Author’s Note: This is one of those pieces where I want to simply to put out some of the themes and ideas that have been rattling around my head for a while, in a fairly spontaneous fashion. I’m not entirely sure where it will end up, as I begin to type. But I want to write about a few aspects of digital nomadism that I feel have been lacking exposure.
I doubt that many would claim that there is currently a lack of conflict in our world, or that things are just running too smoothly. One of the underlying themes behind all the fighting, whether physical or vocal, that I personally pick up on is that of The Old fighting The New.
Trump’s populist supporters in the US clearly want a return to a time of traditional American values. Putin’s recent speeches, in justification of his invasion of Ukraine, are littered with references to how Russia needs to push back against a Western imperialist technocracy. In the EU and Canada, farmers, truckers and many with traditional lifestyles take up arms against perceived threats to their future existence.
For the populist or traditionalist, fighting change is not always easy. For change often manifests as a multi-headed beast, barging its way simultaneously into many aspects of our lives. Tax hikes, vaccine passports, fertiliser levies or factory shutdowns - one can feel like one is thrashing around ineffectually against some unseen foe.
What makes it easier is when you can isolate a clear opponent - a straightforward, tangible person or group who appears to embody all that you wish to push back against.
Enter digital nomads.
Comprised mostly of twenty or thirty-something IT-working professionals, my experience is that digital nomads tend to be quite upbeat and idealistic in nature. They often see themselves as physical harbingers of positive global change, travelling the world promoting inclusion and bringing money and new ideas into areas perceived as lacking in both.
This self-image took a sharp bash earlier this year when, seemingly out of nowhere, posters like the following started rocking up in nomad hotspots.
It was not easy for many nomads to process such a visceral display of antipathy being directed towards them by local people.
And it was not an isolated incident. Locals in Portuguese cities, like Lisbon and Porto, massively popular with nomads, this summer staged protests like the following.
So what was it really about for them?
The key issue that local activists in Mexico City, where the flyer came from, or Lisbon, where the protests took place, were concerns at the rapid increases in rents taking place as nomads arrived by the thousand. It was driving locals out of neighbourhoods that they had lived in for decades and breaking up traditional communities.
In addition, how nomads were perceived by locals fuelled the fire. Young, visibly-affluent, Western tech workers and entrepreneurs, demanding decent wifi and spending their days in Western-styled cafes or co-working spaces - many were perceived as invaders from another world. Many, though not all, made little attempt to speak the language. Many did seem to possess an air of youthful entitlement. Viewed through the local lens, a lot could perhaps be legitimately said to bear the hallmarks of cultural colonialism.
I feel I get it why the locals feel triggered by nomads and want to vent upon them. Creeping gentrification has beset popular cities in the UK, like London or Brighton, where I come from, for decades. But these days, it seems to have been accepted as simply “how things are.” I rarely hear of anyone protesting, as the next group of talented but unsuccessful artists have to move out of Shoreditch or Hove and relocate miles away, in some place where the rents are lower.
However, whilst northwest Europeans may have rolled over to the ongoing upheaval, it seems that the residents of Mexico City or Lisbon are not ready to do the same just yet.
How do digital nomads themselves respond to these concerns from locals? Those whom I know personally, or those on nomad social media groups I subscribe to, seem mostly pretty nonplussed by the situation. Comments on posts sometimes rapidly degenerate into mud-slinging between individual nomads and locals. But, mostly, my perception is that the majority just keep their heads down and hope that the negativity soon goes away, electing to not respond for concern of fanning it further.
A point which I feel complicates the whole situation with nomads further is the cultural colonialism thing. Many central or south American countries have experienced colonialism first hand in the past. (Though Portugal has itself also perpetrated it.)
Yet, many nomads do perceive themselves as apostles of cultural progressivism. This has been my perception, from my own time spent nomading in Kyiv, Mexico, Istanbul and Tbilisi. And I do have questions as to how “organic” many of the themes of this progressivism - be it minority rights, inclusion or environmentalism - really are.
What I mean by this is an unclarity in my own mind as to whether concerns about these issues are really just manifesting spontaneously, as Western culture develops, or whether they are being created, or signal-boosted, by Western political agencies for geopolitical gains.
International Relations scholar, Christopher Mott, attracted a lot of attention, earlier in 2022, with the publication of his paper, Woke Imperium.
In the wake of the international outcry against the US’s invasion of Iraq in 2003, it became clear to Western powers like America and Britain that a “new way” needed to be found, were they to continue to attack their perceived geopolitical opponents. Enter progressivism. Enter social justice. Enter woke. By adopting and championing the ideals espoused themselves, the West could legitimately use the same values to destabilise the regimes that they considered in opposition to them, especially those of Islamic states, rich in oil, minerals and gas.
I’m not going to dig too deeply into the Arab Spring, or the US financing of the PKK or Kurdish women’s rights groups in Iran. My only point here is that, historically, the West’s physical or cultural incursions into Islamic states have never resulted in democracy. So far, all they have left in their wake is chaos and destruction. Yes, regimes got changed. But nothing good came to replace them.
I feel that a legitimate case could be made that digital nomads are, in some cases, unwittingly becoming front-line agents for Western geopolitical agendas. Relatively youthful and seeking to do good, they may feel happy to carry around and spread progressive memes. They may also be unaware as to who really placed those memes in their minds and for what purpose.
Finally, I want to bring up again the point that most nomads, though not myself (!), are relatively young. Most are in their twenties or thirties. To me personally, this is a time when the average person does want to travel the world. They naturally want to see new places, to experience new cultures, to learn new stuff and to get new input. Many may yet come, as they get older, to settle in one place, to acquire property and to put down some physical roots. They may wish to start a family.
I bring this, seemingly obvious point up because the traditional cultures that are potentially getting displaced by nomads may not be able to make a return. If change continues unopposed, if more people take to nomading, and if nomads themselves don’t develop a way to preserve local cultures, they may finally find themselves worse off. Do we really want a world without traditional peoples and culture?
Travelling in this way myself, I’m aware of just how much traditional human culture constantly surrounds me. Whether it’s the Mercado Viejo of San Cristobal de las Casas, or the ancient vineyards of Kakheti, I feel like my life is considerably enriched by the people who have maintained a certain lifestyle for centuries, if not millennia.
At best, there is a debt that we owe to those who have lived traditionally, no matter what becomes of them and their way of living.