With the possible exception of the destruction of the Old Bridge at Mostar in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1993, the shelling of Dubrovnik’s Old Town two years earlier, during the first stage of Yugoslavia’s wars, is perhaps the most indelible memory of that tragic conflict.
Largely undefended and of little military significance, thousands of shells, launched by the Yugoslav People’s Army, fell on Dubrovnik during the eight-month siege of the city from October 1991 to May 1992. More than 600 shells hit the city on just one day, December 6, 1991, during ten hours of artillery fire. That day alone, 19 people were killed and tens of buildings in the UNESCO-protected Old Town were destroyed.
Before the war, Yugoslavia had been welcoming over 10 million tourists a year. It was the Mediterranean’s quasi-socialist success story, selling cheap package holidays to mainly western tourists. Tourism collapsed almost entirely once war broke out, as hotels became shelters for displaced people.
Following the Dayton Agreement that formally ended the war in 1995, Croatia’s recovery was swift. Dubrovnik was reconstructed. By 2000, 5.6 million visitors were arriving annually. The country hit pre-war overnight levels by 2002 and at the time of writing, Croatia is preparing to welcome a record 22 million visitors in 2026.
Furthermore, Croatian tourism post-war has been focused on premium offerings rather than the cheap, bargain package holidays of the 1980s. It was a reinvention of sorts, although today’s high spenders are not always welcome. Indeed, Dubrovnik itself is now actively limiting the number of tourists who visit its Old Town.
Three different roads to recovery
On a different continent, many flight hours away, Rwanda offers another example of post-conflict tourism renewal. There, the 1994 genocide killed 800,000 people in 100 days, abruptly halting the growth of a nascent tourism sector. By 2007 tourism had become the country’s highest foreign currency earner, with an offer, based on expensive gorilla watching and eco-lodge trips, even more premium than Croatia.
Then there’s Lebanon, which offers the opposite lesson. The country earned its ‘Switzerland of the Middle East’ nickname before the 1975-1990 civil war destroyed that reputation. Nearly 1.5 million tourists visited in 1974, but Lebanon did not surpass that figure until 2009, 35 years later.
Then, just as recovery seemed solid, the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah war hammered arrivals back down. More recent fighting has delivered fresh blows. Lebanon demonstrates what happens when instability becomes chronic: all the Mediterranean beaches in the world can’t overcome persistent security worries.
Egypt falls somewhere between Croatia and Rwanda’s fast rebuild and Lebanon’s endless setbacks. At least 14 million visitors arrived in 2010. Tahrir Square protests in 2011 sent that figure down by nearly a third. Tourism bounced back in 2012, then the 2013 ousting of Mohamed Morsi knocked it down again. A Russian plane explosion over Sinai in 2015 didn’t help. Egypt proves that pyramids guarantee eventual recovery but repeated political chaos can burn years.
Lessons for Ukraine
All of which matters because Ukraine will soon face its own recovery calculation. Before Russia’s February 2022 invasion, Ukraine welcomed 4.2 million international tourists annually. Arrivals have since fallen 85 to 90 per cent. UNESCO reckons damage to culture and tourism sectors totals 3.5 billion US dollars. Kyiv alone has shed 10.6 billion US dollars in lost tourism revenue. Even in western Ukraine, far from the front lines, hotel occupancy dropped 50 per cent in summer 2022.
Croatia offers the obvious comparison, but it’s somewhat misleading. The war hit specific regions whilst leaving much of the Dalmatian coast intact, important when your product is beaches. Ukraine’s fighting has devastated wider areas. Hotels, roads, and historic sites across multiple oblasts lie in ruins.
Security perception matters more than actual security. Croatia recovered once tour operators decided holidays were safe again. Rwanda convinced wealthy travellers that organised safaris offered controlled experiences. Lebanon never truly shook the perception of ongoing danger, even during relatively calm periods. Ukraine will need to overcome not just physical damage but deeply embedded mental images of war.
Good marketing will help. Egypt spent 4.4 billion US dollars rebuilding its tourism sector after 2006, focusing on reassuring western markets. Croatia marketed itself as ‘the Mediterranean as it once was’, clearly (and successfully) positioning itself in the premium bracket. Rather than chasing volume, Rwanda did likewise. Ukraine will need to make similarly strategic choices.
What has become known as ‘dark tourism’ presents one, if uncomfortable, option. Conflict sites attract visitors. Croatia offers siege tours of Dubrovnik. Rwanda’s genocide memorials draw thousands. Ukraine (which pre-war had offered tours of Chernobyl) is already discussing how to preserve damaged sites as heritage landmarks. Done tastefully, this works. Done poorly, it becomes grotesque.
What’s the timeline? Optimistically, five to seven years to pre-war levels—the Croatian path. Pessimistically, 15 years or longer—Lebanon’s fitful pattern. Much hinges on factors Ukraine can’t control: whether Russia accepts defeat or continues hybrid warfare, whether western reconstruction aid flows consistently, whether the global economy supports discretionary travel spending, and whether airlines restore flights in sufficient numbers. Notably, Ukrainian tourism hasn’t collapsed entirely: its main ski resort, Bukovel (pictured above), close to the country’s border with Hungary and Romania, remains popular with skiers from both countries.
What already appears certain, based on previous examples, is that Ukrainian tourism won’t simply return to what existed before. Croatia transformed from socialist package-holiday destination to upmarket Mediterranean player. Rwanda pivoted from general tourism to luxury eco-tourism. Egypt learnt that pyramids alone can’t overcome security fears. Ukraine’s post-war tourism will look different, shaped by what was destroyed, what opportunities emerge, and what choices officials make about positioning.
Photo: Dreamstime.
