Introduction

1The digital nomad has hit headlines and emerged as a notable figure in public discourse, while digital nomadism has become a possibility for many with the ascent of remote work. The many, often vague uses of the term “digital nomad” obscure straightforward definitions, although they are commonly referred to as professionals in the digital economy who choose to travel while working, as opposed to travelling for business (Cook, 2023, p. 1; Müller, 2016, p. 346; Reichenberger, 2018, p. 367). Digital nomads tend to relocate to affordable, warm, welcoming but also so-perceived “exotic” places (Mancinelli, 2020, p. 2; Thompson, 2018, p. 3, 2019b, p. 2). They often “chase the sun” flocking scenic locations in the Global South such as Chiang Mai, Penang and Bali; move to vibrant South American capital cities such as Buenos Aires, Medellín, or Lima; visit trendy yet safe cities of peripheral Europe such as Porto, Timișoara, or Belgrade; or people renowned digital nomad (semi) rural hubs in Madeira’s Ponta de Sol, Senderiz, in Spain’s countryside, or Bansko, at the foot of the Pirin Mountains in Bulgaria.

2Digital nomadism is set to experience exponential growth in the coming years - in the United States alone, 25 million workers plan to shift to digital nomadism in the next two to three years (MBO Partners, 2022, p. 15), while the global figures might be significantly higher. Accordingly, a growing body of academic literature has busied itself in examining different aspects of this movement, with some contributions looking at the impact of digital nomadism on specific localities, itself a contentious topic. Advocates of digital nomadism champion a celebratory narrative that posits digital nomads as generous consumers who help boost local economies, professionals who share their skills and knowledge with locals and thus professionally empower them, and innovators who foster the business and entrepreneurial scene (Hannonen, 2020, p. 9; Jiwasiddi et al., 2022, pp. 4–5; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, pp. 11–13). Critics conversely depict them as privileged individuals from the Global North that disrupt housing markets in destinations across the Global South, and Southern or Eastern Europe (Holleran, 2022, p. 842; McElroy, 2019, p. 217; Thompson, 2018, p. 3), hence causing a shift towards a housing paradigm marked by short-stay arrangements, commodification, and atomisation. Civil society groups critical of tourism have also echoed these concerns, denouncing the displacement that digital nomads co-generate (Linthicum, 2022; Woldoff & Litchfield, 2022). Digital nomads have also been criticised for socialising solely within expat and digital nomad circles (Jiwasiddi et al., 2022, pp. 5–6; Thompson, 2021, Chapter 5), only interacting with those locals that cater for their needs, hence mirroring colonial social dynamics (Green, 2020, pp. 439–441; Thompson, 2018, p. 120).

5This academic work is thus a timely piece of research that aims to expand the understanding of the policymaking behind digital nomadism, as well as bridge the gap between the broader body of literature on digital nomadism and Southeast Europe. The insights gained in this research hold relevance for a plethora of localities globally, but more specifically for other cities along the Adriatic coast, the Mediterranean, and Southeast Europe. The rest of this article is structured as follows: the next section reviews the relevant academic literature regarding digital nomadism and its relationship with state institutions. Then, the third sector contextualises Zadar as a digital nomad destination and research site. The fourth section delves into the research methods and methodology employed for this research. Next, the main findings are presented, to be discussed in greater detail and expanded in the following section. Finally, a conclusion section wraps up this article.

Literature review: digital nomadism and its relationship with the state

6In the last two decades, digital nomadism has fuelled many post-state debates. In his work, Makimoto argued that digital nomadism would erode the social contract between states and citizens and lead to vanishing nationalism (Busuttil, 2021; Cook, 2022a, pp. 306–307; 1997, p. 196). Many anti-state digital nomad narratives revolve around the Deleuzo-Guattarian nomad as a figure that contests the state’s integrity and its monopoly on surveillance, control and order (Aroles et al., 2020, pp. 117–118; Aydogdu, 2016, pp. 2–3; Deleuze & Guattari, 1987). This is because she transcends the demarcated spatial geographies within and across states, and is not bound by local, regional, or national loyalties. The nomad is thus grasped as a destabilising figure since she bypasses state control systems (Busuttil, 2021), akin to a warrior who wages war against the state and its mechanisms of control.

