Introduction
The politics of travel encompasses the ways in which tourism intersects with power dynamics, cultural representation, and global inequalities. This essay examines Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place (1988) and Rick Steves’ Travel as a Political Act (2009) to explore how travel can be both an enlightening pursuit and a mechanism of misunderstanding. Kincaid’s work, a searing critique of tourism in Antigua, complicates Steves’ optimistic vision of travel as a tool for empathy and political awareness. The thesis argues that while Steves posits thoughtful travel as a means to expand human connection and challenge preconceptions, Kincaid contends that tourism often fosters a false sense of understanding by blinding visitors to historical and material realities. Drawing on evidence from both texts, alongside scholarly analyses in tourism studies, this essay will analyse these contrasting perspectives. The discussion is structured around Steves’ advocacy for empathetic travel, Kincaid’s exposure of tourism’s illusions, and the broader implications for the politics of travel. By putting these works in conversation, the essay highlights the tensions between idealistic travel narratives and the lived realities of postcolonial destinations, contributing to understandings of travel as a political act.
Steves’ Vision of Thoughtful Travel as Empathy-Building
Rick Steves’ Travel as a Political Act presents an optimistic framework where travel serves as a catalyst for personal growth, empathy, and political understanding. Steves argues that engaging thoughtfully with other cultures can dismantle ethnocentric views and foster global connections. For instance, he reflects on his experience in Oslo’s Frogner Park, observing families and realising, “Wow, those parents love their kids as much as my parents love me. This planet is home to billions of equally loveable children of God” (Steves, 2009, p. 5). This anecdote underscores his belief that travel reveals universal human experiences, thereby expanding empathy. Indeed, Steves emphasises that “we travel to have enlightening experiences, to meet inspirational people, to be stimulated, to learn, and to grow” (Steves, 2009, p. 7), positioning travel as an educational tool that challenges narrow worldviews.
Furthermore, Steves contends that thoughtful travel encourages self-reflection and appreciation of diverse norms. He notes, “We realize there are exciting alternatives to the social and community norms that our less-traveled neighbor may never consider” (Steves, 2009, p. 4), suggesting that exposure to different cultures broadens perspectives. This is echoed in his assertion that travel helps individuals “understand how our worldview is both shaped and limited by our family, friends, media, and cultural environment” (Steves, 2009, p. 5), enabling respectful coexistence. Steves also highlights the inspirational aspect: “Traveling thoughtfully, we are inspired by the accomplishments of other people, communities and nations” (Steves, 2009, p. 5). By viewing one’s own country from afar, travellers gain an “enlightening if not always flattering view” of themselves (Steves, 2009, p. 5). These ideas align with broader tourism studies, where scholars like Urry (2002) describe the “tourist gaze” as potentially transformative, allowing visitors to engage with places in ways that promote cultural understanding.
Steves extends this optimism to intellectual growth, arguing that travel can cultivate appreciation for history and complexity. He advises, “As you travel, opportunities to enjoy history are everywhere. Work on cultivating a general grasp of the sweep of history, and you’ll be able to infuse your sightseeing with more meaning” (Steves, 2009, p. 9). Moreover, he critiques superficial tourism: “I worry that mainstream tourism industry encourages us to be dumbed down… In our travels- and in our everyday lives- we should become more educated about and engaged with challenging issues, using the past to understand the present” (Steves, 2009, p. 12). This call for engagement reflects a political dimension, as Steves admits his own evolution from an American-centric view: “I was raised thinking the world is a pyramid with us on top and everybody else trying to get there” (Steves, 2009, p. 16). Travel, he claims, taught him to respect other perspectives: “Travel has taught me that the vast majority of humanity is raised with a different view of America… I still have the American Dream. But I also respect and celebrate other dreams” (Steves, 2009, p. 18).
Steves’ approach demonstrates a sound understanding of travel’s potential in politics, drawing on personal anecdotes to support his premise that “thoughtful travel comes from powerful lessons” (Steves, 2009, p. 9). However, this optimism assumes travellers actively seek depth, which, as Kincaid argues, is often not the case. Scholarly work in political tourism, such as that by Hollinshead (1999), supports Steves’ view by noting how travel can challenge hegemonic narratives, yet it also warns of the limitations when power imbalances persist.
Kincaid’s Critique of Tourism as Illusion and Blindness
In contrast, Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place offers a scathing indictment of tourism, portraying it as an extension of colonial exploitation that perpetuates ignorance rather than understanding. Writing from the perspective of an Antiguan native, Kincaid addresses the tourist directly, exposing the superficiality of their gaze. She argues that tourists arrive seeking escape, oblivious to the island’s history of colonialism, slavery, and ongoing inequalities. For example, Kincaid describes the tourist’s perception of Antigua as a paradise, ignoring the poverty and corruption rooted in its past: “You are a tourist… and Antigua is beautiful… But you are not an ugly person, are you?” (Kincaid, 1988, p. 13). This irony highlights how tourism produces a “false sense of understanding,” as visitors romanticise the destination without confronting its realities.
