• Employ locals
• Support community products and services
• Invest tourism revenue back into the local community
• Develop community infrastructure

Since then, I have been thinking about the necessity of supporting these points, particularly the first three, in relation to poverty tourism. If visitors to an impoverished area have the opportunity to not only observe but aid in the entrepreneurial initiatives of the communities that they visit, the relationship between visitor and inhabitant (or, more aptly, spectator and spectat-ee) can take on a more symbiotic and mutually beneficial tone. The tourist is not gawking at the native; together, they are helping to improve the community. Ideally.

This is easier said than done. In my experience as a volunteer in Nicaragua, where I witnessed countless attempts to create sustainable business initiatives aimed at benefiting poor communities, there seemed to be an abundance of ideas but a lack of successful execution. I spoke with individuals from around the world whose NGO dreams ranged from opening up organic vegan coffeeshops to communicating with abused children through art therapy to improving coastal areas through ‘surf tourism.’ Most common were the marketing and sale of handmade goods, such as jewelry, hammocks, clothing, and pottery. In theory, this is a simple business model: Locals produce artisanal products using indigenous materials and learned skill; products are sold at markets, cooperatives, or through NGOs; funds are invested back into the communities; the business grows and its profits benefit those producing the goods and the communities in which they live. Sounds fairly simple… in theory.

However, my experience as an observer of these business initiatives was, to say the least, disheartening. From my perspective, every seemingly straightforward step in the process was fraught with a multitude of complications. One enterprise I was familiar with had issues with internal accounting, transportation of materials, marketing and promotion, and member productivity, among others. These problems seem easy enough to address from an outside standpoint, but within the community, each issue is overwhelming. Take for example the matter of internal accounting: The World Fact Book lists Nicaragua’s literacy rate at 67.5%. That means that 32.5% of Nicaraguans are unable to read. I would venture to state that in rural populations, this number is much, much higher. The World Resources Institute’s Earth Trends lists primary school enrollment as 79%, secondary school as 50%, and tertiary as down to 12%. A large portion of school-age children are forced to leave in order to support their families through work and/or childcare. For the children who do attend school, the quality of education, particularly in rural areas, can be dismal. I mention this to illustrate the fact that by the time they reach adulthood, a large majority of Nicaraguans have very little education: basic math skills, literacy, and knowledge required to run a functional business are not present. Accounting for the production, distribution, sale, and collection of funds requires skill sets that must be taught from the most basic level—skills that many people assume are acquired by adulthood. In an uneducated population, this knowledge is not present.

In addition to having to educate an adult population in skills required to run a functional business venture, many NGOs seek to address the underlying problem by focusing on youth education, in hopes of creating a more systemic change. However, this initiative proves to be vastly more convoluted in reality than in theory. Staffing schools with teachers proficient in academic skills, funding the schools, obtaining curriculum materials, constructing the buildings themselves—all of these elements are substantial challenges within a poor community. Add to that the fact that many children must work to support their families, have no means of transportation, and lack familial support. Then, take into consideration that a common age of pregnancy in Nicaragua is fourteen, so many students end up dropping out in order to take care of their own children. The obstacles seem overwhelming: How can this cycle of ignorance and poverty be broken when the odds seem insurmountable? When considered through a wide lens of perspective, the fact that small business initiatives suffer from accountability problems due to lack of education appears to be one small end result of so many combined factors. Viewed pessimistically, teaching adults basic math and literacy skills is tantamount to applying a band-aid to a bullet wound.

I know this blog entry has spiraled a bit out of control; to be perfectly honest, this is how I feel about so many well-intentioned development initiatives that I have encountered. Ideas that appear simple in theory become tangled in a web of problems that arise from the many factors that contribute to a society’s impoverished state: attempting to address one facet in order to improve the overall system is ineffective at achieving lasting social change. How can any one business initiative expect to contend with such a vast network of challenges and setbacks? How can individuals in an impoverished community focus on working towards sustainable income goals when every step is fraught with endless unforeseen crises?

“Alleviating Poverty”: Easier said than done.