7Deleuze and Guattari (1987) expose this idea through an exploration of space, which they conceptualise as either striated or smooth. Striated spaces are governed by a plethora of rules, while smooth ones feature openness, resistance to codifying, and radical potential. Therefore, they argue that it is only the nomad who, embodying freedom and a challenge to the status quo, can open up striated spaces to new territories and possibilities (Aroles et al., 2020, pp. 117–118). This metaphor of the nomad as an anti-hegemonic figure has shaped many digital nomad narratives (Aroles et al., 2020, pp. 117–118). The framing of the digital nomad as a figure embodying freedom, wellness and adventure (Bonneau & Aroles, 2021, p. 167), but also exoticism, travel, leisure, emancipation, and revolution (Aroles et al., 2020, pp. 123–126), is rooted in the Deleuzo-Guattarian imagery. The relationship between the digital nomad and the state is yet a more intricate one; one paradoxically underpinned by narratives and practices of resistance, compliance, and instrumentalisation. To lead their lifestyle, digital nomads have to comply with migration, fiscal, and labour regimes, or at least know ways around them. This involves interacting with a plethora of actors in their origin and destination countries, namely passport and visa issuance authorities, border and immigration personnel, currency exchange and banking systems, tax departments, healthcare and social security structures, or even educational or child protection services (Cook, 2022a, p. 319; Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, pp. 3–4). These entail pragmatic and often (quasi-)illegal practices, such as: doing “visa runs”, namely leaving and exiting the country to automatically renew their tourist visa, hence side-stepping migration laws; cunningly calculating the number of days spent in a location to minimise or avoid altogether paying taxes in a specific country; concealing the fact that they work online when asked at border checks to avoid contravening tourist visa rules; or securing and utilising several passports to maximise their mobility possibilities (Cook, 2022a, pp. 311–315; Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, pp. 7–11; Thompson, 2021, pp. 67–68).

8All in all, digital nomadism implies a lot of planning and organising to be able to surf state-sanctioned regulations. This seems to go against the pathos of the untethered, borderless digital nomad, which is ultimately to be found only as an abstract avatar (Cook, 2022a, p. 308). Interestingly, even if digital nomads are restricted and enabled by state bodies and their affiliated agencies to pursue a hypermobile lifestyle, this bond is not fashioned after feudal arrangements of vassalage; instead, digital nomads and state institutions engage in a two-way, negotiated, utility-maximising relationship. Without the collaboration of the state, any digital nomad-related policy is virtually impossible, but these are also interested in attracting digital nomads, whom they perceive as high-spending, quasi-ideal incomers (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 11; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, p. 13). To illustrate this, state authorities of dozens of countries globally are trying to court digital nomads into visiting their countries, designing favourable migration and fiscal regimes epitomised by digital nomad visas. These usually require a high proof of income, valid health insurance, verification of remote employment, and a clean criminal record, and contain varying tax rules, timeframes and (non-)extension possibilities (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, pp. 12–14; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, pp. 7–12; Svobodová, 2022, p. 95). Interestingly, national authorities might get involved in tax competition with other states to entice digital nomads, while digital nomads might engage in “jurisdiction shopping”, i.e. moving to destinations that offer fiscal benefits, a practice typical of transnational companies (Gadžo, 2022; Ouro, 2023, p. 14).

9Even if the digitalisation of state bureaucracies can be traced further back in time, with Estonia’s 2014 E-Visa marking an important milestone, it was not until the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic and its later stabilisation that digital nomad visas became part of a broader state agenda. In times of decimated tourist industries and need for economic diversification, several (income-thirsty) countries jumped onto the bandwagon and drafted digital nomad visas (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 13; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, pp. 2–3; Svobodová, 2022, p. 95), sometimes to the dislike of their citizens, who feared further outbreaks and were suspicious towards these newcomers and their way of living (Holleran, 2022, p. 839). This has still not prevented state authorities from enticing digital nomads since they grasp them as long-term high-spending visitors, as well as talented workers who can contribute to local communities with their social capital and skills, and eventually, invest capital or even settle down. Becoming a digital nomad destination can also help rebrand a country as a business-friendly, welcoming, modern and open country, indirectly serving as a marketing strategy (Hannonen et al., 2023, pp. 11–12; Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 11; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, pp. 12–13). In this regard, national institutions promote their countries using tourism-promotion jargon, stressing their leisure offer, security, climate, natural landscapes, historical heritage, public services, super-fast wireless networks, and affordability (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 13; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, pp. 10–11). To attract digital nomads, state institutions appeal to digital nomad imaginaries in websites and brochures, and compete with other destinations by framing the most alluring image of their countries (Bozzi, 2020, 10–11; Mancinelli, 2020, pp. 4–5; Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, pp. 13–14).

