I see many older Northern Europeans retiring to countries like Portugal or Morocco. And I know that some Americans are doing the same in Latin America. Is it fair to enjoy a different country’s sun and cheaper living in retirement, or is this a new, sweet form of colonialism? — Taimaz Szirniks
From the Ethicist:
“Colonialism,” historically, happened when a state took over another territory, typically by force or fiat. It’s a story about domination backed by state power.
When individuals retire abroad, though, they settle with the host government’s consent, not a cannon. Societies have the right to decide whom they admit, within moral and legal bounds. International law protects refugees fleeing persecution, and decent nations avoid unfair discrimination or the splitting up of families. Beyond that, controlling residency and citizenship is a core piece of national sovereignty.
What these Northern Europeans are doing isn’t colonialism; it’s migration with permission. Retirees chasing a lower cost of living are simply doing transnationally what many do locally — moving where their resources stretch further, like Bostonians heading to Florida for sun and savings.
The impact is complicated, though. In places like Portugal, Morocco or Costa Rica, foreign retirees bring cash that helps lift economies. Portugal’s G.D.P. has climbed, partly thanks to Northern Europeans’ settling in the Algarve; Morocco’s absolute poverty rate (using U.N. measurements) dropped to under 2 percent in 2019 from 15 percent in 2001, partly fueled by European spending; American retirees in Panama or Mexico boost jobs in construction and services. (Inevitably, some complain about being fleeced by locals who see them as rich pickings.)
But there’s a catch — housing costs rise, too. In Lisbon, real estate prices have more than doubled in a decade as foreign buyers pour in. Property values in certain neighborhoods of Moroccan cities like Marrakech skew toward those with euros, not dirhams. Latin American expat hubs face the same situation: locals struggling to keep up with climbing rents or land prices on wages that don’t match pensions from abroad. Governments try to address the situation — Portugal has adjusted its Golden Visa program to ease pressure on cities — but members of the native middle class feel the squeeze. (Nor are these complications just a North-South thing: Talk to locals in Dublin, Copenhagen, Reykjavík or Vancouver.)
So is it fair? If retirees respect their new community, they’re doing no inherent harm. Host countries can set terms — including levies on foreign buyers and on vacant estates — to spread the wealth and curb the strain. In any case, it doesn’t sound as if you’re thinking about hoarding properties. For the individuals involved, what matters is behaving like a good neighbor, not a new overlord.
A Bonus Question
When I was 12, I had a crush on a guy who was a decade older. He was kind to me and probably aware of my feelings, but never took advantage of them. My mother also knew how I felt about him. One night she brought him to our home and had sex with him while I was asleep. They tried to hide their fling, but I did find out about it.
I felt hurt — not by him (he owed me nothing, and I was too young to offer anything) but by my mother. It wasn’t that I had issues with her having sex with a man who wasn’t my father, as my parents were separated, but I resented the way she ignored my feelings. It made me feel sad and inadequate that she was able to give my crush what I could not, given my age. I was also horrified at the thought of them discussing the situation and laughing about my immaturity.
The fact that my mother tried to hide this fling from me at first and then only confessed later didn’t make things much better. She could have been upfront about it from the start. It would have been painful, but at least I would have felt that I was being taken seriously. And why the (unprompted) confession a few months later? It was unnecessary and only seemed to serve as an expression of her sexual superiority over me.
Now I am an adult with enough life experience to understand that lust and love can get really messy, and that raising a child on your own isn’t easy. Yet I still wonder: Was I an oversensitive, perhaps precocious 12-year-old girl who just had to grow up, or did I have a point? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
Looking back with adult eyes, you are right to see the tangled nature of it all. Your mother was a human being, not a saint carved from stone; amid the demands placed on her, she had to contend with her own desires, her own frailties. Yet at 12, you deserved gentler handling. Your emotions — the way you felt sad, small and humiliated — marked a line crossed. You’ve moved on, but you’re still turning it over. That’s not fussing; it’s understanding a moment that mattered to you.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader wondering whether she and her husband should arm themselves. She wrote: “Considering the current political climate in the United States and deepening concerns that it will only get worse, my husband wants to purchase a gun for safety reasons. … I think guns are evil, and I believe that the world would be a better place without weapons. But I would hate to regret not having a gun if things get so chaotic that people need to protect themselves. Should I go against my own beliefs because of a possible future threat?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Bringing a gun into our homes doesn’t seem to tip the odds in our favor. Studies show little evidence that guns protect against injury or loss during a crime. Instead, they raise the risk of harm within the household, through accidents, impulsive actions or suicide. You’re imagining your regret were civic life to unravel, and you had failed to prepare. … In a world where some are armed to the teeth, being armed to your toes seems unlikely to do anything but escalate the dangers for you.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
⬥
I totally agree with the Ethicist. The majority of gun deaths are suicides, and the majority of gun homicides are committed by someone known to the victim. The odds that I would be in a situation where I needed a gun, and had a loaded gun available, are vastly outweighed by the odds that I would use the gun on a friend, family member or myself. — Jeffrey
⬥
My husband has also raised the idea of purchasing a gun, but I am firmly opposed. From what I have read, the chances of a confrontation with an armed intruder ending badly convinces me it’s not a good plan. For me, the potential of catastrophe outweighs the dubious feeling of safety. — Sonia
⬥
I served in the U.S. Army, where I spent two years in extensive safety and live-fire training. Today I own guns and have appropriate permits. I believe my responsible ownership of firearms protects myself, my family and my neighbors in the extremely rare potential scenario of social fragmentation. But the conversation should always center on training. If you want a gun, get the training first. — Eugene
⬥
There are nonlethal alternatives that could offer a sense of security without the significant risks of firearms. Products like pepper spray and air pistols provide a way to deter or incapacitate a threat from a distance. Exploring less lethal tools like these could address the husband’s desire for preparedness against external threats, while respecting the wife’s strong beliefs. — Ian
⬥
An associate who is L.G.B.T.Q. asked me what I thought of him buying a gun for protection. I asked him if he could, without hesitation, shoot another person. He thought for several minutes. Before he could answer I said, “If you took that long to answer the question, you would already be dead if you were in danger.” He chose not to purchase a weapon. — Mark
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected].
The post Is It Colonialism When Europeans Retire in Cheaper Countries? appeared first on New York Times.
