About the break-up between the culture and the industry of surfing
ABOUT SERIES
I was 18 when I got my first surfboard in 2002, a late start by the standards of that time, probably early for the standards of now... My induction into the culture revolved around talking surf every time I went surfing, partying at surf towns, getting my hands on surf mags, and waiting for the next surf video. Probably a common tale for every surfer at that time, doing this in El Salvador had its share of obstacles with only one surf shop, one surf town, and no reliable mail delivery. To get your hands on the latest mag issue or the newest surf DVD you had three options: Travel abroad, ask a friend who was traveling abroad, or steal it from the gringo that brought it down on his surf trip.
Their scarcity made them prized possessions and their scenes, images, and words were retold, redescribed, and reenacted before every dawn patrol and after each surf session. In them we found out about the latest travel stories and novelty waves, learned who were the up-and-coming riders, and checked the newest surfboard shapes and board short designs, their stories having a big effect on how we thought about surfing.
Looking back at those first 10 years, I kept getting the sense that it was a time when most surfing was speaking the same language and alternative surfing was still alternative. Maybe it’s a biased view as I was only getting small peeks into the culture through these media outlets, but it felt like the best riders, the biggest brands, the media, and professional surfing were all one big happy family.
It was the time of the Billabong Trilogy, The September Sessions, Step into Liquid, Tomorrow Today, and the Quiksilver Young Guns Series. A time when every month you had arguments about who had the best articles and images: Surfing, Surfer, Surfers Journal, or Transworld Surf. A time when Fosters was the main sponsor of the ASP and we got to see Andy rip through Barra and Arica, Kelly and the Hobgoods dominate Tavarua, and Parko and Fanning own the Gold Coast. The brands were at the heart of all this, they were the ones who produced the biggest films, sponsored every contest and filled the pages of each publication with the newest gromm or top surfer wearing their gear.
Quiksilver Punta Roca 2011
Many things started to change after this moment, things that led to the culture and the industry growing apart, and just as two people start to go their separate ways, two truths always become apparent with time: 1. It is never about one big thing, but many small ones and 2. It was probably never meant to be.
In the case of surfing and truth number one, a couple of not-so-little things come to mind.
It was never about the money, but it always was. All through the early 2000s, surfing was good business, both Quiksilver and Billabong steadily grew their revenue hitting their best numbers somewhere between 2006 and 2011, a pretty good indication of how the whole industry was behaving. There was enough money for everyone: athletes were signing major contracts, filmmakers were renting choppers for movies, surf contests were being televised and ads were filling not only the pages of surf publications but also billboards and tv airtime. After that period things started to go downhill, part economic crisis and part loss in popularity, the 2010s saw revenues decrease and therefore budgets leading to cuts in the number of athletes in surf teams, fewer movie productions, and fewer ads. How bad did it get? Multiple acquisitions and mergers came into the equation leaving a good part of the biggest surf brands in the hands of corporations with no tides to surfing, and in a somewhat similar matter, the ASP turning into the WSL .
There’s no one right way to surf. Two major episodes would quietly disrupt the equalitarian view of surfing that seemed to prevail at that time. Dane Reynolds entered the Championship Tour with a raw unpredictable style of surfing that judges couldn’t understand, and Bobby Martinez told the Championship Tour to go fuck itself.
These two moments would start a ripple effect that left some questioning what good surfing was. Eyes would start to turn away from the Championship Tour as a point of reference and would instead look to smaller self-made videos and social media in search of something outside flow and steady, the apparent standard of competitive surfing.
Forward to now and while surfing still comes down to riding waves, you can’t talk about one singular surf culture but many surfing subcultures that revolve around where you live, your approach to surfing, what types of boards you ride, what types of waves you choose to ride and what brands align to your choices.
You have to blame Da Internet. Like every media and publication in the world, surf mags struggled to retain brands and incomes when social media and websites started offering viewers instant access to information and advertisers a cheaper model for purchasing ads. On top of that, cheaper access to high-quality equipment made it possible for more people to create content and become successful at gaining notoriety. Nowadays surfers, filmmakers, surf shops, resorts and pretty much anyone involved in surfing constantly create high-quality images and films directly reaching thousands through their profiles, taking the role of our beloved publications from being our main source of information to being just one of them.
We’re all now a brand. As a result of a couple of the things mentioned, many people felt that the industry and its main brands no longer represented their beliefs, driving some to create niche brands, products, and messages that cater to specific needs and audiences. With surfers running or backing up these brands, new names like Former, Rage, Saturdays NYC, and Deus started to enter the conversation. The new landscape of sourcing and manufacturing made it possible for each of them to get their hands on quality materials, worldwide shipping, and fast worldwide recognition through social media. Hyper-local brands also benefited from this access and it’s not uncommon to find that a brand from Chile or the Philippines now sources from the same place as Volcom or Vissla.
After recounting these highlights I aimed to put an end to this break-up ramble when I realized that in the greater context of this 70+-year-old relationship between culture and industry, the end of this moment dearly remembered as “a golden age in surfing”, is actually the start of a tipping point in the story, the exact moment when the weight of the industry started to outweigh the culture.
We can say that the 50s and 60s saw the birth of the surf industry with surfing becoming popular and outside interests becoming a part of it. From this moment and all through the 90s and early 2000s, a game of push and pull would take place with culture and industry each fighting to preserve their interest. At this point enough money was flowing around for both industry and culture to get what they wanted, giving place to this “golden age”.
The 2010s came in, money became an issue and the core beliefs of each side became apparent, ultimately culture only cares about surfing and the industry doesn’t. Culture continued being itself as the industry struggled to find a sense of things and chose to look outside this partnership to fulfill its needs.
2020 came, Covid happened, and with thousands of people seeking outdoor activities as a means to escape confinement, the industry saw an opportunity and decided that it didn’t need the culture for surfing to grow, it only needed its appeal.
2007: Sitting on a table a Volcom poster, Hurley and Sesion stickers and a surfer mag.
Since 2020 the surfing industry has continued to grow exponentially, but the culture is not growing at the same pace. CovidSurfers and Adult Learners have drastically changed the crowds that make the lineups as surfing goes from being a lifestyle chosen by outcasts to a weekend hobby for suburbia, a setup where Foam Boards and Dior surf gear find their piece of the pie.
All this happens in a moment when the voice of seasoned surfers is fragmented and scattered throughout multiple surfing subcultures that do not always align. The proliferation of these subgroups is a true testament to surfer's instinct to reject anything with a hint of mainstream, even within their environment.
Fast forward to 2024 and we’re past the point of wondering if industry and culture can or should make up and now face the threat of an industry silently killing culture. The reality of surfing not belonging to surfers anymore is catching up to everyone, no matter how remote our spot, how unknown our wave or how underground our shapers and clothes. The current environment felt in the lineups is becoming unsustainable as the animosity and rejection once reserved for specific people or situations, now sets in as a permanent feeling attached to every new surfer.
As seasoned surfers continue to find that the exact people they were escaping from now flock to their lineups, a change in attitude and behavior is set to take place in the next few years. More and more surfers will come to understand that their rejection of the industry can no longer manifest by hiding and not participating, as this only further allows the industry to gain ground. Preserving localism, enforcing surf etiquette in the lineup, fighting for surf sanctuaries, and preventing over-tourism from endangering waves all need to become issues to which surfers unite and actively engage if we ever wish to reach a new tipping point in this dynamic. A tipping point that gives culture back its rightful place as the guardian of surfing, making it clear to everyone wishing to participate that the industry might be the one who seduced you into this, but the moment you reach the ocean, the culture is the one who calls the shots.