Italy Has a Migrant Problem, but Not the One You Think
Refugees Dominate Headlines as the Country's Best and Brightest Depart
Refugee arrival numbers in Italy have flattened out, despite waves of crackdowns aimed at stemming the flow of new arrivals landing on its shores.
Italy’s costly, criticized, off-again-on-again migrant processing center in Albania has been blocked by courts and has never gotten off the ground.
Even without it, Giorgia Meloni’s government has tightened the screws: cracking down on rescue operations departing from Italy (including banning flights used to spot distressed migrant boats), financing sometimes abusive programs to prevent would-be asylum seekers from leaving transit countries, and restricting access to reception programs in Italy.
When Meloni ran for office three years ago, she campaigned on reducing the tide of migrants entering from Africa and the Middle East. Arrivals rose in both 2022 and 2023, then fell sharply after the policy changes, dropping to 67,000 new arrivals last year, down from 158,000, according to UN figures. This year is on pace for a slight uptick.
But the real story is quieter and more damaging, a trend in the opposite direction. Far, far from the rickety migrant boats off the Sicilian shore, it’s in airport departure terminals in Rome, Milan, Bologna, Bergamo, and Naples.
A Tale of Two Countries
Italy’s shrinking and aging population is usually blamed on low birthrates and longer lifespans. But low immigration matters, too.
Compare Italy and France. After World War II, Italy’s population was slightly larger. But by the late 1990s, France moved ahead and today, the gap is wider than ever. UN models predict France will have nearly twice as many residents as Italy by 2100.
The difference is immigration.
New arrivals, if integrated, help offset declining native populations and increase the overall birthrate. They help sustain pension and health care systems and can help make economies more dynamic.
Thirty years ago, Italy’s economy was around the same size as France’s. I don’t want to post another chart, so I’ll just note that today, the International Monetary Fund puts Italy’s GDP at around $2.4 trillion, compared to France’s $3.2 trillion -- a gap nearly the size of the entire economy of ultra-wealthy Switzerland.
The Ones Who Got Away
I sometimes speak with Laura, the 29-year-old daughter of friends. She left Rome three years ago for a museum administration job in London.
“I have a master’s degree in art history and in Rome I was working at a bar in Campo de’ Fiori,” Laura (not her real name) told me. “I never wanted to leave. I love Italy, I miss it. But at least I can afford to go out with my friends and fly back to see my family every couple of months.”
She said her younger brother with a finance degree is also thinking about relocating, to London or Frankfurt. She already has a cousin in Vancouver.
Laura said she has plenty of Italian friends in Camden, London. “When I got here there were already a few people I knew from my program at La Sapienza. When we go out, the weather isn’t as nice and the food isn’t always great, but the friendships feel the same as in Rome … except we aren’t all broke.”
The phrase “brain drain” sounds clinical compared to its Italian equivalent, fuga di cervelli -- brain escape -- which is closer to the truth.
Laura is one of more than a million Italians to leave their country for work over the last decade, most in the key 25-to-34 age group. Unlike refugees arriving in Italy, they aren’t fleeing war or famine. They’re leaving because Italy cannot offer them the careers and stability they need.
Their native country pays for their childhood healthcare and education, and then they build their lives elsewhere, buying homes, starting families, paying taxes, and adapting to the other culture.
History Doesn’t Repeat, But …
Since its unification in 1861, Italy has been a net exporter of people and jobs for all but around two dozen years.
In 1930, there were more New York City residents born in Italy than in Naples or Rome. Italians were the most represented nationality at New York’s Ellis Island immigration center for around two-thirds of its 62-year history.
But there are differences between the exodus of Italians a century ago and today’s.
This time around, those leaving are among the best educated. And, unlike their forefathers who often came back to Italy wealthier and with new skill sets, the new generation is less likely to ever return.
A Draghi Warning
A year ago, Mario Draghi, Meloni’s predecessor as Italian prime minister and a former head of the European Central Bank, published a 400-page policy report, Future of European Competitiveness. His warning in the report was blunt:
“My concern is that, over time, we will inexorably become less prosperous, less equal, less secure, and, as a result, less free to choose our destiny,” he wrote.
Why do so many Italians leave? The consensus is that job success too often depends on raccomandazioni -- personal connections -- than on merit. Youth unemployment levels are stubbornly high, especially in the south. Wages for those who can find a job are low, while the cost of living is surging higher in part because of forces related to tourism. The country’s bureaucracy stifles innovation and capital is scarce.
If Italy wants to confront its brain escape, reforms can’t be cosmetic. A national minimum wage would help reduce the attraction of better-paying jobs abroad. Cracking down on the black-market economy operating entirely outside the law, cutting red tape, funding startups, enforcing transparent hiring practices, and making housing affordable for young professionals are essential.
The biggest challenge may be doing all that without creating a new layer of bureaucracy.
📌 And another thing
I sometimes blur the line when it comes to personal involvement with people and topics I write about professionally. It’s happened more than once when reporting on refugee issues.
Six years ago in Mali, I interviewed Joshua, a 31-year-old Ghanaian who lit up when I told him I lived in Rome. It turns out he was determined to reach Italy. Joshua even spoke passable Italian after working for a few years with an Italian priest.
I tried to dissuade him: jobs weren’t easy to come by in Italy, I said, and there was an anti-migrant current in the country. I told him he should shoot for northern Europe.
“No, too cold there.” He had a big laugh. “I know Italians are the good ones.”
“And how do you know that?”
“I know them.” In addition to the priest, he’d met the priest’s sister once, and some Italians working with an aid group. “I’ve met Germans, Americans, Dutch. But Italians are the good ones.”
He won me over. Before leaving him, I gave him my phone number.
“Look, I’m not anyone important,” I told him. “I can’t help you with immigration, I can’t give you much money. But if you make it to Rome, call and I’ll see if I can help in some way.”
Later, a local UN worker told me I made a mistake.
“Your heart’s in the right place. But remember that these people have nothing. Now, one of them has something, and it’s your phone number,” she said.
“Don’t be surprised if you start getting calls for help from numbers with African country codes in the middle of the night. You might have to change your number if it gets too bad.”
Three years later, Joshua called from Italy. Nervous, he asked if I remembered him. When we met, he still had the small corner of paper with my phone number on it, folded up in a plastic pouch along with his documents and a few photos. He guarded it like a religious relic.
Later that day, I called Giulio, an under-staffed Roman translocatore who helped me with my move to a new house a few months earlier. I asked if he could use the help of a strong young man who worked hard and spoke good Italian. I said I’d vouch for him. They worked together for a few months before Joshua moved on.
I still hear from Joshua now and then. He changes phone numbers often, so I have to wait for him to contact me. The last call came late last year, from Milan, where he was working on a crew that maintained city parks.
On a previous call, he laughed when I complained about a bureaucratic problem I was having. “It’ll be OK,” he said. “Italians are the good ones.”
He still believed it. If only more of Italy’s best and brightest felt the same.
always exciting to read your new piece dear! Thanks for opening our eyes on the topic and showing the angle we had no idea about.
Very poignant words