Micro-finance, or micro-credit, has been defined as “banking the unbankables, bringing credit, savings and other essential financial services within the reach of millions of people who are too poor to be served by regular banks, in most cases because they are unable to offer sufficient collateral” (micro-finance); in essence, bringing financial stability to a population traditionally regarded as too risky for investment. In his article “Why We Need Micro Loans Instead of Slum Tourism,” Sweeney details the concept of “micro-finance tours,” focusing on 21 African countries, where, at the time of the article’s publication, approximately 3.89 million people were “working their way out of poverty” through the use of micro-loans. Sweeney’s proposal of micro-finance tours aims to provide “travelers the opportunity to find adventure in uncommon places, meet local people, and support tourism-independent entrepreneurs who are trying to work out of poverty but have loans they need to pay back.” He provides examples of micro-finance tours, such as the following:

“For breakfast, you visit a 30 yr old married woman with 2 children, who bakes and sells bread at the main intersection in a rural town. She welcomes you. She and everyone else you visit this day will know that you have come in support of their skills and their businesses. She gives you some of her sweetbread, teaches you the way she makes it, and shares her hopes and plans for opening a bakery.”

“[Visiting] the community where a 57 yr old man grew into his own business by renting a sewing machine with a micro-loan and setting up shop under a shade tree. He now has his own shop and makes clothing, does alterations, and gives sewing lessons for people in the community.”

“[Visiting] a tiny fishing village where a group of young women are starting their gejj business, a process of salting and drying fresh fish. You can see or even participate in the process, and perhaps ride with the women and the gejj to some of the remote towns where they take it to market.”

Whatever the specific activity, Sweeney’s idea is that travelers can “be observing and supporting the small, significant successes of people in poverty who are moving hopefully forward” through micro-finance institutions.

Sweeney’s company with co-owner Scott Zimmerman, StepUp Travel, billed as “a travel classifieds site established to allow local enterprises and individuals to publish web-page advertisements of unique cultural services, activities, and accommodations they offer” seeks to promote the practice of responsible tourism, and aligns its mission with that of United Nations ST-EP initiative (Sustainable Tourism-Eliminating Poverty) that was discussed in the previous entry. Several ST-EP mechanisms are present in Sweeney’s micro-finance tour proposition, albeit in an oblique way: Although locals are employed in the industry, community products and services are supported, and tourism revenue is invested back into the local community, the larger focus of the initiative is the development and expansion of micro-finance, which directly supports individual and community funding. Sweeney regards this as a “paradigm shift,” from exploitation and voyeurism to “empowerment and progress.”

What remains to be seen is whether the support of micro-finance initiatives are as effective in reducing poverty as Sweeney and other proponents argue. The debate over the value of micro-credit is heated, with critics claiming that there is little evidence microcredit supports economic development (LegalCity) and that the practice itself is corrupt. Is micro-finance the answer, or an answer to critics of poverty tourism, or just an unsustainable alternative to the industy?

“Larger questions remain, such as:

*Whether the good outweighs the bad, that is, whether the increased global awareness and understanding of slum conditions can balance out the exploitative and voyeuristic elements of the tours.
*Whether there is a more effective way to achieve the positive effects of poverty tourism while minimizing the negatives, either in the practice of slum tours or in other ways.”

During my research, I came across a site dedicated to addressing this issue: an online summary of the United Nations’ World Tourism Organization (UNWTO/OMT)’s publication “Tourism and Poverty Alleviation: Recommendations for Action.” (UNWTO) The report, released in 2004 following the 2002 publication of UNWTO/OMT’s “Tourism and Poverty Alleviation,” details the organization’s ST-EP (Sustainable Tourism – Eliminating Poverty) initiative which “focuses on enhancing the Organization’s longstanding work to encourage sustainable tourism – social, economic and ecological – with activities that specifically alleviate poverty, delivering development and jobs to people living on less than a dollar a day.”

