“Enough! Let’s put a stop to tourism!” So goes the slogan to be bellowed at a planned protest on July 6 in Barcelona. The city’s mayor has pledged to drive Airbnb out of the city within five years by revoking more than 10,000 licenses for short-term tourist rentals. The announcement follows anti-tourist protests in Mallorca, and the Canary Islands which, like France’s indiscriminately angry gilets-jaunes, has begun with a specific beef that will likely become raggedy and riot-prone as times goes by. This year also saw the introduction of a tourist tax in Venice (reports suggest it’s completely unenforced), and clampdowns in Amsterdam, including a reported ban on the building of new hotels. Welcome to Europe’s war on tourists.
It’s true that the pricing out of locals by Airbnb buyers and developers does lessen the authentic charms of a place, for residents and tourists alike. Presumably, however, Airbnb has also been a gift for the many low-income people who happen to own old family properties in the heart of Lisbon or Palma or Palermo; it’s not as if the Mediterranean economies are so vibrant or uncorrupt that such home-occupiers are likely to come across a windfall that easily in any other way.
Some of the anti-tourism rage, of course, is southern Europe tantrumming over the fact of its decline into a heritage attraction for Americans, Brits and Asians; tourism is over 10 percent of Italy’s GDP, 12 percent of Spain’s and a whopping 15 percent of Portugal’s (compared to 9 percent of the UK’s). But as the Brits have long since worked out: spite the tourists, spite yourself.
Europe’s anti-tourist movement is no laughing matter. It is sinister in the usual way that “smash capitalism” movements tend to be: adoring of red tape and against progress, wealth, social mobility, private property, people from other places, and, of course, the ability of people formerly too poor to travel to do so. In the case of Spain — which has the highest joblessness rate in OECD member states — you can’t help but wonder if rallying against tourism is just a way to pass the time of day with a feeling of moral virtue.
Yet it is also hard not to feel just a tiny bit of glee at the Barcelona ban. Airbnb has become one of the worst companies on the virtual high street. The unaccountability of “hosts,” absurd “house rules,” exorbitant “cleaning” and “service fees.” wildly inconvenient and specific check-in and check-out times, myriad nightmares with keys and lock boxes in the middle of the night with screaming children, plumbing issues, general rip-offery… Horror stories have become a hugely popular genre on X, formerly Twitter, and I confess to reading them with relish. After all, as a customer of Airbnb for a decade or more, I too have in recent years noticed a precipitous decline. Even so, the only outright bad experience I had was a snarky, somewhat aggressive German girl who let out her dark and dreary flat in Munich to me for a night (she accused me of breaking something which was broken on arrival); I had been led to book by her enthusiastic reviews. The whole thing was expensive and left a bad taste.
Then there is the sheer amount of emotional and administrative labor that goes into staying in an Airbnb — the WhatsApps with people who often don’t speak English, the forced merriment and emoji-use or else risk getting a bad review, the ability of hosts to cancel days before check-in, the endless instructions over how to get into people’s flats in ancient city centres, which can be a lot when you’ve just got off a plane in the blistering heat and are bleary after a 4 a.m. start.
And so, in a way, there is a kind of fittingness, or satisfaction, in the two going up in smoke together: Europe’s tourist industry and the ghastly Airbnb which had its day, then spoiled things.
In reality, of course, the right answer would be to let Airbnb run itself aground rather than regulating it out of existence. But the latter is what Europe does best. So, no: I find it hard to feel sad if Barcelona’s mayor does follow through on his threat and ban Airbnb. But the city’s residents are mistaken if they think a war on tourists is going to solve their problems.
This article was originally published on The Spectator’s UK website.