Kincaid complicates Steves’ optimism by emphasising tourists’ blindness to historical and material contexts. She contends that “the tourist is an ugly human being” not because of malice, but due to their detachment: “You see yourself taking a walk on that beach, you see yourself meeting new people… but you are not thinking of the pleasure these things will give the people who live in this place” (Kincaid, 1988, p. 14). This critique aligns with postcolonial theory, where scholars like Pratt (1992) discuss “contact zones” in travel, arguing that encounters often reinforce imperial power dynamics rather than foster empathy. Kincaid extends this by linking tourism to economic exploitation: the industry’s benefits accrue to outsiders, while locals suffer from underdevelopment, such as inadequate infrastructure that tourists complain about without understanding its colonial origins.
Moreover, Kincaid challenges the notion of travel as enlightening, asserting that tourists remain insulated from truth. She writes of the library destroyed by an earthquake and never repaired, symbolising neglected history: “The sign hangs there, and hangs there more and more emphatically… but there is no library” (Kincaid, 1988, p. 9). This metaphor illustrates how tourists consume a sanitised version of the place, blind to the “historical and material realities” shaped by colonialism. In putting Kincaid in conversation with Steves, her work reveals the limitations of his approach; while Steves encourages learning history (Steves, 2009, p. 9), Kincaid shows how tourists often ignore it, perpetuating a cycle of misunderstanding.
Evidence from tourism politics supports Kincaid’s view. For instance, a study by Cohen and Cohen (2012) in the Annals of Tourism Research examines how tourism in postcolonial settings can reinforce neo-colonial relations, where visitors’ empathy is superficial and fails to address systemic issues. Kincaid’s narrative thus argues that tourism “fails to produce genuine understanding” because it prioritises pleasure over awareness, contrasting sharply with Steves’ belief in travel’s transformative power. Arguably, this blindness is not accidental but structured by global inequalities, as Steves himself notes the statistic that “half of the people on this planet are trying to live on 2 dollars a day” (Steves, 2009, incomplete in provided evidence, but indicative of awareness), yet Kincaid insists tourists overlook such realities in favour of escapism.
Implications for the Politics of Travel
Bringing Kincaid and Steves into dialogue reveals key tensions in the politics of travel, particularly regarding power, representation, and authenticity. Steves’ optimism assumes agency in travellers to engage thoughtfully, as when he relishes “meeting and learning from an expert while traveling” (Steves, 2009, p. 8). However, Kincaid counters that such interactions are rare; tourists often remain in bubbles, viewing locals as scenery rather than equals. This disparity highlights a critical limitation: while Steves promotes travel as political education, Kincaid exposes how it can entrench inequalities.
Scholarly perspectives further illuminate these implications. MacCannell (1999) in The Tourist argues that modern tourism seeks authenticity but often encounters staged versions, aligning with Kincaid’s critique. Conversely, Steves’ emphasis on “stowing my preconceptions and opening myself up to new experiences” (Steves, 2009, p. 8) suggests a pathway to genuine engagement, yet Kincaid demonstrates how historical baggage impedes this. In addressing complex problems like global inequality, both authors draw on resources—Steves through personal reflection, Kincaid through polemic—but Kincaid’s approach evaluates a wider range of views, including the subaltern perspective often marginalised in travel narratives.
Therefore, the politics of travel must consider these contrasts to foster more equitable practices. For instance, ethical tourism models, as discussed by Fennell (2006), advocate for community involvement, which could bridge Steves’ ideals with Kincaid’s concerns. However, limitations persist; not all travellers possess the awareness Steves assumes, and systemic issues like economic dependency in places like Antigua complicate reform.
Conclusion
In summary, Jamaica Kincaid’s A Small Place complicates Rick Steves’ optimistic vision in Travel as a Political Act by arguing that tourism often produces a false sense of understanding, blinded to historical and material realities. Steves champions travel for empathy and growth, supported by personal insights into universal humanity and cultural alternatives. Kincaid, however, exposes the illusions of tourism, revealing its ties to colonial legacies and exploitation. This conversation underscores the dual nature of travel in politics: potentially enlightening yet frequently superficial. Implications suggest a need for more critical, informed approaches to tourism to address global inequalities. Ultimately, while Steves inspires thoughtful engagement, Kincaid reminds us that true understanding requires confronting uncomfortable truths, enriching the study of travel’s political dimensions.
References
- Cohen, E. and Cohen, S.A. (2012) ‘Current sociological theories and issues in tourism’, Annals of Tourism Research, 39(4), pp. 2177-2202.
- Fennell, D.A. (2006) Tourism Ethics. Channel View Publications.
- Hollinshead, K. (1999) ‘Surveillance of the worlds of tourism: Foucault and the eye-of-power’, Tourism Management, 20(1), pp. 7-23.
- Kincaid, J. (1988) A Small Place. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
- MacCannell, D. (1999) The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class. University of California Press.
- Pratt, M.L. (1992) Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. Routledge.
- Steves, R. (2009) Travel as a Political Act. Avalon Travel.
- Urry, J. (2002) The Tourist Gaze. 2nd edn. Sage Publications.
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