10Therefore, state authorities “meet [digital nomads] where they are, creating an ad hoc immigration framework to bring them within the law while promoting their countries by speaking the digital nomad language” (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 15). This renders true Makimoto’s prediction of state competition for citizens (Cook, 2022b, pp. 306–307; 1997, p. 23), albeit in a framework where the state has the upper hand yet must adapt to the neoliberal modus operandi (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, 2,13). In this light, the digital nomad should not be grasped as an abstract, revolutionary avatar full of disruptive potential, or a heroic David against the state as Goliath. Instead, she is a modern figure with an intricated bond with the (partially) state-dictated status quo. Digital nomad narratives do indeed criticise the nation-state and its citizenship regimes as outdated and absurd, and some have even fantasised about the idea of creating an internet country and transferring the state into the cloud (Cook, 2020, 2022b). Still, digital nomads have ultimately not come up with a feasible alternative to these structures; in fact, it is difficult to imagine how they could contribute to the demise of the nation-state since they eventually comply with and even utilise state regulations (Cook, 2022a, pp. 319–320). Even if digital nomads “hack”, “skirt”, or even breach national laws (Cook, 2022b, pp. 306–307; Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, pp. 7–9), thus cunningly mastering the rules of the game, the state as an institution is ultimately left undisputed, and arguably even strengthened through this interplay. An example would be taxation, where digital nomadism represents a challenge to current tax arrangements. Indeed, states are swiftly moving to accommodate by adopting different measures tailored for digital nomads (Thomaz Pignatari, 2023, pp. 387–390). As a result, tax regimes might change and states might offer digital nomads tax exemptions, but taxation as an institution is not set to disappear. As Mancinelli and Germann Molz sharply note, digital nomads paradoxically move “with and against the state” (2023, p. 2).

11Moreover, digital nomads do not think twice about enjoying the benefits that come with citizenship in tough times. Many digital nomads indeed flew back to their countries of origin at the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, forsaking their lauded freedom to enjoy welfare state provisions. As one American digital nomad -most probably with health insurance- said: “The US is always there when you need it” (Holleran, 2022, p. 845). At that time, many EU passport holders decided to shift instead to digital nomadism within the Schengen area, living in cheaper peripheral countries. In turn, they could also leverage these countries’ dependency on a decimated tourist industry by getting cheaper long-term rent deals from accommodation providers, while also being close to their countries of origin in case the situation worsened. This also depicted a mistrust towards the public authorities of countries in the Global South where they were previously residing, who were perceived as corrupt and inept (Holleran, 2022, pp. 837–841). This situation reinforced a bifurcated perception of the state among digital nomads: for some, it bred a sense of appreciation towards the welfare state, while others resented their countries’ call to return, creating instead digital nomad support nets in their destinations. This represents the wider palette of digital nomad stances vis-à-vis the state, one that goes from absolute disdain by often beginner digital nomads to cunning and complying pragmatism among more veteran ones (Cook, 2022a, pp. 314–315; Holleran, 2022, pp. 837–843). In summary, the relationship of digital nomads with the state is multi-layered and at times oxymoronic, alternating “claims to freedom while holding tight to their state-issued passports and any other benefit the state extended them” (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 4).

