The Sea of Sameness
A tale about the main blinker of tourism
When people talk about "the boundaries of tourism", the focus is usually on the consequences, not the causes. Geopolitical shifts, artificial intelligence, and—why not—something to do with tariffs: they're all big, dramatic changes over which a DMO or city has very little control. What you do have control over, however, is yourself.
When people talk about "the boundaries of tourism", the focus is usually on the consequences, not the causes. Geopolitical shifts, artificial intelligence, and—why not—something to do with tariffs: they're all big, dramatic changes over which a DMO or city has very little control. What you do have control over, however, is yourself.
Sometimes I ask my students to watch twenty brand activation videos from destinations around the world. As impatient Gen-Z creatures, they usually beg me to stop after six. It's pure torture to them. And to be fair, they've got a point. In trying to stand out, everyone ends up doing exactly the same thing. It's not just a philosophical paradox, it's also what marketing academics have rather aptly called The Sea of Sameness.
In your effort to be different—just like everyone else—you disappear into the waves of all-the-same.
Take a look at most city campaigns: we have stunning architecture, delicious food, friendly locals, sports teams, nice weather, beaches and mountains—no choices are made, just an open buffet of generic charm. What you get is a catalogue of everything a place could offer, which is, let's face it, the marketing equivalent of lukewarm soup.
Generic is the death of all marketing. If you try to be something for everyone, you're not promoting—you're just throwing money into the sea. And not even a pretty one. It's the main blinker of the tourism industry.
There's a classic film by the British comedy group Monty Python called The Life of Brian. In it, Brian—accidentally mistaken for the Messiah—has attracted a large crowd of followers. One morning he opens his window and sees them all gathered below. Hoping to disperse them, he shouts: "You are all individuals!" To which the entire crowd chants in perfect unison: "Yes! We are all individuals!" And then, from somewhere in the back, a small lone voice squeaks: "I'm not."
The one person claiming not to be an individual is in fact the only one acting truly individually. This is a person who remains loyal to themselves.
In the next series of articles, we'll explore how places that stay true to themselves—warts, quirks, and all—tend to win in the long game of place marketing. They're the ones who, in the end, build a sustainable reputation and gain true competitive advantage.
- FRANK CUYPERS