The ST-EP report details seven “mechanisms” by which the poor can benefit from tourism, either directly or indirectly. These guidelines are used to structure ST-EP projects worldwide, as a foundational philosophy of the initiative. They are as follows:

1. Employment of the Poor in Tourism Enterprises: This mechanism “addresses poverty directly by enabling the poor to develop their own skills; by allowing for the possibility of a large number of people to benefit directly; and raising the standards of service.”

2. Supply of Goods and Services to Tourism Enterprises by the Poor or by Enterprises Employing the Poor: This point emphasizes the support of local sources, to maximize “the proportion of tourism spending that is retained in local communities and to involve the poor in the supply process.”

3. Direct Sales of Goods and Services to Visitors by the Poor (Informal Economy): Going one step further, this guideline emphasizes direct tourist engagement with the local informal economy, both to supply direct income to the poor and to “provide visitors with a colourful and rewarding experience.”

4. Establishment and Running of Tourism Enterprises by the Poor – e.g. micro, small and medium sized enterprises (MSMEs), or community based enterprises (formal economy): In addition to the development and support of an informal economy, this mechanism stresses the importance of the development of a formal system, including “accommodation establishments, catering, transport, retail outlets, guiding and entertainment” run by the poor.

5. Tax or Levy on Tourism Income or Profits with Proceeds Benefiting the Poor: This point, related to indirect rather than direct benefits, is concerned with the revenue generated by the tourism industry being used in part to benefit poor communities, regardless of individual involvement.

6. Voluntary Giving/Support by Tourism Enterprises and Tourists: This mechanism emphasizes the need for visitors to voluntarily support tourism enterprises, alongside “local NGOs or trusts [that] may help develop mechanisms for the collection and dispersal of donations.”

7. Investment in Infrastructure Stimulated by Tourism Also Benefiting the Poor in the Locality, Directly or Through Support to Other Sectors: This final point points to the need for tourism profits to support the development of infrastructure, “such as roads, water and energy supply, sanitation and communications,” within the community. “The main challenge is to make sure that new tourism development is not consuming resources at the expense of local communities, but rather offering them the chance to gain new access to them.”

I believe that these seven mechanisms can be reduced to the following overarching guidelines for sustainable tourism:

• Employ locals
• Support community products and services
• Invest tourism revenue back into the local community
• Develop community infrastructure

If these efforts are implemented within poor communities that generate tourist revenue, the criticisms leveled at the poverty tourism industry (as exploitative, disrespectful, disruptive, and that it serves no purpose other than reinforcing cultural barriers between tourists and slum inhabitants) may be mitigated. Moreover, by supporting local initiatives as suggested, economic profits could possibly contribute a significant amount to the development and improvement of poor areas and the lives of inhabitants. In any case, the ST-EP “Recommendations for Action” seek to approach the question of sustainable tourism from a thoughtful perspective that takes into consideration the needs of locals affected by and engaging with the industry, and is an important step forward in the debate over poverty tourism.

Who is right?

In this blog, I hope to be able to move past this basic question to which there is no simple answer, and explore the ways in which poverty tourism affects and is affected by the communities in which it flourishes. However, I believe it is necessary to include an explanation of the underlying controversy that has given rise to the aforementioned articles, blogs, and the like. And so, I present:

Poverty Tourism: Real or Real Tacky?/Tourism or Voyeurism?/A Day Trip Too Far?/Good or Bad?

There are two distinct perspectives concerning the ethical question of poverty tourism: One, that the industry is instrumental in raising global awareness of poverty, contributes financially to the slums’ economies, and is overall beneficial; Two, that the tours are exploitative, disrespectful and disruptive, and serve no purpose other than reinforcing cultural barriers between the tourists and slum inhabitants. Most of the writing on the subject of poverty tourism thus far highlights these opposed perspectives, and leaves the ethical question unanswered.

The proponents of poverty tourism, in their own words:

From The New York Times—

“Tourism is one of the few ways that you or I are ever going to understand what poverty means… To just kind of turn a blind eye and pretend the poverty doesn’t exist seems to me a very denial of our humanity.” Harold Goodwin, director of the International Center for Responsible Tourism in Leeds, England.

