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Hidden Sights: Tourism, Representation and Lonely Planet
Hidden Sights: Tourism, Representation and Lonely Planet
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CULTURAL studies
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Volume 13(5): 491–509
DOI: 10.1177/1367877910372707
Hidden sights
Tourism, representation and Lonely Planet
Cambodia
● Matthew Tegelberg
Trent University, Canada
articulated in the influential and highly successful travel guide Lonely Planet
Cambodia. The aim is to direct attention to discourses and representations
in guidebooks and their influential role in emerging tourist markets such as
Cambodia by accomplishing two central tasks. First, an investigation of the
discursive context within which Cambodia has been framed for more than a
century reveals Lonely Planet Cambodia’s tendency to reproduce a problematic
colonial discourse. Discourse analysis of examples from the guide demonstrates
how this particular narrative continues to perpetuate a history of silencing local
perspectives. These observations lead to a second line of argumentation.
Despite Lonely Planet’s stated intention to promote a responsible and socially
conscious mode of tourism, this agenda is contradicted by discursive practices
that strategically avoid controversial issues. Instead, the guidebook relies on
common tourist themes that are primarily concerned with producing an image
of Cambodia that appeals to the Western traveller. ●
491
492 I N T E R N AT I O N A L journal of C U LT U R A L studies 13(5)
(335 pages) and the limited scope of this article; however, it should be noted
that the themes and corresponding concerns raised here are characteristic of
the guidebook in its entirety.3 The examples are representative of wider con-
cerns raised by the contradictory nature of Lonely Planet’s mandate to pro-
mote independent, culturally responsible travel (Wheeler, 1999) and the
unacknowledged impact of their actual practices.
encounter literature dealing with Khmer art, architecture and royal dynasties,
this emphasis on high culture tends to overshadow the diverse subjectivities
of Khmer locals who continue to live and work around the temples. Norindr
argues that:
identifying Angkor Wat and court culture as the quintessence of
Cambodianness … support[s] a very narrow definition of what it means
to be Khmer, and perpetuate[s] … dangerous myths about the loss of the
nation’s cultural heritage and customs, promoting, perhaps unwittingly,
high culture over more popular forms of knowledge. (2006: 57)
When Khmer subjects do become visible, it is often as victims of the geno-
cidal Khmer Rouge since this theme lends itself to a touristic desire to con-
sume tragic sites (Lennon and Foley, 2000; Seaton, 1996). Lacking are
narratives giving voice ‘to the desires and ambitions of the Angkor people’
(Norindr, 2006: 68), which has the direct effect of rendering these people
invisible.
The repeated articulation of colonial fantasies has characterized the dis-
cursive context within which Cambodia has been framed and narrated for
more than a century. Winter warns that these problematic discourses are
only likely to proliferate due to: ‘the consistently pervasive influence of
travel writing or guidebooks and television channels such as Lonely Planet’
(2006: 39). This phantasmagorical Cambodia resembles what Fürsich
and Kavoori refer to as national tourism, a common practice: ‘where
unified national symbols are constructed, even if this involves the cultural
“cleansing” of cultural practices that are thought of as not attractive to
tourists’ (2001: 159). The authors note that this significant aspect of travel
writing has yet to be fully explored, raising a series of questions for future
work. It is therefore worthwhile to pay closer attention to the discursive
practices of LP Cambodia, since this popular text is highly influential
among tourists negotiating the wide network of texts, discourses and
representations of Cambodia and the Angkor temples.
Angkor is everywhere: it’s on the flag, it’s the national beer, it’s hotels
and guesthouses, it’s cigarettes, it’s anything and everything. It’s a symbol
of nationhood, of fierce pride, a fingers-up to the world that says no
matter how bad things have become, you can’t forget the fact that we,
the Cambodians, built Angkor Wat and it doesn’t come bigger than
that. (Ray, 2005: 42)
Contrast this with the abyss into which the country was sucked during
the hellish years of the Khmer Rouge, which left a people profoundly
shocked, suffering inside, stoical on the outside. Pol Pot is a dirty word in
Cambodia due to the death and suffering he inflicted on the country.
