In a world increasingly colonized by algorithms, where the images that sell us holiday dreams are often as fake as a three-euro bill, TUI—the European tourism giant—has taken a step that, at its core, is political: defending authenticity as a commercial and ethical principle. It does so in a context of growing distrust of images generated by artificial intelligence (AI), especially in sensitive areas like southern Gran Canaria, where tourism is not just an industry: it's the ground beneath our feet.
The new study promoted by TUI Musement, its tours and activities division, reveals an uncomfortable truth for those who were already rubbing their hands with excitement about AI as a substitute for reality: most consumers, while not always able to distinguish fake images, are nonetheless wary of them. This is even more so in Spain, and particularly in areas like Gran Canaria, where the travel experience isn't reduced to a postcard, but is felt, smelled, and experienced with feet full of sand and the sweat of the street.
Because AI—as a tool—is powerful, yes. But its unbridled application has ended up causing a certain weariness among those who feel that the tourism narrative is slipping through their fingers and ending up in the laboratories of Düsseldorf or Silicon Valley. And in this context, TUI has said something many needed to hear: that the future will be digital, yes, but not at the expense of the truth.
The survey, conducted by Appinio for TUI in three key markets—Germany, Spain, and the United Kingdom—reveals a series of revealing data: younger and male consumers are more accepting of AI, but the majority of people, especially women and those over 40, still value authenticity over artifice. This is especially true in Spain, where tourism AI generates more skepticism than enthusiasm.
And it's no coincidence. In places like Maspalomas, Playa del Inglés, or Meloneras, where tourism is not just a customer, but a neighbor, an employer, and the linchpin of all local life, the attempt to replace the real with the artificial smacks of fraud. There, the image of a beach isn't just a promise of leisure: it's a reflection of identity, belonging, and sustenance.
TUI, which is not exactly an NGO, has known how to read the times. It doesn't use AI-generated images of destinations. And when it uses digital figures, such as the virtual influencer Lena, it clarifies that the backgrounds in its videos are real. It's an intelligent gesture: not so much a renunciation of technology as a public defense of coherence. AI is there, it will continue to be, but it must serve the experience, not replace it. Corporate hypocrisy? Maybe. A commercial move? Also. But in a sector plagued by empty rhetoric, defending transparency becomes, even if only by calculation, a political act. Especially in a Canary Islands that has been fighting for decades against the exploitation of its image—and its resources—by external interests.
The conclusion is clear: if tourism aspires to survive with dignity in the digital age, it will have to preserve reality as its most valuable asset. The visitor of the future will not want more filters, more cardboard postcards, more made-up beaches. They will want to know if the sand burns, if the fish smells, if the sunset hurts their eyes. And fortunately, AI cannot yet simulate this. TUI has understood this. Or at least it has communicated it skillfully. Now it remains for the rest of the sector, from the offices of Brussels to the resorts of Meloneras, to understand that true tourist luxury is not digital perfection, but the honest imperfection of the authentic. Because if there is one thing that southern Gran Canaria has, it is that it needs no retouching.
