Tourism, when done right, is one of the most enriching forces on the planet. It breathes economic life into remote communities, preserves cultural heritage, and encourages greater understanding across borders. But when left unchecked, it begins to suffocate the very places it claims to celebrate. I’ve spent a lifetime in travel, working across continents and watching destinations flourish, fade, and fight to find their identity again. What I see now, especially in coastal pockets of the UK like St Ives and my own beloved Whitstable, is a warning sign echoing louder with each season: tourism, without sustainable regulation and community-driven planning, becomes a slow erosion of local life.
In overseas destinations, especially those with sun, sea, and surf allure, the story is familiar. Once sleepy fishing villages and quaint beach towns are now polished into package-ready products, often stripped of their authenticity in the process. You only need to look at parts of southern Spain, or once-tranquil stretches of Thailand’s coast, to see what happens when volume trumps value. These places have become playgrounds for mass tourism, where short-term rental profits override long-term community sustainability. The soul of the destination is squeezed out to accommodate more arrivals, more selfies, more all-inclusive deals that trap spending within the confines of hotel walls. Local businesses get sidelined. Infrastructure strains. And residents, who were once the heartbeat of the place, either leave or become spectators in their own town.
It’s not just an overseas issue. Here in the UK, we’re watching something very similar unfold. St Ives, Cornwall, once an artist’s haven, is now buckling under the pressure of second homes and waves of seasonal visitors that threaten to turn it into a ghost town in winter and an overcrowded maze in summer. It’s easy to romanticise these places in glossy travel brochures, but what’s rarely shown is the growing resentment among locals who can no longer afford to live there or even park outside their own homes. Some areas have 50% or more of their properties used as holiday lets. The result? Rising property prices, displaced families, and communities losing the very thing that made them attractive in the first place: their people and their sense of belonging.
Whitstable, my hometown, is now walking the same tightrope. It’s a gorgeous little spot on the Kent coast, quaint, creative, once quiet. But lately, especially on weekends and during school holidays, the town heaves with visitors. Now, let me be clear: tourism has brought prosperity. It’s helped local restaurants, shops, and artists survive tough economic years. But we’re edging into the realm of over-tourism. Traffic congestion clogs the streets, wild camping overflows into residential zones, and prices creep up to a level where locals, especially the younger generation, are being squeezed out. When visitors come to ‘play local’ while treating the place like a theme park, we all lose something.
The key issue here isn’t tourism itself, it’s the absence of balance. Destinations, both here in the UK and abroad, are struggling with a lack of long-term planning and political will to enforce sustainable limits. We need stronger regulations around short-term holiday lets. We need towns to retain a healthy percentage of permanent residents who can anchor local life. We need better infrastructure that supports both tourists and locals without collapsing under the weight of demand. This doesn’t mean shutting the gates, it means creating thoughtful boundaries that preserve what’s best about a place for everyone.
There’s a myth in the travel industry that more equals better. More visitors, more bookings, more development. But the reality is that the most resilient and respected destinations of the future will be those that know when to say “enough.” Tourism should be additive, not extractive. That means focusing on quality over quantity, embracing off-season travel, investing in cultural and environmental preservation, and most importantly, including local voices in every major decision. A destination that’s only built for outsiders will eventually collapse under its own commercial weight.
What we need now is a shift in mindset, from governments, developers, and yes, even travellers themselves. Tourists must learn to be more mindful. To ask not just what they can take from a place, but what they can leave behind in terms of respect, revenue, and responsibility. Local authorities need to move beyond short-term gains and put policies in place that protect communities and the natural environment for the long haul. And travel businesses, including tour operators and accommodation providers, must play their part in supporting sustainable practices rather than chasing volume at any cost.
The world is not a theme park. These towns and resorts are real places with real people who deserve more than to be background scenery for someone else’s Instagram story. Let’s not wait until the charm, the culture, and the character are gone before we act. Let’s start now, with thoughtful policies, better education, and a commitment to making tourism a partnership, not an invasion.
Because if we don’t, we may win the battle of visitor numbers but lose the war for the soul of the very places we claim to love.
