Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
OOO), 91-116
Consuming Danger:
Reimagining the War/Tourism Divide
Debbie Lisle*
The most uncanny moment in the recent film Saving Private Ryan
is not in the much-talked-about battle scenes, nor is it in the moral
disagreements between the soldiers sent to rescue Ryan. Rather, it
is a quiet moment amid the violence, a solitary action that is never
explained or referred to. Toward the end of the chaotic D-Day
landing, Sergeant Horvath (played by Tom Sizemore) does some-
thing unusual as his fellow soldiers struggle to cope with the sur-
rounding carnage. He opens his rucksack, takes out a small metal
container labeled “France,” and fills it with the soil beneath his
feet. He then places it back in his rucksack beside identical con-
tainers labeled “Italy” and “Africa.” There is an almost self-con-
scious element in his actions-his eyes dart, he is hunched over-
as if he doesn’t want the other soldiers to share iil‘ this private act
of collection, What could this curious gathering and labeling of
dirt in a war zone possibly mean? Surely a relationship between
blood and soil is suggested, not so much in terms of national her-
itage, but rather in terms of shedding blood for the acquisition of
strategic territory. Are the other containers in Sergeant Horvath’s
rucksack empty or full? What will he do with these souvenirs if and
when he returns home to the United States? Is h e there to win the
war for freedom or to travel overseas and experience foreign cul-
tures? The last statement seems a ludicrous and even offensive sug-
gestion, but it is one this article aims to address.
War and tourism are strange bedfellows. It is not easy to see
how violence and human atrocity are connected to the leisure
practices of foreign holidays. *Indeed,,itwould be more appropriate
to suggest that,the,two events are rigorously.separated, that mod-
ern tourism explicitly avoids areas of violence in .order to provide
the safest possible vacation spots for tourists. One can imagine a
91
peaceful vacation in Hawaii, but Sierra Leone? or Kosovo? While
contemporary warfare does not enter the spatial remit of modern
tourism, the commemoration of historical battles in the form of
war memorials, military museums, and’battle reenactments makes
up a large part of contemporary tourist practice. Therefore, the
separation of war and tourism can be understood in the following
way: if war is located “elsewhere,” tourism can ensure the safety of
its consumers, and if war happened “back then,” tourism emerges
as the principal mechanism by which subjects can access and com-
memorate already resolved conflicts.
This article argues that the separation of war and tourism is re-
peatedly held in place by an overarching discourse of global secu-
rity that allows subjects to locate and understand prevailing images
of safety and danger. More specifically, it argues that the safety/
danger opposition at the heart of global security shapes the prac-
tices of modern tourism. Continually locating places where the
world is under threat-from states, areas, and regions to cities and
neighborhoods-produces a powerful discursive map that not only
instructs global powers to intervene in these “hot spots,” it also in-
structs tourists to choose holiday destinations that meet their secu-
rity requirements. That cartography has an important history: only
“safe” places that have achieved a certain level of “peace and sta-
bility” can guarantee the continuation of modern tourism in an en-
vironment unimpeded by the disruption of war. But achieving that
kind of lasting liberal peace takes time. While safe places are cer-
tainly safe now, it is only because they have already gone through
the’necessary historical stages of struggle and war-events that
tourists are now able to commemorate.
When the war/tourism relationship is understood through a
prevailing discourse of global security, these two events are sepa-
rated in both space and time. In order to rework that understand-
ing of global security, this article argues that far from achieving a
separation, the safety/danger opposition of global security actually
connects war and tourism in powerful ways. Think of how tourists
make decisions about where to go on holiday-one goes to Paris,
not Pristina. In this way, the same discourse of global security that
shapes foreign policy also governs the more mundane activities of
tourists. But the reverse is also the case: because tourist revenues
are crucial to national economies, and political7instability scares off
tourists, governments are keen to promote the safety of their coun-
try in order to secure the flow of tourist dollars.
To the extent that nations promote themselves as secure spaces
in order to lure the profitable tourist industry, it can be said that
tourism shapes the discourse of global security. The mutual regu-
lations between war and tourism are politically interesting because
Debbie Lisle 93
Initial Attachments
-?,
WUYCauses Tourisin, Tourism Catis& Peace
While an antithetical ‘relationship between war and tourisin Seems
obvious today, it is important to recall that these ‘two phenomena
were actually forged together in the aftermath ofworld War ‘11.
