Overtourism: A Wicked Problem in Need of New Solutions

This has been a difficult blog post to write. After 25 years in the tourism industry, having poured over countless books and papers, and having hosted discussions on overtourism, I thought I knew where to start.

At first, I approached it in a straightforward, linear way—looking at issues like visitor quotas, fees, and the role of social media in accelerating overtourism. I planned to dive into the importance of measuring carrying capacity and economic leakage. I planned to highlight the link between overtourism and a global finance system that prioritises profit over biodiversity, nature and the needs of locals. I wanted to highlight the voices that are so often silenced in these conversations—local communities, indigenous people, and nature itself. These are the voices that matter most if we are to find solutions, but are frequently drowned out by those with power, often men, often multinationals, and almost always driven by profit.

But as I wrote, I realised it was impossible to provide clear, definitive answers to such a complex issue in a 2000-word post. The deeper I went, the clearer it became that this isn't a problem that can be solved with a simple set of rules or policies.

So rather than trying to lay out answers, I’ve decided it’s more productive to explore the questions we should be asking and the new KPIs we need to set, in order to truly rethink our approach to overtourism.

As Donella Meadows, one of the pioneering systems thinkers once said, “The world is a complex, interconnected, finite, ecological—social—psychological—economic system. We treat it as if it were not, as if it were divisible, separable, simple, and infinite.”

When tackling overtourism, we are not just dealing with crowds, quotas, or visitor fees. We are talking about systems change at its very core. Overtourism is not the problem – it’s a symptom of highly complex and interconnected systems.

Overtourism is often seen through the lens of overflowing crowds at popular destinations, overwhelmed infrastructures, and the degradation of cultural and natural heritage. Cities like Venice, Barcelona, and Machu Picchu have become emblematic of the issue. But quotas and visitor fees, often proposed as solutions, are only scratching the surface of a much deeper, more complex challenge. While such measures can mitigate some visible symptoms of overtourism, they do not address the root causes.

One reason these interventions fall short is they often fail to account for the full complexity of the systems they are trying to influence. Take the Galapagos Islands, where a $200 daily visitor fee was introduced to limit tourist numbers. This fee is crucial because it’s reinvested directly into conservation, helping to protect the islands’ unique wildlife and ecosystems. It also supports sustainable tourism efforts, and there’s a reduced fee for Ecuadorians, ensuring they can still visit this part of their national heritage—both very positive outcomes.

But an unintended consequence is that the Galapagos is now shifting towards a more luxury-focused tourism model, with more emphasis on high-end hotels and luxury cruises. This can lead to what’s called “economic leakage,” where much of the money spent by visitors doesn’t stay in the local economy but is often going to foreign-owned businesses or covering imported goods. Research shows that economic leakage tends to be higher with luxury tourism than with other types of tourism.

So, while the fee supports conservation, it’s also making the Galapagos a more exclusive destination, with fewer economic benefits flowing directly to local communities.

Which brings me to the first two questions tourism planners should ask: What is the purpose of making this change? And have I thought through the unintended consequences on ALL stakeholders of this change?

Too often in tourism, stakeholders are defined solely as those with a financial stake in the industry. The situation in Hawaii exemplifies this issue, where decisions have primarily been driven by powerful hoteliers and those with a financial interest in the tourism industry to the detriment of locals, indigenous Hawaiians and the natural environment. Having worked for the Hawaii Tourism Authority, I shudder at how we marketed the destination 20 years ago and recognise how I contributed to the problems that arose from this narrow focus. I will forever be grateful to thoughtful leaders with foresight like my first mentor Frank Haas at the Hawaii Tourism Authority, who already back then recognised that destinations shouldn’t just be marketed, but first and foremost need to be sustainably managed. Regenerative tourism expert Chalana Perera and founder of Retrace Hospitality echoes this sentiment: “Protect first, market second”.

New Zealand has made notable strides in managing overtourism, particularly by consulting with Māori tribes and incorporating their traditional ecological knowledge into tourism strategies. While this approach seeks to balance economic growth with environmental preservation, concerns remain about the power dynamics involved. Some critics argue that Māori voices are not always genuinely heard, and the engagement can feel superficial. So, while New Zealand is often viewed as a positive example, it also highlights the ongoing challenges of ensuring true inclusivity and respect for indigenous perspectives in tourism management.

In contrast, Bali shows the dangers of ignoring stakeholder input. I have just come back from Bali, where I hosted – oh the irony – a panel discussion on overtourism. This was my third time travelling to Bali over the course of 25 years and each time I feel more saddened by what I see. Rapid, unregulated tourism development has sidelined local residents and marginalized communities. Bali continues to allow hotels to be built in areas that are already clearly overtouristed, where waste and sewage systems – and not least locals and nature - can’t cope anymore. This has led to significant cultural displacement and environmental degradation. By neglecting these crucial stakeholders, planners have compromised the authenticity of the Balinese experience and harmed the local ecosystem.

This brings me to the third question tourism planners need to ask: “How have I engaged with and listened to my stakeholders? And, most importantly, have I REALLY thought about who my stakeholders are”. It’s essential to define who these stakeholders are. They extend beyond local residents to include marginalised groups, such as indigenous communities and those yet unborn. It’s crucial in all decision-making to consider how our choices will impact the next seven generations, ensuring that we act with responsibility toward those who are not yet here to speak for themselves.

But stakeholders are also those entities that lack a voice, like nature and wildlife. In fact, it’s worth considering appointing a representative for nature and biodiversity to board meetings and discussions, ensuring that these vital voices are heard loud and clear. At Lemongrass we have just appointed our first “Director of Nature” to the senior management team to ensure every decision we take has considered the voice of nature. By prioritising inclusive dialogue and actively considering the diverse perspectives of all stakeholders, tourism planners can make informed decisions that respect cultural heritage and protect the environment. This approach ensures a sustainable future for both the destination and its inhabitants.

