The Canary Islands are burning for Tenerife. Not because of the sun, but because of the growing social tension surrounding tourism. Demonstrations, graffiti, chants of "The Canary Islands are not for sale!" and heated debates reflect a complex reality: tourismophobia has ceased to be a marginal phenomenon and has become a central focus of political, economic, and territorial debate in the archipelago. But beyond the noise, an inevitable question arises: who really benefits from this climate of rejection?
The noise that suits many
Far from being a univocal or spontaneous movement, tourismophobia—in its most radical or latent form—has become an opportunity for multiple actors. From investment funds hoping for the current model to deteriorate before imposing a more exclusive one, to political parties capitalizing on discontent to gain local power.
Vulture funds and luxury promoters
As neighborhood pressure against vacation homes and hotel saturation grows, large landowners see tourismophobia as a useful lever. They argue that mass tourism is no longer viable and instead promote low-density, high-profit models: gated communities, medical tourism, senior living, or luxury resorts with higher added value per visitor.
"If people don't want cheap tourism, that's fine. We have a plan B to sell exclusivity, privacy, and long-term profitability," says a developer linked to projects in southern Tenerife.
Parties that win votes on the beach
Neighborhood outrage is a political asset. Some island-wide and national parties have made criticism of the tourism model their mainstay, reaching out to social, neighborhood, and environmental groups calling for change. In local elections, this discourse has already borne fruit in municipalities such as Arona, Teguise, and even Mogán, where untouchable majorities previously reigned.
But not all discourse is innocent. In some cases, territorial defense is mixed with populism, protectionism, and even xenophobia, in a cocktail that threatens to distort the debate.
The business of “regenerative tourism”
Paradoxically, the tourism sector is also finding opportunities in the image crisis. Tour operators, agencies, and startups have begun to market the Canary Islands as a destination "in transition," ideal for conscious tourists, digital nomads, or luxury travelers seeking authentic experiences. Fewer tourists, but more profitable. That's the new mantra.
International competitors on the prowl
Meanwhile, rival destinations such as Turkey, Greece, Egypt, and Cape Verde are watching closely. Protests in the Canary Islands, images of overcrowded beaches, and tensions with residents serve as fodder for promoting themselves as more welcoming, affordable, or peaceful destinations. In the global tourism market, the Canary Islands' discontent also has a price.
Change of model or change of hands?
Tourismophobia channels legitimate frustrations: difficulty accessing housing, the collapse of public services, precarious wages, and the destruction of the territory. But if it doesn't translate into real structural reforms, it could end up being the perfect excuse for the same old players—with more capital, more lobbying, and more patience—to take over the tourism model.
