from dialogue to sabotage. The balance is now tilting toward the latter: recent cases of activists vandalizing iconic sites signal a turn to highly visible “shock” tactics. Such actions grab headlines but can irreversibly harm heritage assets, public safety, and community livelihoods. They often provoke backlash that discourages moderate supporters. Weaponizing the tourism economy to punish targets may thus cause broader societal damage (Yu et al., 2020). Paradoxically, crippling the tourism economy erodes the host–guest relationship that nurtures mutual understanding and reform (Moscardo, 2011). We encourage scholars to consider pros and cons of confrontational and constructive approaches and to compare outcomes. Given the presently thin literature on constructive methods, we recommend that more attention be paid to designing principles for constructive strategies (e.g., heritage co-management, educational campaigns on climate change) and tracing diffusion paths (i.e., to capture how constructive approaches can scale across destinations without losing local relevance). Advocating for constructive methods will ensure that tourism activism is a bridge rather than a battleground.
Fifth, tourism activism campaigns usually operate on a grander scale than consumer activism and can have more profound socioeconomic effects (Shaheer et al., 2018). Campaigns reach multiple stakeholders, touching whole communities, small firms, global brands, and government agencies at once. The outcomes affect individuals, groups, and society at several time points (immediate, short-term, and long-term) and across several domains (e.g., institutional structures, policies, local economies, cultural meanings, visitor behavior). Contradictory goals, complicated stakeholder dynamics, and fast-moving events make consequences hard to track. We thus suggest that practitioners create documentation and an impact measurement matrix to evaluate outcomes based on (a) time horizons (e.g., from immediate shocks to short-term adjustments and long-term structural change); (b) scale (e.g., from individuals to households, communities, businesses, and national or global systems); and (c) net effects (e.g., collective benefits vs. collective harms). Documenting outcomes along these three axes will let activists, businesses, and policymakers see where a campaign helps, where it hurts, and where course correction is needed. Good intentions should then translate into balanced results.
Finally, the digital platforms that function as “working utopias” where activists can gain emotional energy and commit to a movement’s goals (Crossley, 1999, p. 823) may simultaneously encourage division. Online sites provide robust social networks for activists’ pursuits but can breed conflict. Crises, online harassment, and animosity naturally follow. Advances in artificial intelligence and algorithm-driven content curation promulgate misinformation; people or entities might then be targeted without clear justification (Rainie & Wellman, 2012; Tufekci, 2017). When polarizing content drowns out dialogue, activism risks deepening social rifts instead of forging change. Researchers should explore the role of digital technology, particularly artificial intelligence, in tourism activism (e.g., based on social media algorithms, how bots shape activism, and the ethics of artificial intelligence for activism).
In conclusion, understanding tourism activism’s mechanics offers a roadmap for various stakeholders. For tourism businesses, recognizing the dual motives of stakeholder proximity and interest rationalization clarifies why some tourists or residents become vocal advocates or critics. Understanding these parties’ motives will enable firms to offer co-created, socially responsible tourism products. Policymakers and destination management organizations can translate these motives into inclusive governance frameworks that include campaign impact assessments, participatory budgeting, and platform mediation to absorb activist pressure before conflict escalates. Campaign organizers will gain leverage by mapping power asymmetries and using impact matrices to monitor whether campaigns deliver promised benefits across immediate, short-, and long-term horizons. Meanwhile, activists and nongovernmental organizations can temper confrontational tactics with collaborative “laddered” strategies that minimize collateral damage to vulnerable actors in the tourism ecosystem. These players can also harness digital platforms for transparent storytelling and to counter misinformation. Our conceptualization process has provided insights into tourism activism and potential ethical interventions. To summarize, this type of activism is conducive to more equitable, resilient, and ethical tourism governance as well as sustainable travel.
Footnotes
Appendix
Sample Literature.