Contextual exploration: digital nomadism and Zadar

13A related and recent development in Croatia and Zadar is the advent of digital nomadism as a noticeable phenomenon. Several factors help explain this development, among them legislation: in 2020, the Croatian Parliament drafted a digital nomad visa or living permit as part of the “Law on Foreigners” (27.11.2020) after Croatian President Andrej Plenković met Jan de Jong, a Dutch entrepreneur and advocate of digital nomadism with permanent residence in Split (Hornstein-Tomić & Kurilić, 2022, pp. 5–6; Jong, 2020; Petranović, 2020). The setting of digital nomads as a priority target group by Croatian policymakers was partially conceptualised as a measure to boost a decimated tourist sector in times of the COVID-19 pandemic (Holleran, 2022, p. 839; Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, p. 4), illustrated in the fact that Croatia was the only EU member that did not require a PCR or a quarantine period for tourists (Paić, 2020).

Research methods

4.1 Data collection

6. Out of them, two interviews with more two interlocutors each were conducted. For this, the process of sampling interviewees was purposive, aiming to identify relevant but also diverse actors within a wider spectrum of digital nomad-related stakeholders to carry out interviews with (Bray, 2008, pp. 310–311; Della Porta, 2008, pp. 211–214). From the beginning, I had a rough idea of whom to interview, or more concretely what fields should they be related to, but I also let interviewees guide me to other potential interlocutors by asking for references, in what is called a snowballing approach. This is a legitimate and common sampling method for highly relational but also relatively limited study phenomena since it provides access to their microworlds and social networks (Gandini, 2016, p. 128).
Under “open-ended in-depth interviews” I understand a flexible, dynamic but also informed approach to interviews. In this light, I conducted interviews with the help of an interview guide, i.e., a document with relevant questions to my study sorted according to major themes. However, I tried to be open-minded and pursue the interview paths that my informants were pointing at, delving into the topics that felt more relevant to them. (Bray, 2008, p. 310). While doing so, I kept in mind the wider thematic and temporal frameworks of the research and interview. The majority of conversations lasted longer than the firstly agreed 30 to 45 minutes, with five interviews elapsing over an hour.

16For this project, I conceptualised interviews as “situated affective encounters”, as phrased by Ayata, Harders, Özkaya, and Wahba (2019, pp. 64–65). This approach allows embracing the complexities of the interview process, forsaking the assumption that interviews are straightforward exchanges between perfectly rational actors to instead include the emotional, affective, and relational dimensions that emerge during the interview process and affect both the interviewer and the interviewee. Concretely, the authors suggest analysing the interview’s non-lingual dimensions, such as telling silences or expressive bodily reactions (Ayata et al., 2019, p. 75). In doing so, they foreground an understanding of interviews beyond the interview act itself, asserting that these are lengthier processes that involve both their “before” and “after”. These dimensions help the researcher make sense of what has been said and how, and are to be captured by systematically producing field notes and keeping a field diary (Ayata et al., 2019, pp. 68–69).

17As part of this, I systematically collected written and oral notes. These allowed me to reflect and better grasp the interaction between the interlocutor and me before, during, and after my interview, as well as my feelings throughout the process. The excerpt below depicts the dynamics of my conversation with Marin, a housing official in Zadar:

18 After some 40 minutes, I thought we had exhausted the interview topics and stopped recording. I imagined that we would just part ways, but everything changed afterwards: Marin started providing me with very interesting insights and seemed much more unconstrained. I hadn’t sensed that the recorder made him uncomfortable, albeit it seems so. […] At some point, I told him that everything he was saying was important to my research and asked if I could turn the recorder on again, but he said it wasn’t, so I didn’t insist.

19(Excerpt from my interview notes, written just after speaking to Marin, 20 April 2023)

20All in all, this approach to ethnographic research proved very productive for two reasons: it helped me cultivate an emotional self-awareness vis-à-vis my interlocutors by considering my positionality and the power relations it is embedded in, based on class, race, religion, and ethnicity (Ayata et al., 2019, pp. 70–74); and allowed me to broaden and deepen the material gathered through interviews to reach data-saturation (Ayata et al., 2019, p. 69).

4.1.2 Data analysis

21To analyse the data collected during the fieldwork research, I conducted a thematic analysis of the interview scripts and notes and complemented them with my field diary. In doing so, my approach was informed by Braun’s and Clarke’s work (2006). I also thought through the questions that Gioia and other authors pose: ‘‘How do I know that you know (what you are claiming)?’’ […] ‘‘Where is the evidence for your assertions? (2013, p. 18), as well as: “Have you provided adequate evidence for your claims?” […] “How do you know what you say you know?” (2021, p. 23).

