Visitor-Centric Narcissism

When places become destinations, they suffer from market myopia

In previous articles, we saw that too many places mistake the brochure for the landscape, and the tagline for the truth. In the sea of sameness, everyone shouts louder, forgetting the audience has already left the room.

In an era where cities compete for attention in the global tourism marketplace, places increasingly present themselves not as lived-in habitats but as consumable destinations. The shift from place to destination often marks the beginning of what could be called visitor-centric narcissism — a self-absorbed form of place-branding where the imagined tourist gaze becomes the sole mirror through which a place sees itself.

This narcissism is not just a branding quirk, but it's a deeper pathology. It emerges when marketing departments, tourism boards, and destination managers become so obsessed with external validation — visitor numbers, Instagrammability, glowing reviews — that they lose sight of the essence of the place itself. In such scenarios, a town's history becomes a themed backdrop, its culture a curated show, its residents accidental actors in a tourist's photo album. The place begins to shape itself not from within but in response to what it assumes others want to see.

This leads directly to marketing myopia — a term from business strategy that refers to the short-sightedness of focusing on selling places rather than meeting real needs. In tourism, this manifests as cities chasing growth, "buzz," and foot traffic without asking whose lives are improved, whose identities are simplified, and whose voices are muted. When destinations cater too narrowly to visitor satisfaction, they often erode the very qualities that made them attractive in the first place: authenticity, complexity, and the messiness of real life.

Visitor-centric narcissism blinds destinations to their ecological and social limits. It prioritizes spectacle over substance, favoring the quick win of a viral campaign over the slow work of place stewardship. This is why some historic centers become caricatures, why local festivals get repackaged into international spectacles, and why a growing number of residents feel alienated in their own streets. The visitor is always right—until the visitor leaves and the damage remains.

The antidote is a humble, listening form of marketing. One that starts from inside the place, includes the voices of residents and underrepresented groups, embraces long-term value over short-term wins, and is rooted in a clear purpose. It is not anti-growth, but growth with direction and depth. Not respecting your place identity is not only setting yourself up for disaster, but you will also lose your residents' license to operate.

Marketing should not be about making a place more palatable to outsiders but about expressing its true character in ways that invite mutual respect. Paradoxically, the more a destination becomes just itself, the more it attracts the kind of visitor who values depth over novelty.

In the end, the healthiest places are those that resist becoming pure destinations. They do not flatten themselves for the market, nor do they contort themselves to fit passing trends. They cultivate a kind of generous opacity — enough to welcome, never to perform. And in doing so, they offer not just a visit, but a meaningful encounter.

- FRANK CUYPERS

This is an article in a series about Place Identity. In previous blogs, we spoke about The Sea Of Sameness and Why Marketing Tastes like a Meatball Sundae.

Those who can't wait: in 2 or 3 weeks, we will come up with solutions on how to avoid all these classic traps.