Grockles and guiris*
Tourism is hardly a new phenomenon and, from the 'milords' of the 18th century Grand Tour to the 'emmets' of 'English Riviera' day trips, the locals have always had less-than-flattering terms to describe the hordes of visitors descending seasonally on their communities.
It is a love-hate relationship that goes back centuries, if not millennia; the trade-off between the economic gains and cultural losses of tourism. And the pursuit of balance between the two seems a pretty futile endeavour, at least if aimed at through legislation, taxes and tariffs. Consumer choice and the market forces of supply and demand seem more likely to hold sway, and they are brutal. Tourists are fickle and their loyalty cannot be taken as a given. Having destroyed the very things they come to see, tourists are liable to move on to despoil the next hotspot.
For most tourist destinations the influx is seasonal, providing at least some respite for the locals - a breathing space to recharge batteries before the next invasion. Sadly, however, this is not an option for the natives of the Canary Islands whose balmy climate has attracted tourists year-round, their flow regulated only by the cycle of European school and public holidays into high and low seasons. But, whilst there are peaks and troughs in demand, it is always open-season in The Canaries. This is beginning to exact a terrible toll on the Canarian people and the cohesion of their society, presenting them with a cruel dilemma which, though not unique to them, is very much heightened by their geography, climate and politics.
It is unclear precisely why the issue of overtourism has suddenly become a cause of mass protest in The Canaries. There has been a rising tide of opposition to major developments, both touristic and infrastructural, over the past few years but this has tended to come from a relatively small group of committed activists whom politicians have ignored or dismissed as troublemakers. Post-pandemic, the movement has gained momentum and is now manifesting itself in a huge popular movement bringing tens of thousands of demonstrators out onto the streets.
Local politicians, long in denial (and often in the pockets of developers and tour companies) are now thrown into disarray and are scrambling to find a new narrative to address the anger of their electorate. Accusations of 'tourismophobia' have given way to emolient messages about understanding the concerns and even of having long warned of them - a hypocritical re-writing of the narrative that has not gone unnoticed or unremarked by Canarians.
It is possible to identify five main causes for this apparently sudden turn of events: a return of tourists en masse after Covid; several high-profile and unsympathetic construction projects; a change in the tourism model; dramatic climate change and, of course, political incompetence and corruption.
After a prolonged period of blissful calm, with resorts mothballed and hire cars off the roads, islanders must have felt they had reclaimed their islands at last. Also, cushioned by ERTE, the Spanish equivalent of the UK's furlough scheme, workers did not suffer undue financial hardship as a result of the collapse of tourism, a mainstay of the economy. However, the deluge of 14 million tourists in 2023, with roads choked with traffic, came as a shock.
At the same time, two major touristic developments in Tenerife - a new beachside hotel at La Tejita and a massive luxury residential development around the little fishing village of El Puertito de Adeje - being marketed, with no apparent irony, as Cuna del Alma (Cradle of the Soul) - caused outrage, as did a proposed unnecessary new port project at FonsalĂa. Contemporaneously, a huge hydroelectric scheme at Chira Soria in Gran Canaria led to the formation of an inter-island protest movement, with activists travelling to participate in each other's actions.
The closure of resorts and hotels during the pandemic led to a remodelling of many, with the emphasis shifting to the development of apartments and houses, the net result of which has been to deprive many islanders of affordable homes. The rise in Airbnb-style lettings has had the consequence of pushing up rents and housing costs, increasing poverty and homelessness.
Formerly stable and reliable, the climate is now totally unpredictable, driven by global climatic shifts and rising sea levels. Temperatures are much higher than in the recent past and calimas (dust clouds blowing over from the Sahel) much more frequent and persistent. Coupled with the extreme heat they pose an increasing danger to health, particularly for the young and elderly and those with respiratory conditions.
With annual rain and snowfall patterns no longer reliable, drought is becoming a regular and prolonged experience. The demands of tourism for swimming pools, showers, golf courses and water attractions, such as Loro Parque, are insatiable and obviously incompatible with the needs of domestic residents and local horticulturists and viticulturalists who should by rights have first call on this precious natural resource.
But all these pressures are merely compounded by local politicians. They should be seeking to balance the needs of their electorate and those of the economy. Instead, their collusion - and now confusion - has added to the islanders' litany of problems. After being in cahoots with developers for years, wilfully denying the havoc being wreaked on the environment, it now appears these old-guard politicians have been shocked by the scale of the protest and are hurriedly trying to re-calibrate their positions. They may be fooling themselves but I doubt they are any longer fooling the people.
What conclusions they will draw from this sudden reversal in their electoral fortunes and, more importantly, what actions they will initiate as a result (if any) is unclear. Nor am I convinced that those responsible for creating the crisis can actually be relied upon to resolve it. The situation needs a fresh cohort of savvy young politicians to emerge, establish itself and implement new policies commanding the support of the people. How radical those policies might be, how quickly enacted and how successful, is anyone's guess.
One thing is clear, though, time is running out for the islands - and fast.
* No one seems sure about the derivation of the English pejorative, grockle, for tourists or day-trippers but the Spanish word, guiri, implies blond/e or pale