Protest Tourism: How Your Annual Leave Became a Package Holiday for the Morally Insatiable.
Once upon a time, people sent postcards from beaches they'd actually visited. Now you send Instagram stories from protests about places you'll never go.
Right, listen. Once upon a time, people went on holiday and bought postcards. Five, maybe ten of them. Scenic views. Sunny beaches. “Weather’s lovely, wish you were here.” Evidence you’d been somewhere. Proof they’d done the thing.
That was tourism. Simple. Honest about what it was.
And here’s what mattered: they actually went there. To Spain. To France. To Brighton. The place on the postcard? They’d stood in it. Walked on that beach. Ate at that café. Actually showed up to the location.
Now? Now you’re booking annual leave to attend protests. About places you’ll never visit. And before you tell me that’s different, stay with me, because this is where it gets brutal.
You’re Traveling, Just Not There.
Think about it. When’s the last time someone asked “where are you going Saturday?” and you said Center Parcs? You don’t, do you? It’s which march. Which cause. Which city, nowadays.
But here’s the thing: it’s never the actual place you’re protesting about, is it?
You’re going to London to protest about Palestine. You’re going to Glasgow to protest about climate change affecting the Global South. You’re going to Manchester for Gaza. Birmingham for Argentina.
You won’t go there. You’ll go to Trafalgar Square instead. Safer that way.
You’re organising yourselves into groups to travel to demonstrations. Carpooling. Booking train tickets together. Weekend trips built around protest dates. Some of you are doing the full solidarity tour circuit - Palestine protest in London Saturday, climate march in Glasgow Sunday, back to work Monday with your conscience clear and your annual leave depleted.
You’ve got causes competing for your attendance exactly like holiday destinations compete for tourists. Except traditional tourists had the decency to actually visit the destination.
And you’re traveling. Not to the Lake District. Not to Edinburgh for the festival. Not to Palestine. Not to the Amazon rainforest you’re so worried about. To wherever the next demonstration happens to be. Hundreds of miles from home. Thousands of miles from the place you claim to care about.
The postcard’s been replaced by the Instagram story. Same energy. Same function. You were there.
Just not there there.
See what I’m saying?
What You’re Actually Booking.
Here’s where it gets uncomfortable. You need disposable income for train fares. Or flights - yeah, some of you are flying to climate protests. Burning carbon to complain about carbon. But you’re not flying to the places being affected by climate change. You’re flying to Glasgow. To London. To anywhere but the actual location.
Let that sink in.
Accommodation if it’s not local. The outfit. The artisan coffee while you’re there. Childcare if you’ve got kids.
And time off work.
Not just any time off. Annual leave. Those precious days most workers get maybe twenty to twenty-five of per year. The same days you’d normally use for a week in Spain or visiting family at Christmas.
You’re booking your holiday entitlement in advance to attend protests. About places you won’t visit. Think about that. That’s not spontaneous uprising. That’s not grassroots mobilisation. That’s planned leisure activity with a righteousness rebrand and a convenient distance from any actual risk.
The working single mother with two kids and a zero-hours contract? She’s not booking annual leave to hop on a coach to London to wave a flag about Gaza. She’s at work. Or she’s at home because she can’t afford childcare to go stand in a street pretending to care about somewhere she also can’t afford to visit.
But you can, can’t you? You with your salaried job and your flat share. You can book the day off weeks in advance. You can afford the £60 return train fare to London. Not to Gaza - that would be complicated. Just to London to hold a sign about Gaza.
You can buy the keffiyeh. You can document yourself “standing with the oppressed” while the actually oppressed are stacking shelves at Tesco because they can’t afford to take unpaid leave, let alone waste annual leave days on performance activism in a different city about a different country.
This is protest as luxury good. You’re consuming activism like you’d consume a beach holiday. Except beach holiday tourists actually visit the beach.
The Uniform You’re Wearing.
Traditional holidays had dress codes. Swimwear for Spain. Hiking boots for the Alps. Your version has its own uniform requirements. The keffiyeh for Palestine protests. The correct badges. The approved slogans on your placard. You can’t just show up looking like yourself - you need to signal which tribe you’re with before you even open your gob.
You’re following the celebrity activist trail too, aren’t you? Checking where the next demonstration is like you’d follow a music tour. At least Greta Thunberg actually tried to reach the region - Israel stopped her before she could be admitted. But you? You’re not even attempting the journey. You’re booking tickets to wherever the protest happens to be. Stockholm. London. Places with good transport links and zero risk.
It’s groupie behaviour rebranded as political engagement. Same energy as following Taylor Swift, just with more moral superiority and less self-awareness about the fact that you won’t go where she at least tried to.
And it’s been documented - there’s been at least one stall at these events where you can literally swap flags when the cause changes. Palestinian flag traded for an Argentinian one. Like swapping currency at the airport, except it’s swapping righteousness. Last month’s activism accessory exchanged for this month’s model.
At least the bloke buying a sombrero in Cancún actually went to Cancún. He didn’t buy it in Birmingham and pretend he’d experienced Mexican culture. He’s honest about consuming an experience.
You? You’re wearing someone else’s cultural symbol - available on Amazon for £8.99 with next-day delivery - claiming solidarity with people whose country you won’t visit, whose language you don’t speak, whose actual needs you haven’t bothered to research beyond what fits on a placard.
The Product You’re Buying.
