1. Introduction
Extremadura, a region in western Spain bordering Portugal, possesses a vast and diverse military historical heritage, ranging from Roman fortifications to Spanish Civil War sites. Traditionally, these resources have remained secondary in regional tourism planning, which has focused primarily on natural and major monumental cities such as Mérida, Cáceres, and Badajoz. However, the region’s rural hinterland, comprising 388 municipalities distributed across 15 tourist areas (
Figure 1), faces significant challenges of depopulation and economic stagnation, characteristic of the so-called “empty Spain” phenomenon.
Extremadura is developing territorial processes that have been framed within the context of the European landscape convention Florence (
Council of Europe, 2000), which entered into force in 2004 and was formally ratified by Spain in 2007. Following its implementation in 2008, this convention catalyzed the creation of the National Cultural Landscape Plan in 2012 (
Ministerio de Cultura y Deporte, 2012). This framework incorporates landscapes of high cultural interest in coordination with other strategic national initiatives (
Gazapo & Lapayese, 2019), such as the Traditional Architecture Plan and the Defensive Architecture Plan (
Ministerio de Cultura y Deporte, 2015), which are characterized by their rigorous historical perspectives.
Tourism practices in these inland territories related to WT clearly seek authentic experiences (
MacCannell, 1976), which promote the rise of CT by contributing to its appreciation and visibility, although they could generate risks through pressure on its sustainability. However, the process of understanding the landscape as a protected area by official bodies also modifies the landscape’s morphology (
Sauer, 1925) through the interaction between cultural values, customs, and uses (
Taylor, 2008;
Nogué, 2010). Tourist motivations vary significantly depending on the site. For instance, studies on the battlefields of the Somme (
Dunkley et al., 2011) and Ypres (
Winter, 2011) emphasize education, recreation, and remembrance. In contrast, visitors to the Gallipoli battlefield in Turkey often characterize their experience as a secular pilgrimage directly related to spirituality or nationalistic exaltation (
Hyde & Harman, 2011).
According to official data from the National Institute of Statistics (INE), during 2025, Extremadura reached record figures in its tourism sector, with almost 2.5 million overnight stays. Yet, most of this flow remains concentrated in traditional urban hubs, leaving rural areas with significant heritage resources largely underutilized. In this context, Battlefield Tourism, understood as travel motivated by interest in military history and heritage, has been proposed as a potential niche for diversifying the economic base of inland destinations (
Baldwin & Sharpley, 2009;
Cànoves et al., 2017).
Academically, Battlefield Tourism (BT) has experienced considerable growth over the last century, driven by the expansion of the tourism sector and the frequency of armed conflicts. It has often been categorized in the academic discourse within the broader framework of Dark Tourism (DT), a concept introduced by
Foley and Lennon (
2000) to describe travel to sites associated with death, disaster, and the macabre. Subsequent scholarship has expanded this typology, with
Stone (
2006) proposing a DT spectrum ranging from the darkest (focused on death and suffering) to the lightest (associated with death but presented in an educational or heritage-oriented manner).
This institutional hierarchy suggests that death and suffering, when framed within a historically legitimate war narrative, are more politically acceptable (
Baldwin & Sharpley, 2009;
Seaton, 1996).
As detailed in
Table 1, rural destinations are diversifying their offerings by integrating traditional products with emerging segments to address modern development challenges.
War Tourism (WT) is fundamentally characterized by travel motivated by an interest in military history and heritage. Academic discourse differentiates this practice between a focus on military equipment and infrastructure (
Hrusovsky & Noeres, 2011) and a broader perspective related to the tangible and intangible heritage of history (
Coelho et al., 2014).
Within the Spanish context, military culture provides a rich repository of values and assets that can be leveraged for regional branding. General
Fontenla Ballesta (
2019) defines military culture as the set of traditional values inherent to the institution, while
Feliú Bernárdez (
2022) notes it is shaped by principles, history, and customs. Furthermore, the
UNWTO (
2017) recognizes that resources associated with armed conflicts are not merely vestiges of the past but essential tools for territorial development and historical education (
Fonseca et al., 2016).
To ensure conceptual and terminological consistency, this study explicitly distinguishes four interrelated categories used throughout the manuscript:
- ▪
Dark Tourism (DT) encompasses travel to sites of death, disaster, and suffering.
- ▪
Battlefield Tourism (BT) is a specific subset focused primarily on visiting sites of armed conflict.
- ▪
War Tourism (WT) broadens this scope to include travel motivated by general military history and heritage.
- ▪
Finally, Military Cultural Tourism (MCT) is proposed and justified as the central concept of this study.
