After November, Europe could well become what Canada was for draft dodgers during the Vietnam War: a political asylum for Americans fed up with their own country.
Prostock-Studio/Getty Images; Jenny Chang-Rodriguez/BI
Paul Starobin
Mar 6, 2024, 11:00 AM UTC
Late last year, my wife and I closed on a deal for an apartment in a hilltop town in Umbria. Soon after, I posted a question for my fellow participants in a Facebook group called Expats in Italy: "Is it just my imagination, but is there an uptick in Americans, in particular, looking to purchase property in Italy?" As the responses poured in, many of them sounded a distinct thematic note.
From a woman in Montana who was planning to move to Tuscany: "Yes, it's true! I bought a hilltop village home … for a song compared to US prices. Don't want to be in US anymore. It's expensive and sick of all the political crap and shootings."
From a woman in Texas: "An insurrection by a narcissist who couldn't accept election loss combined with his gun and abortion policies made moving more of a necessity than just a dream."
From a man in Tennessee: "I'm an American ready to flee America for Italy. I doubt I'm alone."
Not alone, indeed. Granted, my unscientific survey was limited to a self-selected group of people with a declared fancy for one particular foreign country renowned for its artistic and cultural treasures, scrumptious cuisine, and exquisite landscapes. Still, it was striking that the specter of Donald Trump — a looming shadow I hadn't even mentioned in my question — was on so many minds.
Every four years, as Americans gird themselves to choose a president, there's talk, mainly among Democrats, of leaving the country. I'm off for Canada if unacceptable candidate X wins! And every four years, the promised exodus fails to materialize. It's mostly just therapeutic venting.
This time is different.
The alarm over Trump's potential triumph in November is far starker than the fears stoked by past presidents. "A Trump dictatorship is increasingly inevitable," a recent Washington Post headline warned. The Atlantic devoted an entire issue to the authoritarian horrors in store for America "If Trump Wins." Every four years or so, Gallup asks Americans ages 15 and up: "Ideally, if you had the opportunity, would you like to move PERMANENTLY to another country?" At the end of George W. Bush's presidency, the number responding "yes" was 11%. During Barack Obama's tenure, it was 10%. During Trump's presidency, it hit 16%. That's some 40 million Americans who wanted to leave their country behind, for good.
Young people are even more likely to be hopeful expats. Among those under 30, 24% wanted to leave America at the close of Bush's tenure, 18% during Obama's, and 30% during Trump's. As with all things Trump, there was a sharp gender divide: Only 20% of young men wanted to flee America, compared to a whopping 40% of young women.
Americans already living overseas are bracing for a wave of new expats. "There will be more people moving abroad after the election if it is Trump," said Doris Speer, the president of the Association of Americans Resident Overseas, a nonpartisan group based in Paris.
Stressing that she was expressing her own views, not those of her organization, Speer emphasized that Trump is far from the only reason Americans are eyeing the exits. That's true: Housing prices in America are high, remote work is allowing for unprecedented mobility, and global respect for the United States has been eroding for decades, dating back to the war in Iraq. Fewer and fewer Americans, pollsters have found, believe "the American Dream — that if you work hard you'll get ahead — still holds true." In 2012, it was 53%. By October 2023, it was down to 36%.
A second Trump presidency, Speer said, could serve as a "catalyst" that further fuels the growing diaspora of Americans living in exile. After November, Europe could well become what Canada was for draft dodgers during the Vietnam War: a political asylum for Americans fed up with their own country. Call them Trump's Exiles.
For those casting a worried eye abroad, the economic draw is not insignificant. When I was looking to buy an apartment in Umbria, in central Italy, I found that prices for turnkey places were about a third of the price of condos in Sedona, Arizona. Property taxes and homeowners insurance are also relatively modest in Italy. Gas is more expensive, but the mouthwatering fare at local restaurants — wild-boar ragù, anyone? — is way cheaper. Politics aside, the dollars-and-cents pull to leave America is strong.
