מילים חדשות · 2

By Tom Levi, a tour guide in Jerusalem.

For twenty years I have earned my living by walking visitors through the narrow streets of Jerusalem's Old City. I have seen the crowds at the Western Wall on a summer afternoon, and I understand why some people in Europe now say that their cities have had enough. But when I read about entrance fees and bans on new hotels, I worry that we are treating the wrong illness.

In 2020, I learned what a city without tourists looks like. During the pandemic, the alleys of the Old City were empty for months. The family that has sold me coffee for two decades could not pay its rent, and the craftsmen who make jewellery and ceramics for visitors closed their workshops. Tourism is not only hotels and international chains; it is thousands of small businesses that feed real families.

The real problem, in my experience, is not the number of visitors but where and when they go. Most tourists crowd into a handful of famous sites at the same hours, while beautiful neighbourhoods a few streets away remain almost empty. Spread the same number of people across the day, the week and the city, and much of the pressure disappears. Some famous sites already do this. The Alhambra in Granada sells tickets for specific times and limits the number of visitors each day, and the Louvre in Paris asks visitors to book a time in advance.

I also worry about who pays. A fee for entering a city sounds fair until you realise that it falls most heavily on students, families and young travellers, while wealthy visitors hardly notice it. Travel should not become a privilege of the rich. Some of the most important lessons I have seen visitors learn in Jerusalem had nothing to do with history books: they came from sharing a meal or a conversation with people whose lives are very different from their own.

None of this means that cities should do nothing. Residents are right to be angry when apartments become hotels and rents rise beyond their reach. Clear rules for holiday rentals make sense, and I would support them. But that is a question of housing policy, not a reason to treat every visitor as a problem.

Tourism, like water, can flood a place or bring it to life. The answer is not to build a wall, but to build better channels.

By Tom Levi, a tour guide in Jerusalem.

For twenty years I have earned my living by walking visitors through the narrow streets of Jerusalem's Old City. I have seen the crowds at the Western Wall on a summer afternoon, and I understand why some people in Europe now say that their cities have had enough. But when I read about entrance fees and bans on new hotels, I worry that we are treating the wrong illness.

In 2020, I learned what a city without tourists looks like. During the pandemic, the alleys of the Old City were empty for months. The family that has sold me coffee for two decades could not pay its rent, and the craftsmen who make jewellery and ceramics for visitors closed their workshops. Tourism is not only hotels and international chains; it is thousands of small businesses that feed real families.

The real problem, in my experience, is not the number of visitors but where and when they go. Most tourists crowd into a handful of famous sites at the same hours, while beautiful neighbourhoods a few streets away remain almost empty. Spread the same number of people across the day, the week and the city, and much of the pressure disappears. Some famous sites already do this. The Alhambra in Granada sells tickets for specific times and limits the number of visitors each day, and the Louvre in Paris asks visitors to book a time in advance.

I also worry about who pays. A fee for entering a city sounds fair until you realise that it falls most heavily on students, families and young travellers, while wealthy visitors hardly notice it. Travel should not become a privilege of the rich. Some of the most important lessons I have seen visitors learn in Jerusalem had nothing to do with history books: they came from sharing a meal or a conversation with people whose lives are very different from their own.

None of this means that cities should do nothing. Residents are right to be angry when apartments become hotels and rents rise beyond their reach. Clear rules for holiday rentals make sense, and I would support them. But that is a question of housing policy, not a reason to treat every visitor as a problem.

Tourism, like water, can flood a place or bring it to life. The answer is not to build a wall, but to build better channels.

By Tom Levi, a tour guide in Jerusalem.

For twenty years I have earned my living by walking visitors through the narrow streets of Jerusalem's Old City. I have seen the crowds at the Western Wall on a summer afternoon, and I understand why some people in Europe now say that their cities have had enough. But when I read about entrance fees and bans on new hotels, I worry that we are treating the wrong illness.

In 2020, I learned what a city without tourists looks like. During the pandemic, the alleys of the Old City were empty for months. The family that has sold me coffee for two decades could not pay its rent, and the craftsmen who make jewellery and ceramics for visitors closed their workshops. Tourism is not only hotels and international chains; it is thousands of small businesses that feed real families.

The real problem, in my experience, is not the number of visitors but where and when they go. Most tourists crowd into a handful of famous sites at the same hours, while beautiful neighbourhoods a few streets away remain almost empty. Spread the same number of people across the day, the week and the city, and much of the pressure disappears. Some famous sites already do this. The Alhambra in Granada sells tickets for specific times and limits the number of visitors each day, and the Louvre in Paris asks visitors to book a time in advance.

I also worry about who pays. A fee for entering a city sounds fair until you realise that it falls most heavily on students, families and young travellers, while wealthy visitors hardly notice it. Travel should not become a privilege of the rich. Some of the most important lessons I have seen visitors learn in Jerusalem had nothing to do with history books: they came from sharing a meal or a conversation with people whose lives are very different from their own.

None of this means that cities should do nothing. Residents are right to be angry when apartments become hotels and rents rise beyond their reach. Clear rules for holiday rentals make sense, and I would support them. But that is a question of housing policy, not a reason to treat every visitor as a problem.

Tourism, like water, can flood a place or bring it to life. The answer is not to build a wall, but to build better channels.