The Guardian Blames Digital Nomadism

But What If That Wasn’t Digital Nomadism at All?

When a journey around the world becomes a search for something else entirely

There’s a moment every traveler knows: that quiet realization, somewhere between visas and voltage converters, where you ask yourself: What exactly am I looking for?

Emily Bratt’s recent piece in The Guardian paints a bleak portrait of digital nomadism. She describes days of admin, nights of partying, stretches of illness, loneliness, and the deep existential fatigue of asking “What am I doing?” in a rented beach hut halfway around the world. It’s a compelling read. But as someone who’s been living nomadically for years — and who has seen both the pitfalls and the potential of this lifestyle — I think she’s misdiagnosed the problem.

Because what she experienced? That wasn’t digital nomadism. That was a sabbatical. A detour. A search for something, anything, to fill a void.

And if you're expecting your laptop and a Thai SIM card to do the heavy lifting of personal growth for you, you're going to be disappointed — whether you're in a coworking space in Lisbon or a beach bar in Bali.

Digital Nomadism Is Not an Extended Holiday

Let’s get this out of the way: working remotely from a new country doesn’t automatically make you a digital nomad. It might make you a remote worker abroad. Or a traveler with Slack access. But nomadism — the word itself — implies a deliberate, sustainable, and often minimalist way of moving through the world. It’s a lifestyle, not a bucket list.

Bratt, and many like her, seemed to be chasing the freedom narrative without preparing for the reality. Moving from Airbnb to Airbnb, trying to find Wi-Fi strong enough to take client calls, feeling unmoored from any sense of routine or community — this isn’t the failure of digital nomadism. It’s the inevitable outcome of chasing novelty without anchoring into purpose.

Real nomads know that freedom isn’t the absence of structure — it’s the ability to choose your own.

FOMO-Fueled Wanderlust Is Not a Life Plan

Reading Bratt’s description of bouncing between countries, falling ill, resenting work because it interrupted sightseeing — it sounded less like a career and more like avoidance in motion.

Matt, one of the people she interviewed, reflected on the moment his fantasy of working poolside in Kuala Lumpur dissolved into something emptier: “I thought I was just in the wrong place,” he says. But moving didn’t help. “At every new place, I remember thinking: ‘What now?’”

That “what now?” isn’t about geography. It’s about intention. Many of the people Bratt writes about weren’t looking for a new life — they were trying to outsource meaning to movement. That’s not digital nomadism. That’s emotional outsourcing disguised as adventure.

The Quiet, Structured Nomadism You Never See on Instagram

Here’s what real digital nomads know: you don’t need to be constantly moving to live a nomadic life. In fact, the best among us often slow down. We stay in places for months — sometimes years — building routines, learning languages, contributing to local communities. We’re not running; we’re rooting… just in multiple places, across a life.

We shop at the same market each week. We build friendships that last beyond visas. We take language classes. We file taxes. We cook. We date. We volunteer. It’s not glamorous, and it doesn’t go viral. But it’s real.

Bratt conflates burnout with lifestyle failure, when in fact, what she describes sounds like exactly what happens when you try to live out a productivity fantasy on the road: 12 countries in 90 days? That’s not a remote work lifestyle — that’s a speedrun through loneliness.

Structure, Not Stagnation

In the final paragraphs of her piece, Bratt describes the comforts of routine: a swimming pool membership, sharp kitchen knives, a local coffee shop that knows your name. It’s touching. It’s also something digital nomads already know and build for themselves wherever they go.

The beauty of this lifestyle isn’t that you escape structure — it’s that you get to design it.

Nomadism, at its core, is not about disconnection. It’s about choice. Some of us choose to create stability across cities. Some of us build slow, intentional lives where the passport is just a logistical detail — not a personality.

What Bratt seems to have discovered is not that the digital nomad lifestyle doesn’t work. It’s that escapism doesn’t. You can change your time zone, but if you don’t change your expectations, nothing really shifts.

It’s Time to Reclaim Digital Nomadism from the Influencer Myth

The Instagram version of digital nomadism — all sunrises and hammocks, no meetings or stomach bugs — is a dangerous illusion. It sells a fantasy where location solves everything. It doesn’t.

The actual community of seasoned nomads is full of people quietly getting on with life: raising kids abroad, starting businesses, working full-time jobs in new cultures, integrating with locals, voting absentee, and navigating healthcare systems in languages they barely speak. They’re not chasing the next high. They’re building something slower, deeper, and infinitely more durable.

Bratt’s journey is hers to reflect on. But her conclusions generalize a temporary identity crisis as evidence of a lifestyle collapse. And that’s unfair to those who’ve invested in making this life work — not as an escape, but as a conscious alternative.

The Destination Was Never the Point

If your version of digital nomadism ends with a breakdown and a plane ticket home, maybe that version was never the real thing.

Maybe you didn’t find yourself because you weren’t really looking — you were just moving.

Those of us who’ve stayed on the road — or who’ve moved with purpose and care — know the difference. We know it’s not the city that brings meaning, but the mindset. We know the work is the same whether it’s done in Swindon or Seoul — but the why can change everything.

We don’t reject roots. We grow them in multiple places. We don’t avoid commitment. We just commit differently. And when we stop moving, it’s not a failure. It’s just a new chapter — not an apology.

So no, The Guardian didn’t prove that digital nomadism doesn’t work. It showed what happens when you expect a plane ticket to fix what only self-awareness can.

And that? That’s a lesson worth traveling for.

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