The great American exodus Is it still the land of opportunity?

According to the Declaration of Independence, Americans possess “certain unalienable Rights… among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness”. Life and liberty are self-explanatory, but “pursuit of happiness” often confuses people. According to the eminent historian Arthur Schlesinger, this doesn’t mean chasing happiness, but rather actually enjoying it. In short, the Declaration states categorically that Americans have an “unalienable right” to be happy. That’s significant, especially since, according to a recent poll, two in five Americans aren’t happy and 17% want to move abroad to rediscover that elusive emotion.

The survey found that 5% of the 2,000 participants are actively investigating emigration, while 2% have started the formal process. Just to put this in perspective, 2% of the American population is about seven million people. The effects of this exodus are already apparent in the UK, where over 6,100 Americans applied for British citizenship last year, the most since records began and 26% more than the previous year. The increase is even higher in Ireland, where applications rose by 46% over one year.

Back in September, my niece was shot at while travelling on Interstate 5 near Seattle. Two family members were hit, though both have recovered, physically at least. The assailant was suffering from severe paranoia, convinced that drivers on the highway were chasing him. He fired at five other cars, causing serious injuries. The day before, he had sought help from police and social services, but was turned away. Frustrated, he got a gun, as one does in America.

Since the shooting, the spectre of that masked gunman continues to torment. With life suddenly precarious, my niece and her husband are musing about moving to a safer country, like Canada or the UK. I doubt that it will come to anything, but it’s nevertheless significant that a quintessentially American family is even thinking about upping roots. As that survey suggests, they’re not alone.

I’m not interested in discussing America’s obsession with guns. That will never change. The core issue instead is the American quality of life — the point at which things become intolerable for some people, for any number of reasons. In the past, when Americans grew concerned about employment or housing or crime, they moved to another state. Now, they have run out of boltholes in America, and are talking seriously about leaving the country. What does this mean for the ethos of America, a place that was once Eden for the hungry, huddled masses?

According to the poll, 65% described American society as “toxic”. A similar number complained about “divisiveness”. More specific concerns related to healthcare, education, job opportunities, the cost of living, and the work-life balance. Stated simply, these people feel that they’re having to work too hard for fewer real rewards. The threat of bankruptcy is ever present, even for those in good jobs. More than 100 million Americans are currently carrying medical debt, with over 40% of cancer patients filing for bankruptcy within two years of diagnosis.

The poll also found that discontent seems to be deep-seated and is not simply a knee-jerk reaction to a second Trump presidency. A sense of alienation has instead been building for some time, perhaps compounded by the failure of the Biden administration to address the core concerns of the discontented. Perhaps not surprisingly, dissatisfaction is highest among Millennials, with 25% of that group expressing a desire to emigrate. This can probably be explained by the fact that crippling student debt renders it difficult for this generation to replicate the standard of living enjoyed by their parents.

That said, Trump’s victory in November exacerbated the discontent felt by those already unhappy. Previously, the loss of an election was tolerated like a bad winter or a leaky roof. Time, it was assumed, would bring relief. In contrast, this election seems existential to many Americans, something that strikes at the very core of how they perceive themselves and their country. One senses a feeling of hopelessness, an inability to do anything to resist Trump’s malicious power, bolstered as he is by a sympathetic Congress and a cabinet of sycophants.

In the days after the election, Google searches on topics relating to emigrating were 15 times higher than before November 5. Traffic on sites providing information on moving to New Zealand, the most popular destination, was 76 times higher. Bureaucracy.es, a firm that provides advice on the visa process in Spain, found that three times as many people were booking consultations as before the election. Marco Permunian of Italian Citizenship Assistance asked his staff to arrive early on the day after the election. The phones in his office started ringing at 6AM and didn’t stop.

