Vlogging Live From Kabul: The Insights and Absurdities of YouTube Conflict Tourism

Afghanistan is certainly not a typical travel destination for a social media influencer, let alone your average tourist. Travel advisories, scarce flight routes, and fearsome news coverage (to name just a few) make conflict zones feel decidedly off-limits to outsiders.

In the past few years, an increasing number of intrepid content creators are documenting their journeys to places of conflict. They acquire rare visas, hire local tour guides, and point iPhone cameras through the streets as they seek to capture the ‘real’ version of these countries—places whose very essence is often reduced to fearful headlines and apocalyptic imagery. This phenomenon, known as conflict tourism, ranges from visiting historically troubled areas to entering zones of active conflict, and has taken on an entirely new significance in the age of vlogging.

Having watched a number of these videos myself, I’ve begun to wonder: who are these travelers, and how do they manage to break the red tape that seals off highly sanctioned regimes from the West? What motivates them—and, perhaps most importantly, what should we make of their videos?

Travels Amidst Conflict

For those determined enough, travel advisories are merely a suggestion; influencers like Canadian Nolan Saumure, British Miles Routledge, and French Tibi Jones have ventured into a number of highly volatile countries, such as Afghanistan, where they wish to witness life under Taliban rule firsthand. Visas can be acquired from neighbouring countries to their destination of choice. Travelers are very frequently accompanied by reputed tour guides, essentially wingmen for navigating the city, translating, and assisting them with administrative tasks. They also often hire a driver for the trip. Their travels may even be facilitated by tour companies who, aware of the market, arrange activities catering to foreigners’ dark curiosities.

Though travelers are often accompanied by locals, conflict tourism is inherently dangerous. The UK government, for example, implements a strict ‘avoid all travel’ advisory for Afghanistan on the basis of extreme danger, high risk for detention or imprisonment, as well as kidnapping and terrorism. This situation is intensified by the government’s inability to intervene on Afghan soil, with no embassy and therefore no direct aid for tourists.

The situation for conflict tourists has escalated on numerous occasions. In a story that sounds almost unbelievable, Miles Routledge– known online as “Lord Miles”– traveled to Afghanistan in 2021, just days before the fall of Kabul, despite warnings from the UK government. He wanted to witness life under the Taliban and share it with his followers. Ultimately, when the Taliban took over, he found himself stranded and had to seek refuge in a UN safe house. He was eventually evacuated by the British army, disguised as a woman in a burqa. Undeterred, Routledge returned to Afghanistan multiple times, and in 2023 he was detained again for several months.

Motives of Conflict Vloggers

If it’s so dangerous, why do they do it? Professor Dorina-Maria Buda, a leading scholar on the role of emotion and psychology in tourism to conflict zones, offers part of the answer. Drawing on her fieldwork in the Palestinian West Bank, she found that tourists visiting areas of turmoil are not driven solely by morbid curiosity; they also seek to challenge their emotions and assumptions. According to Buda, such travelers want to feel “emotionally connected to the situation… and… like they are bringing about a small positive change by experiencing the realities of life on the ground.” She also observes that, unlike traditional tourist hotspots where locals often feel burdened by over-tourism, communities in contested regions may “welcome tourists as… an opportunity for them to tell their own story about living in a conflict zone and to have their voices heard.”

Perhaps this idea does not resonate with the case of Miles Routledge. But for some other creators, it seems an apt characterization of their motives. A genuine emotional connection is reflected in the travels of YouTube creators Matt and Julia, whose shared channel documents, as their bio puts it, “adventures somewhere we probably shouldn’t be.” In their videos, they visit countries such as Afghanistan and North Korea, where they are often welcomed by locals or taken under their wing. 

In their Afghanistan travel series, for instance, Matt and Julia are met with curiosity and warmth in the streets, and later welcomed into a family’s home, where they cook together, share a meal, play with the children, and explore the family garden—offering a warm, personal glimpse into everyday life rarely captured in traditional media. 

Another video I found insightful is YouTube creator Eli from Russia’s visit to Iran: her documentary is beautifully filmed and interspersed with candid, authentic exchanges with locals. She shares many facets of life in Iran that rarely appear in news reports or mainstream media– for instance, the underground nightlife, Armenian neighborhoods that enjoy a degree of autonomy from state laws, and bustling street markets showcasing handmade crafts. One remark she makes on the impact of her travels stood out to me: 

Before you get to a country, it’s just a point on the map for you… But once you explore the place, the point on the map gets colors. It transforms into landscapes, sounds, tastes, faces, feelings, and many memories. When you’re back home… you will want to scream, ‘Of course, I’ve left. I’ve lived a whole life during that trip, and I’ve changed so much.