22The analysis of my ethnographic data, i.e. the interview scripts alongside the corresponding notes and the field diary entries, comprised several distinct phases. Firstly, I conducted the interviews and transcribed them. Then, I carried out a thematic analysis of the ethnographic data, surveying and coding it inductively, analysing and drawing connections among my interviewees’ accounts, thus identifying emerging themes. Therefore, it was a multi-step process that involved distilling dozens of first-level labels, putting them in a conversation with one another, and finally grouping them into three overarching themes. They vertebrate this research and help explore this article’s research questions: How do Zadar’s local authorities conceptualise digital nomads? What are their expectations regarding them? All in all, this was not a linear but rather a recursive process, requiring multiple readings of the fieldwork data and iterative analysis (Braun & Clarke, 2006, pp. 86–93). To validate the final themes, I adopted a two-fold approach: on the one hand, I engaged in peer debriefing, discussing my results with a fellow master’s student conducting similar research at Stanford University; on the other hand, I triangulated the themes with those observed in other works (see Hannonen et al., 2023; Jiwasiddi et al., 2022). As a side note, I coded the fieldwork data manually due to the manageable size of the sample.

Findings and discussion

​​​5.1 Digital nomads and Zadar’s economy: consumption and its limits

23Different authors point to the increased consumption that digital nomads propel as a positive economic impact (Hannonen, 2020, p. 7; Jiwasiddi et al., 2022, pp. 5–6; Wang et al., 2019, p. 7). In Zadar, public authorities share the same understanding. Marija, from the EU Funds Department, states that “[digital nomads] are not only living here and experiencing the culture and things like that. They are [also] spending their money while they are in a certain place. So they are boosting local economies”. Goran, an entrepreneur related to digital nomadism, offered similar insights: I would say the first is always money. It's what [policymakers] look at first. They think: “OK, digital nomads can come here and it can help the economy”. First, by bringing more money, and then also maybe some other opportunities.

24Related to this understanding of digital nomads as generous consumers was the design of Croatia’s digital nomad visa. According to Rita, an entrepreneur related to Croatia’s Digital Nomad Association, the poor state of Croatia’s tourism sector during the global pandemic greatly shaped this policy: When the visa came out, it was during [the time of] COVID [restrictions]. And so, a huge industry, particularly on the coast, was impacted, which is tourism. So [digital nomadism] was seen as a potential market that could fill those gaps because they could stay long [and] people could now work remotely.

25However, Viktor, a journalist interested in digital nomadism and tourism, is sceptical about the magnitude of digital nomadism consumption and wonders whether it accounts for economic activity of any significant value. He argues that local authorities conceive digital nomads wrongly: they see them as long-term tourists who tend to spend a lot, but, in fact, digital nomads are rather “short-term locals” whose consumption patterns might be closer to those of residents.

26So essentially, and although there is a lack of figures on digital nomad consumption, digital nomads are perceived by local authorities to drive up consumption and thus bolster the local economy, even if their consumption patterns might not ultimately differ that much from those of locals. Therefore, there remains a substantial gap in the academic literature to quantify whether digital nomad consumption matches policymakers’ expectations in economic terms. Nevertheless, it is unclear why digital nomads would spend abundantly in relatively inexpensive destinations such as Croatia instead of using their stay to save up money (Postnikov, 2020). In fact, the difference in living costs might instead be used to finance bootstrapping, i.e. starting a business with minimal financial resources, a common strategy among digital nomads in inexpensive Southeast Asian locations (Mancinelli, 2020, p. 10).

27In addition, it should be considered that digital nomads use or have at their disposal public services and local infrastructure such as roads, fire brigades, or waste collection in their destinations. These are financed through taxes collected by the state to which digital nomads do not contribute beyond indirect taxation. The reasons for this are two-fold: digital nomads often enter states on tourist visas (Mancinelli, 2020, p. 14; Thompson, 2021, p. 102), this being the case in Croatia (Hornstein-Tomić & Kurilić, 2022, pp. 7–8); and many digital nomad visas, among which the Croatian one, exempt holders from taxation on personal income (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 14).

