Unpacking Backpacker Privilege

I would like to address something that makes me deeply uncomfortable as a white traveller in developing countries. Ever since I first travelled through South East Asia five years ago, I have been aware of the very strange power dynamic that exists between Western backpackers and hard-pressed locals who rely on our pennies to feed their families. I wondered how it could be that, at the tender age of 18, I had the purchasing power to make grown men practically bow at my feet, and I felt a dull sense of guilt at having done very little to earn this elevated status. It feels a little difficult for me acknowledge the prickly truth that I now have seen more of the world than many people will ever see in their whole lives, and solely for the reason that I was born into a situation that afforded me the privilege to do so. However, the discomfort of my European advantage tells me that it is all the more important that I reflect on it, and consider how I can do better within this environment. Here goes.

Whilst in Hue, Vietnam, I did a walking tour of the city. I got along really well with the girl who was leading the tour. She was only a few years older than me, and it was so refreshing to get to know more about the everyday life experienced by the Vietnamese, rather than the sanitised version of the country that white people tend to opt for when they stay in hostels full of people that look like them and eat in restaurants that have the menu in English. I am as guilty of this as anyone. Whilst I was chatting to my tour guide, I learned that she was working two jobs on top of giving the donation-based tours, at the same time as studying pharmacology. I learned that she had never left Vietnam, but she would love to visit Europe, she said. I said that she would always be welcome to stay with me if she ever came to the UK, knowing that this was an offer that was unlikely to ever be taken up. If you are reading this now, my most fondly-remembered tour guide – the offer still stands and I hope to welcome you one day in my country.

The reality is that, for many people in developing countries, for no reason other than the luck of their draw, they won’t get to travel the world. Perhaps they wouldn’t choose to spend their money that way even if they had it to spare. Many Westerners have come to see travel as a kind of spiritual practice which will feed the soul with experience and enrich the mind with understanding, but there are more subtle yet fundamental places to find fulfilment than in hostels and waterfalls. Nevertheless, it is an absolute privilege that many of us have the option to fly to the other side of the world and experience the richness of distant cultures, often seen as a kind of rite of passage when we are just out of school. Be under no illusion: this privilege is a result of the political domination and economic exploitation that our ancestors subjected upon the foreign people they called 'uncivilised'. The world order established in the times of violent colonisation and systemic domination continues to preference Europeans, and has created a global economy that values the British Pound as higher than the Vietnamese Dong. We travel to countries in South East Asia and Latin America because they are cheap and therefore easier for backpackers to do it ‘on a shoestring’, but often one man’s shoestring is another man’s living.

The other night I served as a translator for two angry Dutch girls who were arguing with the doorman of a nightclub because they needed change from the entry fee they paid: they were owed 4 Mexican pesos (this is the equivalent of 15 British pence). The doorman said sorry, he didn’t have the right amount of change to give them, to which they responded “why should we lose money just because we’re white?”. This really pushed my buttons. I asked them if they realised that their whiteness was in fact a privilege, and they said “we’re not privileged – we work for our money!”. I walked away. I didn’t think it was worth my time to point out all of the Mexicans around us, also working for their money. The old ladies sat on the street outside selling peanuts and bracelets and anything else they think they have a chance of selling to the offhand tourist, or the children who are made to beg from the minute they can walk, who would likely never get the chance to sacrifice 15p to enter a nightclub in a distant country. For the sake of my own sanity, I couldn’t spend my energy explaining to them all of the ways that they were being spoilt, ungrateful and painfully, ridiculously insensitive.

I appreciate the opportunity I have to see other countries and learn from other cultures, and I try to honour that possibility by engaging with locals in their language, and offering my assistance where I can. I try not to haggle too much. I say thank you. I look people in the eye and smile at them even if I am met with responses of suspicion or resentment. I would probably resent the gringos too, if the roles were reversed. Too often I watch tourists bark orders at waiters or haggle over some tiny amount, which is really nothing short of offensive when we consider the advantages we enjoy as relatively rich white people; it makes me feel embarrassed and ashamed.

For as long as I can remember I have loved experiencing foreign lands and learning about the people that inhibit them. That is why I have chosen to study languages. That is (one of the reasons) why I have made such an effort to spend time outside of my homeland over the last five years. However, I recognise that I still have a lot to learn about how I can engage with travel in a more meaningful and positive way. I know that I have both privilege and power within this setting, and that there will always be ways to leverage this to a better effect. I would therefore like to open up the discussion to travellers, locals or pretty much anyone with an opinion, in the hope of generating some ideas around how to travel in a way that is helpful to local communities rather than exploitative of them. Like all privilege, the economic (and even racial) advantages that European backpackers enjoy must be unpacked so that we can move beyond apathy, anger and guilt. Humans tend not to see themselves as oppressors or as participants in damaging cultural norms, however the longer we ignore the privilege we enjoy, the more we perpetuate the injustice others suffer. Starting with the basic concession that we are extremely lucky to have the option to do what we do, we can try to leave a more positive imprint on the communities we visit than just the money in our wallet.