Refusing to visit a particular country has become a popular form of protest in recent years. Don’t go to Russia because of its brutal unprovoked invasion of Ukraine. Don’t visit Israel because of its also brutal treatment of Gaza and the West Bank and the mass slaughter and displacement of its people. Stay away from China because of its oppression of Tibetans and of Uigurs in its western Xinjiang province. And most high-profile of all (and injurious to many tourism and tourism-adjacent businesses in the United States), many Canadians are boycotting the U.S. over tariffs and the outrageous and insulting rhetoric which has emanated from its current president. And by the way, in a separate category because it´s state sponsored rather than grassroots, the Chinese régime has been also urging its citizens to boycott travel to Japan in the wake of its prime minister Sanae Takaichi's comments about Taiwan, which has caused a wave of flight cancellations and hammered Japanese tourism-related businesses.
The instinct is understandable: if tourism brings money, legitimacy, and visibility, withdrawing it should send a moral message.
But if travel boycotts feel emotionally satisfying, they are also deeply complicated—and, when taken seriously, nearly impossible to apply consistently.
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