Earlier this year, when Margot went to give up her US citizenship, she couldn’t do it in the UK, where she’s lived for 30 years. The waiting list to renounce at the London consulate is over 14 months. It’s the same story in Sydney and most big Canadian cities. Many European cities now have six-month waiting lists.
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A canceled US passport. Photograph: Michael Vi/Alamy
So Margot ended up at the consulate in Ghent, Belgium. One wall had a picture of Boston Harbour, where she was born. The other had three portraits: Donald Trump, JD Vance, and Marco Rubio, their faces shining—to her, with a kind of cruel triumph (the lighting might have played a part). For a moment, she felt caught between everything she loved about her country and everything she hated. Then she went in, swore under oath that she knew what she was doing, wasn’t being forced, and wasn’t renouncing just to avoid taxes. The official’s tone was neutral, a bit bored.
The questions are read from a laminated card, the oath feels routine, and your passport is taken—you can ask for it back with holes punched in it to show it’s canceled, once your request is approved.
In the 2000s, only a few hundred US citizens renounced each year. Since 2014, it’s been in the thousands. This year is expected to be a big one (matching 2020’s over 6,000) because the US government’s fee dropped from $2,350 to $450 after a long legal battle. But that’s nowhere near the real cost if you hire a lawyer. Even with no complications, it’ll run you $7,000 to $10,000, says Alexander Marino, who heads Moody’s, the world’s largest renunciation law firm.
But why would anyone want or need to give up their US citizenship in the first place? Americans have long joked about pretending to be Canadians abroad, just out of embarrassment for coming from a country that’s famously arrogant or exceptionalist. But recent events in the US—the mood, the internal divisions, and foreign policy—are on a whole different level. Mary, 73, moved to Canada in 1987 and became a dual citizen in 2006, never thinking she’d want to renounce. The turning point, she says, “was literally the night of the 2016 election. I was at my son’s house. By midnight, it was looking like, ‘Oh my God, the man’s going to win.’ I finally fell asleep—vodka can only do so much—then I woke at 2am, and the house next door had a huge screen that just said: ‘Trump, Trump, Trump.'”
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Donald Trump with Amy Coney Barrett in 2020. Her nomination to the Supreme Court was the final straw for Paul, 55. Photograph: China News Service/Getty Images
Paul, 55, lives in Helsinki but had to travel to Milan for a consulate appointment—on his 51st birthday. “My present to myself was divorcing Uncle Sam,” he says. “It was the end of 2020, when Trump nominated Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court. There’s a picture of the swearing-in ceremony where you can see her with this intense smile on her face. That was half of it. The other half was that dirty, narcissistic smirk on Trump’s face. His eyes are barely open—it’s not a joyful smile, not a ‘Hey, cool, this happened’ smile. It was, ‘I have you right where I want you.’ I saw that picture, and five minutes later, I was Googling ‘find a renunciation lawyer,’ and five minutes after that, I’d sent them an email.”
Joseph, 36, living in Norway, is just as direct: “I don’t want to be a citizen of a dictatorship. I feel like a lot of people think the test of the American system will come at the next presidential election, and I think they’re wrong. We’re going to find out whether or not this government…”He’s willing to give up power democratically this November [at the midterm elections]. I seriously doubt they’re going to give up power.”
Ella, 66, left the US for Germany 34 years ago. She had wanted to give up her citizenship for a decade before finally leaving in 2021, but “my husband stopped me. He was born to German parents in Romania and wanted to return to Germany, but for many years he couldn’t – he knew what it was like to be stuck in a country where you weren’t allowed to leave. He said, ‘If there’s a war in Europe, we’ll want to be able to live in America.'” Now it seems unlikely that the US would offer her a safe haven, and more likely that it would have started the war.
View image in fullscreen Illustration: Andrea Ucini/The Guardian
Almost everyone I spoke to for this article wanted their names changed, and for good reason. In very rare cases, the US government can reject your renunciation of citizenship entirely, but a much more common outcome is that you become a “covered expatriate.” That’s a tax status and a financial disaster – it lasts forever, and your children will be liable for US inheritance tax. It also means you might be denied re-entry to the US or questioned at the border. If someone you love in the country is too sick to travel, you might never see them again. And while, once you’re through the process – which most of these interviewees are – the US is not legally allowed to persecute you, few trust that would stop it. Every quarter, a federal list of renunciations is published online. It serves no practical purpose and feels vindictive. “Some have called it the name-and-shame game, it has no legal purpose,” says Marino. In short, everyone just wants to keep a low profile, far away.
Maybe because everyone’s keeping their heads down, or maybe because only lawyers think ahead, Marino is the only one who mentions the legislation taking effect this December that makes registration for the US military draft automatic. The Selective Service System doesn’t require service, but it creates a database of eligible citizens (ages 18 to 25) who could be called up if there’s a draft. It didn’t cause a big uproar in the US when it passed, but if you had an 18-year-old child you raised in Europe, say, and you were reading about the US war in Iran, you might be panicking about it. Sinclair, 54, who has lived in Australia since he was 22 and recently gave up his citizenship, has a daughter who just turned 17. “You can’t renounce citizenship on behalf of your child,” he says.
