Dark tourism—the practice of visiting sites associated with death, tragedy, and suffering—might seem morbid at first glance. But for Dr. Chad Scott, these journeys became powerful catalysts for personal transformation and healing. In a recent conversation Dr. Scott shared how exploring these emotionally charged locations helped him navigate through his own personal hell of divorce, health struggles, and eventually a life-saving liver transplant.
Photos Courtesy of Chad Scott
Dr. Scott’s journey into dark tourism wasn’t planned. As a therapist with over 25 years of experience in the mental health field, he found himself facing multiple life crises simultaneously. An autoimmune disease called vasculitis wreaked havoc on his body, eventually leading to liver failure. Around the same time, his marriage fell apart, he missed out on a career opportunity due to nepotism, and his father nearly died from sepsis. This perfect storm of calamity pushed him to seek solace and meaning in unexpected places.
What began as adventure tourism—zip-lining in Costa Rica, hiking in national parks, and pushing himself physically—gradually evolved into something deeper. Dr. Scott found himself drawn to places marked by historical tragedy: Auschwitz concentration camp, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial, Paris catacombs, and other sites where human suffering had left an indelible mark. Rather than depressing him further, these visits sparked profound personal insights and emotional healing.
“When you’re going through hell, keep going,” became his mantra, borrowed from Winston Churchill. Dr. Scott explained that dark tourism sites offer a unique form of existential therapy. Standing in a gas chamber at Auschwitz or facing the artifacts of atomic destruction in Hiroshima creates a powerful emotional experience that puts personal struggles into perspective. These places don’t diminish individual pain but rather connect it to the universal human experience of suffering and resilience.
The concept of “memento mori”—remember you must die—features prominently in Dr. Scott’s approach to dark tourism. This ancient Roman philosophy encouraged people to acknowledge their mortality not to induce fear, but to inspire meaningful living. When confronted with the evidence of countless lives cut short, visitors often leave these sites with renewed purpose and intention. For Dr. Scott, these experiences helped quiet his severe anxiety and clarify what truly mattered: loving his family and helping others. 
What makes dark tourism transformative is not the morbid fascination with death but the reflective journey it initiates. Dr. Scott emphasizes that he approaches these sites with reverence, not sensationalism. The emotional impact—not the historical facts—is what remains long after the visit. This emotional processing became crucial during his liver transplant journey, giving him unexpected strength and peace during a life-threatening situation.
Dr. Scott’s powerful story culminated in his book “Beyond the Darkness: Transformative Journeys Through Dark Tourism,” where he details how these experiences helped him rebuild his life. The message is clear: sometimes the path through personal darkness requires us to confront humanity’s darkest moments, not to wallow in despair, but to find the resilience, meaning, and purpose that illuminate our way forward. As Dr. Scott puts it, “You don’t come out the same person. You come out a better version of yourself.”
