A one-way ticket. A weathered backpack. A carefully planned yet spontaneous itinerary leading to self-discovery in distant lands. For decades, backpacking has been romanticized as a rite of passage — a rebellion against routine, a rejection of materialism, an immersion into ‘authentic’ cultures.
But who gets to travel the world freely? The ability to cross borders without restriction, a powerful currency in the Global South, and immerse oneself in ‘local life’ is not universally available. Some people get to wander; others get stopped at the border. For all its countercultural appeal, backpacking exists within — not outside — global systems of inequality. Visa policies, economic imbalances, and tourism-driven urban shifts dictate who can travel easily and who cannot. Meanwhile, travellers reshape local economies, redefine cultures, and often unwittingly influence whose stories get told.
Backpacking is not merely an individual adventure — it is embedded in mobility, privilege, power, and global inequality. It’s time to rethink the freedom to travel: who gets to wander, and at whose expense?
The Privilege of Mobility
Central to the backpacking ethos lies the assumption that the world is accessible to all who dare to explore. Yet, in reality, two-thirds of the 45 million annual backpacking trips are made by 20- to 25-year-olds from high-income Western countries — mostly young women from Australia, the UK, and Germany. Many frame their ability to move freely as a matter of financial resourcefulness or personal choice to forgo stability, seldom acknowledging how their nationality determines their socio-spatial mobility. A 22-year-old Canadian gap-year traveller drifting through budget hostels in Vientiane, Laos, is greeted as an intrepid explorer — echoing colonial-era narratives of discovery. By contrast, in the Global South, mobility is often a necessity rather than a choice, driven by economic instability, political unrest, or environmental catastrophes.
According to the Henley Passport Index (2025), while an Australian or Canadian passport allows visa-free travel to over 185 countries, the same piece of paper only grants access to fewer than 35 countries for Pakistani or Iraqi citizens — generally after expensive visa procedures, financial scrutiny, and border suspicion. Not coincidental, these disparities stem from colonial histories, racialized border policies, and economic leverage. Wealthier countries extend free movement privileges to each other while restricting access to travellers from the Global South under the guise of security concerns.
More than a document, the passport is a tool of power, a mechanism of inclusion and exclusion. While it enables Western travellers to freely roam the earth, it also ‘disables’ and confines migrants most in need of mobility. In a way, borders operate as a ‘state of exception,’ where travellers occupy an extra-political space while border guards exercise discretionary power over their fate. Though automated passport control appears to make border security controls more impartial, it instead naturalizes the passport as a technological extension of the traveller’s body, and thus shifts attention away from the power relations that continue to shape the global mobility regime. Thus, while Western backpackers travel to ‘escape’ the system, it is the deeply entrenched inequalities in global governance, passport hierarchies, and colonial legacies that allow them to travel so freely.
The Economics of Budget Travel
Backpacking thrives on affordability, targeting destinations where one’s currency holds power. According to a 2024 survey, 87% of U.S. and Canadian travellers seek to “travel as cheaply as possible,” despite their relatively high socio-economic status. Yet, what is often left unsaid is how this cost-saving model depends on economic disparities within the budget-tourism industry. Low-cost accommodation, inexpensive meals, and gig-based tourism jobs often come at the expense of local communities. In Latin America, hostels increasingly replace low-wage local housekeepers with transient volunteers — often unskilled backpackers who handle reception or clean rooms in exchange for free accommodation. Though framed as mutually beneficial, these ‘voluntourism’ and WWOOFing practices displace local labour, reinforcing economic dependency on cheap, short-term tourism rather than sustainable job creation that benefits the community. Operating predominantly in the informal economy, these workers receive minimal legal protection and even less bargaining power with their employers. As such, they remain trapped in precarious, low-paying positions — cycles of inequality that extend far beyond hostel walls.
Many backpackers reject exploitative capitalism at home yet simultaneously benefit from its mechanisms abroad, consuming labour at artificially deflated prices. A reminder that budget travel is not simply about personal thrift, but also involves broader interplay of economic privilege and global disparity.