“Postwar” tourism i’efers to :the leisure practices that ‘emerged 011
an unprecedented scale after 1945. To explain the rapid change
and expansion of global mobility, World War H’is often seen as the
primary causal agent in the creation of k o d e r n mass tourisin. ‘As
Valene Smith explains, “the technological innovations ’ which
helped to win that war also spawned peace-time airborne interna-
tional tourism and the awareness that freedom to-travel is.a human
right. ”l Built into the causal relationship. between war and tourism
is an enduring normative impulse that resonates in the’prevailing.
discourse of global security. In reaction to the horrors of Woi-Id
War I1 (especially the nuclear bombs), mass tourism was promoted
as the means to greater global understanding, the reduction of
conflict, and the crea~on.ofa lasting,world
. _. I.peace. By visiting other
places and cultures, people could ,“see for ‘themselves” that what
unites us as human beings is mucli, stronger,than,.what divides us.
This belief emerges most explicitly when tourism, “the world’s new
peace industry,” promotes ‘the “global village” as the’u1timate:des:
tination for l’iberal-minded tourists: , . ,.
, .. ’
94 Coilsitmirig Danger
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Lest the tourists get too gloomy with the reminders of what war
is really like (this particular battle resulted in mass hangings, shoot-
ings, the deportation of citizens, and the sacking of the village),
they must also be promised the consumptive perks of modern
tourism. In this way, the trauma of war is continually kept at a dis-
tance €rom the tourist through conveniently timed opportunities
for leisure and consumerism (touring a vineyard and purchasing
porcelain).
While both danger and leisure are given free rein in Limoges,
more recent conflicts illustrate how the onset of violence eclipses
the desire for the extraordinary and the provision of leisure. In
other words, the vanishing tourist gaze is one of the first signs of
geopolitical instability. For example, important tourist revenues
from the Dalmatian coast disappeared when war broke out in the
former Yugoslavia: understandably, tourists were more concerned
about their safety than they were about having a sunny holiday on
the Adriatic. But the process of sanitation became explicit only
after the conflicts were over and Croatia attempted to win back the
tourist gaze.
For cities like Dubrovnik that rely on tourism for economic sur-
vival, the effects of the war are still continuing-they must now
come up with the resources and marketing strategies to combat the
100 Coiisiriniiig Dariger
images of warfare that tourists still associate with Croatia and more
recently with neighboring Kosovo.14 In response, the Croatian
Tourist Board developed a campaign to promote a “peaceful” hol-
iday resort where tourists can access history, relax in nature, and
not worry about the political situation in the Balkans. The postcard
advertisement shown in Figure 1, published in early 1998, expresses
this strategy.ls Suggesting that the “architectural jewel” of ancient
Dubrovnik is “completely undisturbed” sanitizes what was recently a
strategic site in the Bosnian conflict. Advertisements such as these
encourage tourists to actively forget the massive shelling of
Dubrovnik that occurred during the winter of 1991-92.16
A much more repetitive version of sanitation is occurring in
Northern Ireland. One of the early strategies for luring the tourist
gaze to Belfast was to pretend “the troubles” in Northern Ireland
never occurred. The promotion of tourism therefore focused on
the rural idyll of the Irish countryside, the friendly, “muddled” and
“talkative”qualities of the Irish people, and the serenity of an “un-
sophisticated” but “magic” landscape.17 Images of leisure and
recreation in a rural setting emerge as antidotes to media images
and news reports of a wartorn Belfast. Aimed especially at British
tourists, this “rural” image of Northern Ireland was promoted as a
perfect weekend getaway (see Figure 2).18
However, when those peaceful images of leisure still failed to
attract visitors, the Northern Ireland Tourist Board developed an-
other strategy. While tacitly recognizing “the troubles,” the NITB
sought to reassure tourists that Northern Ireland is “not as bad as
people think.” Guidebooks and promotions suggested that the
public’s violent images were the result of an overzealous media:
‘‘Most people, dependent on the media for their information, see
Northern Ireland as a community in turmoil-wracked by violence,
bitterly divided, socially regressive. That perception is wrong.”lg To
combat this image, two different explanations were offered: Belfast
is not as dangerous as other tourist destinations (especially US
cities), and “the troubles” are contained in very specific areas
(Western Belfast,, Londonderry, the Falls Road, and the Shankill
Road), where tourists do not go.20Although the NITB cannot con-
trol media images of Northern Ireland, the suggestion here is that
the violence in Northern Ireland is manageable, and thus safe for
tourists.
