Posted by If you’re about to jet off on your summer holidays, then you might be alarmed at some of the headlines we’ve been seeing over recent months regarding tourism in Southern Europe.
Over the last few years there’s been a rise in ‘anti-tourism’ in popular holiday destinations: tourists being sprayed with water pistols in Barcelona, protest banners reading “Tourists Go Home” all over Malaga and protest marches against unsustainable levels of tourism in Lanzarote.
After decades of actively courting visitors, are some of Europe’s most beloved destinations now rejecting the very industry they built their economies around?
This week, I want to look at the rise of anti-tourism and what it’s really all about. Is it simply a case of disgruntled locals biting the hand that feeds them, or is there something more complex at play?
It’s not a neighbourhood if you don’t have neighbours
At the centre of most anti-tourism protests lies a simple (and devastating) reality: locals can no longer afford to live in their own cities – they’re being priced out as short-term rental platforms mutate their neighbourhoods into tourist hubs filled with Airbnbs.
Apartment blocks that used to house families have become revolving doors of weekend visitors, each paying more per night than locals can afford.
The maths are fairly stark. A one-bedroom apartment in Barcelona that might rent to a local for €800 monthly can generate well over €100 a night as an Airbnb. Property owners face an obvious choice, and local communities are paying the price.
It’s not just gentrification – it’s a complete decimation of communities. Small businesses close as there aren’t enough locals left to sustain regular custom and schools lose students as families are forced to move further out. Neighbourhoods are effectively dissolving, leaving an inauthentic, empty stage set for an influx of overseas visitors.
#NotAllTourism
But it’s important to remember that protesters aren’t calling for a complete tourism ban, just a more sustainable model. Say you have a family staying in a hotel, eating in local restaurants, and visiting museums: they’re contributing to the local economy without removing housing from the residential market.
On the flip side, if you have a group renting an Airbnb, buying groceries at supermarkets, and pre-drinking in their apartment before hitting the bars, there’s obviously far less economic benefit.
It’s an important distinction to make because it suggests solutions beyond simply opposing all tourism. Málaga recently issued “10 Rules for Tourists” – essentially a plea for basic respect, and for tourists not to treat the city like a playground. In the Canary Islands, residents want to protect their limited territory and resources.
Speaking of the Canaries
Anti-tourism isn’t a new issue. Back in the 1960s, artist and activist César Manrique warned against the overdevelopment threatening Lanzarote. He campaigned against resort hotels turning the island’s pristine coastlines into concrete walls, arguing that tourism should enhance rather than destroy what made places special.
Manrique understood that what drove tourism – the authentic charm that attracts visitors – would be killed by tourism’s success. His architectural interventions in Lanzarote showed how development could work with, rather than against, natural beauty.
Today’s protesters echo Manrique’s concerns, recognising that mass tourism threatens the very qualities that make their cities attractive. The irony is clear: success in attracting visitors undermines the reasons people want to visit.
You can’t have it both ways
Like everything, taken at face value, there are contradictions all over the place – just look at Venice. For years, the city has complained about cruise ships spewing out thousands of day-trippers who overcrowd the streets and canals but contribute little to the local economy. The city introduced entry fees and visitor limits, positioning itself as a victim of tourism’s excesses.
Yet just last month, the same city that claims to be drowning in tourists rented itself out for Jeff Bezos’s wedding celebration. The hypocrisy is stark: mass tourism is a problem, but exclusive luxury tourism – which offers even less benefit to ordinary Venetians – is apparently acceptable to city officials when the price is right.
Spain faces similar contradictions. Tourism provides roughly 12% of the country’s GDP and around 13% of total employment, yet protesters demand restrictions that could jeopardise that economic foundation. Local governments that spent decades marketing their cities as must-visit destinations are now scrambling to manage the success of their own campaigns.
What do anti-tourism movements actually want?
Despite the hostile headlines, anti-tourism protesters aren’t necessarily calling for complete tourism bans.
They want tourism that contributes to, rather than displaces, communities, and visitors who respect the places they’re visiting. They want economic benefits that flow to residents, not just property investors and international hotel chains, and the ability to use their own cities without competing with endless crowds of visitors.
The movement represents frustration with tourism’s evolution from cultural exchange to economic extraction. When tourism enriches communities while preserving their character, locals tend to be welcoming. When it displaces residents while profits are directed elsewhere, resentment builds.
Implications for property buyers
For people considering overseas property investment, the anti-tourism movement represents both a warning and an opportunity. Properties bought as short-term rental investments are facing increasing regulatory scrutiny and potential restrictions. Cities from Amsterdam to Barcelona are limiting or banning short-term lets in residential areas.
However, property buyers who integrate into local communities – learning languages, using local services, contributing to neighbourhood life – may face less hostility. The distinction matters: are you investing in a community or extracting from it?
So, are anti-tourism protesters simply biting the hand that feeds them?
The evidence suggests something far more complex. We’re not seeing ‘ungrateful’ locals rejecting prosperity – they’re communities fighting for their right to exist in the places they call home. When your neighbourhood becomes unaffordable because it’s more profitable as a tourist playground and you can’t find housing in the city where you work – that’s not ingratitude, that’s displacement.
The protesters have a point: current tourism models often extract wealth from communities rather than enriching them. The economic benefits go to property investors, platform companies, and international chains, while locals bear the costs – inflated rents, overcrowded infrastructure, and the loss of community life.
But they also have a problem: many of these destinations do depend heavily on tourism revenue. Spain’s 12% GDP figure isn’t abstract – it represents millions of jobs and livelihoods that could disappear if tourism collapses.
The real question isn’t whether to have tourism, but how to make it work for everyone. The easy solution – maintaining tourism revenue while eliminating its problems – probably doesn’t exist. But better policies that prioritise community benefit over pure growth, tourists who travel more respectfully (those 10 rules shouldn’t be limited to when you’re in Malaga!), and destinations willing to take action when they reach capacity – these remain achievable goals.
Only time will tell whether today’s protests lead to meaningful change, or whether they’re just symbolic gestures – either way, it’s clear that something needs to change.