Dark Tourism: Evolution, Theory and Practice

1. Introduction

The past few decades have witnessed a growing recognition and traction of dark tourism in the academic world, extending beyond tourism research. Social scientists have been captivated by this postmodern niche (P. Stone, 2013; Rucinska, 2016). Having said this, dark tourism can be defined as a modern niche of tourism consumption mainly marked by visits to spaces of mass death, sorrow, and human grief (Dale & Robinson, 2011; J. Lennon, 2017). The acceleration of climate change has led to unprecedented natural disasters, while dark tourism has made devastation a criterion of attraction. In fact, dark tourism directly defies the Apollonian sense of beauty that characterizes modern tourism (M. Korstanje, 2016). As Hooper and Lennon (2016) eloquently note, the growing interest in dark tourism has created some methodological dispersions, leading fieldworkers to a gridlock. Due to the lack of an agreed-upon definition, the experts enumerate a set of methodological problems, including the proliferation of terms for the same phenomenon. Dark tourism includes a broad spectrum of tribes such as thana-tourism, mourning tourism, war tourism, prison tourism, post-disaster tourism, and so forth. Far from being unified, academia considers conceptual definitions contextually based on the interest of the moment (Hooper & Lennon, 2016). The specialized literature has been widely expanded, revolving around two main questions: What is dark tourism? And what are the real motivations of dark tourists?

Epistemologically, the first question refers to the ontological status of dark tourism as a postmodern phenomenon. The second goes beyond the psychological motivation of dark tourists. At a closer look, the evolution of dark tourism coincides with a difficult connection to heritage (Biran et al., 2011; Light, 2017; Iliev, 2021). The present paper explores the origins, evolution, and methodological dilemmas of dark tourism, as well as an agenda for future research. This paper contains five clear-cut sections.

The first section examines the etymological origins of dark tourism, highlighting the various names used by academics to describe the phenomenon, with its conceptual core emerging in the 1990s. ‘Thana-tourism’ is derived from the Greek word ‘Thanatos,’ meaning death, whereas ‘dark tourism’ originates from English. In this context, dark or thana-tourism represents an emerging postmodern niche focused on the commercialization of sites of disaster and mass death as potential tourist destinations for the 21st century. The second section clarifies the definitions of dark tourism as a postmodern niche that centers on the consumption of spaces marked by death, mourning, and devastation. It outlines three main traditions that make dark tourism their primary object of study. The third section explores the motivations of dark tourists, as well as the development and exchange of dark tourist experiences. The phenomenology of these experiences informs the methodological approach discussed in the fourth section. Finally, the paper briefly reviews the role of culture in shaping and consolidating the field of dark tourism studies. Each section centers on existential questions revolving around dark tourism studies: What are the etymological origins of dark tourism? What is dark tourism? What are the main motivations of dark tourists? What are the current challenges and methodological problems of dark tourism studies today? And how is the connection of culture and dark tourism structured?

As a conceptual paper, the present piece aims to explore the existing literature on dark tourism while sharing some methodological points and challenges that research on dark tourism may face in the years to come. Equally importantly, this paper seeks to shed light on what the literature has dubbed the phenomenology of dark tourism. Over the years, the established research base has notably expanded. This expansion created not only a conceptual fragmentation but also some methodological issues. Centered on quantitative methods, dark tourism studies entered an unparalleled crisis. In response to this, the phenomenology of dark tourism speaks to readers of the subjective structure of the dark tourism experience, qualitatively studied to understand the deep nature of the phenomenon. The debated literature was organized according to my own experience as a global expert in dark tourism studies. Neither AI nor any type of bibliometric study or method was used. The literature is part of what I have worked on for more than two decades, studying dark tourism issues. The search strategy was centered on the division of five key factors: the etymology of dark tourism, the definition of dark tourism, motivations, methodological approaches, and different shapes of dark tourism practices in Western and non-Western cultures.

