Florentine buildings are being preserved to sometimes an inconvenient extent —certain pipes cannot be fixed and walls cannot be painted, yet, Florentines are moving out of the finely kept historical center to nearby towns. What sort of effort does it take to keep civilizations, so rich in art and history, from becoming ruins? And for who, if not for the abstract grandeur of the word “art,” is this city being preserved?
In the last two years Venice, Rome and Florence have had to constrict their tourism laws in order to keep their cities intact. The heads of tourism in these cities have launched campaigns that incorporate hashtags like #EnjoyRespectFirenze and #EnjoyRespectVenezia. Each campaign and each newly tightened law revolves around the word “respect,” though there is more to this issue of tourism.
If Florentines own property in the historical district, they are likely renting out the space and watching money flood in from Airbnb. According to one of the main Italian newspapers, Il Fatto Quotidiano, unofficial locations such as Airbnb have gone from 3,000 in 2014 to over 11,000 in 2018.
The influx of tourism has caused basic community landmarks to exist almost exclusively beyond the city.
Though the center void of playgrounds may seem like a repetitive and harmless cycle in popular cities around the world, this fact serves as evidence of cultural endangerment.
“Eighty percent of the treasures in Florence are found in the historical district,” says Tiziano Lucchesi, one of the many restorers in Florence. “You can be hired to restore a church outside of the center, maybe, but they don’t care so much about your qualifications.”
The seeping history of Florence comes from the center of town, a center at risk of becoming a bubble for tourists to misunderstand.
Herein lies the paradox of tourism: the visitors, usually oblivious to the conservation of history, are cleaned up after in a desperate attempt to keep the city intact. With these services, the money cycles in and Florence can repeat itself. Tourists are in one way necessary to the economic stability of the place, and in another, the very reason Florentine existence is difficult to preserve.
Stefano Baldassarr, director of the International Studies Institute, one of the many American study abroad programs of Florence and an expert in Florentine medieval history, explains that Florentine facades and roofs are often restored for the very reason of creating housing that appeals to tourists and students. Without these visitors the incentive to restore would be almost nonexistent.
Located near Santo Spirito, Occupation Via Del Leone is the first association of Florentine citizens aimed at “maintaining a level of relationships and socializing among the people who live there.” The association has a library that is “an archive of oral memories of the neighborhood” — built for the community by the community itself.
Gentrification due to tourism extends far past Florence; the parasitic tourist is an epidemic vibrant in the newly globalized world. Though, globalization is not villainous in nature. There is, more than ever, a true potential for unity past religion, class and nationalism. Cultural exchange on this scale has the potential to alleviate political tension and interpersonal strife, and these aspects should be fully recognized.
Understanding tourism may not be, then, only passing judgement on slow walkers near Ponte Vecchio. With globalization comes the first real chance to choose what is remembered from each city's rich or inhumane traditions; lessons learned in mistakes and delicate craftsmanship alike will be passed down. Global tourism is, at its best, massive collective learning.
The housing issue in Florence serves as a warning for the degradation of a culture and the responsibility falls largely in the hands of the visitors. Visitors have the voice to demand, as Mr. Baldassarri suggests, a more restored facade. What else can those funding this city request?