The rise of dark tourism is turning sites of tragedy into tourist attractions

This summer, Laureano Oubiña, a major Galician drug trafficker, launched a “drug trafficking tour” through the Arousa estuary. He offered his clients a boat ride through the places that defined an era and promised the story told firsthand – with lunch included. The initiative has since been banned by Galicia’s regional government for infringing on tourism laws.

This is an example of “dark tourism” – the practice of visiting places marked by death, violence and crime. Oubiña’s proposed tour poses the question of whether this increasingly popular phenomenon is getting out of hand.

But dark tourism is a broad umbrella term. It is both a commercial label linked to the tourism industry’s need for constant novelty, and a social phenomenon. It is of great academic interest to the field of cultural criminology, which studies the ways people understand crime and perceive violence.

Cultural criminology also looks at the popular non-fiction genre known as true crime. These are series, podcasts, books and movies that analyse serious criminal offences. Both true crime and dark tourism follow trends, offering valuable information about the way we understand violence and crime.

They show that society’s response to criminal, violent acts is complex. Curiosity mixes with a need to reflect and remember, to try to understand their causes, and to make sense of them.

Favelas, Alcatraz, war memorials

The dark tourism that interests criminologists focuses on crime, violence, and justice. It takes many different forms. Much of it consists of destinations related to traumatic events or serious human rights violations, such as visits to concentration camps and memorials.

Places associated with armed conflicts, from Vietnam to the Second World War, can also be included in this trend. So can visits to historic prisons such as Alcatraz.

But it also includes trips to urban areas with high crime rates, off the beaten track of more conventional tourist routes. This is the case with dangerous neighbourhoods in New York, or visits to the favelas of Rio de Janeiro.

Guided tours are sometimes deliberately designed to dispel the stigma associated with crime. In Mexico City, for instance, local authorities organise the “Tepitour” to offer a different perspective on the infamous Tepito neighbourhood, where the Unión Tepito cartel operates. Some other routes even follow in the footsteps of a famous criminal, such as the Pablo Escobar tour in Colombia.

These neighbourhoods and memorials are all places associated with crime or violence, but there are major differences. A visit to a concentration camp such as Auschwitz is not at all the same as a walking tour that retraces the supposed footsteps of Jack the Ripper through London – an activity that even allows pets.

The boom in mass tourism means the tourism industry has to seek out new and original experiences to meet growing demand, including those that do not seem particularly “touristy”. The rise of dark tourism is also linked to the growing significance of criminology in pop culture.

Dark tourism in Spain

Spain, one of the world’s leading tourist destinations, has become a dark tourism destination, with specialised blogs highlighting many visits and itineraries linked to the Spanish Civil War. Notable examples include Guernica, the Basque town bombed by the German army during the conflict, and the old town of Belchite in Aragon, whose ruins still stand as a testament to the conflict.

In recent years, there has been a proliferation of tourist routes linked to bunkers and sites where some of the major battles of the Spanish Civil War took place, as well as historic sites associated with witchcraft and its suppression, such as Zugarramurdi.

Though more focused on social activism, the walking tours in various Spanish cities that take in sites linked to political and urban planning corruption also fall under this umbrella.

What about the victims?

Dark tourism is often promoted in order to boost destinations’ economies, and it reflects the tourism industry’s capacity for innovation. For sites linked to historical memory, it can also raise social awareness and reinforce their educational value.

But it also poses significant challenges. Many of these sites were conceived as spaces for remembrance, mourning and healing. Catering to tourists was not among their priorities. One of the main risks of dark tourism is therefore that it trivialises their original purpose. This is evident in disrespectful behaviour such as selfies at Auschwitz and other sites of remembrance.

Furthermore, these sites often embody uncomfortable heritage that requires complex and controversial processes of interpretation. This is the case with Spain’s Valle de los Caídos, the Valley of the Fallen, a vast mausoleum complex that previously housed the remains of Spain’s former dictator Francisco Franco.

It is also essential to respect the memory of the victims and to consider the impact that tourism can have on people living in places associated with crime or violence. The marketing of products or experiences that might justify or glorify criminals is particularly problematic here.

For all of these reasons, dark tourism must be conducted ethically, providing context for the events and respecting the victims to avoid causing them more suffering. When managed ethically, it can encourage learning and reflection on traumatic events that have left their mark on society.

As French criminologist Alexandre Lacassagne said, “every society gets the criminals it deserves”. Following his logic, every society also gets the kind of dark tourism that reflects its priorities.