2. Etymological Origins and Birth

The etymological origins of dark or thana-tourism remain unknown, but the term can be traced back to Professors Malcolm Foley and John Lennon in 1996. The authors acknowledge that such dark spectacles are not new, but dark tourism is associated with a postmodern phenomenon, proper of secular societies. Based on the assumption that dark tourism is a human attempt to domesticate the possibility of death, Foley & Lennon argue convincingly that dark tourism makes death more familiar while playing a pedagogic role to understand unsettling events or tragedies. Hence, dark sites include the re-representation of real death to be gazed at by visitors. The performance of dark rites can be found in battlegrounds, modern expressions of dissonant heritage, and spaces devastated by natural or manmade disasters (Foley & Lennon, 1996; J. J. Lennon & Foley, 1999). In the same year, A. V. Seaton (1996) coined the term thana-tourism to denote the rise of macabre sites where death and destruction occupy a central position. For Seaton, thanatosis plays a leading role in the configuration of the dark site. At a closer look, British sociologist Rojek (1993) (three years earlier) used the term black-spot tourism. In his texts, he sees dark tourism as a rite of escapement that helps to revitalize the devastating consequences of death in the community. The idea of dying is—for secular cultures—intolerable because it represents the end of everything. Black-spot tourism evinces the radical transformation of classic leisure practices in postmodern societies.

The turn of the twentieth century introduced new, similar sub-niches linked to the consumption of post-disaster spaces. Other terms such as mourning, grief, phoenix, trauma, or post-disaster tourism were adapted and developed in the subsequent years (Pottorff & Neal, 1994; Clark, 2009; Clark & Payne, 2011; Causevic & Lynch, 2011). The “Other’s” death is consumed as a macabre spectacle that deals with the deep anxiety of dying; in so doing, death is not only domesticated but also commoditized (P. R. Stone, 2012; Tzanelli, 2016; C. Cronin, 2020; James et al., 2024). In sum, the 21st century has introduced the macabre as a quintessential element of modern capitalism (M. Korstanje, 2016) because of the impossibility of the system to deter global disasters. The macabre is part of the heritage formation and consumption in the ever-changing (unpredictable) world. The crisis of the tourism industry alludes to the notion of debt for the next generations and the future of humanity. In consonance with this, the liberalization of the market (capital) has recreated the conditions for fierce competition for attracting tourism. These strategies are supported and managed by digital technologies, some of them without human intervention. This paved the way for a new economy of attention cemented by external (mechanized) algorithms. The pressure to design spaces purely to gain attention leads to the consumption of the macabre as a new dark political economy (Tzanelli, 2025).

Last but not least, the historical origins of dark tourism can be found in modern England. English-speaking countries, such as the UK, manifested considerable interest in the debate of dark tourism studies (Hartmann et al., 2018; P. R. Stone et al., 2018; Olsen & Korstanje, 2019). Even if archeologists have documented ancient forms of dark tourism, such as the Gladiatorial Games (P. Stone, 2010), the first organized tours, circumscribed to death, can be traced back to the 18th and 19th centuries. These morbid spectacles have been linked to public executions, graveyards, and battlefields (T. Seaton & Dann, 2018). Experts, as well as historians, reached a necessary consensus; these earlier rites have some similarities to modern dark tourism practices through the lens of thanatosis. It is correct to say that thanatosis corresponds with an anthropological attempt to understand one’s own finitude through the “Other’s death”. Of course, there is a point of discrepancy in how this thanatosis is generated, or how visitors engage with the dark experience (P. Stone & Sharpley, 2008; P. R. Stone, 2012; M. E. Korstanje, 2020; Light & Ivanova, 2022). Dark tourism takes different forms according to how the site is remembered. Philip Stone offers an interesting model to understand the lightest sphere of dark tourism, associated with entertainment and fun experiences, and the darkest one marked by a recent (deep) trauma (P. R. Stone, 2006). Beyond this insight, Stone’s spectrum (from the lightest to darkest spheres of consumption) has recently been questioned by Light and Ivanova (2022). In this study, the obtained outcome suggests that thanatosis represents the interplay between life and death, no matter the degree of commoditization of the site. Entertainment-oriented sites (like Dungeon-style attractions) should not be under-valorized as a shallow experience. Rather, it opens a direct engagement with some visitors. This begs a more-than-interesting point: what is dark tourism?

3. Definitions of Dark Tourism

Due to the proliferation of terms and concepts, the definition of dark tourism is far from straightforward (P. R. Stone & Sharpley, 2013; Hooper & Lennon, 2016). Each academic discipline adopts its own definition, aligned with its sub-disciplinary boundaries, thereby creating tension with other communities. As a result, a discrepancy remains between management-related disciplines and social sciences, which is still open today (Rasool et al., 2025; Hernández-Garrido et al., 2026). While social sciences focus on dark tourism as a social force oriented to dealing with the anxieties revolving around death, management understands the phenomenon as a powerful economic factor that revitalizes tourist destinations after a tragedy (P. Stone, 2013; Hartmann, 2014; Magee & Gilmore, 2015).

