How many times, when planning a vacation, have you considered visiting a concentration camp instead of a Caribbean beach? Probably not many. Yet, there are those who prefer to spend their free time immersed in the darkest places in human history rather than sipping cocktails under an umbrella. dark tourism, or tourism in places linked to death and suffering, is a phenomenon that continues to intrigue both academics and more traditional travellers and which has seen a significant increase in interest in recent years.
From Auschwitz to the 11/XNUMX Memorial, from Chernobyl to the Cambodian Killing Fields, these sites are not just destinations: they are custodians of collective memories that, however painful, seem to hold a profound fascination for many of us.
Beyond the morbid curiosity of dark tourism
Many will turn up their noses at the idea that someone could choose to visit places of immense suffering during their free time. The first reaction is often skepticism: who would want to spend their holidays confronted with the horrors of the past? And above all, what motivations lie behind this choice? Isn't it perhaps a morbid curiosity, a voyeurism disguised as cultural interest?
Nothing could be further from the truth, at least according to scholars who have studied the phenomenon in depth. Dr. Philip Stone, founder of the Dark Tourism Research Institute at the University of Central Lancashire, explained clearly that these places serve primarily to commemorate “our notable dead within tourism economies, through museums and displays, monuments and sites, as well as visitor attractions.” It would therefore not be a mere display of tragedies, but of complex spaces where collective memory is preserved and transmitted.
Dark tourism represents tragedies or calamities for the contemporary tourist experience and the “difficult heritage” it often entails. It is linked to contested memory, memorialization, and visitor experience.
These places transcend mere historical documentation to become true spaces for existential reflection. Visitors are not looking for the thrill of death (a cliché debunked by research) but an opportunity to engage with events that have shaped human history, however painful they may be.
The True Motivations of the “Dark Pilgrims”
To truly understand dark tourism, we need to abandon our prejudices and look at what research tells us about the real motivations of visitors. Dr. Duncan Light, senior academic in Tourism Management at Bournemouth University, has conducted extensive studies on the phenomenon and his findings are illuminating.
“One of the biggest misconceptions is that people who visit places of death and suffering have a morbid fascination with death,” explains Light.
However, much research has been conducted on the reasons why tourists visit places of death and virtually no evidence of such motivations has been found.
What emerges instead is a much more complex and deeply human picture. People visit these places primarily to learn from the past, to commemorate tragic events, to connect with history by seeing with their own eyes where certain events took place, to pay homage to the victims, to visit places associated with their family history, and to visit places significant to their national identity.
It is a list of motivations that has nothing "dark" or morbid about it, but instead speaks of a deep need for connection with history and collective memory. In a certain sense, dark tourism represents a modern form of pilgrimage: a journey undertaken not for pleasure, but for deeper personal and collective enrichment.
Sanctuaries of Memory in Dark Tourism
One of the most interesting features of dark tourism is the extraordinary variety of sites that fall into this category. These are not just concentration camps or war memorials, but a wide spectrum of places that have in common their connection with traumatic events in history.
Auschwitz, perhaps the most emblematic of dark tourism sites, offers an experience that goes far beyond historical documentation. The concentration camp, where at least 1,1 million people were murdered during World War II, today is a museum where the original blocks and barracks stand as silent witnesses to one of the most tragic events in human history. The preserved personal objects (shoes, suitcases, camp clothing and works of art made by prisoners) create an emotional bridge between the visitor and the victims, making the incomprehensible more tangible.
Equally significant, albeit in a different way, is the September 11 Memorial at New York. Built on the site where the Twin Towers once stood, the memorial and museum tell the story of the 2001 terrorist attacks through artifacts, media and personal narratives. The names of the 2.977 people killed inSeptember 11th, along with the six victims of the 1993 attack, are engraved on bronze parapets, creating a space for personal and collective commemoration.
Chernobyl represents a different type of dark tourism, linked to an environmental disaster rather than intentional violence. Before the Russian-Ukrainian conflict made visits impossible, the exclusion zone It was a popular destination for tourists interested in seeing the effects of one of the worst nuclear disasters in history.
The delicate balance of the “pleasant places of pain”
Managing dark tourism sites presents complex ethical and logistical challenges. As highlighted by Dr stone, dark tourism is “fraught with management dilemmas” and “political conundrums,” as tourism to places with a dark past can be “ethically complex.”