The spatiotemporal distance between war and tourism is clear
in these three examples: the tourist gaze requires a widely accepted
cessation to military activity before the operations of tourism can
be introduced. In the case of Bordeaux, security is not an immedi-
ate issue as tourists move freely from vineyards to war memorials.
FOR GENERAL ENQUIRIES CALL 0181 563 3792 OR CONTtICT CROATIANNATIONAL TOURISMOFFICE
, THE LANCHESTERS, 162-164FVLHAMPALACE ROAD LONDON W6 9ER. FAX:0181 563 2616.
Figure 2
Debbie Lisle 103
and war zones are, and have always been, connected in much more
complex ways than causality or separation.
AltlIough the tourist gaze is useful in positioning a hegemonic
circuit of “visitable” sites, it loses its currency when the discourses
of “the extraordinary” and “the secure” are disrupted. By reimag-
ining the tourist gaze through its failures and excesses, it is possi-
ble to problematize the safety/danger opposition it shares with the
discourse of global security. Rethinking compartmentalized “safe
zones” and “danger zones” requires a different understanding of
territory that takes into account the multiple orderings of space
and power. Likewise with the temporal displacement of danger:
sanitized histories work only when the dangers of yesterday’s bat-
tles are kept just there-yesterday.
But “history” has a funny way of repeating itself, of coming back
to haunt even the most sanitized places. When war refuses to stay put
in museum displays and monuments, when trauma erupts on an un-
predictable global stage, it can no longer be contained by a modern
tourist gaze that pursues the extraordinary to the extent that it is
safe. Urry’s formulation of the tourist gaze is limited because it ends
up instigating its own figuration of what tourism is, what tourists do,
and what the material effects of these practices are.“
In illustrating the exclusions and hierarchies of a thing called
“tourism,” Urry’s formulation misses the fact that the central ethos
of all travel is nzovenzent. That is to say, in mapping what the tourist
gaze is, where it occurs, and who performs it, Urry stabilizes events
and moments that refuse containment and resist static formula-
tions. Tourist practices are never as homogeneous as the tourist
gaze suggests: tourism comes in different forms, i t involves coin-
plex practices, it is highly mobile, and it creates multiple and un-
stable subject positions. Rethinking the tourist gaze suggests that
not all tourists view the world in the same way; indeed, some are
critical and even reflexive in the face of difference and otherness.
No matter how rigorous and profligate the disciplining mecha-
nisms of the.tourist gaze are (the.most obvious symbol of this reg-
ulation being the guidebook), tourists both fail and exceed the
instructions produced by the tourist gaze. It is easy to see how
tourism becomes a competitive event in terms of “been there, done
that”-the tourist who views the most sites in the least amount of
time wins. In this way, tourists are always bound to “fail” as they
struggle to fulfill the requirements of “total global vision = total
global knowledge”-an equation embedded in the tourist gaze.
Furthermore, Urry’s term gaze implies that visual consump tion
is sustained over a period of time. But as David Chaney suggests, it
Debbie Lisle 105
commemoration.
But that image ‘of resolution ‘covers over Ithe -mechanics of
power that play out in that scene: $hat: are the political/economic
conditions that construct this encounter (e:g., peaceful relations
be’bveen,France and the ,United States that encoui-age tou&m,‘the
wealth ofthe Ryan €amily that allows them to h’ave holidays)? Wliat
, .
is now possible to tour the city and focus specifically on these sites
of recent destruction.insteaa of the more,obvious signs. of, aiicient
architecture and cultural difference., Rather tlian as an “undis:
turbed” historical site, Dubrovnik is experienced as a site of.recent
military, aggression still surrounded by the seductive elenieiit of
.
danger. This desire’.forvisible ,signs of war damage’is expressed :in
the postcard shown in Figure 3, one of a set of four available at tlie
main tourist office in Dubrovnik.27 Tourists are. thus. able to witness
how “undisturbed”.national heritage- (embodied-in, th’e sixteenth- ,
, ..
With the Berlin Wall gone and the.rest:of Europe which used ‘to
be behind the Iron Curtain now seen as boring rather tliai1,ex- 1
I _ ,
otic, ’there .is .no tourist thrill left to counterbalance the per;
ceived boredom of social democratic;materialist, consumption- ’
oriented,Germany.Ireland is still romantic and exotic; it is the
closest thrill ,I
,, ’
, .
. .
~.
It remains to be. seen what will happen to these sites as’they are
’
Figure 5
through the marketplace, the cemetery, and the damaged mosques.
