Why I’m worried about the White Lotus effect
Amanda Ljungberg takes us through how the new season of The White Lotus is bound to impact Thailand, for better or worse

For a satire on the rich and detached, does the barrage of curated new White Lotus content not seem a little… ironic? Season three has begun its weekly rollout of episodes, and has brought us to a new location: Thailand. As a Thai person myself, having lived there until moving to university, it has been lovely to see and discuss my culture as it appears on one of the best television series on air. But something has been a little unnerving – the fact that Thailand is expecting, and HBO is wielding, the so-called ’White Lotus effect’.
“With such lush cinematography, such ogling at the beautiful beaches and meals and hotel suites, it is incredibly hard not to be drawn in by The White Lotus"
The Four Seasons Resort Maui at Wailea, where The White Lotus season one was filmed, reported a 425% increase in web traffic and a 386% increase in availability checks after the series was released. The Four Seasons San Domenico Palace in Sicily, where season two was filmed, was fully booked for six months after filming concluded. Now the Four Seasons Koh Samui, where most of season three is set, is experiencing a surge in checks and bookings. It is quite incredible how effective this anti-decadence series is at swaying decadent travel interests. At merely the announcement of Thailand as the location for season three, booking platforms reported immediate hikes in searches, with airlines such as Finnair taking the opportunity to add extra flights to their catalogs. Considering the fact that US searches for trips to Sicily increased by over 50% while season two was airing, it seems hardly cynical for us to conclude that, at least to some viewers, the story’s critique of excess takes a backseat to the ultimate allure of it.
This is not to say that we cannot hold these two thoughts simultaneously. We can certainly acknowledge inequality while finding ourselves seduced by the privileged lifestyles which perpetuate it; this balance is to some extent what the show is built around. What’s tricky here is how The White Lotus seduces us – season two expanded its locations, thus increasing the airtime of exclusive settings, and with season three featuring at least four hotels, we can only imagine how much time, and how many eyeballs, will be on the opportunities to indulge. Of course, season one’s single-location setting was unique to COVID restrictions – but, for a subtle example, notice how the colour grading changes from season one to season two, from rather yellow and moody to bright, and, dare I say, almost… advertisement-like?
With such lush cinematography, such ogling at the beautiful beaches and meals and hotel suites, it is incredibly hard not to be drawn in by The White Lotus, which means, in real-world terms, to be drawn in by the Four Seasons. MAX announced a formal partnership with the Four Seasons ahead of season three, and is beginning to offer immersive ’White Lotus experiences’. The first of these is in the Four Seasons Westlake Village, California, offering “experiences grounded in the themes of the show’s third season” such as “wellness activations”. Thailand’s National Soft Power Strategy Committee has expressed its hopes that the series will help establish Thailand as a spiritual and wellness hotspot, but packaging Thai spiritual practice as a “White Lotus season three theme” feels exploitative. I have seen, and continue to be shocked by, poor quality ‘Thai’-themed restaurants, massages and spa treatments across the West, but for this kind of commodification to emerge out of a show that built its audience by criticising excess and appropriation is just disheartening. With each season we seem to be moving further away from meaningful critique and towards marketability for a luxury-driven audience.
Something to consider is the fact that, regardless of how we feel about our eat-the-rich dramas becoming more fetishistic than scathing, The White Lotus is great for business and visibility. Thai tourism authorities spent heavily to draw producers away from Japan, offering free services and lower budget costs. As Thailand looks to build back the tourism so key to its economy, high returns are assumed on these investments, expecting a 20% increase in tourism. The words ‘soft power’ have become inescapable in Thailand, and so it is especially interesting that Blackpink’s Lisa, Thailand’s most popular celebrity export, stars in the new season, accompanied by an original song.
While such efforts will boost the country’s profile and are undeniably beneficial for the economy, they could just as well feel shoehorned and inorganic. A satire like The White Lotus should not really be a platform for any product; to turn it into a marketing event feels wholly misplaced. Moreover, this comes at a time, and to a part of Thailand, already struggling to deal with overpopulation – in Samui specifically, issues with access to water and waste disposal will only be exacerbated.
“How much is The White Lotus deliberately feeding into capitalist fetishism?”
I have been, like most people, a huge fan of this show, so I am a little disappointed with the somewhat mixed reception it has received. This is obviously compounded by my protectiveness over my home country. It is still much too early to say if the season will be a letdown, but in the rare possibility that it is, Thailand’s eagerness to capitalise seems indicative of a larger, more concerning trend. How much of this is Thailand misinterpreting the show’s message, and how much is it The White Lotus deliberately feeding into capitalist fetishism? The lines between promotion and narrative integrity blur with each brand deal – a quick skim through The White Lotus’ Instagram story will bombard you with ads for all their new partnerships and exclusive collaborations. You can buy White Lotus-themed shoes, shirts, suitcases, chocolates, and coffee creamers. What exactly are you buying when you buy a White Lotus-themed product? The common thread between the seasons is the critique of the psychology of the elite, and the appeal of luxury vacations. Clearly you aren’t buying a vaguely class-conscious pair of slippers. You are buying a pair of slippers that the uber-rich White Lotus patrons would wear; you are stepping into the literal shoes of the people that the show was made to disillusion you about.
If season two can tell us anything, with the production estimated to have brought in 32 million Euros worth of spending, Thailand, already weathering the gradual increase in post-COVID tourists, can expect booming business. With the season three premiere attracting 4.6 million viewers in the US, a 90% increase from the season two premiere, we can only wait and see just how the ’White Lotus Effect’ manifests this time around.
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