(Ray, 2005: 42).
These opening remarks establish the sense that Cambodia offers unique and
authentic attractions at affordable prices. It also becomes apparent that LP
Cambodia is aimed at a Western audience, with primary emphasis on the
‘traveller’.4 By proposing to take travellers ‘off the beaten track’, the
guide reproduces Lonely Planet’s wider image as an alternative source of
travel information, helping users avoid the congestion of mass tourism.
This image is upheld by establishing affordability, authenticity and tragedy
as primary nodal points5 around which the guide articulates Cambodia.
Despite the repeated articulation of this anti-tourism stance, the resulting
narrative tends to reproduce certain ‘structures of attraction’ (MacCannell,
1976) characteristic of wider discourses of tourism, heritage and colonialism
in Cambodia.
For MacCannell, a tourist attraction is ‘an empirical relationship between
a tourist, a sight and a marker’ (1976: 41). The marker provides information
about a sight that helps generate and reinforce the conceptions of that space
that are consumed by tourists. Structures of attraction are formed on the
basis of a relationship between an abundance of such markers and touristic
preferences about which sights are most important. Throughout the guide,
recurring themes function as markers insofar as they mediate Cambodia to
audiences, enhancing the popular appeal of certain attractions. This privi-
leging of certain themes (markers), at the expense of elements unlikely to sat-
isfy touristic expectations, creates structures of attraction that limit the range
of coverage to items favourable to Lonely Planet’s agenda. This process is
evidenced by Ray’s repeated praise for the low cost of accommodations and
services – the discourse of affordability – which is accompanied by disregard
for Cambodia’s troubling socioeconomic status as one of the poorest nations
in South East Asia. Likewise, while we seldom encounter information about
the cultural practices of Khmer locals in LP Cambodia, the aura of Angkor
and the tragic episode of the Khmer Rouge – discourses of authenticity and
tragedy – are repeatedly emphasized since these themes are known to satisfy
tourists with diverse backgrounds and motivations.
Tegelberg ● Hidden sights 499
Ground Zero, Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Nazi gas chambers and other popularized
memorial sites. There is a wealth of literature on thanatourism (Seaton, 1996)
or dark tourism (Lennon and Foley, 2000) which seeks to explain this
motivation to visit tragic sites. Sharpley has outlined four key metaphors of
consumption which can be associated with the motives for dark tourism:
experience, play, integration and classification (2005: 223). Focusing on expe-
rience and classification, we can see how these metaphors can be influential
in the consumption choices of independent travellers and mainstream tourists
in Cambodia. Reading the guidebook, the former may feel their experience is
amplified by showing empathy for victims of the Khmer Rouge whereas the
latter might gain ‘a voyeuristic sense of arousal or a sense of superiority’ from
observing tragic sites (Dahlgren et al., 2005). Repeated articulation of the
discourse of tragedy functions as a nodal point capable of appealing to
subjects with these differing motivations.
The supply side of dark tourism in Cambodia must also be taken into
account as there is a range of cultural, political, historical or commercial
motivations for the development of dark attractions (Sharpley, 2005). Wood
has recently observed some consequences of ‘putting the country’s history of
suffering at the service of attracting revenue’ (2006: 181). The problems he
associates with these practices include:
A singular version of history at odds with and at the expense of local
participation; a memorialization apparatus that reproduces and extends
existing hierarchies and lines of control; and an intensified commodification
of historical sites and land that generates greater economic vulnerability
and social tension. (Wood, 2006: 182)
He offers evidence of this alarming trend by focusing on Anlong Veng, an
attraction where the historical narrative has been fixed to correspond with
efforts to promote tourism in the region (Wood, 2006: 190). This limiting
of Cambodian history to a selection of episodes centred on global tourism
threatens erasure of the more nuanced, multi-faceted cultural narratives
that characterize the region’s vast history (Winter, 2006: 51). Yet to date
these questionable threads continue to carry considerable weight in
Cambodian tourism discourses. This is quite evident in LP Cambodia
where it has been noted that the discourse of Cambodian tragedy appears
repeatedly throughout the guide. The irony is that while Lonely Planet
appeals to a diverse audience and claims to promote responsible travel, dis-
cursive practices are limited to a series of presumptions that leave out a
wealth of differing perspectives.