One key reason for renunciations, and why you need a lawyer for them, is the US’s tax policies, explains Marino (Moody’s handles a quarter of all cases where legal advice is sought worldwide). The US is the only country in the world, except for Eritrea, that taxes based on citizenship, not residency.
View image in fullscreen A staffer walks past the new official portraits of President Donald Trump and Vice-President JD Vance at the White House last year. Photograph: Alex Brandon/AP
This leads to some strange details. For example, if a US citizen living abroad divorces a non-US citizen and they split their assets, the US citizen pays tax on their ex’s share. Under Obama’s Foreign Account Tax Compliance Act, foreign banks must find out who their US clients are and hand over their information. “No other country in the world would have the power to make other countries sign that,” Marino says.
This isn’t just about millionaires and billionaires holding onto their wealth – it affects people across all income levels. Ella says, “I had a job offer in Switzerland with really good pay” – she’s a research scientist – “and I couldn’t accept it because no Swiss bank would give me a…”An exit tax was introduced in 2008, which—anecdotally, since no one would openly admit to avoiding taxes ahead of time—prompted some Americans to give up their citizenship before reaching the $2 million net worth threshold.
The experience of renouncing citizenship varies. Sinclair said the US vice consul was “maybe a little snippy… there was an air of contempt. Like, ‘Oh you idiot, why are you doing this? Why would anyone renounce their US citizenship?'” Mary couldn’t get an appointment in her hometown of Toronto, so she booked one in Halifax, Nova Scotia, and “did what they call a ‘vacation renunciation.'” She describes it as the ultimate anticlimax: “I was all set, I had my cute outfit on and all my lines memorized. I walked into this consulate that looks like the third floor of a department store—it didn’t look governmental at all.” Michael, 57, was similarly struck by how run-down the consulate in Amsterdam was—the noise, the chaos, the fact that nothing worked, “the feeling of instantly being back in America.”
But renouncing isn’t always straightforward. Joseph works in data science for a company that contracts with the Norwegian government. “If you are Iranian, you can’t work with sensitive data because you’re seen as a security risk. So when things like [Trump’s threat to invade] Greenland come up, I worry—’OK, if he does this, do I lose my job?'” If the US had actually invaded Greenland, Norway would likely side with Denmark, potentially making Joseph an enemy of the Norwegian state.
Joseph faces a dilemma: if he keeps his US citizenship, his job is at risk, and he despises everything the US government does. He served in the US military, joining in 2011 to pay for college—a three-year contract that stretched into a decade because “the US military has a great way of making you feel as if everything you’re doing, even if you’re just sweeping the floor, is of global importance. You really feel like your life has meaning.” In Afghanistan, he believed that “while we might not always do the right thing, we at least had the right intentions.” He doesn’t feel that way about Iran. Or Greenland, for that matter.
At the same time, he hasn’t talked to his parents about it: “My father, I think, won’t mind too much. My mother is a hardcore far-right MAGA Christian nationalist. She would see it as a political statement, and she would want to argue.” He’s also politically active: “As an American citizen right now, I can criticize my government, I can go to protests, I can resist the things I’m seeing—I have political and social weight. As soon as I give up my citizenship, it’s me saying, ‘I don’t think I have the ability to make a change anymore.'” (Others feel this too, but only slightly. Mary says: “My sister is the only one who said, ‘You could have stayed here and fought.’ But nobody else says that.”)
Maybe it’s the famous human optimism bias—once you make a decision, you always come to feel it was the right one—but no one who has actually renounced misses their citizenship. Michael says: “I have an existential regret. I would have loved to grow up and live in a country that I believed in. There are certain things I miss—the way your brain changes after you’ve been driving through nothingness for six hours. Certain foods. I miss Steak ‘n Shake, a chain in the Midwest. But if I never see America again, I am absolutely fine with that.”
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Frequently Asked Questions
Here is a list of FAQs based on the topic of Americans renouncing citizenship framed around the sentiment I dont want to be part of a dictatorship
BeginnerLevel Questions
1 What does it mean to renounce US citizenship
It means you voluntarily give up your US citizenship You sign an oath at a US embassy abroad and you lose your passport and the right to vote in US elections
2 Is it true that lots of Americans are doing this because they think the US is becoming a dictatorship
There has been a noticeable increase in people researching renunciation especially after political events that worry them However the actual number of people who follow through is still small compared to the total number of Americans abroad Its a big irreversible step
3 Why would someone say I dont want to be part of a dictatorship and actually leave
Some people feel that the erosion of democratic norms threats to free speech or the concentration of power in one person makes them uncomfortable living under that system For them renouncing is a final personal protest
4 If I renounce can I ever get my citizenship back
No It is almost impossible The US government considers it a permanent act You would have to apply for a visa like any other foreigner to visit and you could never vote or run for office again
AdvancedLevel Questions
5 Is renouncing citizenship just a symbolic protest or are there practical benefits
For most its a mix The main practical benefit is escaping the US tax system The US is one of the only countries that taxes its citizens no matter where they live If you have high foreign income or complex assets renouncing can save you a lot of money But the protest against the political system is a strong emotional driver
6 Im worried about the exit tax Will I have to pay to leave
Yes if you are wealthy The US charges an
