Foreign Tourists in Italy: The Disparity of Economic Power at Play

Walking through the streets of Italy, or traveling on trains and ferries, it's impossible not to notice the overwhelming presence of foreign tourists. Foreign tourists in Italy are nothing new — it’s been happening since Goethe’s time — but what is definitely new is the economic disparity in terms of wealth and purchasing power between those who live in Italy and those who come to visit.

In 2023, the Bel Paese welcomed 57 million foreign tourists who spent around $56 billion, according to the UNWTO. Among these visitors, Germans spent the most, followed by Americans, according to a survey from the Banca d’Italia called Indagine sul turismo internazionale.

So, where does all this money come from?

Germany's GDP is almost double that of Italy, reaching $4.4 trillion compared to our $2.2 trillion. The United States boasts an economy 12 times larger than Italy’s, with a GDP exceeding $27 trillion. Such a large gap between Italy and the US is relatively new. In the 1980s, America’s GDP was $2.8 trillion, while Italy's was $477 billion — six times larger, not twelve. This means that since the 1980s, the gap between the US and Italy’s GDP has more than doubled.

All this translates into higher salaries and spending power for those who earn more. According to Federconsumatori, Germans earn an average salary of about €44,500, compared to €29,400 earned by Italians, and €55,000 earned by Americans.

Another interesting figure to understand the disparity at play is the number of millionaires in each of these countries, who presumably also travel to Italy. Germany is home to around 2.8 million millionaires, Italy has 1.3 million, and in the United States, there are 22 million people with a net worth of $1 million or more, according to UBS’s Global Wealth Report.

It’s clear that when these wealthy people travel to specific locations where permanent residents earn much lower wages — think of southern Italy and the Italian islands — they create significant distortions in local economies, a seasonal influx of external capital that changes the local landscape.

On one side, the flow of money benefits local businesses like hotels, restaurants, and shops, but on the other, such a clear disproportion of economic power inevitably creates distortions — from rising prices to skyrocketing real estate and rent costs, squeezing out those at the bottom of the wealth chain.

For years, American newspapers have been publishing stories about how, with a median New York salary, one can buy dream homes in economically depressed regions of Italy, with little consideration for the social and economic repercussions.

The latest example, just a few weeks ago, was an article in the New York Times explaining that while $750,000 buys a two-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, in Molise, the same amount can purchase mansions of 700 square meters (as if it made any sense for a New Yorker from Manhattan to buy a villa in Molise).

More than a million Italian millionaires might be able to fend off this peaceful invasion; they might even benefit from it. But what worries me are the tens of millions of Italians living in beautiful and attractive places who will no longer be able to compete with foreign tourists and afford to live in their own homes.

NYC Ever Changing Skyline

It was bound to happen. After decades as the most visible and prominent skyscraper in midtown Manhattan, The Empire State Building is no longer the centerpiece of New York's skyline. It literally stood out, surrounded by blocks of shorter buildings. Its setbacks enhance its dynamism, its shimmering mast and the incredibly tall broadcasting antenna making it hard to tell where the building ends and the sky begins.  

The lastest humiliation came from yet another luxury tower that was recently completed in NoMAD and killed the Empire's iconic view from Madison Square Park.  

In New York nothing stays as it is for long — that’s part of its charm and its strength. A city in which no one has time to dwell on relics of the past. “Get ahead” is New Yorkers’ credo. Ahead of who and of what, I’m still not sure.    

In recent years, the quantity of new buildings, demolition of old ones and reworking of the NYC skyline has been dramatic even by New York standards. It started with the tall, skinny buildings on billionaire's row also known as 57th street in 2014. The first one was One 57 followed in short order by Viñoly’s 432 Park, which has now become notorious for its technical issues, tenant fights and expensive repairs. Then came Hudson Yards, possibly the neighborhood that people love to hate the most. Dubbed Little Dubai, it completely changed Manhattan’s west side with several glass clad gargantuan towers. More recently, with the Midtown East rezoning plan kicking in, the area around the Grand Central Terminal is changing too. Enter One Vanderbilt, apparently already technologically outdated, and JP Morgan Chase’s new headquarters, built after wastefully tearing down a perfectly fine tower. The pair of buildings dwarf the Chrysler Building at a scale that is hard to grasp. And more construction is on its way. 

