Are Digital Nomads Ruining Everything? Part 4/4

Final thoughts on the remote worker gentrification crisis and possible solutions.

Marko Ayling X Midjourney AI

Welcome back to the final letter in my four-part exchange of essays with Lauren Razavi of

Global Natives

. I have thoroughly enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of this dialogue and the many new perspectives shared by all the participants of this conversation. If you haven’t already, check out Lauren’s first piece and my response. 

Last week, Lauren shared her thoughts on possible solutions to the remote worker gentrification crisis, including six areas where she hopes to see “triple wins” for governments, host communities, and nomad visitors.

This week I respond with the final letter in this series below. Thank you for reading, and please subscribe to Lauren’s

Global Natives

newsletter if you haven’t already.

Best,

Marko

Global Gentrification—Are Digital Nomads Ruining Everything? (Part 3 of 4)

Dear Lauren, 

Thank you for sharing your thoughts on six potential solutions to the nomad gentrification problem. I’m inspired by your willingness to think of solutions on a planetary scale. It also humbles me to see that the core issue we’re confronting is no less than global inequality itself. 

Much of the current crisis is a product of globalization. As wealthier knowledge workers move to cheaper traditional economies, it will inevitably cause short-term shocks - both culturally and economically. Inequality is both rising in real terms and becoming more visible through this juxtaposition. And while nomads can’t expect to solve one of the UN’s 17 Sustainable Development Goals on their own, there is a lot that can be done individually and collectively. 

Let’s start with government policy. 

We agree that a prime cause of this crisis is a lack of affordable housing. Dense, unaffordable cities in advanced economies drive remote workers in search of cheaper destinations abroad, where they often displace poorer residents and exacerbate existing local housing shortages. And in places with weak rule of law, chronic underinvestment in public services, and scarce low income housing, the arrival of nomads can push the situation over the brink. 

In both cases, local governments must overcome NIMBYism and build affordable housing to ease the pressures on residents. Cities should set limits on both the number of nights a property can be rented on Airbnb and the total number of properties a host can operate simultaneously. A deeper solution requires the political will to regulate corporate real estate investment, which often causes the displacement nomads are blamed for. Housing is a human right, not a purely speculative asset. Cities must preserve the rights of their citizens before welcoming nomads. 

At the same time, nomads can be the solution in societies where depopulation and urbanization have left an oversupply of housing in rural areas. Italy’s famous 1€ houses are really a symptom of a very serious impending demographic crisis known as the “Silver Tsunami.” 

Citizens of the developed world are not having enough children to maintain current population levels. This causes nations to “age” as Baby Boomers start to vastly outnumber Millennials and Gen Z. The UN estimates that between now and 2050, the number of people over the age of 65 will triple from 700 million to 1.5 billion by 2050. This implies not enough taxpayers to cover medical costs, not enough workers to keep businesses afloat, and not enough consumers to buy what is produced. The result could be a total economic contraction. 

From Spain to Japan, Greece to China, leaders are already seeing populations fall rapidly. The two main ways out of this crisis are either through policies to encourage childbirth (as in France, Sweden, and Denmark), or by admitting poorer immigrants who tend to have more children, thus keeping the average age low (as with the United States). 

But a third path could include repopulating aging nations by attracting digital immigrants to revitalize these regions – and maybe even save their societies from demographic collapse. 

There are already examples of this happening. The most notable is the Digital Nomad Village Project in Madeira, founded in 2020 by Gonçalo Hall. It’s received over 5,000 nomads since, a significant boost to an island of 250,000 that previously experienced centuries of emigration. Other examples include Bansko in Bulgaria, the Italian villages of Santa Fiora and Rieti, which cover subsidized rent and relocation support, and the Spanish network of “Pueblos Acogedores” which highlights 30 small villages that welcome digital nomads. 

Many nations have already identified charming rural towns with touristic appeal – such as the “Pueblos Magicos” here in Mexico. But to attract nomads, governments must upgrade their internet connections, incentivize relocation through tax breaks or subsidies, and potentially re-brand them to specialize in the future-facing industries you mentioned, like DeFi or AI. Helping lower-income residents take advantage of these changes can get local buy-in. 

You argued that most “digital nomad visas” are designed for “digital settlers,” or people willing to spend 12 months in a given country. While I agree that short-term nomad visits can boost local economies and create important bridges to knowledge worker networks, I’ve argued that the largest challenge of nomadism is finding ways for nomads to make meaningful connections with the places they are visiting. For destinations to truly capture the talent passing through, they will need to entice nomads to settle down long term and truly contribute to society. 

Remote work has unleashed a generation of long-term travelers – an estimated 35 million – with many more to come. I call this decade the Roaming 20s. But being a nomad is lonely. And roaming forever can be exhausting. Most nomads will eventually look for a place to call home. As travel writer Pico Iyer says in The Art of Stillness, “movement is a fantastic privilege…but it ultimately only has meaning if you have a home to go back to.”

If/when nomads decide to settle down, the combination of fast internet and slow living could be quite attractive.  We recently crossed the 50% mark of millennial home ownership. And if the housing crisis is a primary driver of nomads, this exodus from expensive cities will accelerate as renters look for places they can afford to buy.

Take Japan, which has a rapidly aging population and 10,000,000 abandoned homes, known as akyia. A traditional rural home with land can go for as little as $25,000, a steal for many foreigners. Americans are being drawn by more modest paths to homeownership in Spain and Portugal. And if a single TikToker can rally a queer BIPOC community around Peoria, Illinois, I’m confident many other destinations can market themselves to specific communities as well.