While DT and WT often carry morbid or negative connotations—which generate institutional resistance in the Spanish context due to the legacy of the Civil War—MCT is framed firmly within Cultural Tourism. It emphasizes pedagogical, commemorative, and rigorous heritage dimensions (tangible assets and intangible identity). Consequently, while our methodology evaluates managers’ baseline perceptions using the standard academic terms (DT and WT), MCT is presented as the most socially and institutionally acceptable terminology for sustainable rural development in Spain.
Within this spectrum, war-related sites have occupied an ambiguous position. As
Table 2 illustrates, early characterizations of DT emphasized dimensions such as “tragedy” (
Rojek, 1996), “sadism” (
Blom, 2000), and “suffering” (
Stone, 2006). However, a parallel line of research has increasingly distinguished War Tourism (WT) as a distinct phenomenon with its own motivational profile. Studies of visitors to the Somme (
Dunkley et al., 2011), Ypres (
Winter, 2011), and Gallipoli (
Hyde & Harman, 2011) reveal that motivations such as education, historical interest, recreation, remembrance, and, in some contexts, patriotic sentiment are far more salient than any fascination with death (
Table 3) (
Dunkley et al., 2011;
Winter, 2011;
Hyde & Harman, 2011).
The divergence has led some researchers, such as
Hernández Mogollón et al. (
2017) and
Moreno Lobato et al. (
2020), to situate it within Cultural Tourism (CT), emphasizing its high-quality standards, rigorous historical content, and the involvement of specialized expertise (
Juaneda et al., 2020). Building on this, the concept of Military Cultural Tourism (MCT) has emerged as a way to revalue historical memory, promote intercultural dialogue, and foster a reflective understanding of the past through military heritage (
Smith, 2015) based on rigorous content and specialized expertise. In
Stone’s (
2006) terms, MCT would align with the “lighter” end of the DT spectrum: sites are associated with death, but the interpretive frame is pedagogical and commemorative rather than morbid, while various locations across Europe have become cultural destinations and a significant source of income for these territories (
Bornarel et al., 2021).
The evolution of this conceptual landscape is synthesized in
Table 2, which traces how successive authors have characterized DT, and
Table 3, which compares DT motivations with those identified specifically for WT. Taken together, these tables suggest that while DT and WT share certain heritage sites, they may appeal to fundamentally different visitor motivations, a distinction with important implications for how such sites are managed and promoted.
In Spain, this conceptual distinction acquires particular significance due to cultural and historical factors. As
Molinero and Ysàs (
2018) analyze, the fear generated by the Civil War in Spain and a collective desire to avoid repeating a violent past led Spanish society toward a peaceful transition. This has resulted in a societal rejection of the term “war” itself, which carries negative connotations among potential tourists and limits its integration into strategic tourism plans. MCT emphasizes the pedagogical and commemorative dimensions of conflict heritage over its morbid associations, aligning with the “lighter” end of the
Stone (
2006) spectrum.
In summary, if we start with the motivations of DT, we find that not all of them appear among those given by WT researchers, and that some new ones emerge. These differences are outlined in
Table 3.
Consequently, while initiatives such as battle reenactments (Battle of La Albuera) have gained popularity, they are typically framed in terms of “historical reenactment” or “cultural heritage” rather than “War Tourism”. This terminological sensitivity is not merely semantic; it reflects deeper institutional perceptions about what is acceptable to promote and how. As
Fontenla Ballesta (
2019) notes, military culture in Spain encompasses both tangible assets (fortifications, weaponry, uniforms) and intangible values (identity, cohesion, history), providing a rich repository that can be leveraged for regional branding, provided it is framed appropriately (
Smith, 2015;
Fathi, 2021).
Despite the abundance of conflict-related resources in regions like Extremadura and the growing academic interest in Battlefield Tourism, there remains a significant gap in the literature regarding the strategic integration of these resources into rural development plans from the perspective of local stakeholders. While studies have examined tourist motivations at major European battlefields (
Dunkley et al., 2011;
Winter, 2011;
Hyde & Harman, 2011), less attention has been paid to how municipal managers, the very actors responsible for initiating and supporting such tourism products, perceive these initiatives and the terminology used to promote them (
Sharpley, 2005).
