By Covadonga Riesco
Scenario: As a journalist specializing in sustainable tourism, I visit a well-known resort in a coastal area of Mexico that has won several awards for its green initiatives. My objective is to write a report on hotels that are leading sustainable practices in Latin America.
The setting
The “Esmeralda Eco-Lodge” resort is located in a previously untouched area of mangroves on the coast of Quintana Roo. From the moment I arrive, I am impressed by its facilities: visible solar panels, posters about its turtle conservation program, and an elaborate recycling system displayed in the lobby. The marketing director proudly guides me through the facilities, showing me brochures highlighting that 80% of their employees are from local communities.
For two days, I take pictures of their “green initiatives,” interview a few employees who repeat the same corporate pitch, and begin writing a draft praising the resort as an example to follow.
The dilemma arises
The situation changes drastically on my third day. An indigenous Mayan waitress, Carmela, seeing that I am writing about sustainability, quietly asks if we can talk after her shift. We meet at a nearby village café, far from the resort.
“Everything you see is a lie,” she tells me in a shaky voice. “The solar panels barely work, they’re just there for the pictures. The waste they supposedly recycle ends up mixed with ordinary garbage in an illegal dump that is polluting our sacred cenotes.”
He shows me pictures on his phone: workers throwing plastic bags into a devastated mangrove area behind the hotel, areas once inhabited by endemic species now converted into parking lots, and documents evidencing that most local employees work without contracts and at wages below the legal minimum.
Internal conflict
As I listen to Carmela, I feel my stomach twist. I am faced with several dilemmas:
- Should I continue with my original reporting, benefiting from a paid trip and maintaining good relations with this influential hotel group?
- If I decide to investigate these allegations, how do I protect Carmela and other sources from possible retaliation?
- Do I have enough evidence to make such serious accusations, and can I independently verify them?
- What is my responsibility to readers who might visit this place based on misleading reporting?
- What is my responsibility to the local ecosystem and the affected indigenous community?
I hardly sleep that night. As a travel journalist, I’m used to writing inspiring stories, not exposing fraudulent practices. Besides, this story could close doors for me in the industry.
My decision
I decide to completely change the focus of my article. I request a formal interview with the resort’s general manager under the pretext of delving into their sustainable initiatives. During the interview, I gradually introduce questions about the allegations, without revealing my sources.
His reaction is revealing: nervousness, evasiveness, and finally, when I show him some of the photographs (edited to protect my source), he makes me a proposal of “special collaboration” if I omit certain “misunderstandings” in my report.
I decline the offer and, in the following days, gather more evidence: I discreetly interview ex-employees, verify the landfills mentioned, and consult with local biologists about the damage to the mangrove. I also contact environmental and labor organizations that confirm having received similar complaints.
Final Reflection
My final article, “The green shadow: When ecotourism is just a facade”, is published three months later, not as a promotional piece but as an investigative report. It includes the resort’s official response and offers a balanced but honest view of the situation.
This dilemma transformed my view of travel journalism. I understood that our responsibility goes beyond creating compelling content; we have a commitment to the truth and to the communities and ecosystems we visit. The experience taught me to question corporate narratives, verify “green” claims and remember that sustainable tourism must be authentic, not just a marketing strategy.
The story generated controversy, but also brought about change: official inspections of the resort, improvements in working conditions, and a public commitment by the company to remediate environmental damage. Some colleagues criticized me for “betraying” the hospitality received, but many others appreciated the integrity of the work.
As travel journalists, we are not only narrators of experiences, but also witnesses and sometimes the voice of those who cannot speak for themselves, be they local communities or threatened ecosystems.
This article is part of the practical work carried out by students on the Master’s Degree in Travel Journalism at the School of Travel Journalism.