The Ethics of Slum Tourism: Are We Selling Suffering as 'Authenticity'?

What if that thing you booked - the ‘authentic local experience’ was actually exploiting someone’s hardship?

Learning to blow a poison dart with a community in the Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

It’s an uncomfortable question, but one that anyone booking travel experiences needs to ask - urgently and often. Especially if you're someone who prides themselves on going beyond the tourist traps to find the local, real, proper experiences.

Slum tourism is something you're likely to hear a lot more about in the coming months. The term refers to guided visits to impoverished areas—favelas, townships, troubled communities - the behind the scenes bits of cities that until know, we didn't really talk about.

In the same way that influences have been lambasted for filming themselves getting a Greggs for someone who is homeless on the street, slum tourism often comes under the guise of offering something else. The ‘authentic,’ ‘local,’ or ‘off the beaten track’ experiences. Woe the day that we start calling them hidden gems.

This is the kind of language that makes us feel like we're stepping into a more meaningful or responsible form of travel. But what are we really stepping into?

This corner of tourism has always been controversial, but it’s now entering mainstream discourse far more than before; particularly as travellers become more socially conscious, and as brands try to balance purpose with profit.

Some argue that slum tourism raises awareness of inequality and brings income to communities typically left out of the tourism economy. In regions suffering from under-tourism, where government investment and NGO support may be limited, the money from tours can at least in theory, be a valuable lifeline.

But others see a darker side: a form of voyeurism that commodifies poverty, turning it into a spectacle for the privileged - standing on the other side of the street at a safe distance taking photos and curating video content for TikTok.

In this version of events, that tourist snap shot of hardship from behind a camera lens, often without context, consent, or any meaningful engagement leaves more questions than answers. And the communities? Many see only a sliver of the economic benefit, if any at all.

Slum tourism and the questions we need to be asking as tourism professionals

If you work in tourism - whether you're commissioning tours, writing content, planning product strategy, or leading destination development—this isn’t just an ethical debate to observe. It’s something we’re participating in, whether consciously or not.

Here are some uncomfortable but necessary questions we should all be asking:

Are we empowering communities? Or just packaging struggle as a product that makes travellers feel good about themselves?

A real world example: Invisible Cities

Pretty much my favourite client to work with is Invisible Cities.

They train and support people with lived experience of homelessness to be walking tours of their own cities. And they've managed to strike the balance just right.

They offer training, mentoring, advice and guidance to people who are ready for the world of work and think they might enjoy being a tour guide. There's no pressure - but those who want to, can go on to do full training beyond the confidence building, storytelling and customer service skills, so that they can research, design and launch their own walking tour.

Guides are paid the national living wage, set their own availability and run their tours based on their hobbies, interests, experiences and stories.

And my goodness, is the feedback extraordinary.

The guides and guests benefit equally. The bonds formed are magical. And the knowledge people leave a city with and take home is like nothing you'll find elsewhere.

So are locals truly benefiting—or are they simply being observed from a distance, without agency, voice, or consent?

After I got married in 2007, my husband and I travelled the world for four months. Whilst we did it on a shoestring budget, it was out of this world incredible to say the least.

Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok highlighted the most extreme contrasts between rich and poor.

I saw people tutting and stepping over amputees begging on the streets, annoying that they were in the path between them and the boutique shopping mall boasting Prada, Gucci and Hugo Boss to name but a few.

Whilst this scene wasn't an exploitative one it was a stark vision of the mis-distribution of wealth created in a tourist hot spot.

In the tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands we saw how tourism can work for good. We saw sensitively managed tea tours, well looked after and supported local farmers, and revenue from those tours going directly to those who were making their heritage and handicraft into an attraction as well as a living.

Tea plantations in the Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

So what is our industry’s responsibility if we choose to bring tourists into regions affected by poverty, famine, climate change, or war?

In years gone by I worked for a high end hotel chain with a particular resort in Riviera Maya, Mexico. It was bougie, booze-fuelled, party-central and very, very popular with influencers.

Now this was 2008/09 and things have improved a little I've got to say. But your average TOWIE guest then was only interested in the unlimited cocktails and pool parties. Yes, I'm generalising. But by and large, nobody wanted to go outside of the resort. Despite the fact that the local Mayan history, sites, villages and coastline were truly incredible.

So again there was a case of extreme opulence vs local poverty and little of the wealth being distributed outside of the confines of the resort.

This was my first experience of being asked to PR and proposition where I was expected to gloss over those challenges - and I'm happy to admit that back then, sustainability and positive social impact just weren't on the agenda.

Moving Forward: Responsibility Over Romance

As tourism professionals, we love stories.

We tell them, sell them, build brands around them. But if we’re going to keep using terms like "authentic" and "immersive," we need to interrogate what they really mean and who they benefit.

Creating more ethical, community-centered tourism models takes work. It means involving locals in the design and storytelling process, not just bolting on something as an after thought where you wave at people from over the safe side of the street.

It means measuring success by more than just guest satisfaction or Instagrammable moments. And sometimes, it means saying no to a tour idea that might sell, but doesn't sit right.

So the big question for all of us in the business of travel is this:

How are we balancing profit, purpose, and people in the experiences we create? And what is the benefit, to who and how do we measure that? And keep doing better.

This isn’t just about slum tourism. It’s about how we see the world, and how we decide which stories are ours to tell.

I'd love to hear your thoughts as well.