Since the election, fears have been realised; many Americans are experiencing genuine harm to their quality of life because of the flurry of budget cuts and executive orders. The DOGE raids on federal government agencies have resulted in thousands of professionals suddenly finding themselves out of work. Despite Trump’s campaign promises, the price of food has not come down, and costs are likely to rise even higher as a result of recently imposed tariffs. Robert Kennedy’s erratic behaviour at the Department of Health and Human Services represents a clear threat to American well-being, as do the drastic cuts to the budget of the National Institute of Health, where cutting-edge cancer research takes place.

One unexpected effect of the Trump presidency is the sense of shame that many Americans now feel. The cuts to USAID, the agency responsible for administering aid to poor countries, seem cruel and niggardly. That sense of shame was compounded exponentially by the recent treatment of Ukraine and Trump’s alarming friendship with Putin. Across social media, a lament echoes: “I’ve never been so ashamed to be an American.”

Disgruntled Americans seem to think that they’ll be welcomed wherever they want to go, an attitude that perhaps reflects their sense of entitlement. In fact, all countries limit immigration, just like the US does. Some, however, are recognising the advantages of offering residence permits to highly trained Americans — just the sort that the US can ill afford to lose. A Spanish scheme is directed at the self-employed, particularly in tech industries, who can easily move their business to Spain. Portugal has a Golden Visa programme open to those willing to invest €500,000 immediately, or donate €250,000 to a Portuguese charity. The scheme advertises heavily on social media, highlighting Portugal’s great food, pleasant weather, low crime rate and absence of guns.

It’s easy to dismiss this interest in emigration as the typical whining of disgruntled liberals; they’re derided as snowflakes accustomed to getting their own way. In any case, there’s a big difference between talking about leaving and actually doing it. Despite what that poll suggests, I doubt that seven million Americans will actually leave in the near future. The complexities of pulling up roots, leaving family behind, negotiating the intricate visa process and actually finding a new home will undoubtedly cause a good number to abandon the idea and instead just wallow in discontent.

The important point, however, is not that people will actually leave the US but rather that they’re seriously talking about doing so. That’s what’s unprecedented. There’s been a lot of coverage of this trend in the mainstream media of late, but nearly every writer misses a crucial point: America is not supposed to be a place that people want to leave. It has built its reputation on being the promised land, the apogee of ambition.

When I was growing up in southern California, I was taught that America was the best country on earth. It was the land of the free, as if freedom didn’t really exist elsewhere. That’s what everyone is still taught; it’s the American Gospel. The myth is reinforced by the fact that most Americans don’t travel outside the US and those who do often fail to immerse themselves in different cultures. Comfortable in a cocoon of imagined exceptionalism, they find it difficult to recognise that freedom and prosperity might exist elsewhere.

When Americans spend an extended time abroad, however, a transformation often takes place. I witnessed that when I taught at the University of St Andrews, where around 20% of my students were American. They arrived as quintessential Yanks — self-righteous and confident — but their certainties were gradually undermined. At the end of their four-year degree they’d come to a realisation that America was not uniquely perfect. Every year, some would ask for advice about how to stay in Britain. I was supposed to be an authority, having travelled the same path decades before, when it was, however, much easier.

My mother, after arriving in America from the Netherlands in 1950, had the quintessential immigrant experience: she worked long hours, put her five kids through university, brought a house. She believed that America had been good to her. Then, late in life, she visited her birthplace and found that her old friends enjoyed a better quality of life. They didn’t have to worry about retirement, or crippling medical debt, or getting shot. She began to wonder whether she’d made a big mistake. Perhaps fortunately, dementia kept her from witnessing her entire net worth disappear down the healthcare sinkhole.

Over the last few decades, Americans have experienced some illuminating failures — in healthcare, gun violence, education, housing and the quality of life. The open-minded among them are exploring better options elsewhere. That, I suppose, is to be expected of a people who believe in their unalienable right to be happy. Supremely confident, Trump has told the discontented that if they’re not happy, they should just leave. Stay tuned, Mr President, they might just do so. For some people, realising the American dream might require leaving America.