This gap is particularly relevant for inland regions facing depopulation challenges, where the success of tourism diversification depends critically on institutional willingness to adopt new products. Recent international literature on memory tourism and heritage governance (e.g.,
Božić Marojević, 2025;
Feakins et al., 2024;
Ivanova & Buda, 2020) emphasizes that battlefield interpretation is no longer merely a descriptive preservation of the past but a highly politicized process of spatial management. In this contemporary framework, local governments do not just act as passive administrators; they are active agents who curate historical narratives to align with modern socioeconomic needs and community identity (
Timothy, 2020). The implementation of cultural tourism attractions—such as interpretation centers or historical reenactments—must therefore be critically understood as a complex governance strategy. It balances the ethical imperatives of memory tourism with the pragmatic goals of sustainable territorial development and economic revitalization (
Richards, 2001;
Smith, 2015). Consequently, understanding how local stakeholders conceptualize these sites—whether they associate them with the morbid connotations of DT or the pedagogical value of CT—is essential for designing strategies that achieve both political legitimacy and social traction.
In this sense, the motivations of municipalities that promote the creation of a cultural tourist attraction are multidimensional and respond to a combination of territorial development, heritage preservation, historical identity, and tourism diversification.
The transformation of these resources into tourist attractions allows for the conversion of specialized heritage into a structured cultural tourism product, favoring its conservation and dissemination (
Timothy, 2020). From a public management perspective, this enhancement not only implies the physical protection of heritage but also its historical interpretation and its integration into the cultural narrative of the destination. The reuse of heritage for tourism purposes constitutes an effective strategy for urban regeneration and territorial enhancement Municipalities can find in military cultural tourism a means of economic revitalization based on thematic specialization. Unlike general tourism, this segment attracts visitor profiles with high cultural, historical, and educational interests, which translate into higher average spending and longer stays (
Smith, 2015). According to
Dwyer et al. (
2004), public investment in themed cultural attractions produces multiplier effects on the local economy, especially in destinations with a strong historical identity.
Another key motivation for local councils is the preservation and dissemination of the history of conflicts. War Tourism is not limited to entertainment; it also serves an educational and commemorative function (
Dunkley et al., 2011). In municipalities with military remains, the creation of military cultural tourism attractions also responds to a desire for identity (
Liebermann & Alejandro-Medina, 2012).
Ultimately, from the perspective of public services, this type of tourism represents an opportunity to transform specialized historical resources into sustainable, educational cultural products with high symbolic value.
To address this gap, the present study examines the case of Extremadura (Spain) through the following research questions:
How do municipal managers in Extremadura conceptualize WT and DT? Specifically, do they perceive these as related or distinct phenomena?
Is there an association between these conceptualizations and their willingness to develop specific heritage products like museums about slavery, disaster, or crime?
What terminology is most acceptable for promoting conflict-related heritage initiatives in a rural development context? Does the term “war” itself constitute a barrier to institutional support?
By answering these questions, the study aims to provide both a conceptual contribution clarifying how DT and WT are distinguished at the level of institutional perception and a practical contribution offering evidence-based guidance for integrating military cultural heritage into sustainable rural development strategies. In doing so, it responds to recent calls for greater territorial applicability and methodological coherence in tourism research (
UNWTO, 2017;
Cànoves et al., 2017) and addresses the recommendations of academic evaluators who have emphasized the need to delve deeper into these dimensions.
2. Materials and Methods
This study employs a cross-sectional survey design with an exploratory–descriptive scope. It is complemented by a minor qualitative component using open-ended questions analyzed with ATLAS.ti, although the approach is predominantly quantitative. The unit of analysis is municipal managers, not tourists; therefore, the results reflect institutional perceptions and political disposition, not demands from the visitor market.
All 388 municipalities in Extremadura were invited to participate via official email, yielding 149 valid responses (38.4% response rate). Given this self-selection process, the sampling strategy should be interpreted as exploratory and convenience-based, rather than strictly representative of the broader population. To assess potential non-response bias, the characteristics (province and municipality size) of respondents were compared to non-respondents, with no significant differences found in the provincial distribution (χ2, p > 0.05). However, it is possible that municipalities with greater tourist appeal are overrepresented. Crucially, variables such as tourism intensity, municipal capacity, and existing heritage assets were not controlled for, which could drive institutional responses and attitudes. Therefore, the representativeness is limited to the profile of the participating municipalities and cannot be automatically extrapolated to the region as a whole without acknowledging this self-selection bias.
The questionnaire included questions about knowledge of DT and WT and willingness to create museums (slavery, disaster, crime). The internal consistency of the attitudinal scales was low (α < 0.41). This low reliability severely limits the construct validity of a unified ‘Dark Tourism attitude’ measure. To address this implication, no summative scales were created; instead, items are strictly analyzed and interpreted as independent variables. Consequently, our conclusions do not rely on a cohesive latent construct but only reflect fragmented, context-specific responses to individual museum proposals.