When addressing questions about the nature of dark tourism, the specialized literature has diverged into three main traditions: the anthropological tradition, the heritage-based tradition, and the post-colonial tradition (critical dark tourism studies). Each one keeps different definitions and cultivates different methodologies.

The anthropological tradition introduces thought-provoking material, molding the discipline for future scholars. Dark tourism is also a human (cultural) instrument to domesticate death in hyper-secularized societies (where death is negated and feared). Dark sites also offer an aesthetic representation of death to be contemplated by the visitor from a safer zone. In the process, thanatosis plays a crucial role in mediating one’s own finitude through the “Other’s death”. This tradition cultivated significant interest in other academic tribes (P. Stone, 2010, 2013; P. R. Stone, 2012; Hartmann, 2014; T. Seaton & Dann, 2018; T. Seaton, 2021).

The heritage-centered tradition, originally inspired by Rudi Hartmann, Richard Sharpley, and Tony Seaton, suggests that dark tourism should be debated as a quintessential part of dissonant heritage. The main aim of dark tourism is the education of visitors, as well as future generations, explaining the causes that led to the disaster, and thus preventing it from happening again (Biran & Hyde, 2013; Hartmann, 2014; Yankholmes & McKercher, 2015; Johnsen, 2024). Since 2016, a new critical tradition has criticized the thesis that punctuated dark tourism is an important part of heritage. The post-colonial tradition saw the light of publicity through a set of critical studies. For these voices, dark tourism was circumscribed to the specter of neo-colonial practices where trauma (and mass death) is packed, sold, and commoditized as a spectacle. Dark sites, most of them located in former colonies, often hide not only the real history, but also the colonial crimes committed by European colonizers in the colonial past. Dark tourism reaffirms the old center–periphery dependency through the fabrication of dark heritage (Carrigan, 2011, 2014; Clarke et al., 2014; Sather-Wagstaff, 2016; M. Korstanje, 2016; Tzanelli, 2016).

As the previous exposition is given, White and Frew (2013) hold the thesis that dark tourism goes beyond the hegemony of the market. It is structured in a symbiosis between death and the construction of social identity. Dark sites are collectively constructed, negotiated, and contested through the act of visiting and interpreting the site. Dark sites do not offer a fixed or static experience, but a fluid engagement with the tragedy. Each site is interpreted through the previous cultural background (cultural identity) while, simultaneously, the social identity is cemented for the next generations. As the authors put it, dark places have specific (political) tensions because of the divergence between two different interests. On the one hand, the need to commemorate (educate) coincides with the pedagogic nature of dark tourism. On the other hand, the commercialization process seems to be oriented to profit-based interests, which, if not correctly articulated, can ruin the site. This duality is ultimately balanced through social identity. This mix-balanced position is shared by other scholars such as John Lennon, who offers a more-than-interesting definition of the problem.

Dark tourism should be defined not only as an anthropological drive that reflects the curiosity for death, but as an ontological need to contemplate “the Other’s death”. Dark tourism operates in the constellations of a much deeper “morbid gaze” which originates in Christ’s crucifixion. As a founding myth, Christ’s Calvary shows how human pain can serve as an example to “Others” (witnesses). Dark tourism should be understood as a postmodern leisure practice centered on the need to contemplate one’s own finitude through death. Hence, it serves multi-faceted purposes which include heritage, education, psychological motivations, and the fear of dying (J. J. Lennon & Foley, 1999; Hooper & Lennon, 2016; J. Lennon, 2010; J. J. Lennon & Powell, 2018). This assertion raises a moot point: what motivates dark tourists?

4. Motivations of Dark Tourists

As discussed in the introduction, two questions conditioned the evolution of dark tourism research: what is dark tourism, and what motivates dark tourists? The present section covers the motivations behind dark tourism consumption. Far-fetched as it may sound, the motivations behind dark tourism are complex and intersect with many spheres of social life. Even psychology gravitates further toward dark tourism consumption; these motivations are essentially gregarious and social in their natures (Robb, 2009; Raine, 2013). Dark tourism is simply motivated by the desire to cope with traumatic experiences that confront the established conception of existence and security (Biran & Buda, 2018). Some studies have alerted that dark tourists are moved by a combination of factors which include educational purposes, curiosity for death, existential contemplation, emotional seeking, heritage consumption, or even political partisanism (Cohen, 2011; Podoshen, 2013; Lewis et al., 2022; Abraham et al., 2022).