“I was shocked at how friendly and gracious these people were.” Chuck Geyer, Reston, VA

“At first, the tourists were besieged by beggars, but not anymore… [Mr. Fantozzi has taught people] that you’re not going to get anything from my people by begging, but if you make something, people are going to buy it.” Kevin Outterson, law professor from Boston, MA

From The Guardian—

“We’ve come to educate ourselves about these homeless children who live near us. Most of the time people ignore them; I think it’s good to pay them some attention.” Local post-graduate student

And the critics:

From The New York Times—

“Would you want people stopping outside of your front door every day, or maybe twice a day, snapping a few pictures of you and making some observations about your lifestyle?… [The real purpose is that] it affirms in my mind how lucky I am — or how unlucky they are.” David Fennell, professor of tourism and environment at Brock University in Ontario

From Smithsonian Magazine—

“This kind of slum tourism, it is a clear invasion of somebody’s privacy….You are treating humans like animals.” Times Now moderator

From Reuters via Brave New Traveler—

“They see us like puppets, they want to come and take pictures, have a little walk, tell their friends they’ve been to the worst slum in Africa, but nothing changes for us.” Car-wash worker David Kabala

“Kibera is the rave spot in Kenya…For where else can one see it all in one simple stop? The AIDS victims dying slowly on a cold, cardboard bed. The breastless teenager. … Plastic-eating goats fighting small children … and – ah yes – the famous ’shit-rolls-downhill-flying-toilets’. It is unbeatable.” Kenyan columnist

Et cetera.

This is where the debate seemingly splutters out, according to the articles: Exploitation or awareness-building?

Clearly, there must be an element of both. The issue is not a black/white, either/or opposition. Larger questions remain, such as:

*Whether the good outweighs the bad, that is, whether the increased global awareness and understanding of slum conditions can balance out the exploitative and voyeuristic elements of the tours.

*Whether there is a more effective way to achieve the positive effects of poverty tourism while minimizing the negatives, either in the practice of slum tours or in other ways.

I believe the debate should place a greater emphasis on moving forward from this point, and the contradictions inherent to the poverty tourism industry, to a place where alternate perspectives and ideas can be raised and discussed. Slum tourism: Tourism and Voyeurism. Now what?

Since that time—eight months ago—I have not been able to put the experience out of my mind. After reading a New York Times article entitled “Slum Visits: Tourism or Voyeurism?” published only three months prior, and watching the explosive success of “Slumdog Millionaire” on the heels of my return from Nicaragua, I have been increasingly attuned to the phenomenon of “poverty tourism,” or “poorism,” and what it signifies in our current state of global affairs.

I begin this blog in hopes of exploring the plethora of issues that the growing industry of poverty tourism is raising worldwide. From railway stations in India to black townships in South Africa, and in my own experience in Nicaragua, poverty tourism is a practice that is continues to expand and flourish, even amid the voices of critics who see the tours as exploitative and voyeuristic. This blog will seek to address the viewpoints of both proponents and critics of the industry, and to ask what its growing popularity signifies for the future of tourism and travel.

To begin, I am re-posting the original blog entry I wrote after my experience in Nicaragua. I hope it will serve as a good starting point for the exploration of this difficult, convoluted issue. I have also included a brief Frequently Asked Questions page, located on the right sidebar.

Thanks very much for visiting. Please feel free to leave questions/comments following individual blog entries, or email me at hannah dot rubenstein at gmail dot com.

June 15, 2008

Last Tuesday afternoon, after the school day had ended, I was informed that a portion of the visiting volunteer group would like to see where some of the children lived, in a nearby barrio. Two mothers would accompany us to their houses, and I would act as translator. Not ever having led an excursion of this sort, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Looking back, I still don’t know what to think about the experience.

