Overtourism: Revisiting the Sacred and Profane

You have probably seen news of protests in Europe about overtourism—locals upset about their hometowns being overrun with crowds, often pricing them out of local housing markets. Cities like Barcelona, Florence, Venice, and Paris have experienced problems with overwhelming summer crowds.

While the rebound after the COVID shutdowns of 2020 kept people from traveling for a year or more is part of the explanation, we can use our sociological imagination to think more deeply about why certain places draw crowds.

Sociologist Émile Durkheim wrote about how societies designate distinctions between the sacred and profane. While sacred sites might relate to religious practices, they can be any place that is inspirational to members of society, something that has meaning that transcends its basic purpose. For Durkheim, the profane is part of everyday life, maybe even mundane and lacks transcendental meaning.

Some places might be sacred to some people—not only religious sites, but places given new meaning because of social media platforms like Instagram—but not to others. Places might become “sacred,” or meanings that go beyond their everyday purpose, thanks to viral Instagram posts, movies, or other lore.

For instance, sites might take on “iconic” status if they are familiar to fans of the Lord of the Rings film trilogy. A trip to New Zealand can be made even more meaningful with a “pilgrimage” to the places where the films were shot. Going to Austria? Why not do a Sound of Music tour, with locations that may be familiar to fans of the 1965 movie of the same name (although much of the movie was filmed in Hollywood). Never mind that the movie was filled with inaccuracies about a family’s escape from the Nazis, and is not familiar to people in the region. The tours solely exist for North American tourists to feel connection to a classic movie.

When travel writer Cameron Hewitt explained why he doesn’t recommend that tourists visit Loch Ness in Scotland—a destination made famous for the “Loch Ness Monster” which by most accounts doesn’t really exist—the local press went ballistic. Hewitt’s point was that there are many other more interesting and meaningful sites to see in the beautiful country, but Loch Ness and its gift shops had become a sacred cash cow.

These examples fit Durkheim’s definition of sacred, as do the myriad of sites made famous via social media, even if there is no specific religious connection. These transcendent meanings can draw crowds to places. The larger the crowds, the greater the feeling that something must be important about the location, creating a cycle of meaning,

By contrast, religious sites can take on transcendent meanings beyond their religious origins, as I wrote about last year. On a recent visit to Milan’s Duomo, pictured below, timed tickets helped keep the crowds manageable.
As a religious space, there is a specific dress code: no hats, no swimsuits, flip-flops, shoulders should be covered, no bare bellies, and so forth. I was wearing a dress that just reached my knees and was nervous that it could have been considered too short. But when approaching the entrance, I was surprised to see lots of bare midriffs and shoulders, making my knees a whole lot less worrisome.

Visitors would still be allowed to enter if they purchased cover-ups, like the ones pictured below:

It was a hot summer day, and these sheer coverups seemed to be everywhere in the sanctuary. These people had bare midriffs and shoulders before purchasing cover ups for about €2 (about $2.25 USD). While the Duomo’s website says that dress code violators would be denied entry, these paper shawls likely drew some modest revenue and thus tolerance for violations.

Milan’s Duomo, like many other religious tourist draws, struggles to balance maintaining a site of religious worship with a site of tourist pilgrimage. It was clear that some people were engaged in prayer while others in sightseeing.

Old sacred spaces, like Milan’s Duomo, which dates back to 1386, are costly to maintain. While visiting, there was scaffolding along the sides, perhaps for cleaning or restoration. Along with the admission fee (starting at €10 (about $11.70), there are numerous places where visitors are asked to make donations. We paid extra (€22, or $25.72) to walk upstairs to the terrace, where there was also a great view of the Milan skyline.

These kinds of fees highlight Durkheim’s concept of the profane—the everyday, usualness of a location like this as a business—coexists with its sacredness.

Tourism is about more than just seeing important places—it is about reconstructing places as important as we visit, pay, record and share our visit with others. Overtourism is perhaps a reflection of the abundance of meaning placed within specific spaces. By visiting these spaces, we might experience some of the transcendence with which they are imbued.