At the height of the pandemic, these people became the 21st century version of the seeker—wandering the globe in search of exotic, cheap places with reliable wifi. But a lifestyle sold as a passport to freedom for the nomads feels a lot like a prison for many of the locals.
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A brief history of digital nomads
We humans have been nomads for most of our time on earth. In the past, we wandered from place to place searching for food. As author Felix Marquardt writes:
The urge to migrate, to quest, to go on a journey, is deep-seated—ancestral, essential and instinctive. Ninety-eight per cent of our time on Earth as anatomically modern humans has been spent as nomads. Living your whole life in the village, town or city of your birth is a relatively recent, anomalous development.
Once we humans discovered agriculture—and built first the villages and later empires and still later factories—the nomadic lifestyle became a badge of backwardness. It was reserved for tribes, the Romani and all sorts of outcasts. But that was until travel was recast as the status mobility of the privileged—who could afford to jet off to distant shores on a whim—while the rest of us remained chained to the desk.
Enter, the digital nomads: In 1964, legendary science fiction writer Arthur C Clarke made this bold pronouncement on TV: “[I]t will be possible . . . perhaps only 50 years from now, for a man to conduct his business from Tahiti or Bali just as well as he could from London.” But the actual phrase ‘digital nomads’ was first coined in 1997 by a Japanese tech guru named Tsugio Makimoto—who predicted that a technological “revolution” will allow us to live in distant places—while working over the internet.
However, these prophecies remained mostly unfulfilled until the pandemic descended upon us like a plague. Until then, wandering the earth was limited to a modest tribe of millennials who lived out of a suitcase—crossing borders every month on short-term visas. More idealistic neo-hippies than tech-savvy nomads.
The great pandemic effect
Thanks to that pesky virus, mandatory WFH policies made geography incidental to the job. People first began to migrate to cheaper locations from big cities out of necessity—but digital nomadism soon became an Instragrammable lifestyle.
Have money, will relocate: For the original digital nomads, travel was “about place, relatedness, community and education. Nomadism [was] about going beyond the familiar and embracing the other." But the new breed were not beach-hopping backpackers but 9-5 workers—who were suddenly flocking to wifi-equipped cottages, 'quarantine apartments' and 'social distancing retreats’. Soon enough, the trend became all about leveraging that First World paycheck in an exotic destination:
The proposition is simple: you, your laptop, your Northern European or US pay cheque, the lightest of loads for the journey and the promise of beaches, cafés, fast internet and beautiful new people. Who would want to be a citizen of somewhere, treading the same streets each day, the burdens of your home nation on your shoulders, when this awaits you?
While some folks were living the ‘van life’—others posted envy-inducing images of ‘Zooming’ from a beach hammock in Costa Rica.
To be fair: Many millennials were also making a genuine bid for personal freedom—and investing in experiences rather than stuff. There was also a sense that investing time in a community—rather than parachuting in and out like a tourist—was a more ethical, sustainable choice. And the rise of exclusive co-living spaces—with “the welcoming embrace of a community”—offered an instant antidote to loneliness.
A big welcome mat: The digital nomad boom wouldn’t have been possible without governments eagerly playing ball. Estonia was the first to offer a ‘digital nomad’ visa in 2020—and Barbados, Bermuda, Georgia, Iceland, and Dubai quickly followed suit. By the end of 2022, a long list of EU nations had jumped on the bandwagon—along with south east Asian countries like Indonesia.
The perfect deal: Governments love the idea of cash-rich foreigners who can kickstart local economies flailing due to quarantines and travel bans:
Governments at all levels realise that digital nomads spend more money than short-stay tourists, don’t put much strain on public services, create jobs for locals—and even start local businesses
And they aren’t going to take jobs from the locals—since digital nomad visas require holders to have long-term freelance work contracts. In return, digital nomads could enjoy a low cost of living, extended visa privileges and zero local taxes.
So where did it all go wrong?