28Croatia’s digital nomad visa’s nature is crucial to this. Besides value-added tax, Croatia cashes in a mere €60 application fee for the visa (Sánchez-Vergara et al., 2023, p. 7). In this regard, the Croatian digital nomad visa is, in terms of taxation, an extended tourist visa, and an example of how the state accommodates digital nomads’ status through new regulations (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 15). The major disadvantages of this visa for digital nomads are the related administrative backlog, as well as its limitation to a non-extendable year (Hornstein-Tomić et al., 2021, p. 536; Šimić Banović, 2022, p. 306). My interlocutors provided insights into this temporal limitation by pointing out that policymakers are not keen on extending income tax exemption for digital nomads for longer than a year. As Rita, notes: “[Digital nomads ask:] “Why can't you extend the visa?” I think it should [be extendable], but well… Why should we actually? It's a temporary thing - if you want another way to stay here, pursue those pathways”. This is an understandable concern, especially considering that many other digital nomad visas do levy income taxes (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 12). This illustrates how states fiscally compete for digital nomads (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 13) in ways that might seem unfair to taxpayers (Postnikov, 2020).

29Finally, it is important to examine Croatia’s 2023 amendment of the “Law on Foreigners”, where the digital nomad is incorporated as a legal category. In this law, it can be seen how the state tries to harmonise the situation of digital nomads and offer them fiscal benefits while restricting or blocking the entry of other immigrant groups such as economic migrants and refugees, often by particularly violent means (Amnesty International, 2021; Human Rights Watch, 2023). This demonstrates how states dictate who is allowed to move and roam, but also how they rule through mobility. Mobility and thus migration are, therefore, political technologies at the state’s disposal (Mancinelli & Germann Molz, 2023, p. 3). Ironically, economic migrants and refugees are the ones usually accused of evading taxes and preying on public services by xenophobic society sections (Postnikov, 2020), but it might be the case that digital nomads are contributing less while using more state-funded services.

5.2 Digital nomads as a new tourist segment: longer-term, more sustainable… but welcome only in the off-season

30Tourism is a keyword in digital nomad literature; in fact, several papers on digital nomadism have been published in journals focusing on diverse branches of tourism studies, and much has been debated about the differences and similarities between digital nomads and tourists (Hannonen, 2020, pp. 14–15; Reichenberger, 2018, p. 378; Thompson, 2018, p. 4). What is clear is that these two phenomena often intersect.

31In the eyes of Croatian public authorities, digital nomads are (also) a tourist segment. Marija, from her position as a public official at Zadar’s EU Funds Department, confirms this by noting that “we consider [digital nomads] as long-term tourists”. Digital nomads are thus perceived as potential off-season tourists who can help realise the much-lauded goal of extending the tourist season. In this light, Rita, who has been involved in lobbying for digital nomadism as an entrepreneur, points out that “the National Tourist Board still supports [digital nomadism], so that’s another public institution that recognises that, if they want to have a year-round and off-season audience, this is a good market to look at”. Marija confirms this view by saying that: “[We are] trying to find some measures to disperse the tourism from [the] main months to some other months”.

32Based on first-hand experience taking part in a public-private programme for digital nomads in Dubrovnik, Aurora states that: The Tourist Board [was] interested to show that things are happening out of season. Digital nomads are great for [transmitting this] because they tend to be fairly good on social media and posting what's going on. And so, the Tourist Board would have good [social media] content.

33Digital nomads are instead perceived as trouble-free, responsible, and longer-term tourists. Mirella, her colleague from Zadar’s EU Funds Department, comments on the behaviour of digital nomads by saying that “nothing had surprised us in a negative way, actually”.

34However, institutional undertakings to foster this sustainable approach to tourism have been limited. Goran offers his viewpoint: I don't see really a lot of long-term planning or strategy. It's like: “Yeah, sustainable tourism strategy”, but you don't really see it. I would say mostly now it's just: “Bring as much money in as possible”. So, digital nomads… I think it’s a fraction of what tourism is. So I don't really see that much moving [in that direction]. Maybe it's more about local municipalities that [could be] open to doing something like this [but] not the country itself.

