Can dark tourism ever be ethical? How to visit a place that has been hit by tragedy without turning other people's grief into a spectacle

The term dark tourism refers to a form of tourism that takes visitors to places marked by death, violence, or disasters: from extermination camps to crime scenes, from cities destroyed by natural catastrophes to memorial museums. It has nothing to do with necrotourism (i.e., visiting famous cemeteries), but rather a more intense experience, linked to collective trauma and the retelling of dramatic historical events. Born in the twentieth century with the spread of media and sensationalist journalism, dark tourism has fueled the morbid imagination surrounding sites of tragedy. From Jack the Ripper tours in London to visits to the scenes of famous murders in the United States, the fascination with the macabre has found an increasingly global market. A recent example comes from Australia. In the summer of 2023, in the town of Leongatha, in the state of Victoria, a woman named Erin Patterson was accused of murdering three people with poisonous mushrooms. The case received such media attention that Morwell, the location of the trial, became a sort of tourist stage for true crime enthusiasts. According to the British magazine The Guardian, a «media circus» began from the very first hearings, with crime tourists, journalists, and curious onlookers seeking photos, details, and insights about what had happened. The transformation of other people's pain into spectacle sparked harsh criticism: the rush for podcasts, docuseries, and books on the case made it clear how dark tourism can result in the sad commercialization of personal traumas. Perhaps in response to this effect, a new version of the phenomenon is emerging — a Dark Tourism 2.0 that prioritizes ethics, memory, and responsibility.

Unlike the traditional voyeuristic approach, the new Dark Tourism focuses on awareness, historical education, and ethical remembrance. The experience doesn't just show where a dramatic event took place, but tries to explain its causes, and what can be learned from that traumatic past. As a guide published on Go Travel Daily explains, responsible dark tourism must inform the visitor even before departure, involving them in an educational context that helps them deeply understand what they are about to witness. It is no longer about consuming tragedy, but about listening, understanding, and above all, respecting it. The website Sixt.vn, in a critical analysis of the phenomenon, openly denounces the risks of commercialising pain: when tourists take smiling selfies among ruins or share shocking content without context, memory becomes spectacle. The management of the sites themselves plays a central role: museums, memorials, and sites of catastrophe or genocide must work alongside local communities to avoid narrative simplification or trauma folklore. When tourism is reduced to superficial thrills, it becomes entertainment disguised as culture.

Nonetheless, there are virtuous examples that fully embody the idea of ethical dark tourism. The Auschwitz-Birkenau memorial in Poland, for instance, has become a global reference point for those seeking to understand the horrors of the Holocaust. Guided tours, archival materials, and care for the historical context make the site a place of education and reflection, where silence and respect are essential parts of the experience. In Kigali, the 1994 Rwandan Genocide Memorial adopts a strong visual and testimonial language — using photographs, videos, and personal stories to deliver a clear message: remembering is the only way to prevent it from happening again. Even Chernobyl, now no longer accessible due to the ongoing war, was once an example of active memory through regulated tours. The guides were locals who shared not only the nuclear disaster but also daily life before and after the explosion, guiding visitors on a journey beyond post-apocalyptic fascination. CNN Travel highlighted how the tours were governed by strict environmental rules and a narrative that was both technical and human.

In 2025, dark tourism can evolve into something more conscious, thanks also to technological support. Virtual and augmented reality now make it possible to explore inaccessible places, such as the Titanic on the ocean floor or Hiroshima before and after the atomic blast, without physically impacting the environment or turning sites into actual tourist attractions. According to an analysis by Lawyer Monthly, these solutions offer immersive and reflective experiences, opening new paths to digital commemoration. At the same time, a new current is emerging called hope tourism: in disaster-hit areas like Fukushima in Japan or earthquake zones in Haiti, efforts are being made to show the path of reconstruction and resilience, offering visitors not just the story of trauma but also of rebirth — not to mention how tourism can help socially reactivate geographic areas affected by war or environmental disasters. Dark Tourism 2.0 marks a crucial shift: from macabre tourism to a tool for collective awareness.