Tourists. We all know who they are. Perhaps you’ve seen them around, toting cameras, tacky headgear, and maybe even fanny-packs. Or perhaps – God forbid – you’ve even been one. I know I have, and they say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
State and local governments, chambers of commerce and other booster organizations spend millions of dollars each year to attract precious tourist dollars to their locality. And while statistics suggest urban tourism is growing, the phenomenon is by no means new: In the period of 10 years between 1976 and 1986, it is estimated by urban scholars that cities invested in total over $10 billion in the construction of sports stadiums, convention centers, “arts districts,” etc. Eugene’s Hult Center was opened during this period, celebrating its 25th anniversary just last year. And in Seattle, two new major sports stadiums were recently constructed, at a combined cost of $877 million. Cities all over America, of all sizes, engage in feverish competition for the biggest, coolest, most attractive destinations for tourists to kick back and spend a weekend – or to spend some of their hard-earned dollars at the city’s business establishments.
And it’s no surprise cities should want tourist money so badly. Tourism is, on paper at least, the ideal economy. The money generated from it flows entirely from the outside, as tourists come from elsewhere and spend their money locally. It requires very little thinking to grow the economy. While most true economic growth comes on the back of innovation, complicated infrastructure investments in schools, healthcare and social services, abundant and sustainable natural resources, and the work of physical labor, tourism is very straight-forward: Get people here so they can spend money in our restaurants, sleep in our hotels, take pictures of our “sights,” buy our knick-knacks and go home.
On paper, it looks like free money, even highway robbery. It amounts (again, in theory) to commitment-free capital imports. And I will admit, it is far preferable to immigration, which brings with it tremendous infrastructure costs. It is as former Oregon Gov. Tom McCall once said to prospective Oregonian visitors: “Come visit us again and again. This is a state of excitement. But for heaven’s sake, don’t move here to live.”
The problem is that tourism, especially today, isn’t actually free money. Perhaps if a location is simply discovered as a tourist destination by accident, or doesn’t need any boostering to become one (such as Florida); it might bring riches beyond measure. But cities like Eugene, that may not have the “ideal” natural conditions for tourist attraction, could, if not carefully monitored, end up spending millions to pull in conventions and weekenders that never pay back on the investment.
Tourists are a small pool of consumers, and if you’re not one of the lucky ones, money must be spent to make them aware of and willing to go to your particular destination. And it must also be noted that tourists are very annoying consumers. Unlike the local customer who will come to your establishment again and again, a tourist is only likely to come once, and is notoriously unaware of who you are and what is expected of locals in terms of customs, respect and practices. They’ve been known to trample down ecosystems while visiting significant natural wonders, and breeze over the authentic merits of places for a superficial, unrealistic notion of what’s there. They tend to care little about the people who serve them and what their products are worth, opting instead to consume their services and flee. While there are the occasional polite tourists, and while they also do have as much a right to enjoy our home as we might, tourists are a poor substitute for an actual, honest-to-goodness, faithful local customer.
Further focusing on tourism can allow us to forget about an arguably more important beneficiary of our investments: us. Again and again, cultural districts and entertainment infrastructure are constructed with the principal intention that they will “attract tourism,” which will then bring monetary benefit to us. But shouldn’t these investments benefit us directly, first and foremost? Usually we build these things because we want them, so I argue that tourists need not even come into the conversation. If tourists happen to show up, so be it, but the main reason we should do anything as a community should be for our own direct benefit.
In short, the tourist business is a dangerous one, and not one worth investing in as a community. Next time we have it in mind to invest in convention centers, entertainment improvements, or other attractions, we’d be wise to put our own concerns ahead of those of potential tourists.
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