The disillusioned nomad: While the location-independent lifestyle looks perfect on Instagram, the reality of being a white collar stiff is far less fabulous. There are huge challenges in getting something as basic as health insurance. Also, not every nation has a tax-exempt visa—and even if it does, your home country and/or company can be relied on to make your life miserable with convoluted tax laws. And then there’s the pesky reality of your work schedule—which isn’t built for life on the beach. The work calls, crazy deadlines and endless meetings don’t disappear. But they now come with the added burden of different time zones—and guilt over not stopping to enjoy the pretty sunsets.
Point to note: The digital nomad lifestyle is only possible if you have a “strong” passport—which means it is only seamless for some. For example, a Kenyan passport makes visas more expensive—and visa-free travel is not an option for most countries. Undoubtedly, this holds true for Indian passports as well. Then, of course, there is the pesky business of gender—it’s always harder to travel as a woman. An unhappy Agnes Nyamwange said of her experience: “It’s a cultish type thing. It’s not sustainable… 15% of it was real, the other 85% is complete junk.”
A world of gentrification: An academician once described tourism as “the industry that consists of transporting people who would be better off at home, to places that would be better off without them." That’s pretty much what happened to digital nomadism, as well. Those first world paychecks drove up the cost of living and rents—evicting locals from their own neighbourhoods. Take the example of Mexico City—where apartments are being turned into Airbnbs. The average price is 1,450 pesos ($72) per night—while 95% of Mexican workers earn less than 518 pesos ($26) per day. Digital nomadism has unleashed gentrification at a global scale.
The new conquistadores: The newcomers are appropriating more than just space. The American invasion in Mexico is being described as “the ‘New Wave’ imperialism as taquerias and local stores slowly turned into cafes and Pilates studios.” Even locals now feel like outsiders, like the professor who told the LA Times, “We’re the only brown people. We’re the only people speaking Spanish except the waiters.”
But it’s not just Mexico. A Lonely Planet travel blogger describes the transformation of Indonesian neighbourhoods:
Locals open "vegan" restaurants knowing it will sell better than the succulent slices of Babi Guling (whole roast pig) that the Balinese perfected over hundreds of years. Guesthouses close their doors as trendy Instagrammable Airbnb's backed by foreign investors thrive. Coffee coworking spaces pop up on every corner drawing in more and more of the digital nomad crowd while slowly pricing locals out of their communities.
The irony is that the desire to discover the new has made everything the same: “You might travel to the other side of the planet only to find that it looks much like the city you left back home.”
Who represents whom? Of course, this ‘colonial’ transformation requires the active collusion of local governments—which throw their less affluent citizens under the bus to serve the greater economic good. But they may not have much choice—given the fierce competition to attract these desirable nomads:
“Where talent moves will define the success of economies,” [a relocation executive] says, “and all the countries will be fighting for the same talent.” According to [Karoli] Hindriks, future competition of cities could come down to “user experience,”... Policymakers will need to keep up: “They should be thinking, ‘How can I sell my country better, so the smart people will move here?'”
That balance of power holds as true for a small town in Portugal as it does for entire nations like Indonesia.
The bottomline: We leave you with two quotes that sum up the state of affairs. This is a woman who moved to Mexico City from North Carolina:
I came for a new set of possibilities for how I experience my life and what I get to create in it. I feel like this city has everything I need to build a life of creativity, connection, adventure and stability.
And this is what a sign posted in the city says: “New to the city? Working remotely? You’re a f—ing plague and the locals f—ing hate you. Leave.”
Reading list
This long Conversation piece ties digital nomadism to the tech culture’s aversion to nation states and borders. LA Times has more on the debacle in Mexico City. Wired looks at how everything went wrong at a digital nomad paradise in Portugal. BBC News offers a sweeping view of the ancient origins of nomadism. BBC News and Forbes look at whether the digital nomad lifestyle is here to stay. Geena Truman in Lonely Planet explains the difference between a ‘traveller’ and a digital nomad. This older New York Times is good at capturing why many digital nomads eventually just want to come home.The Economist offers an interesting look at the co-living angle.