Chi-squared tests were performed to examine associations between categorical variables. In all cases, it was verified that less than 20% of the cells had expected frequencies below 5, meeting the test assumptions. To quantify the magnitude of the associations, Cramér’s V was calculated and interpreted according to
J. Cohen’s (
1988) criteria. The analyses were performed using JASP (0.18.3). ATLAS.ti was used for the complementary qualitative processing. Furthermore, ChatGPT-4 was used exclusively for English language editing and translation purposes to improve the readability of the manuscript. It did not intervene in the statistical analysis, data processing, substantive interpretation of the results, or the drawing of conclusions, strictly adhering to academic ethical guidelines regarding artificial intelligence.
5. Conclusions
This study examined how municipal managers in Extremadura (Spain) perceive Battlefield Tourism and its potential role in rural development, focusing on the conceptual distinction between WT and DT. The findings derived from a survey of 149 municipalities (38.4% response rate) yield several conclusions with implications for both theory and practice.
The results suggest that at the institutional level, WT is perceived as a form of cultural heritage tourism rather than a subcategory of DT. Municipal managers operate with a clear conceptual dissociation between the two phenomena: WT is associated with historical memory, education, and cultural transmission, while DT evokes a fascination with death that lacks institutional legitimacy. This distinction is not grounded in expert knowledge (as shown by the absence of association between familiarity with DT and WT; V = 0.08), but rather reflects local interpretive frameworks shaped by Spain’s historical sensitivity toward the term ‘war’ (
Molinero & Ysàs, 2018).
There exists a clear gradation in municipal willingness to support different heritage products. Historical battle reenactments receive the highest acceptance (56.6%), followed by slavery museums (49%) and disaster museums (41.5%). This hierarchy suggests that temporal distance and symbolically coded narratives, such as heroic battles or historical injustices, facilitate political and social acceptance, while events lacking such framing generate greater reluctance. Institutional support is therefore not homogeneous but contingent on the commemorative and symbolic weight of the heritage site in question.
The low internal consistency of the attitudinal scales (α < 0.41) limits construct validity and indicates that municipal managers do not possess a unified construct toward Dark Tourism (
Soro, 2020). Responses are highly fragmented and context-dependent, with each type of facility evaluated on its own merits rather than through a general criterion of acceptance or rejection. Because we cannot rely on a cohesive latent construct, our conclusions are strictly limited to the specific independent variables analyzed. This finding challenges the assumption that DT can be treated as a coherent category in applied policy contexts. Instead, it suggests that stakeholders differentiate sharply among various manifestations of “dark” heritage.
From a theoretical perspective, the study qualifies the academic taxonomy that subsumes WT under DT (
Stone, 2006;
Foley & Lennon, 2000). While these phenomena may share heritage sites, they occupy distinct semantic and motivational fields at the level of institutional perception (
Krippendorf, 1986). The motivations attributed to WT in the literature, such as education, culture, recreation, and remembrance, systematically exclude the morbid fascination associated with DT, which likely explains why municipal managers find WT more acceptable for public promotion. This suggests that
Stone’s (
2006) “Dark Tourism spectrum” could be refined to better accommodate the “lighter” end, where pedagogical and commemorative framings dominate (
Stone et al., 2018).
The unit of analysis is municipal managers, not tourists; therefore, no inferences can be drawn about actual visitor demand or motivations. The response rate (38.4%) and potential self-selection bias warrant caution in generalizing the findings beyond the participating localities, which limits the strength of the policy implications described. Specifically, the lack of control for variables such as tourism intensity, municipal capacity, and existing heritage assets means that these unobserved factors could still drive municipal managers’ attitudes. Furthermore, the low reliability of the scales precludes the construction of robust attitudinal indices, underscoring the need for future research to develop and validate instruments specifically for institutional populations.
Future studies should complement these findings by surveying actual visitors to Battlefield Tourism sites in Extremadura, examining whether their motivations align with the perceptions of municipal managers. Crucially, the replicability of these findings in other European regions must be treated with caution; comparative research across territories with different densities of conflict heritage and varying historical memory politics is strictly necessary to support any broader generalizations. Finally, longitudinal designs could assess whether terminological preferences and willingness to develop products evolve as Battlefield Tourism becomes a potential strategic opportunity in rural development, rather than an already demonstrated impact.
In practical terms, the study offers exploratory insights into how institutional perceptions might shape the potential integration of military cultural heritage into sustainable rural development. The clear preference for terms such as Military Cultural Tourism over War Tourism suggests that future promotion strategies could benefit from foregrounding educational and commemorative dimensions while avoiding terminology that may evoke societal resistance. By framing battlefields as cultural landscapes rather than sites of death, policymakers may potentially harness stakeholder willingness to explore these spaces as opportunities for economic diversification and territorial cohesion. However, further research is needed to measure the actual developmental outcomes and visitor responses to such initiatives.