Economic: travel that has financial benefits for the host community and
operates on the principles of fair trade. (Lonely Planet Online, 2008)
Lonely Planet Online (2008) answers the question ‘What is Responsible
Travel?’ by offering these definitions of ‘bottom line’ issues central to
the company ethos. The previous discussion drew attention to a correlation
between the discursive practices of LP Cambodia and popular tourism
discourses, bringing the guidebook’s alleged philosophy into question. This
contradiction between principle and practice is also evident in the guide’s
treatment of some specific issues threatening the livelihood of many
Cambodians. Furthering efforts to appeal to a wider audience, the guide
represents these economic, sociocultural and environmental concerns in a
manner that avoids critical engagement with the real issues. The problem,
according to Elfriede Fürsich, is that while:
Lonely Planet’s untourism is critical to the problems of mass tourism
and thrives on class immersion of the Western backpack tourist to the
conditions of locals … it does not question its own conflicted position
as a voluntary and temporary escape from consumer society and the
negative impact of backpack tourism on visited countries. (2003: 12)
Analysis of examples from the ‘Temples of Angkor’ section reveals some direct
consequences of these discursive practices; most notably, the silencing of
local perspectives on tourism development in the region.
‘Temples of Angkor’ provides readers with a 44-page guide, which includes
detailed maps of the temple grounds, suggested itineraries, historical back-
ground, photographs and more (Ray, 2005: 134–78). This lengthy passage
from ‘Admission Fees’ addresses concerns about ticket concessions:
Entry tickets to the temples of Angkor are controlled by a local petroleum
company called Sokimex, which in return for administering the site takes
15% of the revenue. Just 10% goes to Apsara Authority, the body respon-
sible for protecting and conserving the temples, and 75% goes to the
Finance Ministry – it’s anyone’s guess what happens once it enters that
black hole. Putting profit before preservation is, in our opinion, a scandal
and the situation will hopefully change in the coming years. Ironically, the
situation is better than it was a few years ago, when ticket scams were
plentiful and almost nothing of the entrance fee filtered through the tem-
ples themselves. (Ray, 2005: 144)
The statement indicates that there is reason to be alarmed by Sokimex
and the Cambodian authorities’ considerable stake in profits resulting
from the increasing popularity of Angkor. The adjacent text box, ‘When
Nature Calls’, provides commentary on public toilets. Ray notes that: ‘Angkor
Tegelberg ● Hidden sights 503
is now blessed with some of the finest public toilets in Asia’ and ends with
a warning: ‘Remember, in remote areas, don’t stray off the path – being seen
in a compromising position is infinitely better than stepping on a land mine’
(2005: 145). On the next page, the author claims:
The days of serene and spiritual moments within the confines of empty
temples are definitely over. Angkor is back on the tourist trail and is getting
busier by the year. But it’s not all that bad news, as, with a little planning,
it is still possible to escape from the hordes. (2005: 146)
Despite the inevitability of crowds and congestion, Ray assures travellers that
making good choices at the temples can still result in a gratifying experience.
The first passage introduces a situation that is more complicated than
readers are likely to discern. Sokimex has enjoyed a steady rise in profits
since it gained control of Angkor ticket concessions. Yet, according to LP
Cambodia, it is unclear where the vast majority of their income is spent.
The guide acknowledges this is a troubling arrangement but fails to address
problems posed by the commodification of heritage sites such as Angkor for
local economies (Wood, 2006). After the Sokimex takeover, Khmer locals
were banned from selling souvenirs and refreshments inside the temples.
