Hot wars in Sudan, Ukraine, Gaza, Yemen, and Syria, and cold ones between Russia, China, and NATO are raging, fuelling the Western economy’s reliance on the thriving Military Industrial Complex to unprecedented levels. But, amid this backdrop of pervasive conflict, a controversial new controversial industry has emerged from the rubble: war tourism.
War tourism, where unaffiliated individuals pay to experience active war zones firsthand, has gained traction in our social media-connected reality, driven by the unmitigated desire for authenticity and commodified experiences. In Danger Zone, director Vita Maria Drygas delves into this macabre conflict voyeurism by following four individuals, each seeking the (expensive) spectacle of conflict.
The value of suffering
War tourism is not a novel concept, but its commercialisation and accessibility in the 21st century have brought it into sharper focus. As depicted in the film, motivations for engaging in war tourism vary. However, the industry’s reliance on sensationalism and reduction of complex geopolitical struggles to mere spectacles for personal gratification present profound ethical dilemmas. Danger Zone‘s observational approach allows its participants to show these dilemmas without explicitly laying them out.
The most troubling aspect of war tourism is its overt commodification of human suffering. For example, travel agent Rick openly acknowledges the lucrative gap in the market for war tours. It is a business model where the inherent suffering of others is repackaged as a consumable experience, underscoring the privileged detachment of tourists who treat war zones as exotic holidays. In Rick’s case, his excursions to Afghanistan and Somalia divert local resources to ensure his own safety. This includes heavily armed security details, transportation, and translators and fixers, all for non-essential, non-informational purposes.
Aside from the American Rick, Danger Zone follows the experiences of several others, including Italian Eleonora, a disillusioned Los Angeles resident seeking authenticity in Afghanistan, and Andrew and AJ, who navigate Mogadishu’s perilous and unpredictable streets. These individuals’ thrill-seeking behaviours, such as posing with military gear or hyping up the danger to maintain excitement, document a deep, almost sociopathic, detachment from the realities of where they are. This is particularly noticeable in Andrew.
Andrew and AJ’s adventure in Somalia further exemplifies these ethical complexities. Their actions on the ground, entirely initiated by the experienced British war tourist Andrew, such as handing out cash to Somali locals and acting out scenes reminiscent of 80’s action movies, reduce unrest to a backdrop for personal thrills. To Andrew, the war is about him and only him. Not even his family can hold sway over the allure of destruction, as he openly expresses during his introductory dinner with AJ. Including multiple hair and skin products within his luggage doesn’t do much to quell this feeling. Nor does a later after a power nap en route through one of Syria’s most dangerous roads – interestingly enough, on one of Rick’s war tours.
The industry’s reliance on sensationalism and reduction of complex geopolitical struggles to mere spectacles for personal gratification present profound ethical dilemmas.
Obsessions
The phenomenon of war tourism is deeply intertwined with current trends in media and societal structures. The relentless Western obsession with authenticity and extremity, catalysed by social media’s algorithmic desire for unique narratives, creates an inevitable market for such exploitative practices. This critique extends to the broader societal indifference to the human cost of war as long as it remains a distant and profitable occurrence. It is a cycle comprising media complacency, western ideological elitism, technological focus, and late capitalist nihilism. Throw in historical neo-colonialism, class inequality, and climate displacement, and the environment is ripe for the exploitation of the results.
Challenging ourselves
Unlike many YouTube/TikTok/Instagram war (and poverty… see Stop Filming Us!) tourists, and there are thousands upon thousands, Danger Zone ultimately and indirectly challenges viewers to confront their own complicity in the commodification of war. With the direct experience, AJ, for example, has an almost immediate change of heart when faced with real-world danger. «I miss my girlfriend,» he repeatedly states with a look of combined fear and self-disappointment. Ultimately, he tells Andrew that he will not be joining him in Syria and expresses his disdain for the concept of a «war tourist.» As he does, you can sense Andrew’s anger at this decision. Similarly, Eleonora’s journey, initially driven by a quest for a «raw, real, and rough» experience, transitions from excitement to fear as she confronts the brutal realities of pervasive violence within the context of foreign culture. As she befriends a young potential Taliban-bride-to-be, she quickly realises Afghanistan is not all hashish and photo ops.
Watching Danger Zone allowed for an element of self-reflection as my very interest in the documentary came from contemporary global conflict. Coming of age during the heyday of America’s «war on terror,» war was everywhere, even for us far from the front lines: flags at a constant half-mast, countless friends and associates directly involved, never-ending debates on the topic. Perhaps due to their omnipresence, its images absolutely captivated me. But, more ashamedly, they caused a respite within my own troubled and depression-riddled mind. I found the reality of conflict in these images to present a state of chaos beyond that which had permeated my delusional thinking. For many years, I felt a «calling» to be a war journalist. However, as maturity (and therapy) set in, it dawned on me that this interest of mine was entirely self-centred, focused on my commodification of conflict as a potential career, as well as an algebra of suffering, where my own perceived mental strife sat on some hypothetical scale with those above and those below. This, of course, incorporates mental health into the motivation equation. Another core tenet of life in this century. The mental health of its protagonists is never addressed in Danger Zone, but I can’t help but feel it plays a deep role for those who take the steps I didn’t and fully dive into the extremes of war tourism.
Ultimately, Danger Zone compels us to confront the dark allure of war. As war-torn landscapes turn into amusement parks for personal thrills, we are urged to reflect on the true price of our fascination with chaos and neverending need for attention.