The city seems gripped by a compulsive urge to build new towers, reshaping its skyline. Pandemic shutdowns, remote work trends, and even pressing concerns about sustainability and green initiatives can’t slow the frenzy. There is no considered, comprehensive plan, whether architectural or social in its vision.

Cities regulate their skylines for different reasons. Sometimes the aim is to preserve buildings that are meaningful to their citizens, often because they are beautiful or represent social and religious ideals. Regulations ensure these landmarks remain visible to the masses. That’s been the case in Paris, which recently reinstated a rule that limits building heights in the city center to 37 meters, assuring the Tour Eiffel stays center stage. In Rome a popular rumor says that nothing can be taller than St. Peter's dome at 136 meters. Truth is there's no such law, however the city center is strictly protected and so far no building has surpassed the dome’s height yet. Who gets to decide which buildings are worth protecting and whether this approach is outdated is up for debate in London. Athens too, protects the Parthenon from being overshadowed by tall buildings. Sometimes, the obsessive reverence towards old monuments can keep a city hostage to its past but that is for a different blogpost.

In other places, the reasons to manage building heights are more practical than symbolic. Population density or airplane approach paths can be a major factor in many cities in Asia for example. In general, few link skyline regulations with decabornization efforts. I’m dreaming of a skyline plan that mandates green roofs, reuse of existing buildings over demolition and operable windows for all. 

New York has no intention of regulating its skyline to protect the Empire's views, or to improve decarbonization. Not much is done to prevent demolition of perfectly fine buildings that only in New York are allowed to have a life span shorter than a sick dog. 

Indeed when the Empire State Building was built, it replaced a perfectly fine and beautiful building like the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel that was just 36 years old. Back then environmental issues were far from top of mind but it was all worth it. When the Empire opened its doors, it was the tallest structure ever made by humankind, by far. It was a vertical village the likes of which had never before been seen. A bustling, 24/7 operation, with a shiny art deco mast that was also an air station for air balloons. How could that not become a sensation? The observation deck at the top of the 86th floor allowed people to take in unprecedented views of the city. All of a sudden, the sky was another venue where life could unfold. Over time, the Empire became the symbol of New York City and New York City’s identity became tied to its skyscraper. Only the Twin Towers a few decades later would get to that level of iconicity. In a recent ad for Hudson Yards circulating on Instagram, the opening scene is ironically a shot of the Empire. Without that shot, no one could tell where Hudson Yards actually is, being so generic. 

On the other hand, the ESB captures people's imagination, heart and minds. It’s a symbol of something bigger than one's own self or an anonymous corporation. Not being associated with a big brand, a huge logo, or a fancy address, it allows people to project on its audacious structure their own dreams and aspirations. Being able to see it is like owning a little piece of what it represents. Its views are a public asset. 

Yet, despite its remarkable importance, the city is ok with surrounding it with other structures. The problem is that like with other public assets, once the views are gone, it’s almost impossible to get them back. Today's best views of the ESB are sealed behind penthouses or observation decks whose tickets are far from accessible. (One Vanderbilt, The Edge and even the Empire decks are prohibitive). 

Is not difficult to imagine a time in the future when the Empire will be among the shortest or smaller buildings in town, completely surrounded by a younger generation of flashy structures. The ESB is 93 years old after all, and in a city where you don’t see many old people around, whose mantra is keep moving, never look back, we ourselves could face similar fates. First slowly disappearing in a sea of people taller and stronger and then when no one can remember who you are and why people loved you so much, gently being removed, demolished and replaced.   

New York is an unforgiving place, no one here lasts forever, not even the Empire State (fucking great)  Building.