We left the oratorio around four in the afternoon, following the mothers. We turned off of the paved road to one of dirt, the ground already showing signs of rain damage that will make the way impossible to navigate as the rainy season continues. Still, the sidewalks were paved, which marks the area as—well, if not affluent, at least superior to the mountain-side shacks that house other families. After walking for a few minutes more, we reached our destination, a typical Nicaraguan home: one 25 ft x 25 ft concrete-and-brick room covered by tin roof sheeting, with two holes in the concrete that form doors—one that opens onto the street from sunrise to nightfall, the other facing the dirt yard behind the home where cooking, laundry, and the latrine stand. We filed into the house, tall blond Americans ducking into the entrance, and I greeted the other members of the family: Ms. X’s mother, aunt, cousin, and cousin’s young son. We stood in a circle, a gladiator match of tall, sunburnt, shorts-clad Americans versus dark-haired, shy, barefoot Nicaraguan women. The women smiled and offered plastic chairs. No one sat.

“So…” I began nervously, not having a clue as to what came next. “Um… okay… well, this is where X and her daughter live…” I introduced the other family members and the Americans to each other. “As you can see, the house is constructed from brick and concrete, and the roof is tin, which is typical of many Nicaraguan homes. Um… this neighborhood does have electricity, as you can see,”—here I pointed at the TV set, an ubiquitous fixture in Nica homes, present even in plywood-and-wire shacks with dirt floors. I asked the Nica women a few questions about their home, and continued. “They also have running water here, but no plumbing.” I looked at the silent faces. “So… no toilet.”

“What do you mean?”

“They use a latrine.”

No one spoke.

“Okay… um… well, do you have any questions for Ms. X or her family?” I asked.

One of the visitors turned to me. “Are there more rooms out in the back? Do all of them live here? Where do they sleep?”

Taking a deep breath, I asked the women. They looked puzzled, and I could feel the tension in the room—or at least in my veins—thicken. They answered, and I translated:

“All of them live here—it is Aunt X’s house, and the others are living here with her. There are no other rooms outside. They sleep in this room. They probably pull out cots to sleep on,” I added. The Americans looked around disbelievingly.

“Any other questions?”

“I know this may be a stupid question,” began one woman, “but… do they have their babies here? Or do they go somewhere?”

I turned to the Nica women, my skin on fire. I hesitated, and asked in Spanish, “how many days does the average woman stay in the hospital after giving birth?” I knew the women gave birth in hospitals, as does the majority of the world outside of some tribal peoples, and couldn’t bring myself to speak to them as if they lived prehistorically. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do.

I answered the Americans, and explained a little about free socialist healthcare. “Other questions?” I asked, and was relieved when no one responded. The air was uncomfortably thick—the Americans gazing around the one-room house without attempting to mask their shock, the Nica women looking at the ground, smiling shyly in their humble surroundings. I thanked them profusely, and led the way out into the darkening afternoon and back towards the school.

Looking back, I am struck by a few things. First, I can’t (and don’t) blame the Americans for their reactions, although I do wish it had been a little more graceful. After all, it is a shock to be confronted with extreme poverty for the first time, and the very fact that the group chose to volunteer with children in Nicaragua as opposed to spending time tanning at Club Med is something to be acknowledged. I can’t hold their ignorance against them as they are making a concerted effort to overcome it.

Second, I wonder about the Nicaraguan women. What was that experience like for them, having a house full of English-speaking gringos examining their life with obvious distaste and pity? Was the interaction as awkward for them as it was for me? Why did they invite the foreigners into their homes in the first place?

Lastly, and most significantly, I wonder about the experience as indicative of “poverty tourism” as a whole. I am torn between opposing arguments: on one hand, it strikes me as painfully exploitative. I had to remind the Americans not to take photos on our way over to the house—this is not a zoo, I had thought, these are not artifacts or quirky natives to gawk at. On the other hand, part of me questions whether the experience of meeting and interacting with those less fortunate is not a crucially important way to understand the reality of our global economic disparity. Hearing about developing nations and their economic crises is one thing, but to actually see it, to be able to hold it in your hand, if only briefly—maybe it can make the difference between reading the newspaper and exclaiming “oh, what a shame,” and actually making an effort to address the inequality. This is where I am left—wondering whether the point of “poverty tourism” is to help people see the humanity underlying such seemingly different worlds, or merely to help people feel better about themselves and their ‘charitable’ vacation choices. Is “poorism” the first step to a global solution to poverty, or the last step in fashionable charity?