One of the main concerns is the marketing of places that are supposed to be spaces of reflection and commemoration. “The line between commemorating and commercializing the dead is becoming increasingly blurred,” Stone observes. It’s a delicate balance: on the one hand, these sites need to be accessible and informative; on the other, they need to maintain the dignity of the victims and respect for the pain associated with these places.
It has always struck me how thin this line is. A souvenir shop in a concentration camp might seem inappropriate, yet an educational book sold in the same place could be an important tool for spreading knowledge.
Likewise, tour guides who lead groups through the Killing Fields. in Cambodia they must find a balance between providing information and maintaining an appropriate tone of respect and solemnity.
The line between memorializing and commercializing the dead is becoming increasingly blurred. Even if we never encounter the corpse in dark tourism, we encounter touristic narratives of death, and significant dead can mediate our own sense of mortality.
Another problematic aspect concerns the behavior of visitors. Cases of tourists taking smiling selfies at Auschwitz or who assume inappropriate poses in other tragic sites rightly raise outrage. These behaviors highlight the need for ongoing education on proper etiquette in these locations, as well as on their historical importance.
Dark tourism: what it is not
Part of the confusion surrounding dark tourism stems from misconceptions about what it actually is. The practice is a “respectful and enlightened” engagement with history and its dark sides, in a way that educates people without sensationalizing past events.
Contrary to what some might think, dark tourism does not include visiting impoverished areas (a phenomenon known as “slum tourism”), war zones current (“war tourism”) or participate in extreme activities that could put people in danger, such as cave exploration (called “danger tourism”).
Furthermore, dark tourism does not in any way promote disrespectful behavior at historical sites. The negative incidents that occasionally make the news (such as the tourists taking inappropriate selfies at Auschwitz I mentioned earlier) are violations of dark tourism’s ethical norms, not legitimate expressions of them.
I think it is important to clarify these misunderstandings, because they contribute to a distorted perception of a phenomenon that, in its essence, has to do with learning, commemoration and reflection, not with exploitation.
Personal experience in dark tourism
When talking about dark tourism, it is easy to fall into abstractions and generalizations. But the experience of visiting these places is deeply personal and can vary enormously from individual to individual, depending on their background, their sensibilities and their motivations.
For some, visiting Auschwitz or the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum In Cambodia, it can be a way to connect with one’s family history, especially for descendants of victims or survivors. For others, it can be an act of witness, a way to say “we will not forget,” and to ensure that these tragedies are not minimized or denied.
Then there are those who visit these places as part of a learning journey, to better understand events that have shaped our world. And finally, some may be motivated by a broader interest in the human condition: to understand how ordinary people can commit or suffer acts of extraordinary cruelty, and what this tells us about human nature.
The experience of these places is rarely “pleasant” in the traditional sense of the word. It can be emotionally exhausting, provoking discomfort, sadness, anger, or a deep sense of solemnity. But it is precisely this emotional intensity that makes dark tourism a meaningful experience: it forces us to stop, to reflect, to confront aspects of history and humanity that might be more comfortable to ignore.
A journey through time and memory
One of the most fascinating features of dark tourism is how these places act as time portals, allowing visitors to establish an almost tangible connection with the past. A Pompei, for example, the casts of the bodies of the victims of the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 AD create a bridge across the millennia, making a disaster that occurred almost two thousand years ago immediate and palpable.
Similarly, walking through the Crumlin Road Prison in Belfast offers a unique window into the Troubles, the conflict in Northern Ireland that profoundly affected the region. Here, guided tours led by former political prisoners add a level of authenticity and personal perspective that no history book can match.
It always strikes me how these places allow us to perceive the past not as something distant and abstract, but as something that still resonates in the present. As observed by Dr stone,
Ironically, in a world that seems to be spinning ever faster, dark tourism focuses on death and the dead, but perhaps tells us more about life and living.
This observation captures the paradoxical essence of dark tourism: we visit places of death and suffering not out of a morbid fascination with tragedy, but to better understand life, human resilience, and our own mortality.
Dark tourism as an educational experience
In addition to its commemorative value, dark tourism offers unique educational opportunities that textbooks or documentaries cannot fully replicate. The physical and spatial dimension of the experience—walking in the same places where historical events took place—creates a level of understanding and emotional connection that is difficult to achieve otherwise.