The decision to visit dark tourism shrines is made according to a complex combination of cultural, psychological, demographic, and economic factors (M. Korstanje, 2015; Iliev, 2021; Yuill, 2004). Beyond any discrepancy, the cognitive and emotional formation of the experience is of vital importance for dark tourism studies for two main reasons. Firstly, and most importantly, it engages directly with the site depending on the individual motivations of the subject. Secondly, the experience can be reproduced to support the organic image of a certain destination through the learning process (Jamal & Lelo, 2010; Mionel, 2019; Magano et al., 2022). To put this bluntly, there is a primordial attempt to understand the historical trauma to avoid the disaster from repeating. This position was widely studied by a set of studies in the fields of dissonance (difficult heritage). These studies are oriented to understand how the intricacies of a bloody past impact the present. The best example of this tradition is Auschwitz-Birkenau and other prison or horror camps. Having said this, dark tourism represents the consequences of a traumatic experience organized and territorialized for preserving local identity (Biran et al., 2011; Roberts & Stone, 2014). Likewise, the human reciprocity encompasses difficult cultural and political factors to form a shared narrative before the trauma (Isaac, 2022; Nag & Mishra, 2024).

To wit, Friedrich, Stone & Rukesha explore how the geographical spaces are conditioned by a difficult heritage. Per their viewpoint, dark tourism hides a dichotomy always hard to resolve. The cosmologies of locals and foreign tourists often collide. Hence, dark tourism inscribes in the position of empathy, which is centered on a universal solidarity, towards social cohesion. If the memory of victims is mistreated, political conflict surfaces. This happens simply because there is a tension between the state-sponsored heritage and the collective memory of victims. It is not simplistic to say that the visits to dark tourism shrines re-accommodate deep anxieties into a coherent, packaged dark heritage.

Other scholars emphasize the philosophical contemplation of death through the cycles of thanatosis (P. R. Stone, 2012). Dark tourism is not only a mediator between life and death, but it serves as a political institution giving answers to visitors. These answers are embedded with reflection of mortality, nostalgia, or even pilgrimage (Tarlow, 2007; Olsen & Korstanje, 2019; Sharpley & Stone, 2009). However, nostalgia has some limits because it can be replicated by the political order to offer standardized (moralized) discourses to the audiences. This has led some critical thinkers to reconsider dark tourism as a political escapement for the reversion process of the official dark heritage. Dark tourism is a unique opportunity to reverse (if not confront) the established narrative through what makes us equal: death (James et al., 2024; Moran et al., 2025; J. Cronin & James, 2025).

Last but not least, neither psychology nor sociology explain the motivation of dark tourists. Based on an economic-centered paradigm, a new tradition holds that dark tourism is the natural connection between a demand (visitors moved by socio-cultural concerns) and the supply (formed by what locals want to show). Thus, dark tourism should be studied as a postmodern phenomenon derived from the need for recovery or reconstruction, culturally administered by the presence of a morbid state. Not surprisingly, the morbid state is the oxygen of dark tourism consumption. The morbid taste is socially constructed, packaged, and communicated by the mass media for recycling devastated areas. For this tradition, it is not the tourists’ individual consciousness or psychological motivation that creates the engagement with the dark sites, but rather how the media creates a liminoid space of consumption, making death an object of curiosity (Sharpley & Stone, 2009; P. Stone & Sharpley, 2008; Edwards, 2020).

Dark tourism operates in the field of human pain, but it cannot exist without the morbid taste. For example, first-world tourists traveling to Rwanda would never be interested in this country unless there were palpable efforts to represent the Rwandan Genocide to meet international demand. Of course, this academic position sparked some criticism and controversies in post-colonial studies. The dark landscape is mainly marked by a colorful, picturesque glance of the visited territories, historically devastated by the European colonizers, though their responsibility is never scrutinized through the offered narrative (Ntunda, 2014; M. Korstanje, 2016; Tzanelli, 2016; Young, 2022). What has been stated in the preceding lines inevitably leads us to a rather uncomfortable question: in what way can dark tourism be studied?