The authenticity of these conflict tourists comes from the thoughtfulness of their storytelling —their willingness to listen, to engage, and to show people as more than just symbols of suffering. As naive and idealistic as it may be, this is why I often find myself engrossed in conflict tourism videos from creators like Eli, Matt, and Julia. They feel like a way to understand, however imperfectly, the human experience within regions of instability, and to appreciate the place’s culture, cuisine, and quiet resilience amidst disorder and uncertainty. Encounters like these also feel mutually beneficial: the creators gain an authentic experience of culture and hospitality and have their worldview challenged, while locals have the chance to share their story, to be seen not as victims or as statistics, but as hosts, parents, and individuals living full lives despite tense circumstances.

Ethics

However, not all creators are motivated by empathy or a genuine desire to educate; some— perhaps most— prioritize shock value, spectacle, or personal clout.

Canadian content creator Nolan Saumure exemplifies the darker side of the genre. His provocative commentary and self-important antics are difficult to view as anything other than objectionable. In one video, “Afghanistan Has Too Much Testosterone,” he visits an arms market where he poses with rifles, laughs alongside traders, and treats the situation more like a game than a glimpse into daily life under the Taliban. He casually remarks: “This probably doesn’t come as a shock to you, but this is the only series I’ve ever filmed where I didn’t speak to, or have any form of interaction with, a single woman. It’s a complete sausage fest—all dudes, 24/7”. With hundreds of thousands of subscribers, this careless and insensitive representation has a wide and likely harmful influence. Humorous social media renditions have an influence on people’s perceptions. After the Taliban seized control in 2021, viral internet memes contributed to softening their image, showing fighters struggling to understand how gym equipment works or riding carousel horses. Like traditional media, conflict tourist content creators bear a responsibility to consider how their work influences popular understanding of reality in their destination countries.

In an interview, Saumure insists he doesn’t want to impose his outsider perspective: “Even if the west is maybe selling a very sensational narrative, I still saw the oppression firsthand as far as women not being allowed in certain parks and modesty laws,” he said. “It's a delicate subject. I just wanted to be like, “This is how it is here,” instead of driving into my beliefs.” Yet, his content style is far from neutral, making light of a grave reality to fuel his channel. 

As young audiences increasingly rely on influencers rather than traditional media, conflict tourism vlogs that approach troubled areas with humor or irreverence risk instilling outsiders with false or apathetic perceptions of both daily life under conflict and the oppression itself. Another creator, Tibi Jones, traveled to Afghanistan in 2021 with the goal of countering Western bias. He filmed in a dental office where veiled women were working, presenting it as evidence that some Afghan women can still participate in the workforce. On Instagram, he stated: “the western narrative has nothing to do with this land.” While some viewers praised him for countering western narratives, his portrayal overlooks the systemic oppression faced by Afghan women under the Taliban. Creators like Saumure and Jones seem to view themselves as movie characters or adventurers. By treating, say, Afghanistan, as a stage for personal adventure, they reduce the social and political reality to props for entertainment, blurring the line between reporting and spectacle.

In Ukraine, where conflict tourism has grown into a small industry, locals have mixed feelings about outsiders peering in on their daily lives amid war. Around ten Ukrainian agencies now offer specialized “war tours,” such as guided visits to war-damaged areas in Kyiv and Kharkiv, with a part of proceeds supporting soldiers. While some locals see these tours as a way to raise awareness internationally, others view them as deeply disrespectful. As one Ukrainian man told ARTE in a report on war tours, “It’s not entertainment. It’s our life.” 

If conflict tourism can provide a platform for local perspectives, it can simultaneously put those same individuals at risk. Those who appear on camera may be endangered if their participation is interpreted as opposition to the regime—especially in authoritarian contexts such as Afghanistan or North Korea. Even seemingly innocuous footage could potentially be used as evidence of collaboration or dissent, leading to harassment, arrest, or worse. 

YouTube conflict tourism is a paradox. On one hand, it offers a window into the culture, resilience, and everyday life in regions often reduced to statistics, headlines, or fear-driven narratives. Many videos do not lean on risk or spectacle, instead taking a humanized, intimate storytelling approach that comes across more like thoughtful travel documentaries than sensationalized vlogs.

That said, I am inclined to view the vast majority of conflict tourism content poorly. Too many creators prioritize shock value, and with the immense monetization potential of this content, this has eclipsed much of the content base. Anyone can bring a phone to a war-torn country, but not everyone can bring empathy, respect, or nuance. Titles like “The Real Afghanistan” threaten to turn lived experiences into commodities, reducing people’s lives to sources of entertainment that people in more privileged positions can consume casually, just as one can turn on and off the TV news.

Photo Source: @mbj, Flickr