In our regression from liberal aspiration to the brutal realities of Trump and Brexit, one of the nirvanas set aside has been the notion of a world without borders. “America first,” says the president. “Britain first and always,” chant the Brexiters. The majority demand is for migration curbs in principle, even if they are unlikely to be achieved in practice. The global village will be refashioned with barbed-wire fencing. And yet in this, as in most things, money talks.

From a list of names leaked to the Guardian, we now know that the Cypriot government has raised more than €4bn since 2013 by providing citizenship to the global super-rich, giving them the ability to live and work throughout the EU in exchange for a cash investment. We know that among those who have availed themselves of this right are billionaire Russian oligarchs and Ukrainians accused of corruption. For the financially well-endowed, the deal is a bit of a steal: the Cypriots merely ask for €2m in property or €2.5m in company or government bonds.

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But need you bother with Cyprus? Not necessarily. If you are of high net-worth and your wish is to fast-track your way to a British passport, a visa can still be yours, and citizenship too, under our modified version of the same arrangement. All we ask is for a £2m investment. You can buy citizenship in Greece for €250,000, while Portugal’s “golden visa” scheme lets non-EU citizens gain full residency and unfettered travel rights across the 28 EU nations by spending €500,000 on a Portuguese property.

Or pitch wider: for $350,000 obtain a Grenadan visa and with it, through reciprocal agreements, access to more than 100 countries. Migrants battle their way over land and sea, hoping to do the same. They have been badly advised. Perhaps they should stay put, play the lottery and hope to buy their way in.

This is about much more than bureaucracy. It’s about a political philosophy only available to those who can afford to put it into practice. The very rich, the high net-worthers, don’t just see themselves as opportunists using their fortunes to gain themselves maximum flexibility. They see themselves as nomads for whom borders and nationality have little significance. I watched them parsing their philosophy and prospects at a conference at London’s Savoy hotel last year aimed at showing the super-rich how to maximise their mobility. They were keenly aware of the currents around them: the burgeoning nationalism, the migrant crisis, the jibe from Theresa May that “citizens of the world” equate to “citizens of nowhere”. But none of that will or should restrict you, they were told, because you are really very rich.

Under the chandeliers of the Savoy’s Lancaster room, Eric Major – chief executive of citizenship specialists Henley & Partners – urged his audience of “internationally minded, globally connected, financially well endowed citizens” to tread boldly. Forget the notion of nations as special entities, he said. They’re just like clubs. If one doesn’t work, join another. The poster boy for this, he said, was Ahn Hyun-soo, the South Korean speed skater who fell out with his country’s sporting authorities and without a qualm availed himself of Russian citizenship. He became known as Viktor, adored by the public, feted by Putin. That, we were told, “is the direction of things”.

There is much to be said for a world shorn of divisive nationalism and for the idea that people can reinvent themselves in new lands, with new possibilities. My family are in the UK because a Jamaican carpenter sailed from Kingston to Southampton, leaving his loved ones behind for any future he could foresee, to achieve that same metamorphosis. But that was different. The right he claimed was widely available, not just for those with bulging pockets.

Should we be troubled by this? We know the rich are around us. We know they are different. And the high net-worthers, with their investments, do – in return for a passport, perhaps a portfolio of passports – pump money into the economies of countries that need it. In these years of austerity, that may well mean us in Britain. Certainly it applies to Greece, still struggling to stave off bankruptcy, and Grenada, with one of the highest unemployment rates in the Caribbean.

And one cannot say global high net-worthers look the other way as low net-worthers struggle and ordinary migrants risk life and limb to reach affluent countries. Henley & Partners donates more than $1m to the United Nations High Commission for Refugees to help its work with migrants. It sees itself as a global citizen, an “ideal citizen”. Providing a fiscal contribution to compare with the physical contribution made by my father and millions like him.

Try listening to the pleas of people desperate for a passport because to stay put means repression and possible death.

But in this era of rampant inequality, isn’t there something nauseating about rich entitlement set against the numerous, heart-rending tales of penniless striving? Try listening to the pleas of people desperate for a passport, not because they want easy passage through an airport or seek business advantages, but because to stay put means repression and possible death. Listen to the concerns of EU citizens who risk losing their status because of Brexit. Then listen to wealthy global citizens boasting of how they buy their way to mobility.

Consider, too, the risks inherent in laying out a red carpet for anyone rich enough to pay for it. In 2015, when complaints about our offer to high net-worthers led the British government to tighten diligence checks on who was applying and make it more difficult for them to plough funds into property for their own rather than societal advantage, applications plummeted. Be wary of high net-worthers’ romantic notion of a world without borders. The benefits aren’t mutual, and the super-rich don’t like too many questions asked.

• Hugh Muir is associate editor of Guardian Opinion