5. Methodologies in Dark Tourism Research

The debate on methodological issues in dark tourism is not so different from the epistemology of the discipline in general. Quantitative studies focus on the economic aspects of the phenomenon, while qualitative studies offer a more interpretative view of the phenomenological world of consumers of dark tourism spaces (Wight, 2006; M. E. Korstanje, 2018; Shekhar & Valeri, 2022). Dark tourism research has entered into a state of fragmentation, paradoxically caused by the uncontrolled growth of studies and academic interests worldwide. Unfortunately, this growth was chaotically cemented into a landscape of extreme knowledge fragmentation (Hooper & Lennon, 2016). As Wight (2006) observes, death is a philosophical issue and should be studied through the lens of philosophy. However, the current dark tourism research is determined by a strong positivist imprint, which ponders what dark visitors say as the only valid truth. Fieldworkers frequently adopt quantitative administered questionnaires to be applied at destinations, transport hubs, airports, or hotels, while displacing other qualitative methodologies to a marginal position. Here lies the methodological problem of current dark tourism studies. Epistemologically, there is a dissociation between what people say and do. A subject’s emotional world is shaped by their historically constructed life story, as well as their current expectations. This inner world operates largely independently of cognitive reasoning. This leads the subject to be unaware of their emotions, or simply to behave differently than they believe. Philosophy has studied this phenomenon as the dissociation between cognition and emotions. A second aspect follows: the real self-interest of subjects does not always coincide with their utterances. This happens in the context of marginality, or taboo topics, where the interviewees feel embarrassed to express their opinion on a particular taboo subject. Let me explain this complex point to readers with an informal example: If a gangster is asked about his profession, what would he say? He would probably say, I am a respectable businessman, but is he a real businessman? Is he really the businessman he claims to be (M. Korstanje, 2016; M. E. Korstanje, 2018)?

An emerging body of studies has established a connection between emotionality and dark tourism consumption. The drive to death—thanatos—is equally important as the drive to life (Eros). Based on psychoanalytical theory, these studies discovered the intricacies of death rooted in culture (Buda, 2015; Biran & Buda, 2018; Martini & Buda, 2020). This is without mentioning that some scholars (coming from anthropology) started to question what dark tourism is or is not, a westernized form of consumption. Ethnography suggests that the question of death is, for sure, universal, but it is typified in different ways for non-Western cultures (M. Korstanje, 2015). Not all human groups have historically developed a strong curiosity for death; in some cultural contexts, death is feared as a door to future demonic possessions. The next section begins with the question: what is the role of culture and dark tourism studies?

6. Dark Tourism Around the World: The Essence of Culture

Although trauma and human suffering occupy a central position in culture, they are not remembered or internalized in the same way. Different cultures have developed divergent cosmologies revolving around death and trauma. The opposite is equally true, but remains uninvestigated in the specialized literature; dark tourism takes different forms and shapes depending on the time and culture. The present models of dark tourism are mainly based on a Eurocentric position. In Latin America, dark tourism studies keep their own imprint. Dark tourism in Latin America has taken on the characteristics of an internal enemy, with peasants fighting against the educated and privileged elite of the big cities. As a counterforce, peasants in Latin American societies are demonized as a potential source of conflict. In this context, Latin American societies have evolved with major internal divisions and asymmetries. Dark tourism bears the face of repression by de facto governments in countries such as Chile, Argentina, Brazil, and Uruguay, or simply the narco-guerrilla in Colombia. Such political instability is a bulwark of dark tourism studies in the region. In contrast, in Africa, dark tourism is not linked to a state and its idea of an internal enemy, but rather to internal genocides or the bloody past of racial exploitation and slavery. Places such as Robben Island, which perpetuates political violence in South Africa, can be visited as sites of extermination in Rwanda. By the same token, Asia devotes efforts to interpret dark trauma in an ambiguous way. There are dark sites of atrocities and political violence, but the ways in which they are remembered notably differ from Western culture. Hence, dark tourism in Asia seems to be rapidly growing but in contradictory ways. The sector is characterized by an incredible diversity that combines a bloody past of wars, political violence, and ethnic cleansing, but they look to balance the economic profits with ethics and respect for the dead, the latter of which is a staple of Asian nations. Visiting spaces of death or recent devastation—only for curiosity—may enrage the spirits of the victims. This causes misfortune upon visitors or even demonic possessions (Rittichainuwat, 2011; Weaver et al., 2018; Zheng et al., 2020; Wise, 2024). Beyond the geography of Asia, death and disasters are decoded through a specific cultural lens rooted in the world of spirits while traversing complex ethical debates. Asian cultures often stave off sensationalism or cultural projects associated with thrill-seeking (Nag & Mishra, 2024). This simply occurs because the division between the sacred and the profane, commonly rooted in Western culture, has no place in Asian culture (P. R. Stone & Sharpley, 2013; Olsen & Korstanje, 2019). In sum, Asian nations live and remember trauma differently from Westernized cultures. This calls attention to how culture molds dark tourism and not vice versa. Culture is arguably the most important factor that explains dark tourism practices. It dictates not only the rules of engagement but the connection between the living and the dead. In many Asian and African cultures, the dead are not gone; they are present in daily life. This requires specific care because any inappropriate behavior can offend their memories. For Western societies, the primary duty lies in remembering the tragedy in honor of the dead. But this is not replicated in Asian cultures. Western dark practices often lie in individualism and the individual victim, while Asian culture prioritizes the collective remembering. In many forms, ghost tourism is simply prohibited in many Asian cultures because it offends the rest of the spirits (Walter, 2009; Masanti, 2016; Bhati et al., 2021).