It also became difficult for locals to use roads running through the temple
complex, despite the fact Khmers are supposed to have unregulated access
to the sites (Boland, 2005). These restrictions make it complicated for locals
to generate income from the high concentration of tourists, which the
guidebook praises as a key source of income. Boland (2005) speculates
these are just initial stages in a process that is seeing Angkor ‘sanitized and
Disneyfied for tourists’. A study by Apsara Authority and the New Zealand
government confirms the situation continues to deteriorate with less than
20 cents from every tourist dollar reaching Khmer locals, while the major-
ity goes to airlines, tour operators and hotel chains (Coggan, 2007). This
reveals some of the damaging effects of commodification for the local
population.7 Most troubling, perhaps, is the growing distance between
those who benefit from Angkor tourism and a much larger population of
poor, displaced Khmer locals. While Lonely Planet claims to encourage
travel that provides financial benefits for host communities, LP Cambodia
neglects opportunities, like this one, to raise awareness of financial hardships
and generate support for the people of Angkor. The outcome is that these
‘subaltern characters’ (Norindr, 2006: 66) are rarely able to voice their
opinions or gain recognition of the steady flow of cultural tourists who
have a direct impact on their daily lives.
The next example warns of the threat landmines pose to travellers who
stray off the beaten path. Winter notes that these warnings, typical of travel
guides such as LP Cambodia, cross conventional boundaries in their capacity
to engage tourists on different levels. For some, the landmine threat ‘is
inherently seductive, whereas for others, a perception of Cambodia as dark
and dangerous means that sticking to that path is eminently preferable and
504 I N T E R N AT I O N A L journal of C U LT U R A L studies 13(5)
safer (Winter, 2006: 47). Granted these precautions are necessary, the guide
fails to provide sufficient coverage of non-governmental organizations
(NGOs) in Cambodia that need additional support to clear millions of
active landmines (Ollier and Winter, 2006). There are also currently an
estimated 40,000 amputees and hundreds of new victims annually who
require rehabilitation and survivor assistance. Unfortunately, removal and
rehabilitation efforts are ignored in this section and gain limited exposure
throughout the guide. Stuart Hughes (2003) relays a different message, shar-
ing the experience of one such victim: ‘Chum Sakhorn says the landmine he
stepped on also blew away any chance he had of a successful future. Sixteen
years on from his accident, he ekes out a living selling books and postcards
to tourists in Phnom Penh’s central market.’ While Sakhorn’s story raises
awareness of an issue that affects the lives of Cambodians, the guidebook
presents the issue primarily from the perspective of tourists. By silencing the
voices of Cambodian amputees, NGOs and other concerned parties, LP
Cambodia’s discursive practices effectively cancel out its stated effort to
foster interaction and greater understanding between hosts and guests.
The final selection of text overlooks apprehension with regard to the
growing popularity of the Angkor temples. Unregulated development and a
steady flow of tourists have had an environmental impact in and around the
temples. Boland (2005) reports that water scarcity, pollution and the danger
of Bayon temple collapsing were some of many concerns raised by Angkor’s
reputation as an international tourist attraction. ‘It couldn’t be more ironic:
mass unplanned tourism endangering the very attractions that bring people
here’, claims Boland (2005), who adds that:
what’s worse is that very little of the money being generated by these devel-
opments is going back either to the Cambodian people or to help conserve
the temples. Most of the new bars in Siem Reap are leased by foreigners, and
most of the new hotels have been built by foreign developers.
Wood provides further evidence of this disturbing trend noting that:
‘Continued “development”, including clear-cutting often under the auspices
of de-mining, continues to reshape the historical landscape into an unrec-
ognizable form’ (2006: 191). ‘Avoiding the hordes’ makes the assumption
that locals are completely satisfied with rising levels of mobility around the
temples. This presumption fails to acknowledge the drastic impact these
changes are having on the landscapes inhabited by Khmer people for
centuries. LP Cambodia’s lack of interest in the negative environmental impact
of ceaseless development in the Angkor region is disturbing, especially since
the presence of tourism is only likely to intensify in the coming years.
