The relationship between colonialism and tourism is not just complex, but often deeply problematic, particularly in places like Mérida, Mexico. Our experiences here, viewed through the lens of Dennis O’Rourke’s provocative 1988 film “Cannibal Tours,” reveal an unsettling continuity between colonial exploitation and modern tourism that we cannot ignore.
Mérida’s grand colonial architecture, while undeniably beautiful, stands as a stark reminder of Spain’s violent conquest and oppressive rule. I believe that many tourists, myself included at times, are guilty of admiring these structures without fully grappling with their dark history. This selective engagement with the past is, in my opinion, a form of historical amnesia that perpetuates colonial attitudes.
The behavior of tourists in Mérida often mirrors that of the Western visitors in “Cannibal Tours.” Just as those tourists sought an “authentic” Papua New Guinea experience based on stereotypes, I’ve observed visitors to Mérida chasing a preconceived notion of “authentic” Mexican culture. This pursuit of authenticity, I argue, is often shallow and rooted in colonial fantasies rather than genuine cultural exchange.
The quote from Gust and Mathews is particularly illuminating: “Colonial authorities had incentive to blunt or redirect the worst effects of citizens’ overindulgence of alcohol and, as they were also often hacienda owners themselves, to reinforce stereotypes that portrayed Indigenous peoples as in need of their paternalistic guiding hand” (91). This statement, in my analysis, exposes the self-serving nature of colonial narratives. Today, I see this paternalistic attitude reflected in how some tour operators and businesses in Mérida present Mayan culture. They often offer a simplified, romanticized version that, in my view, does a disservice to the rich complexity of Indigenous histories and experiences.
Furthermore, I believe the economic disparities between tourists and locals in Mérida represent a modern continuation of colonial exploitation. Just as colonial authorities once extracted wealth from the region, today’s tourism industry often funnels profits to external investors rather than local communities. This economic imbalance perpetuates a cycle of dependency and inequality that echoes colonial power structures.
“Cannibal Tours” brilliantly illustrates how tourism can devolve into a form of neocolonialism, and I see clear parallels in Mérida. The objectification and exoticization of local cultures for tourist consumption is a direct descendant of colonial attitudes. It’s a practice that turns rich, living cultures into commodities to be bought and sold, often stripping them of their depth and significance in the process.
In my observations, many tourist experiences in Mérida are carefully curated to meet Western expectations of “authenticity.” This commodification of culture is, in my view, not just problematic but actively harmful. It reduces complex histories and traditions to easily digestible snippets, reinforcing stereotypes and hindering genuine understanding.
However, I don’t believe the situation is entirely bleak. I’ve also encountered efforts in Mérida to promote more responsible and culturally sensitive tourism. Some tour operators and cultural centers are striving to offer more nuanced presentations of local history and culture. While these initiatives are commendable, I think they’re still the exception rather than the rule.
In conclusion, based on our experiences in Mérida and the themes explored in class I firmly believe that the relationship between colonialism and tourism remains deeply entrenched and problematic. Tourism, as it currently exists in many places, often perpetuates colonial attitudes and exploitative practices. As travelers, I think we have a responsibility to confront this uncomfortable reality and actively work towards more ethical forms of cultural exchange.
We must challenge ourselves to move beyond surface-level interactions and seek deeper, more meaningful engagements with the places we visit. This means educating ourselves about local histories, supporting community-led initiatives, and being willing to confront our own biases and preconceptions. Only then can we begin to untangle the colonial legacy from our travels and work towards a form of tourism that truly respects and empowers local communities.