36Interestingly, Croatia’s tourism could eventually die of its own success: this year’s figures show that tourism is becoming a less profitable business due to both increased international competition and an excess of domestic supply coupled with substantial price spikes and the lack of improvement of the tourist offer (Čelebija, 2023). The national tourist industry seems to have reached a tipping point and is heading towards market saturation. In summary, the frenzied race for short-term revenues in which many tourist providers have been involved for years might eventually kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.

37The primary positive aspect of seasonality is instead that the off-season period allows for environments to rebuild and restore themselves, as well as for humans to rest, and repair and renovate tourist infrastructure (Butler, 1998, p. 19). Croatian tourism’s stakeholders seem yet to overlook this, aiming instead at reaping the benefits of a potentially expanding tourist season, namely increased economic consumption and thus growth (Rasool et al., 2021, pp. 9–10). In this manner, they aim to stimulate a labour market which is otherwise limited in employment opportunities, thereby avoiding substantial investment or economic restructuring. The problem is that this might not prove a sustainable solution in the long term either: as research shows, seasonal and tourist-dependent economic models fall short of being a silver bullet for wholesome economic growth (Mikulić et al., 2021, pp. 1–2) or decent employment (Mullins, 1991, 336). Extending the tourist season would arguably not mean contributing to building a solid economy, but exacerbating the conditions that render it precarious yet temporarily profitable. This could also lead to (increased) mental and physical exhaustion among locals.

38During the summer nonetheless, digital nomads are not prioritised: the main focus is still on traditional tourism. Croatian authorities and tourist providers are not prepared to forsake the current short-termist tourist approach; it seems instead that they are trying to make hay while the sun shines. But dark clouds are looming on the horizon. Marin illustrates this: This is an old Roman city; it had its soul. [But] it's going to lose [it] because [tourism] is not regulated at all. […] It's going to be so crowded because everyone is looking for short-term money-making opportunities and they don't care that the city is pretty much falling apart in summer. And every year is more difficult. […] [And] I think it's going to be like this until [the city] falls apart.

39Croatian authorities also appear to overlook the problems faced by those citizens who are most affected by tourism, as there is a lack of redistributive mechanisms to alleviate their situation (Mikulić et al., 2021, p. 10).

40To put it briefly, digital nomadism is conceived by Croatian policymakers as an off-season and more sustainable tourism segment. In this regard, digital nomadism is arguably a way for the tourist industry to expand, constitutes an add-in to a wider sector, and is an indicator of a different mobility paradigm. Due to its restricted magnitude and economic contribution, it still cannot compete with the current mass tourism model but only complement it; indeed, there is not much space for other tourism paradigms besides the reigning, short-termist one.

5.3 Digital nomads and knowledge transfer: wishful thinking, or a potential game-changer?

41Several academic contributions suggest that digital nomads can take up a transformative role in a local community by transferring professional and technological knowledge to locals (Hannonen et al., 2023, p. 5; Jiwasiddi et al., 2022, pp. 4–6). Through this, residents can arguably improve their labour prospects by starting or upscaling their businesses, as well as joining the digital platform economy. Digital nomads can also open residents’ eyes to a different approach to work and life and thereby become community leaders.

42Policymakers in Zadar hold similar views. Marija, a public official at Zadar’s EU Funds Department, points out that digital nomads “should go to the University [of Zadar] to give some lectures, to open [the] minds of students”. In this case, it is valued that digital nomads spark locals’ -and mostly the youth’s- curiosity. She argues: [Digital nomads] are also bringing new things to our community. Because when you get people from all over the world and they decide to come here, you [get to know about] some new jobs that you maybe never heard of [or knew] that existed and things like that. And it spikes [the] interest [of] some people -younger people especially- to think and explore a little bit more.

43Here digital nomads can open locals’ eyes to different labour paths beyond the established canon. Marin, a public official at Zadar’s Housing Department, argues that: “[There is a] pretty old-fashioned thinking about jobs [in Croatia]. It's pretty much always 9-to-5 or maybe more, but seldom it’s less than 8 hours a day, 5 days a week”. Hence, digital nomads and their flexible working hours portray a different approach to work; as Marija mentions, “[digital nomadism exposes] maybe [a] new meaning of work, [a] new perception of how work could be”. In the same light, Aurora, who organises digital nomad events in Zadar, emphasises: [Digital nomadism] has really opened up their eyes to this idea of working remotely. And also [to the idea that one] doesn't have to follow the normal template of life. […] So, say locals who haven't felt like they’d fitted in or didn't have normal backgrounds, they've gone: “Oh, I don't feel so isolated. There [are] other “weirdos” like me out there”- for lack of a better term (laughs). There are other ways of living.