The future research agenda should include the cultural factor, not only to expand the current understanding of dark tourism (as a phenomenological experience) but also to adopt a new methodological approach, referring to intercultural explorations. Research on dark tourism would be greatly enriched if researchers were to move away from Eurocentric assumptions or the stereotypes typical of modern societies. Dark tourism is now a global phenomenon that takes on various forms in relation to culture and human organizations.

7. Conclusions

The evolution and consolidation of dark tourism studies—even permeating the social sciences—have been notable yet not polemical. The sub-discipline has been subject to certain methodological misunderstandings and definitional problems. Over the years, scholars have questioned what dark tourism is and what motivates dark tourists. These two questions are of a different nature but are nonetheless part of conceptual disputes even to date. The present paper critically discusses the nature and evolution of dark tourism as well as traditional approaches to its methodological problems. Dark tourism can be understood as an anthropological attempt to mediate with death, or simply an instrument of education. Whatever the case may be, the subject still captivates the attention of scholars globally. Although death is venerated and feared worldwide, each culture adopts its own dark tourism practices. The first section adamantly discussed not only the origins of dark tourism (in England) but also the overproduction and derived fragmentation that affect the discipline now. The visitor’s experience plays a leading role in reconfiguring their engagement with death and the “Other’s death”, but it also reminds us how dark tourism takes many shapes according to local culture. In doing so, Philip Stone’s spectrum is placed under the lens of scrutiny in this section. To what extent experts have unilaterally agreed on what dark tourism is an open point discussed in the second section. Definitions revolving around the term dark or thana-tourism have been molded by the different sub-disciplines that are made from their object of study. The chapter shows how two traditions offer a complementary viewpoint of the phenomenon. The anthropological tradition defines dark tourism as an attempt to understand one’s own finitude through the “Other’s death”. The heritage-centered tradition alludes to answering how a dark heritage is constructed, internalized, or negotiated. The third section gives an overview of the motivation of dark tourists. The fourth section offers a polemic tour of the dichotomy between qualitative and quantitative approaches. The section highlights the importance of overcoming the current obstacles in dark tourism methodology, given by the saturation of quantitatively based works. These studies are based on tourist centricity, an obsession with understanding tourists as the only factor of a broader system. The last section contains some cases of non-Western dark tourism studies addressing two important goals. On the one hand, the section seeks to expand the current understanding beyond the hegemony of classic literature and English-speaking literature. On the other hand, it places dark tourism as a global phenomenon carefully organized with specific rituals and rules, but taking different shapes because of local culture. Lastly, the current conceptual paper eloquently concludes that culture molds dark tourism practices according to local cosmologies, rites, and forms of being in this world. Hence, it circumscribes a type of phenomenology of dark tourism studies. This particularly calls attention to the question of a global tourist gaze, a point which remains unresolved in dark tourism studies. Starting from the premise that local and tourist cosmologies often collide, to what extent there is place for a global tourist gaze beyond the control of cultural systems begs an interesting questioned to be interrogated in future studies.