I initially found the term “digital settler” somewhat problematic, as it implies the neocolonial attitudes we are trying to avoid. But perhaps it’s apt. There are many historic examples of governments deliberately encouraging foreign settlement to develop specific industries: the Volga Germans to farm in Russia, Cornish miners in Mexico’s silver towns, and Scotts to shepherd in New Zealand. Many of these communities still exist and contribute today. 

As the winners and losers of globalization continue to diverge, perhaps developing economies could invite knowledge workers to build out their digital industries in a similar way. 

Policy aside - what can we do as individuals? It begins with how we approach travel. 

Travel has changed dramatically since the pandemic. Even OG nomads who’ve been doing it for a decade must recognize that the explosion of remote work has amplified the externalities of the lifestyle. We must move more mindfully to reduce our impact on communities.  

My greatest hope is that this unprecedented scale of mobility will make us appreciate how much of a privilege travel truly is. Nomads travel because they can. But many more migrate because they must. As Graham Huggan observes in his book Extreme Pursuits: 

“As we become increasingly aware of our interconnectedness, we are forced to recognize that the refugee and the cosmopolitan are two sides of the same coin. Both embody the contradictions of globalization, with its promises of freedom and mobility alongside its threats of dispossession and displacement.” 

This starts by having difficult conversations around privilege. Nomads represent the privileged few. The places we stay are often on the opposite side of the spectrum. Denying or minimizing this uncomfortable reality does more harm than good. And gushing about how cheap a place is only makes this worse – especially if our mere presence is making it unaffordable for locals. 

It also involves becoming aware of our cultural baggage. When locals call us colonizers, it stings because there is an element of truth to it. Nomadism unintentionally plays into the power dynamics of colonialism. But by studying history, we can become aware of how our current behavior fits into painful memories of the past – and avoid repeating the same mistakes.

Hence the importance of language. True understanding is impossible without it. Yet the very nature of nomadism is often at odds with the deep cultural immersion needed to master a language. The more frequently we change countries, the more likely we are to socialize with nomads who speak our language. This creates isolated bubbles that breed resentment from locals. Let us not be Laputans, floating in aloof detachment from the places we live.

Slow travel must become even slower. Pre-pandemic, staying in a single city for a month was considered slow travel – and a potential solution to overtourism. Now these medium-term-stays are a presenting their own problems. But if studying the local language becomes central to nomadism, it could help pave the way to more meaningful relationships to the places we frequent. Latin America in particular presents an entire continent to practice a single language and forge a more equitable relationship between North and South Americans. 

My search for an ethical framework for nomadism has brought me back to a little-known gem of a book called Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a World of Strangers by the Ghanan philosopher  Kwame Anthony Appiah. “Cosmopolitanism” is Appiah’s term for a moral philosophy for global citizens that emphasizes our shared humanity and interconnectedness regardless of our national, cultural or ethnic backgrounds.

Cosmopolitanism promotes cultivating mutual respect between cultures, shared responsibility for an unfair world, and balancing cultural diversity with global citizenship. 

The cosmopolitan may feel at home anywhere, but must never forget that outside our own countries, we are guests. We must always approach our host cultures with curiosity, humility, and deference. Rather than seeking out the familiar, we must constantly push ourselves beyond our comfort zones. Listen before speaking. Give before taking. Ask before telling. And never think we are above local laws.

One unintended consequence of remote work is that in trying to make faraway places feel a little more like home, we change places rather than letting them change us. We talk of “doing” countries when our goal should be to let other cultures do something to us.

Our collective obsession with optimizing everything often stands in the way. I get it. Life is short. We all want to make the most of the time and money we have. And remote work combined with geo-arbitrage feels like the ultimate life hack. But our optimized lifestyles often come at the expense of those who must live within our bucket lists. 

Not only does this exacerbate gentrification by concentrating nomad dollars in a handful of places, it also blinds us to the full richness of our chosen destinations. We think that Mexico City is Condesa or that Ubud represents the 18,000 islands of Indonesia. In doing so, we risk coming home from a year abroad with countless pictures, friends, and stories - but still remain largely unchanged. To quote Pico Iyer again: “travel is not really about leaving our homes, but leaving our habits.”

Marko Ayling x Midjourney

So throw away your bucket list. Get lost. Swap the must-try restaurant for some street food. Yes, it might give you a stomach bug. And that would not be optimal. But that’s the beauty of travel. It often leads us to unexpected places – but only if we let it. 

Nomadism is a historic shift that promises to change the future of humanity. As more people live, work, and fall in love all around the world, we have the opportunity to build a truly global community. But will this opportunity be shared with all of humanity or just the chosen few? And whose vision will define what this global community looks like? 

The answer largely comes down to how we navigate the host / guest relationship in the places we visit. The shadow side of nomadism views the world as a blank slate where foreign imports can displace local customs at will. The local backlash views countries as a fixed entity where nomads are not welcome at all. But as the Lebanese novelist Amin Maalouf writes: “a host country is neither a tabla rusa, nor a fait accompli, but a page in the process of being written.” 

I don’t know where all these changes will lead us. So rather than end with a solution, I’d rather pose a question: What story are we writing together? 

Thank you Lauren of

Global Natives

for helping me write the first draft of a story that I hope includes a bright future for everyone.

Best,

Marko