The United States has always sold itself as a place of openness, opportunity and above all freedom. Yet the newest proposal from American officials, demanding a five-year social media history from tourists entering under the visa-waiver program, seems to take a hearty swing at all three pillars. The plan casts a wide net over millions of visitors from friendly nations, from the UK to Japan to much of Europe, many of whom have been popping into the U.S. for weekend breaks, business trips and family visits for decades without incident. Now, under the banner of national security, their Instagram posts and Twitter rants are suddenly of pressing governmental interest.
It is an extraordinary ask, hand over half a decade of personal online history or stay home. And when a country begins asking its visitors not simply who they are but what they have said, posted, liked, joked about, or regretted, something profound shifts in the global relationship between traveler and destination.
President Donald Trump’s return to the White House has set a clear tone, tough borders, suspicious minds, “security first” above all else. This is not a surprise; it is an extension of a political worldview that has long fed on the notion that danger lurks everywhere, even in the Instagram stories of a Scottish couple planning their Florida honeymoon. But the underlying message, intentional or not, is that the U.S. simply does not trust the world, even its closest allies. And when travelers sense they are not trusted, they do what any rational consumer does in a marketplace of options, they shop elsewhere.
Because make no mistake travel is a marketplace, and tourism is business. Huge business. The United States has long benefited from being a dream destination, a place people save up for, romanticize about and revisit. But that dream dims when entry requires a digital strip search. Tourists do not want to wonder if a sarcastic comment about American politics from 2019 will trigger a secondary inspection. They do not want to imagine a border agent scrolling through their TikTok history. They certainly do not want to risk being denied entry based on an algorithmic interpretation of humor or sarcasm.
If Washington’s message is, “We don’t really want you here unless we can read your diary,” many travelers will shrug and say, “Fair enough, we won’t come.”
After all, the modern traveler is spoiled for choice. Paris will still pour the wine. Tokyo will still welcome its punctual admirers. Canada will offer politeness, scenery, and none of the interrogations. Greece has sun, history, and crucially no interest in what you tweeted after the 2018 World Cup. When compared to these destinations, U.S. border procedures are already among the world’s most intimidating. This proposed layer of scrutiny isn’t just more red tape; it’s a glowing sign screaming “Proceed at your own risk.”
For Trump’s supporters who believe this keeps America “safe,” the argument assumes that someone with malicious intent would dutifully supply incriminating online activity as requested. It is security theater, not security strategy. Meanwhile, everyday tourists, the people who spend money on hotels, restaurants, rental cars, Broadway shows, national parks, small-town diners, and suburban outlet malls, are treated as potential suspects. And they notice.
In a time when economic resilience is paramount, pushing away travelers is a peculiar strategy. Tourism dollars are not theoretical. They fill cash registers, pay wages, and fund local economies. Many American towns and cities depend heavily on international visitors. Cutting that flow because of fear-driven bureaucracy is like refusing customers at your shop door because one person, once, shoplifted. It is self-sabotage disguised as vigilance.
But perhaps this is what “America First” has evolved into: America alone. If the U.S. insists on treating friendly travelers as security cases rather than guests, the global public will oblige by spending their money elsewhere. National pride may not care about the hotel industry, but hotel workers, waiters, Uber drivers, tour guides, and shop owners certainly do.
Maybe this is what the MAGA movement envisions, a fortress nation, walled in physically and digitally, suspicious of outsiders and uninterested in charm. But the truth is that isolation is expensive. Suspicion is not an economic growth strategy. Tourists who feel unwelcome do not fight their way in, they simply choose another destination.
So yes, if the U.S. wants to discourage visitors, this new social-media-snooping requirement will help achieve exactly that. The world will not beg to enter a country that treats them like potential criminals. They will take their holidays, their wallets, and their goodwill to places that still remember what hospitality looks like.
And America, convinced it is protecting itself, may wake up to realize it has simply been shutting itself off and this costs money!
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