Venice 'on the verge of collapse' as locals battle to save the soul of the city

When you think about it, it’s bound to be explosive: a town of 55,000-odd inhabitants – living along narrow, twisting alleyways; going about their business in transport severely limited by the geography of the place – besieged each day by an influx of 70,000 or more visitors, well over half of whom are day-trippers.

“At any time after 9am, the vast majority of the people you see on the streets of Venice are tourists. And everyone’s catering to them,” says resident Michela Scibilia. “Your butcher’s selling them water, your grocer’s selling them ice creams.” Locals, she says, resent feeling like an afterthought.

A recent protest against mass tourism in Venice
A recent protest against mass tourism in Venice Credit: 2016 Awakening/Awakening

These days, this resentment boils over most visibly in boisterous waterborne protests against massive cruise ships, 521 of which dwarfed the Doge’s palace en route to Venice’s passenger terminal in 2015. But while 10 monsters per week stirring up the lagoon’s fragile ecosystem is a massive environmental problem, they disgorged ‘just’ 1.8 million passengers into Venice’s tiny centro – a small proportion of a total greater than 25 million, according to local tourist board figures. The roots of bad feeling between Venice and its visitors arguably lie elsewhere, in inadequate infrastructure and lack of strategic planning in the tourism sector.

A cruise ship approaches Venice
A cruise ship approaches Venice Credit: 2016 James D. Morgan/James D. Morgan

Venetians are riled when their favourite café is packed out by people queuing for the bathroom, not realising that those 70,000 daily visitors must make do with just eight public toilets in the centre of Venice, almost all of which close at 7pm. They remonstrate with tourists picnicking on bridges or in squares – something which can get you a €50 fine – but budget-conscious travellers will struggle to find a park bench where they can take the edge off their hunger.

With property in Venice being snapped up to swell the current offering of around 30,000 beds, housing is another bone of contention. Buy-to-rent purchasers – most of them non-residents – have pushed already high prices even further skywards. Lax zoning restrictions mean that rooms anywhere can become tourist lodgings. Lower-paid workers are being priced out of the city, and forced to commute from the mainland.

“I’m lucky with my landlord but most people are under no illusions,” says Luisella Romeo, a registered Venice guide. “When their contract’s up, there’s a good chance it won’t be renewed: there's so much more money to be made renting to tourists.”

“It’s quite common now to find you’re the only person living in your block,” says Scibilia. “All the other doors have codes. These aren’t like B&Bs. Guests let themselves in and out. They have no contact with their absentee landlords.”

The implication, here as elsewhere, is that many Venetians who remain in Venice are becoming more and more estranged from the industry that’s driving the economy of their unique home.

Tourists outnumber locals in the historic city
Tourists outnumber locals in the historic city Credit: 2016 Awakening/Awakening

Scibilia, whose guidebook Venice Osterie is the bible for lagoon gourmets, gives the example of restaurants. Smallish chains of reasonably high quality sandwich bars and fast food cafés are proliferating in the city, even driving out the ubiquitous mask shops to cater to the visiting hordes. Comfortingly familiar to international visitors, these places have nothing Venetian about them, and bring nothing to locals.

“The quality’s fine, but they have no relevance at all to the city. They’re owned by outsiders, they serve international food, and they don’t pay well enough for their employees to be able to live here,” Scibilia argues.

Venetians, especially those who aren’t involved in the sector, moan that it’s tourists who are ruining the city, according to Romeo. “A colleague of mine was leading a big group down an alley when suddenly an old Venetian lady ran at her, shouting, brandishing an umbrella. She had to fend her off with the stick she was holding aloft to keep her group together. It became a kind of fencing match.”

Apart from the odd example of uncouth behaviour (pictures of foreign men relieving themselves in Venetian rubbish bins feature regularly in local press), it’s not the tourists themselves who are creating the problems: it’s a combination of lax rules and vested interests.

There are, for example, no restrictions on tour group numbers. “If I try to tell a big tour operator that I’m not happy leading a group of 50, that I’ll find them another guide and we’ll do 25 each, they’ll simply drop me and find someone less fussy,” Romeo says. “The larger the group, the more they earn.”

Similarly, the failure to reroute towering cruise ships away from St Mark’s can’t be put down solely to bickering between national and local authorities. The passenger terminal generates something in the region of €220 million per year for the city, and employs around 4,000 people. Whatever the threat to the environment, politicians are loath to jeopardise this by relocating the terminal and rerouting ships.

Millions visit Venice each year, but the infrastructure cannot cope
Millions visit Venice each year, but the infrastructure cannot cope Credit: This content is subject to copyright./MARCO BERTORELLO

A 1988 academic study by tourism strategy experts put Venice’s maximum visitor tolerance level at 20,750 per day, less than one third of its current traffic. Yet despite the overwhelming influx and the headaches that go with it, the city continues to be a unique and truly magical place. Romeo admits to being moved by the concern shown by visitors: “they’re always saying to me, ‘how can you bear being so overrun by us?’”

“The city’s on the verge of collapse,” says one guidebook writer
“The city’s on the verge of collapse,” says one guidebook writer Credit: 2016 Awakening/Awakening

For Scibilia, the onus is on locals to make their lives feel less blighted. Twenty years ago, the magnificent Regata Storica along the Grand Canal on the first Sunday of September was a heartfelt Venetian festivity. Now residents can’t get near it for block-booked tourist groups. But a series of pre-Regata parties for residents in 15 squares around the city this year was a huge success, re-grounding Venetians in their traditions.

Off the tourist routes, Venetians are rethinking their role in the city. Scibilia cites the many local artisans, and young people on the island of Sant’Erasmo who are growing organic vegetables and making wine. She also sees hope in an ever-growing local activism in many fields.

“The city’s on the verge of collapse,” she says, “and drastic decisions need to be taken. But even to tourists, Venice makes no sense without inhabitants.” What’s needed is a policy to reconcile the two.

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