Along this “Massacre Trail,” tourists were able to purchase bullets,
shells, and shrapnel as souvenirs of their visit to the destroyed city.32.
It should be clear that the boundary being negotiated in these ex-
amples of contemporary war tourism is that between curiosity and
voyeurism. That limit was definitely crossed by the Italian travel
agent who offered his clients a special “October war-zone” tour in
..
Bosnia: “For $25,000 apiece, ‘a dozen crazy people’ . could spend
two weeks in a war zone, accompanied’by doctors and security
forces, but without weapons of their own-only cameras.”33
As these events suggest, the discourses surrounding the war-
tourism relationship are no longer the extraordinary and the se-
cure, but rather a curious combination of danger, seduction, aes-
thetics, and the secure. As one tourist to Sarajevo put it:. ‘‘While’
there is a feel of ‘war chic’ because of the pock-marked buildings,
the visitor is safe.”34This kind of “safeguarded voyeurism” is an in- ,
tegral part of the danger at work here: tourists are protected from
harm because the conflict itself is over-but only just. Even in the
most intrepid journeys, the powerful discourse of security remains.
The desire for danger is still sanitized by the mobile and sensitive
nature of tourism: because tourists are defined by their movement,
they can also move away from any “real” threat to their lives. Un-
like soldiers who are stuck in territories and positions, the tourist
retains the privilege of escape.
A Tour of Duty:
Leisurely Soldiers and the Performance of Safety
While it is possible to understand how holidaymakers are subject to
the disciplining practices of the tourist gaze, it is more difficult to
see how those outside the “zones’ofsafety” can be regulated in the
same way. As Sergeant Horvath’s collection of foreign soil in Sav-
ing Private Ryan illustrates, even soldiers experiencing the trauma
of war adopt some version of the modern tourist gaze. ,Miat sol-
diers and tourists have in common is mobility, their physical mi-
gration from one territory (home) to another (foreign land). Be-
cause so much of our postwar movement in the world is governed
by the tourist gaze, it makes sense that soldiers being transported
by boat, plane, car, and tank might make sense of their movement
in similar ways to tourists. While soldiers and tourists find them-
selves-inextraordinary surroundings for very different reasons (the
former for battle, the latter for curiosity), the way they interpret
and make sense of those surroundings bears resemblance. For ex-
ample, if the tourist gaze cannot enter the war zone, why do sol-
diers take cameras on their operations?
Soldiers in foreign lands call upon the same consumptive “gaz-
ing” practices as tourists: they passively view the sights, they apprc-
ciater the picturesque, they seek out the extraordinary, and, like
Sergeant Horvath, they collect foreign souvenirs.3~The connec-
tions between tlie tourist gaze and military operations are made
explicit in recruitment posters aimed at potential soldiers: “Enlist
as one of the 50,000 men for overseas service. Personally con-
ducted tours for soldier sightseers” (1919) or “Navy. It’s the chance
to travel around the world and see places most peoplc only read
about” (1993).36 As the modern tourist gaze instructs, all subjects
moving to foreign landscapes-including soldiers-memorialize
their journeys with snapshots, postcards, purchases, and souvenirs.
Because the governing regime of the tourist gaze tclls subjccts whai
they are supposed to do when traveling abroad, soldiers clocu-
menting a wartime “tour” of duty overseas align with tourists
recording a peacetime “holiday” in foreign lands.
This is a complicated fracture: the tourist gaze is part of a
larger network of practices witliin which soldiers clonieslicate hos-
tile foreign spaces and make them more familiar, more sarc, morc
like home. This “~nilitai-ized”tourist gaze emerges i n RSrR sites
where occupying forces make use of existing leisure spaccs in
order to rejuvenate their fighting forces (e.g., China Beach for US
soldiers in Vietnam and the Dalmatian coast for peacekcepcrs dur-
ing the Bosnian conflict). When soldiers play at being tourists-by
taking pictures, by enjoying RkR-the tourist gaze is exceeded: its
safety/danger opposition is ruptured by the placement of safe en-
claves within hostile war zones. Just as tourists become soldiers by
deliberately going to dangerous places, soldiers become tourists
when they transform a threatening war zone into a “hoinc away
from home.”
