Freedom Doesn't Mean Constantly Moving On

The concept of so-called flag theory rests, in simplified form, on the idea of spreading different areas of life across different jurisdictions.

Residence, citizenship, company, assets, banking relationships and, where relevant, other interests need not necessarily be tied to the same state.

That can be thoroughly sensible.

An entrepreneur need not base their company where they live with their family. Assets need not be held entirely in the country of residence. An additional residence right can serve as a valuable plan B. And anyone who holds their entire wealth at a single bank in a single country carries a concentration risk that can comparatively easily be reduced.

So the principle exists for good reason:

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket."

It only becomes problematic once an instrument turns into a worldview, and diversification into an end in itself.

It becomes especially curious precisely where freedom itself turns into the next doctrine.

Anyone who lectures others on how many flags, residencies or changes of domicile a truly free person must possess should occasionally ask themselves whether they are still making the case for individual freedom – or already drafting a new instruction manual for the correct way to live.

Because the very idea of freedom ought, in fact, to lead to the opposite conclusion.

The childless entrepreneur who lives between three continents and has no wish to settle permanently on any of them can be entirely free.

The family who leaves Germany once, builds a house elsewhere, raises their children there, and then does not move again for thirty years can be just as free.

To derive from freedom yet another binding model for how life must be lived would be precisely the negation of what one actually set out to defend.

Mobility can create freedom.

Whoever can leave at any time possesses an option for action that someone without that possibility does not have.

But whoever has to keep moving on for their construction to keep functioning is already in a different situation.

Days of presence must be counted, visas renewed, tax thresholds monitored and entry regulations observed. Flight schedules and calendars suddenly start having a say in where one is allowed to be, and when.

That can be a deliberately chosen and thoroughly fulfilling way of life.

But it does not necessarily represent the maximum of personal freedom.

Because between

"I can leave at any time"

and

"I am not allowed to stay anywhere too long"

lies a remarkable difference.

Many people do not leave their home country because they no longer wish to belong anywhere.

They simply want to decide for themselves where they belong.

They are looking for a place where they can build a house, make friends, watch their children grow up, build a company, or simply wake up in the morning with the feeling: this is where I want to be.

That is not a failed internationalisation.

Because that, too, can be an individual goal.

A new centre of life inevitably creates ties. Property ties you down. A company ties you down. Friendships tie you down. Family ties you down. Even the dog eventually makes spontaneous intercontinental flights more difficult.

But freely chosen ties are not a loss of freedom.

The decisive difference lies in whether a tie was entered into voluntarily, or whether a state, an economic dependency, or a lack of alternatives prevents someone from ever loosening it again.

At the latest once children are involved, the idea of permanent mobility acquires additional dimensions.

School is not merely an institution. For children, it is where friendships and social structures develop. They learn a language, develop a sense of belonging, and build their own small world.

Adults, too, invest in their surroundings over time: relationships form, businesses grow, perhaps a property is bought, a home is created.

All of that carries value.

Of course a family can still live internationally. And naturally there are families for whom frequent moves work outstandingly well.

The point is a different one:

Stability is not automatically the absence of freedom.

Anyone who freely chooses stability because it corresponds to the life they want is, in doing exactly that, exercising their freedom.

There is also a very practical aspect that sometimes gets lost in the chase for the next flag:

Complexity costs.

Every additional company can mean bookkeeping, tax returns, annual accounts and compliance.

Residencies can come with renewal deadlines, minimum stay requirements or other conditions.

The seventh bank account, the fourth residency and the third company in the next jurisdiction do not, therefore, automatically make a life freer.

At some point one is no longer diversifying risk so much as producing passwords, KYC requests, renewal deadlines and invoices from advisers.

A good international structure is therefore not defined by the greatest possible number of countries involved.

This does not mean handing every area of life back to a single state.

You can live in the same house for twenty years and still be internationally diversified.

The centre of life can be in Paraguay while assets are held across different jurisdictions. A company can be based elsewhere. Additional residence rights can provide a plan B. Investments can be spread geographically.

What matters is not the number of flags.

Diversification should follow a purpose.

Not a collecting habit.

Nor does it mean playing off as many states against one another as possible, or collecting as many flags as possible on a personal map of the world.

It means understanding one's own dependencies, reducing unnecessary concentration risks, and preserving as many genuine options for action as possible.

Above all, though, it means being able to decide for oneself what one's own life should look like.

Perhaps that path leads through several countries.

Perhaps across only a single border.

And perhaps it ends at a place where one day you realise you no longer want to move on at all.