| Dimension | Theme | Examples | Source |
|---|---|---|---|
| Anti-tourism/ overtourism | Residents’ resistance | Residents of Barcelona, Spain, as challengers, perceived a threat from mass tourism. They protested and engaged in strategically dynamic activism to advance their interests. | (Paredes-Rodriguez & Spierings, 2020) |
| Tourism project development resistance | Ski tourism development faces social resistance from the community due to competition for water, ecosystem needs, agricultural protection, and fire management. The ski industry and other stakeholders have experienced conflict over climate within the Australian Alps. | (Morrison & Pickering, 2013) | |
| Identities | Political | International activists advocated politically via tourism by staging the Palestinian village of Bil’in (i.e., political tourism). The ‘touristification’ of a conflict zone illuminated tourists’ roles in political struggles, showing how this village developed from the site of a political dispute into an international symbol of resistance. | (Belhassen et al., 2014) |
| Religious | The belief in freedom of religion is closely linked to people’s boycott intentions. Tourists’ perceived violations of religious freedom laws in the United States influence their decision to boycott a destination. Boycott decisions are driven by tourists’ views of the severity of these violations and the intrinsic motivation of self-enhancement gained from supporting the LGBT movement. | (Olson & Park, 2019) | |
| Cultural | Indigenous tourism can be seen as a form of responsible ‘cultural fine-tuning’ of Indigenous identities within a global context, as illustrated by the Guna communities of Panama in Latin America. Rather than seeing tourism as a threat to Indigenous cultures, it can bring opportunities for community empowerment and development by enhancing Indigenous groups’ resilience, adaptability, and cultural capital. | (Pereiro, 2016) | |
| Economic | Qiongyou, a style of low-budget, alternative tourism in China, is a type of justice tourism. It embodies grassroots travelers’ collective sociocultural resistance against structural injustice within tourism, especially during financial crises. This form of tourism provides economically disadvantaged individuals with chances to participate through alternative travel practices and discursive strategies that rectify justice-related issues. | (Yang, 2023) | |
| Social groups | Black travelers constitute the Black Travel Movement. Discrimination, bias, racism, and inequities continue to create inhospitable touristic experiences and landscapes for Blacks and People of Color. Social identity conflicts in tourism call for self-efficacy, consciousness raising, and community activation through activism and community mobilization based on social movements and critical race theory. | (Dillette & Benjamin, 2022) | |
| Subcultural groups | Fan culture is often associated with mega-events, which may become the target of boycotts. Driven by a desire to keep these events free from contested politics, fans rejected calls to boycott the 2019 Eurovision Song Contest in Tel Aviv, Israel, under the direction of a Palestinian activist group. Fans, who were also tourists, found this boycott unnecessary. Subcultural groups (e.g., fans of mega-events) can use tourism as a platform for social movements. | (Shepherd, 2021) | |
| Ethics | Sustainable consumption | Regenerative tourism represents an alternative to traditional tourism’s unsustainable growth model. It emphasizes improving destinations by giving back to communities economically, socially, and culturally while enhancing local environmental practices. This approach fosters deeper place-based connections for visitors and residents. Regenerative tourism also aims to improve the quality of life—both human and nonhuman—for future generations by integrating Indigenous perspectives. | (Pung et al., 2024) |
| Alternative tourism | Engaging in alternative tourism, such as volunteering in an Earthwatch expedition, increases self-efficacy and helps participants expand their interpersonal networks. These opportunities can inform volunteers’ participation in social movements. The networks built during alternative tourism positively influence related activities. | (McGehee, 2002) | |
| Volunteer tourism | Theories of social movements have been used to explore changes in networks and consciousness raising among participants in volunteer tourism. This type of tourism can positively affect intended post-trip social movement activities and support for activism. | (McGehee & Santos, 2005) | |
| Transformative tourism | Transformative travel is a sustainable approach that encourages people to immerse themselves in destinations, face challenges, engage in introspection, and confront their own biases. This process forges more inclusive worldviews that respect others’ customs and beliefs. One outcome of transformative travel is external activism, where travelers perceive a shift in their personal role in supporting societal change (e.g., becoming an activist). | (Soulard & McGehee, 2023) | |
| Animal well-being | Animal ethics represent a critical issue in tourism. Not-for-profit animal rescue organizations (e.g., Animal Aid Unlimited) facilitate tourist–animal interaction through volunteer tourism, inviting visitors to take part in rescuing domesticated street animals, raising awareness, and encouraging involvement with animal welfare and rights. By promoting niche forms of ethical interaction, these efforts value animal rights ethics via animal-based tourism. | (Blaer, 2024) | |
| Human rights | The ethics of promoting destinations with known human rights issues are debatable, particularly according to the moral intensity framework. Agents’ judgments of these issues can influence their clients’ choices and profoundly affect destination communities. Strong social, cultural, legal, and economic ties between agents and other stakeholders often lead to ethical decisions that prioritize these relationships instead of addressing destinations’ human rights concerns in earnest. | (Lovelock, 2008) | |
| Environmental protection | Amidst growing concerns about the climate emergency, feeling ashamed of flying (flygskam) has reflected how people express relevant emotions. The no-fly movement may challenge the need for physical mobility; however, people have indicated support for more sustainable travel options and offered suggestions for alternatives. It remains uncertain whether the language and behavior observed online translate into real-world actions. | (Becken et al., 2021) |
Acknowledgements
The author(s) acknowledged that the manuscript had been professionally copy edited by Taryn Aldrich (Professional Editor & Writing Consultant).
Correction (December 2025):
Article type updated to read as Tourism Foundations Conceptual Articles, instead of Empirical Research Article.
Ethics Approval
This article does not contain any studies with human or animal participants.
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Author Contributions
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.