(or at least have an escape route planned if they are really intre-
pid), material artifacts in “hot spots” remain available for terrorist
or military aggression. For example, the world was outraged when
the JNA bombed the ancient city of Dubrovnik because the United
Nations had declared Dubrovnik a world-heritage city. But this
global status is precisely why the walled city was targeted: it sym-
bolized the heritage of the Croatian nation, and to destroy key sym-
bols in a nation’s memory is to destroy its material fabric and iden-
tity. Because buildings last longer than citizens and subjects, in
many ways they are more appropriate repositories of national
memory-all of which makes the bombing and burning of the Ii-
brary in Sarajevo or the terrorist attack on the Uffizi Museum in
Florence so abhorrent. While the loss of tourist life embodies its
own horror, the loss of memories embedded in historically signifi-
cant sites and buildings can also be regarded as a tragedy.
These complex linkages between war, heritage, and tourism
are expressed by Israel’s actions following the Gulf War: “After the
war, Israel billed the U.S. $200 million in reparations for direct war
damages from Iraqi scud attacks and an additional $400 million in
lost revenues from tourism. Simultaneously, the ruins of Kuwait al-
most immediately began to draw tourist attention.”38 As this exam-
ple demonstrates, targeting historically significant sites destroys not
only the architectural and cultural heritage of a community, it also
destroys the potential for future tourism. If one accepts the initial
formulation of war and tourism as separate practices, acts of ter-
rorist violence against tourists would destroy the assumption that
the tourist gaze ensures safety. In other words, tourists should have
stopped going to Egypt after the Luxor bombing. But instead, the
opposite has happened: travel tolthe Middle East is growing, and
Egypt continues to receive an annual income of $3 billion from
tourism.39 It seems the modern tourist gaze operates undeterred by
the increasing terrorist attacks on its subjects. It continues to in-
vade and retreat at will, it continues to colonize “unstable” but
“highly strategic” areas (the Middle East, the Balkans), and in
doing so it increasingly positions tourist practices and military OP-
erations alongside one another.
the Mekong (most not even born during the Vietnam War), or visi-
tors gawking at the remains of the Omagh bombing. This article ar:
gues that the discourse of global security informing the tourist gaze
must be reworked in order to capture the multiple practices that
tourists engage in. With the examples of voyeurism, soldiers taking
pictures, terrorists bombing tourists, and tours of recent:war zones,
the initial separation of war and tourism cannot be sustained.
By collapsing the events of war and tourism, it is possible to as$
how’the tourist.gaze might also,inform our studies and’practices in
international relations. The subjects who participate in and make
sense of world politics-scholars, researchers, diplomats, civil ser-
vants, aid workers, bureaucrats-adopt a “gaze” that is similar to
the tourist. Just as the tourist gaze allows visitors to locate and un-
derstand the “natural:’ beauty of the Grand Canyon, scholars and
practitioners of world politics are able to locate and understand
the violence and conflict of places like ,Belfast and Bosnia. The
“spectacular site” is to tourism what war zones are to international
relations-the former stuffed with an ‘abundance$of ‘the -“‘extra-
ordinary,” the latter overflowing’with danger, power, and vidolencp.‘
How do we, as students and scholars in international relatiohs,
locate danger and conflict-if ,not as tourists? ’Maybe the geographi-
cal and historical displacements at the heart of all travel are ;fur-
ther augmented by our intellectual distance from the world, locked
1 .
Nofes
The author would like to thank Tarak Barkawi, Andrew Linklater, and Mar-
tin%Coward for comments on an earlier draft of this article; audience mem-
bers and participants at the 1998 BISA panel “DeterritorializingDisasters”
for their provocative questions; and Simon Bainbridge, Ann Julie Crozier,
Richard Kirkland, and Patricia Molloy for more specific suggestions of
war/tourist sites.
1. Valene Smith, “War and Tourism: An American Ethnography,”An-
nals of Tourism Reseawli 25, no. 1 (1998): 202. Smith’sarticle suggests that
World War I1 caused tourism through the shift of transport technologies
114 Coiisiriiring Dflnger
17. Bill Rolston, “Selling Tourism in a Country at War,” Race and Class
37, no. 1 (1995): 2 4 2 5 . For another reading of the NITB’s “asserting nor-
mality” strategy, see Spurgeon Thompson, “The Commodification of Cul-
ture and Decolonization in Northern Ireland,” Irish Studies Review 7, n o . . l
(1999) 53-63. ,/ . )<I’
18.aNorthern Ireland Tourist Office, “The Day of tlie Men and Women
of Peace Must Surely Come” (Belfast: NITB, 1989): 59.. ’ ,