Tackling overtourism isn’t a solo mission; it demands a symphony of collaboration among various stakeholders and authorities. A fantastic example of this is our client Vienna, who developed the 2025 Visitor Economy Plan, which involves collaboration between local residents, businesses and governmental bodies. The plan highlights how effective collaboration can create a balanced tourism ecosystem that benefits everyone.

It’s essential for tourism authorities and Destination Marketing Organisations (DMOs) to partner with local governments, environmental agencies, housing departments, and community organisations. After all, overtourism can displace residents, cause water shortages, and strain public services. Barcelona serves as another shining example, where the local government has joined forces with residents, businesses, and civil society groups to develop the "Tourism Plan for a Competitive and Sustainable Tourism Model." This innovative initiative aims to distribute tourism more evenly across the city, reducing pressure on popular sites and enhancing the overall experience for both tourists and locals alike.

Let’s remember that we cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them. This serves as a powerful reminder that tourism planners must be open to fresh, unorthodox collaborations. While DMOs typically focus on attracting visitors, they often lack the authority to tackle critical – but linked - issues like waste management or water resources.

In Venice the city's administration struggles to unite the various departments necessary for meaningful change, which is exactly why the recently introduced visitor fee is farcical and completely fails to address the systemic changes Venice faces.

On the flip side, Amsterdam has embraced a multi-stakeholder approach to confront tourism's impacts, bringing together city planners, environmental agencies, and community representatives. This collaborative spirit has enabled the city to create a more sustainable tourism model that benefits everyone involved.

The example of Venice shows that simple metrics are no longer fit for purpose. Rather, a more expansive, learning mindset is required where all parts of the system, as in Amsterdam, work together towards a shared goal, acknowledging that we are all impacted in this system.

So, as tourism planners reflect on their roles, the fourth question to ask ourselves is “How can I cultivate a mindset of collaboration? How can I think outside of the box and recognise that true collaboration is essential to address the complex challenges posed by overtourism.” By collaborating with a diverse array of stakeholders, they can develop holistic solutions that foster community well-being, respect cultural heritage, and protect natural resources.

So, you’ve put in place a new measure. You’ve collaborated across different departments and government organisations, but somehow it hasn’t worked.

To tackle overtourism, what we need most is a new leadership mindset —one that embraces small-scale experiments as stepping stones to larger change. This approach means running multiple trials, learning from each, and rolling out successful initiatives on a broader scale. When a solution doesn’t work, it’s not a failure; it’s a valuable feedback loop, revealing insights to help adjust and try again. As Donella Meadows said, "You can’t intervene in a system without changing it, and you can’t predict all of the effects of an intervention. But you can watch what happens, learn, and try again.”

Embracing this kind of leadership takes courage, as there will be resistance from media and stakeholders quick to critique perceived failures. However, resilient leaders understand that systems change isn’t about instant solutions but rather ongoing, adaptive learning. With patience, experimentation, and the boldness to respond to new feedback, tourism planners can foster genuine change, leading to more balanced and sustainable visitor economies.

Systems change is ongoing and never stops. Solutions that work today might not work tomorrow, and unintended consequences are inevitable. That’s why it’s crucial to have a mechanism in place to review and adapt policies over time. Flexibility is essential for long-term success in a dynamic, evolving world. So, tourism planners need to be curious, flexible, open to failure and innovation. They need to ask themselves: Are we building in processes for continual reflection and adaptation?

Overtourism is not the problem—it is a symptom of deeper, more fundamental issues. These issues are tied to how we measure success in tourism. For far too long, success has been equated with growth: more visitors, more revenue, and higher occupancy rates. But this mindset is unsustainable.

We need new KPIs that prioritise the well-being of local communities, the health of ecosystems, and the preservation of cultural heritage.

We need tourism leaders who see themselves not as marketers and economists but as stewards—custodians of the destinations they are promoting.

And to guide that shift, we need to ask different, more profound questions.

It’s time for us to rethink what “success” truly means. The Travel Foundation’s brilliant, newly launched report, Creating Equitable Destinations, emphasises the need for fair distribution of tourism’s benefits to create a sustainable industry that genuinely serves both visitors and host communities. At the heart of the report are 40 recommended actions and KPIs, focusing on addressing inequality in tourism's impact on local resources, economies, and quality of life.

A core principle is the inclusion of local communities in decision-making processes, allowing residents to have a say in tourism policies that affect them. By prioritising community well-being, the report advocates for shared benefits, especially in areas like housing, local employment, and environmental preservation. The recommendations also encourage a shift in KPIs to measure success beyond visitor numbers, such as by tracking improvements in residents’ quality of life, environmental impacts, and equitable economic growth.

Once a decision is made, transparency is key. Local communities and visitors alike need to understand why certain measures are being implemented and what the long-term vision is. Without this communication, resistance to change can arise, and stakeholders might not be aligned with the goals of the new policies. Explaining the bigger picture can foster understanding, collaboration, and support for sustainable practices.

It’s not enough for leaders and planners to have a strong vision; this vision must be effectively conveyed to all stakeholders, from local communities and industry partners to visitors and government agencies. Transparent communication helps everyone understand both the “why” and “how” of the changes being implemented, fostering buy-in and shared purpose. Without this, even the best intentions can lead to misunderstandings, resistance, or unintended consequences.

When people see the value and fairness in new policies, they’re more likely to support and even champion sustainable practices.