Il Hiroshima Peace Museum, for example, offers a powerful testimony to the devastating effects of nuclear weapons. Seeing victims' personal belongings, the charred remains of buildings, and standing in the exact spot where the atomic bomb exploded creates an emotional and educational impact that a simple study of history could never match.
Memorials like this also serve as powerful reminders to future generations. As one visitor to the memorial observed, Hiroshima, “it's not just about remembering what happened, but making sure it never happens again.” In this sense, dark tourism It can be seen as a form of civic education, which encourages reflection on the consequences of hatred, intolerance and the indiscriminate use of power.
It seems particularly significant to me how many of these sites have evolved beyond the simple presentation of historical facts to include broader reflections on the ethical and moral implications of the events commemorated.
Il Choeung Ek Genocide Center In Cambodia, for example, it not only documents the horrors of the Khmer Rouge regime, but invites visitors to reflect on the conditions that allowed such atrocities to occur and the steps needed to prevent future genocides.
The Globalization of Memory in Dark Tourism
Another interesting aspect of dark tourism is how it contributes to a sort of globalization of collective memory. Events that might once have been considered primarily of local or national significance become part of a larger shared human narrative.
International visitors to Auschwitz, for example, are not necessarily descendants of Holocaust victims or perpetrators. Yet by visiting the site, they become part of a global community of witnesses, helping to keep the memory of those events alive and recognizing their universal relevance.
The same goes for sites like the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Rwanda, which commemorates the approximately 800.000 people killed during the 1994 genocide. International visitors to this memorial not only learn the specific history of the Rwandan genocide, but also participate in a broader reflection on the human capacity to commit and resist mass violence.
This transnational dimension of dark tourism can help create a sense of shared responsibility for humanity’s past and future. Visiting these places reminds us that, despite our cultural and national differences, we share a common vulnerability to tragedy and a common responsibility to prevent it.
Dark tourism and reconciliation
In some contexts, dark tourism can play a significant role in processes of collective healing and reconciliation. Sites such as the War Remnants Museum In Vietnam, for example, they present the history of the Vietnam War primarily from the Vietnamese perspective, offering international visitors (including Americans) the opportunity to engage with a narrative that may differ significantly from the one they grew up with.
These experiences, as uncomfortable as they may be, can foster a more honest dialogue about the past and contribute to processes of reconciliation between former enemies. As one American visitor to the museum noted: “It’s difficult to see your own country portrayed as the aggressor, but it’s important that we hear this part of the story, too.”
These places can serve as spaces for dialogue between divergent perspectives, where shared recognition of human suffering can transcend political and ideological divisions. It is not a question of relativizing history or equating all parties in conflict, but of recognizing the complexity of historical events and the multidimensionality of human suffering.
The Future of Dark Tourism
As dark tourism continues to grow as a global phenomenon, new issues and challenges emerge. One of these concerns the impact of technology and social media about the experience of these places. The temptation to document every aspect of one’s life on social media can lead to inappropriate behavior at memorial sites, such as the aforementioned selfies at Auschwitz.
At the same time, however, technology offers new possibilities to make these places more accessible and informative. Augmented Reality Applications, for example, they can help visitors visualize how sites originally appeared, or overlay personal stories and testimonials onto physical locations.
Another challenge is managing the growing number of visitors to some popular sites. Pompei, for example, had to introduce a daily limit of 20.000 entries during peak months due to record visitor numbers. Balancing accessibility with site preservation and maintaining an appropriate atmosphere is an ongoing challenge for managers of these places.
Looking at the future
We are likely to see continued evolution in how these sites present themselves and interact with visitors. The challenge will be to maintain the integrity and emotional power of these places as they adapt to new technologies, visitor expectations, and cultural contexts.
Dark tourism, ultimately, remains a complex and multidimensional phenomenon that challenges our traditional conceptions of travel and tourism. It is not simply morbid curiosity, but a deeply human way of engaging with the past, commemorating the victims and reflecting on the lessons that history has to teach us.
As he effectively summarized the Dr stone: “The dead in dark tourism can warn us of our own struggles, follies or misfortunes.” And perhaps this is the deepest value of these modern pilgrimages: they remind us where we come from, what we are capable of doing (for better or for worse) and invite us to imagine a different future.
