A stroll through Bangkok’s historic district reveals a city amidst an identity crisis. Start at the charming Song Wat Road, a slum-turned-laidback hotspot housing specialty cafés and mom-and-pop shops. The road’s storied charm draws curious tourists to uncover its hidden gems, all laid out at the periphery of Rattanakosin—Bangkok’s old town. In the alleys of Talat Noi, the historic site of Bangkok’s first port, jaded townhouses await demolition as investors circle, hoping to make room for commercial real estate. Minutes away, Yaowarat, one of the world’s largest Chinatowns, basks in a heritage revival, while other quarters of the city sprout glistening, new high-rises daily. Yet, beneath this resurgence, non-affluent residents face a more complicated reality of exclusion and displacement. Bangkok’s gentrification is undeniable, but its trajectory is distinct: Compared to other cities in the Global South, much of Bangkok’s recent development is fueled by foreign cash, not local demand.
Ranked the top tourism city in 2024 by visitor numbers, Bangkok’s touristified neighborhoods are only the surface of a problematic mass tourism model predicated on maximizing profit and growth from a luxury experience marketed as “cheap” for tourists. Areas like Bangkok’s old town—once bustling with local businesses—are now dotted with boutique hotels and coworking spaces catering to digital nomads who earn foreign wages but benefit from Thailand’s lower cost of living. These premium offerings, from gentrified accommodations to imported foods, are often out of reach for locals. Merchants exacerbate this local exclusion by raising prices to scam gullible foreigners who are accustomed to paying even more back home.
This catering to tourists has fostered a dynamic of subtle reverse xenophobia in the service industry: Foreigners are preferentially treated while locals are sidelined. Westerners, especially white tourists, have long been perceived as high-status individuals due to global legacies of colonization, and many Thais continue to equate whiteness with wealth. These racial and economic hierarchies persist, internalized into selective urbanization policies that subordinate local identity for external validation.
The famous hospitality of the “Land of Smiles” seems reserved for foreigners, as fellow Thais are met with indifference. At one point, metered-cab drivers refused to pick up Thais, knowing that they could not upcharge them or expect lucrative tips. For Bangkok’s residents—who earn nearly six times less than their American counterparts ($13,793 in the Bangkok metropolitan area compared to $80,610 US real median household income)—competing with the strong purchasing power of affluent tourists only deepens the economic fault lines already left by the domestic upper class.
Some communities have leveraged tourism to reclaim a degree of agency, seizing the opportunity to define their own revitalization. Take Talat Noi: Embellished with Chinese and Portuguese diasporic influences, the neighborhood has been home to generations of immigrants. However, in recent years, there has been increasing pressure to monetize the land from global investors and the Thai government. In response, the neighborhood touristified its spaces on its own terms. With state support, Talat Noi revived local trade and shophouses. Today, the neighborhood is experiencing a serene renaissance, flourishing with evolving businesses that have breathed new life into the area. This revitalized commercial zone, while partly catering to tourists, preserves historic architecture and reintroduces its legacy to a younger generation of Thais.
However, Talat Noi’s success story is rare among the countless gentrification processes unfolding throughout the city. South of Talat Noi lies Charoenkrung, Thailand’s first creative district. Led by the Thailand Creative and Design Center, the project intended to include locals in the planning process. However, clouded by an agenda of economic viability, the project has turned to implementing policies used in revitalization projects in artsy neighborhoods in the Global North in hopes of attracting the same tourists that flock to the hip meccas of Berlin or Brooklyn. Instead of harnessing the untapped creative wealth that the district’s unique culture and history already offered, the focus was instead placed on the marketability of these assets, reinforcing the rhetoric of commodification that prioritized aesthetics for the convenience of tourists. The result of these creative exercises feels like a staged performance–an attempt to look like a Western boho quarter without the soul of its local evolutions.
Profit-driven touristification has taken a dramatic toll on the sense of belonging and worth of Bangkok’s lower and middle classes. As excessively uniform shopping malls and condominiums multiply, spaces that feel “Thai” get erased. Losing spaces that reflect their culture, Bangkok’s middle class has turned their gaze outward—romanticizing notions of rural life. This longing for simplicity reflects the sense of loss caused by the shift from traditional Thai culture to consumer-driven lifestyles fueled by the tourism industry. As Bangkok turns its gaze to new, glitzy foreigners, its own residents feel dejected, left questioning whether they still belong and yearning for a nostalgic, rural, and domestic past. Interviews with residents of urban low-income communities reveal a related trend amongst the lower class: Many internalize a sense of guilt for obstructing the city’s progress due to their financial status. Thai cultural norms, emphasizing morality and sacrifice, have amplified this blame for the lower class, who often view their informal settlements as standing in the way of change.
Both middle and low-income Thais lack an identity grounded in the city’s built environment, as Bangkok trades its physical signifiers of cultural uniqueness in exchange for a globalized facade. As more resources are diverted towards tourism, inequality is exacerbated, eroding the very heritage it markets. The city should be careful not to discard local culture in favor of modernization or compromise its social fabric by pushing out its low and middle-income residents just because tourism remains the primary economic model. Locals are not pushed but priced out—displaced through rising costs and shifting priorities of overvaluing Westerners. If this trajectory continues, Bangkok could become a city that only serves global interests, severing its own residents from a sense of home.
Looking forward, the city must consider its intentions and face these challenges head-on. Perhaps, more community-based tourism policies should be implemented, especially under the bio-circular green economy model the nation is moving towards. Under this model, value is not derived from mass influxes of international visitors; instead, it is found in the sustainability of the unique attractiveness of quality sites and services. This means rethinking tourism’s purpose: Not as the driver of mass growth susceptible to bursting but as a mindful contributor to the city’s long-term resilience. From the ground up, efforts must be made to foster a lasting reciprocal relationship for its people—caring for locals as much as foreign guests in order to pull the city together.
At the edge of Talat Noi is the Chao Phraya River, flowing throughout the capital. The tides are shifting, blurring heritage and modernity. Now, standing at the pier, Bangkok must choose again—to drift further from itself or anchor onto something real.