Territory as Destination: Ecotourism, Opportunity and Quiet Dispute in Latin America

An economic model that works only if the land endures.

In the Gulf of Urabá, the journey begins on water, not in the forest. From the dock at Nueva Colonia in Turbo, reaching the Sirikí Natural Reserve takes more than an hour by river and sea before land appears again. Along the way, mangroves close in, birds remain still over the surface, and the density of green unsettles the sense of being in Antioquia rather than the Amazon. Yet the value of the place lies not in its remoteness but in the opposite: it has become inhabitable again.

The reserve emerged when the Jiménez family returned to land long emptied by violence. Where staying once seemed impossible, there are now lodgings, guided walks, meals and paths. The mangrove ceased to be an obstacle and became the economic base. Even the recent sighting of jaguars no longer reads only as environmental news but as a sign of ecological stability. Here, ecological stability means economic stability.

Sirikí does not operate despite nature but because it remains intact. A pattern visible across the region appears clearly here: peace allows conservation, and conservation allows production. Latin America’s future economy may not lie underground. It lies on the surface. It breathes, moves and depends on remaining whole. For decades, land was valued by what could be extracted from it: tons, barrels, converted hectares. Now it is measured by its ability to remain.

Ecotourism has moved beyond a romantic niche to become an economic strategy. Governments, communities and private actors increasingly treat it as a sector that does not destroy its own asset: the territory.

The numbers help explain why. The Latin American ecotourism market could surpass 80 billion dollars by 2030, growing at roughly 16 percent annually, a pace few productive sectors can match without expanding extractive frontiers.

Its value lies not only in size but in its condition: permanence. When the landscape changes too much, the income disappears.

A natural advantage that cannot relocate

Latin America holds something that cannot be moved or replicated elsewhere: the planet’s greatest concentration of life within a continuous territory. The Amazon, the Andes, the Galápagos, southern glaciers, rainforests and páramos (high-altitude wetlands) form not isolated landscapes but an interconnected system. No other place can offer the same, and much of its economic value resides there.

Regional competitiveness depends not on subsidies or cheap labor but on conservation. Travelers cross continents not to see another interchangeable hotel but to walk an intact mangrove in Urabá, watch birds in an Andean páramo or navigate a river that still sets the rhythm of local life. When the landscape loses its original form, the destination becomes ordinary and competes on price, a competition the region rarely wins. Visitors come precisely for what has not been transformed.

For that reason, ecotourism is no longer treated as an environmental project but as part of the economy. In several countries it has shifted from protection policy to a way of sustaining local livelihoods over time.

The risk of losing what creates value

The sector, however, depends on territorial stability. The expansion of illegal economies and short-term extractive activities introduces constant instability. In many areas, criminal networks and quick-profit operations coexist or collide with community projects and natural reserves. What is at stake is not only the environment but the viability of local economies themselves.

Each degraded area is more than ecological loss. It is a route that disappears, a market that never consolidates, income that relocates elsewhere.

The dilemma echoes agriculture in Colombia: produce quickly or produce for decades. Ecotourism is, in essence, a long-term wager.

A sector still taking shape

The region advances unevenly. Some places already operate under this model, others are just beginning, and many are still testing how to make it viable. There is no single formula, only continuous trial and adjustment.

Ecotourism is not merely an alternative industry nor a replacement for others. It introduces a different kind of stability: income depends on the land remaining habitable and on those who live there being able to sustain it over time. Under that logic, wealth concentrates not where resources are removed but where they are cared for. More than diversifying the regional economy, it redefines who produces value: not the actor who extracts, but the one who ensures things remain.