The rhetorical strategies identified in these sections have the tendency to
advise travellers to tread lightly and accept that poverty, corruption and
environmental degradation (among other issues) are inevitable attributes
of a trip to Cambodia. Each example evidences the discrepancy between
company values and actual practice. These inconsistencies are often quite
Tegelberg ● Hidden sights 505
subtle and at first glance the text reads as though care has been taken to
offer objective coverage of important issues. The careful reading of these
examples points to the limits of such practices, identifying how significant
tensions are absent from LP Cambodia. As a promotional discourse, one
might argue such practices are the inevitable outcome of any commercial
pursuit; Ray merely targets an audience that is most likely to consume this
particular product. However, what is fascinating about LP Cambodia is the
way in which targeting the underbelly of tourism, to a certain extent, functions
as a highly effective marketing strategy. It is successful since other tourists
become ‘the uncouth, despised, insensitive, problematic, simplistic tourist’
(Phipps, 1999: 87), while LP Cambodia’s readers are ‘conscious’ of the issues
and are, therefore, outside this particular categorization. It is also clear that
these practices do not represent the limits of what can be covered in a
guide. LP Cambodia’s future narratives could accomplish a great deal to
raise awareness of local perspectives and encourage ‘anti-tourist’ readers to
demand corporate and government accountability; an approach that would
more closely resemble the company’s responsible travel policy.
In Imperial Eyes, Mary Louise Pratt draws our attention to the complexities
of cultural encounters in the spaces of late 18th- and early 19th-century
colonization. She refers to these spaces as contact zones: ‘where disparate
cultures meet, clash, and grapple with each other, often in highly asymmetri-
cal relations of domination and subordination’ (1992: 4). Pratt analyses
prominent travel narratives to demonstrate how ‘indigenous peoples are
abstracted away from the history that is being made’ (1992: 64) by colonial
authors reflecting on experiences in these contact zones. These earlier
moments of contact are today superseded by complex, commodified cultural
encounters at tourism destinations like the Angkor temples. Yet, in these
contemporary spaces, I have identified a related set of practices that continue
to characterize widely circulated tourism discourses of Cambodia and which
merit further attention.
A growing proliferation of Western perspectives on the tourist experience
in Cambodia still fails to account for the diverse perspectives of local
peoples. Characterizing this absence led us to problematize LP Cambodia’s
influential status as a widely circulated representational text; a necessary
undertaking since studies of tourism have seldom accounted for the specific
role of guidebooks in tourist systems. The mapping of wider historical
narratives drew attention to their resemblance to relatively narrow framings
of the Angkor temples in contemporary tourism discourses. While colonial
discourses were central to French expansionist policy and exploitation in
Indochina (Norindr, 1996), the guide emphasizes themes of affordability,
authenticity and tragedy in support of Lonely Planet’s hegemonic status as
506 I N T E R N AT I O N A L journal of C U LT U R A L studies 13(5)
a key player in the global tourism arena. In specific instances, we saw how
the maintenance of such themes tended to undermine the company’s claim
to advocate for sustainable, socially conscious and responsible modes of
tourism. If we accept that guidebooks such as LP Cambodia play an influential
role in mediating cultural relations at tourist destinations, then we must
continue asking what hidden sights are revealed through careful investigation
of these contemporary tourism discourses.
It seems that LP Cambodia’s story, which appears to represent self-
evident truths, points to the beginning of another story that has yet to be told.
As Norindr suggests: ‘New images of vibrant customs and cultural practices
must be brought to light, which must distinguish themselves from the same
commodified and instrumentalized images … mobilized by a global tourism
industry’ (2006: 57). This observation encourages us to move toward a
reconceptualization of the way cross-cultural encounters are understood,
one which draws attention to discourses that are currently lacking from the
most prevalent forms of touristic representation: studies of tourism must
ask, in other words, how we can begin to make way for discursive practices
that allow local stories to be told.
Considering the contradictions addressed in this article, it is fruitful to
begin to consider how local perspectives can inform the study of tourism. It
is crucial, for instance, that we begin to examine the ways in which local
populations at tourist attractions are affected by their symbolic representa-
tion in guides. It is also important to pay more careful attention to the
material impacts of tourism, especially those that affect the daily lives of
local inhabitants. On trips to the global South, we can no longer remain
oblivious to the lives of those who are directly affected by our presence.
Notes
References
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