44To this day, however, initiatives to facilitate this knowledge transfer from digital nomads to locals are scarce. Rita, an entrepreneur related to digital nomadism, is yet very vocal about the potential for digital nomad knowledge transfer. When asked whether digital nomads would share their skills and time with locals, she suggests: “Absolutely. It's just that the platforms aren't in place. And so, I'm happy to say we are working on things like that”.

45Indeed, digital nomad knowledge transfer has enormous potential and could indeed help a sizeable number of Croatians access better job opportunities, especially considering that many are well-educated and fluent in English. Setting up the needed platforms for this would be a necessary first step, but this does not guarantee success either. In fact, the primary assumption that digital nomads would share their time and their knowledge with locals is doubtable. Viktor, who has been following digital nomadism in Croatia as a journalist, remains sceptical about digital nomad knowledge transfer given the lack of remuneration or incentives. This would essentially imply providing the youth with skills that might later ramp up the competition in a digital economy that effectively constitutes the labour market of many (freelancer) digital nomads. Therefore, the expectations of policymakers regarding the positive impact of digital nomad knowledge transfer on local communities seem, at this point, more of an optimistic hope than a reality. In essence, without the needed platforms and incentives in place, the idea of knowledge transfer seems somewhat similar to that underpinning trickle-down economics: an approach that takes for granted that those better off will transfer their capital, be it educational or economic, without incentives to the less privileged ones.

Conclusions

46While state institutions in different countries have enacted policies to attract digital nomads, there is limited understanding of why they are doing so. In the case of Zadar and Croatia, a burgeoning digital nomad hub in a country where digital nomads have been set as a target group, understanding the rationale behind this is all the more important. This article attempts to shed some light on this question by analysing ethnographic data collected during a two-month fieldwork stay in Zadar.

47Concretely, it unveils key aspects of how local authorities conceptualise digital nomads, and what are their expectations regarding them. It does so by exploring three different perceived positive impacts of digital nomadism by policymakers. Firstly, they envision digital nomads as generous consumers who can bolster economic activity, although their consumption patterns might ultimately be closer to those of locals. Here I suggest that they might have to be thought of instead more as “short-term locals” than “long-term tourists”, even if their purchasing power is often higher than that of locals. Secondly, digital nomads are perceived as a novel and promising tourist segment that can help extend the tourist season in Croatia by boosting the tourist industry off-season and helping attract more visitors. Moreover, Zadar’s local authorities see them as torchbearers of a more sustainable type of tourism, at least if compared to the present model of short-term-oriented, smash-and-grab, mass tourism. However, it does not seem that tourist stakeholders or policymakers are giving any priority to digital nomads; instead, the aim is to keep milking the current tourist model, which might eventually prove to be a frail cow. Finally, policymakers place lots of expectations on the potential for digital nomads to become community leaders through the sharing of knowledge and skills that could professionally and personally empower locals, mainly the youth. The reality nonetheless appears to be that, without the required platforms and incentives, digital nomad knowledge transfer is more wishful thinking than a reality. To summarise, this putative transfer of knowledge holds immense potential but is lacking the ingredients to become a success story.

48These findings provide new ways of thinking and novel venues of inquiry about digital nomadism, together with interrogating the ways policymakers conceptualise this movement. In doing so, they point at the specificities of Zadar, and thereby at those of destinations in Dalmatia, and the Adriatic coast. I suggest, however, that these findings, may be insightful for other destinations as well. All in all, this article helps expand the scientific body on digital nomadism and provides important insights for theory, practice, and policy. To end, I would suggest that, as a movement poised for significant growth in the future, the trajectory of digital nomadism will largely depend on how we choose to shape and regulate it. This is why it is of paramount importance to grasp what is the rationale behind current policymaking and to suggest alternative ideas and policy paths.