But a rising tide of conservatism at home is clearly driving more Americans to consider a move abroad. The Supreme Court's decision to overturn Roe v. Wade — one of Trump's signature accomplishments — has aroused widespread anger and discontent. But while America is cracking down on reproductive rights, Europe is expanding them. Abortion is now permitted in nearly all European countries, including Catholic countries such as Portugal, Spain, and Italy. Prompted by tightening US policies, France just enshrined the right to abortion in its constitution — the first country ever to take that landmark step.
Americans are also sickened by the never-ending rash of horrific school shootings, despite majority support for gun control. From the United Kingdom to Norway, gun-ownership laws are much stricter than in the United States, which is home to nearly half of the world's civilian-owned guns.
All of which makes it no surprise that Democrats are far more likely to flee America than Republicans. Since 2015, Democrats Abroad, the foreign-based arm of the Democratic National Committee, has nearly tripled its membership, which now numbers in the hundreds of thousands. "When we do voter registration, we register everybody," Martha McDevitt-Pugh, the international chair of Democrats Abroad, told me on a Zoom call from her base in the Netherlands. "And we come overwhelmingly across Democrats who want to vote."
Hollywood is further stoking a seductive image of expat life. Netflix's smash hit "Emily in Paris" — an inspiration for a new generation of American Francophiles, heirs to the likes of Ernest Hemingway and James Baldwin — is now shooting its fourth season. Leggett International, a real-estate agency based in France, hosts webinars targeting prospective US buyers, who comprise the largest share of its foreign clientele. In "Expats," the new Amazon Prime series set in Hong Kong, Nicole Kidman's character, in the throes of a bedroom frolic with her husband, asks: "Don't you ever miss it, home?" He energetically replies: "I like my life here."
Then there's the growing trend of "digital nomads," who reject the antiquated concept of a fixed office in a post-COVID world. By one estimate, there are already some 17 million Americans roaming the globe — nearly half of all digital nomads worldwide. In the age of remote work, young people without enough savings or the credit to purchase foreign property suddenly find themselves able to pack up and leave America. And those who may depart in the wake of a second Trump presidency can enjoy another benefit of life abroad. The website NomadList.com helpfully informs remote workers that there are now 429 cities where marijuana is legal, from Bangkok to Buenos Aires.
In fairness, those who flee America to escape MAGA may find themselves confronted by a host of unpleasant surprises. The headaches start with the red tape. On any given day, my Expats in Italy Facebook group teems with the sort of questions that can drive a novice foreign-property owner batty. Why won't my Italian utility company let me pay my bill with a US credit card? (Answer: Because it won't.) Property bidders must have their offers officially registered with the local municipality and verified by the godlike person known as the "notaio," an official of ancient standing who drafts and authenticates the raft of documents for a fair-size fee.
Then there are the tax-reporting requirements. In 2010, Congress enacted the Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act, which was designed to keep wealthy Americans with substantial foreign assets from evading their tax obligations. But as often happens with such laws, it's not just bank executives with villas on the Côte d'Azur who have been swept up in the enforcement net. Under IRS rules, a taxpayer with aggregate financial assets of just over $50,000 can be subject to reporting requirements. American Citizens Abroad, an expat lobbying group, is pushing to ease the compliance burdens, so far without luck.
American expats can also face a political backlash. In Portugal, which has attracted a sizable contingent of Californians, local activists have taken to the streets to protest increases in rent that they blame on the influx of foreigners. "Welcome to Portugal, the new expat haven," read a headline in The Los Angeles Times on the invasion of Golden Staters. "Californians, please go home."
John Galey, a semiretired management consultant in California, is moving in the opposite direction. With his passion for Italy, especially its wines, he has visited the country more than a dozen times, and he has long considered owning property there. In a recent email, he told me that his "planning and research would accelerate if Trump wins in November." Even as a self-described "political centrist," he believes that "the consequences of a 'retribution presidency' (plus the ensuing chaos) could be dire for the country."
I can see his point. My wife and I are both Trump decriers, although we didn't begin our Italy property search to find a refuge from MAGA-infused America. But now that we own a place, we see it as something of a respite from Trumpland. And we are learning Italian.
Paul Starobin is the author of "Putin's Exiles: Their Fight for a Better Russia," and the host of the "American and Beyond" podcast on the New Books Network.
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