Traditional beach holidays had a product: fun. Getting drunk. Partying. Sun. The honest pursuit of pleasure in an actual location you actually visited.
You’re getting the same holiday high, just from a different substance. You’re getting blind drunk on self-satisfaction instead of sangria. And you’ve probably got the same hangover Monday morning when you wake up and realise nothing’s actually changed. Not in Gaza. Not in the Amazon. Not anywhere you claimed to care about.
The duty-free element’s brilliant though. Traditional duty-free, you avoid tax on luxury goods. Your version? You get moral superiority without bearing any of the actual costs. No sacrifice. No sustained effort. No personal risk. No long-term commitment. No need to actually go there.
You’re duty-free from actual duty. Duty to organise. Duty to follow through. Duty to make sacrifices. Duty to visit the place you’re protesting about. Duty to do the boring, unglamorous work that actually changes things. Duty to stick around when it’s not trending anymore.
Read that again. You’re buying the feeling without paying the price. Without even buying the plane ticket.
The Souvenirs You’re Collecting.
What do tourists bring home? Souvenirs from the place they actually visited. That inflatable dolphin from Benidorm. Sand from the actual beach. A magnet from the actual city.
You bring home your placard. About somewhere you didn’t go. Propped in the corner of the bedroom. Physical evidence of attendance. Just not attendance at the place you claimed to care about.
But the real souvenir is the content. The selfie with the crowd behind you. In London. Not Gaza. The artfully angled shot of your placard. The stories you reshare for weeks. “Here’s me at the protest” plays exactly the same role as “Here’s me on the beach.”
Except your grandparents actually went to the beach.
Traditional holiday: you bring back stories about getting drunk and falling in the pool. In Spain. Where you actually went.
Your holiday: you bring back stories about how you stood up for justice. In London. Protesting about Palestine. Where you didn’t go.
Both involve travelling somewhere, spending money, being around crowds, taking photos, feeling temporarily connected to something bigger than yourself, then going home to your regular life largely unchanged.
You see it now, don’t you? The difference is traditional tourists actually showed up to the location. You showed up to the performance venue.
You’re Rating It Like Yelp.
People are literally reviewing protests now. I’ve seen it. “Two stars. Poorly organised. No clear chant schedule. Police presence wasn’t intimidating enough for good photos. Would not recommend.”
“Glasgow climate march - three stars. Atmosphere good but weather terrible. Bring waterproofs. Actual climate-affected regions still inaccessible for safety reasons.”
“Palestine protest London - five stars. High energy, excellent crowd diversity for photos, would definitely recommend. Much safer than actually attempting to go to Palestine. Already booked tickets for next month’s event.”
This is consumer rating for your conscience. You’re reviewing protest destinations - not the places you’re protesting about, but the places where you protest about other places - like you’d review a restaurant.
There’s actual complaint culture developing. People getting annoyed that the protest didn’t deliver the emotional experience they travelled for. “I came all this way and it was boring!”
Yeah. Because actual political organising is tedious. It’s paperwork and meetings and years of grinding away at systems. And it requires going to the actual place. Staying there. Working there. Not turning up in London for three hours then going home.
Apply The Three Questions.
Is it practical? You travelling 200 miles - or flying hundreds more - to hold a sign about somewhere you won’t visit, for three hours, then leaving?
Is it logical? What’s the chain of causation between your attendance in London and actual change in Palestine? Where’s the mechanism? How does waving a flag in Trafalgar Square help people in Gaza?
What’s the likely outcome? You got content. You got likes. You got to feel like a good person for the weekend. The people you claim to support? Still in the same situation. Still in the place you wouldn’t visit. Still dealing with problems you experienced for three hours from several thousand miles away.
That’s what you’re buying. Not change. Not justice. Not solidarity. You’re buying the feeling of giving a damn about somewhere you won’t go without actually having to give a damn consistently enough to be inconvenient.
Back Where We Started.
Your grandparents sent postcards from beaches. “Weather’s lovely, wish you were here.” Honest documentation of being somewhere. They went to Brighton. They stood on that pier. They walked that beach. They actually showed up.
You send Instagram stories from barricades. “Stood with the oppressed today.” Proof you were somewhere. Just not the somewhere you’re claiming to care about.
Your grandparents knew their postcards didn’t change Brighton. They were just documenting they’d been there. To Brighton. The actual place. They weren’t pretending the postcard itself was making a difference. They weren’t claiming that sending it from Brighton was helping people in France. They were being honest about what it was.
You’re not.
You’re telling yourself and everyone else that you’re making a difference. That your presence in London matters to people in Gaza. That your Instagram story from Glasgow helps the Amazon rainforest. That booking annual leave to stand in a British city protesting about somewhere you’ll never visit is the same as doing the actual sustained work that creates change.
In that place. Where the actual problem is.
It’s not. It never was. And you know it.
But it feels good, doesn’t it? And it’s safer. And it’s easier. And you can be home by Monday.
That’s the product. That’s what you paid for. The feeling. Without the flight. Without the risk. Without having to actually go there.
Welcome to protest tourism. The beaches are gone. The barricades are here. The postcards show places you’ll never visit.
But the performance? That hasn’t changed at all.
At least the sangria was honest about being in Spain.
John Langley is an independent blogger and satirical commentator operating thealmightygob.com, applying his three-question framework to institutional dysfunction and political rhetoric across the UK, and globally.