What began in Europe is now increasingly visible in the United States. In New York, once bohemian neighborhoods like the West Village and SoHo are now so overrun on weekends that tourists stand in long lines outside global designer flagships and big chain stores, then crowd the sidewalks to photograph their shopping bags against branded facades that could be anywhere.
More than a half century ago the French philosopher Paul Ricoeur warned of a world where “the same bad movie, the same slot machines, the same plastic or aluminum atrocities” would spread across cultures. His fears resonate today as tourism-driven economies push cities to stage their distinctiveness, overlaying local life with standardized, tourist‑facing layers.
This is the paradox of overtourism: The more people seek out distinctive places, the more they invite standardized, visitor‑friendly layers to grow on top of them. But how deep does that homogenization really go? Does it erase local ways of living or mostly reshape what visitors see?
To answer these questions, we undertook a study to measure the extent to which global forces are actually eroding or reshaping local distinctiveness. Published in Scientific Reports and conducted with colleagues at MIT’s Senseable City Lab, the study used visual AI to analyze more than 400,000 Airbnb interior photos from 80 cities worldwide — treating home interiors as a basic cultural marker — to see how much local distinctiveness survives under globalization.
The results reveal a more complex story than the simple narrative of globalization steamrolling local culture. Globalization does homogenize, but it does so selectively. Global forces shape the technology and objects found in our homes: the same televisions, flat‑pack furniture, and devices appear in homes around the world. Global supply chains, international brands, and social media trends create powerful convergence pressures.
Yet significant local differences persist in how space is organized. Apartments in Madrid resemble those in Barcelona far more than those in Bangkok. The way rooms are laid out, how light enters them, the materials used in their construction — these basic qualities remain stubbornly local even as global products proliferate.
Kitchens are especially resistant to homogenization, retaining identities rooted in local food traditions and cooking practices. Local building traditions, climate, and cultural preferences create regional signatures that persist even in our hyperconnected age. When we clustered images with neural networks, South Asian kitchens grouped together visually, distinct from European or East Asian spaces, even though the model had no information about geography — geography’s “first law” is that near things are more related than distant things.
This duality helps explain why overtourism feels so culturally corrosive. Tourism accelerates global convergence — the same luxury retailers, hotel chains, and Instagram‑ready design cues that push cities to conform to international expectations. At times, it can even undermine more authentic local businesses, which cannot compete against much larger global competitors.
Yet local distinctiveness does not vanish under global pressure; it adapts. The visual signatures that make one place different from another persist beneath the surface layer of brands. That is where efforts to manage tourism’s cultural impact should concentrate.
Cities worried about overtourism should focus on protecting what actually creates local character: architectural traditions, building materials, streetscapes, and urban rhythms. Tax systems can capture more tourism revenue for neighborhood infrastructure and services. Zoning and building regulations can favor local establishments over global chains. Technology can highlight local businesses and help cities understand visitor flows and measure what actually works.
Cultural homogenization is not inevitable, even under intense global pressure. Objects may converge, but deeper traditions endure in how spaces are organized. The real test of overtourism is whether cities can rewrite their rules — using global mobility to deepen local character rather than dissolve it. The places that thrive will be those that resist becoming anywhere and insist on remaining somewhere in particular.