When “Hidden Gems” Become Tourism Zones
In their quest for places “untouched” by commercial tourism, backpackers often spark the rapid transformation of a location into a “backpacker enclave,” like an “uninvited guest” into urban politics. As more backpackers flock to once off-the-grid destinations, local restaurants pivot towards Western-friendly menus, short-term rentals inflate property values beyond local affordability, and hostels displace family homes. A once US$10 dorm in Mexico can now cost US$75, reflecting a shift towards curated ‘authenticity’ that appeals to young Western imaginaries. Neighbourhoods like Mexico City’s Roma Norte and Bali’s Canggu endure the consequences of this gentrification process: skyrocketing rents push poorer residents to the outskirts, while longer commutes, late-night disturbances, and noise intensify community tensions and public health concerns.
Meanwhile, the backpacker market gradually slips into mainstream tourism — Hostelworld tracks over 17,700 hostels across 179 countries, and international corporations like Hilton have signalled interest in the hostel market, rarely fostering meaningful local interactions. Hostel décor now influences backpackers’ booking decisions 44% more than before, widening the gap between romanticized ‘off-the-beaten-path’ exploration and its commodified realities. Even older, more traditional backpackers longing for something different find themselves surrounded by familiar Western comforts, prompting many travellers to lament that their ‘hidden paradise’ has been ruined, often oblivious to their own role in reshaping it.
The “Beg-Packing” Phenomenon: Glamorizing Poverty?
In Southeast Asia and Latin America, some Western travellers resort to begging, selling trinkets, performing in public spaces, or launching GoFundMe campaigns to fund their leisure adventures. Portraying themselves as free-spirited nomads, these “beg-packers” solicit donations from locals grappling with substantial economic hardship, in societies where begging is stigmatized as extreme destitution. More than cultural insensitivity, this performative and romanticized display of poverty is enabled by a passport that guarantees an escape. Yet, for some Western travellers, it is celebrated as a sign of resourcefulness.
In response, governments have taken action. Thailand now requires proof of 20,000 baht (CAD$846) upon entry to deter tourists who might burden local economies or divert resources away from locals whose survival truly depends on street performances. Indonesia and Hong Kong have enacted similar bans on ‘beg-packers’, contending that these travellers fail to contribute meaningfully to local economies.
The Backpacker as Storyteller: Who Controls the Narrative?
Beyond mobility and economics, backpacking shapes global narratives. Travellers do not just consume places — they define how they are seen.
While backpackers from other regions also produce their own stories, Western travel blogs, memoirs, and Instagram accounts overwhelmingly frame Southeast Asia as an ‘exotic’ backdrop for self-discovery, often reducing locals to a “warm,” “humble,” and “authentic,” group but never protagonists in their own stories. As Luisa, a 24-year-old Malaysian woman points out, backpackers tend to turn Asia into “a caricature… a mystical land full of adventures, a playground for white people,” overlooking the power dynamics at play — where friendliness is often tied to economic dependency on tourism. Although 57% of backpackers believe they engage more deeply with local cultures than regular tourists, they frequently remain insulated within their own ‘enclaves’, sharing and retelling experiences primarily with fellow travellers. This self-segregation thus reinforces narrow, hierarchical narratives of ‘authentic’ encounters. As we reflect on our own role in this process, we must ask: is authenticity born of limited infrastructure and minimal Western influence, or is it merely a byproduct of global market forces? Ultimately, who truly decides what is authentic?
Rethinking the Freedom to Travel
Ethical travel starts with cultural sensitivity and self-awareness. Opt for locally owned accommodations, respect housing crises, and question why a destination is ‘cheap.’ Avoid searching for ‘untouched’ destinations — they were never hidden, merely unseen by outsiders. Shift away from the self-change narrative and listen to the transformations happening around you.
Most importantly, recognize passport privilege. If crossing borders feels effortless, ask why — and who is denied that same freedom. Travel should not be about fleeing the system, but understanding the forces that shape it. The most responsible traveller is not the one who merely ‘discovers’ the world but the one who sees it as it truly is.
This is an article written by a Staff Writer. Catalyst is a student-led platform that fosters engagement with global issues from a learning perspective. The opinions expressed above do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication.
Edited by Alexandria Alikakos
