Americans used to relocate frequently, pursuing chances. No longer.

Excerpted from “Stuck: How the Privileged and the Propertied Broke the Engine of American Opportunity” by Yoni Appelbaum, lecturer in history and literature, ’14.

The United States is a country of movers. No civilization has ever been as fluid as America was at its zenith. In the late 1800s, during the pinnacle of American movement, approximately a third of all citizens changed their residences annually. European onlookers were astounded and somewhat horrified. The American, Michel Chevalier remarked in 1835, “is consumed by a fervor for mobility; he cannot remain in one spot.” During Moving Day, when lease agreements lapsed simultaneously, a significant portion of a city’s populace might shift to new locales from dawn to dusk, amidst a chaotic mix of furniture, carts, and travel bags. On the whole, Americans relocated much more frequently, over greater distances, and with more advantage than individuals in the regions they left behind. This was viewed as integral to their national identity, an aspect that set their country apart. “We are a migratory people, and we thrive best when we occasionally change our surroundings,” clarified a newspaper from the 19th century. “We have severed ties with the old model of human existence, the previous method of clinging like an oyster to one location for countless generations,” commented another.

Every American has predecessors who chose to break free from their non-moving ways. The earliest among them traversed Beringia and swiftly populated the continent. Millennia later, newcomers from Europe arrived just as readily, displacing those who had previously settled. Yet, they did not merely land in one location and establish roots. Upon reaching this terrain, they maintained their movement. They packed their carts, wagons, trunks, or moving trucks. They departed from their hometowns to create new settlements, only for their descendants to leave those places to start again. In various epochs, they ventured in diverse directions: into meadows and swamps to tend to livestock; to market towns to engage in trades; to factories to earn a living; to prairies to claim land and cultivate it; to flourishing cities to start their own businesses. They sought economic prospects, freedom, or community. They moved because they had to, or because they were in pursuit of liberty and equality. They departed because they could not remain where they were, or because they desired change. But they departed nonetheless.

The continual migrations of the populace gave rise to new anticipations. “When population movement was perpetually so significant,” the historian Carl Becker remarked, “the unfamiliar visage, the peculiar dialect, the unusual attire, and the uncommon religious beliefs ceased to be subjects of comment or concern.” A dynamic populace unveiled avenues for pluralism as disparate groups learned to coexist. The term “stranger,” Becker noted, which in other nations often connoted “enemy,” transformed into “a common form of amicable greeting.” In a nation of perpetual arrivals and departures, newcomers could be viewed less as threats to the established order and more as beneficial additions to an expanding community: “Howdy, stranger.” Mobility has long been a defining element of American identity and a cornerstone of its democracy.

Americans transformed migration from the last resort of the needful and impoverished into the affirmation of a fundamental right. When the Puritans approached American shores in the 17th century, they legitimized their abandonment of their rightful homes with the bold assertion that sometimes relocation could be honorable or even praiseworthy. This right to depart soon became enshrined in law. However, their towns operated as semi-autonomous entities, overseeing their boundaries, selecting their inhabitants, and regulating the behavior of their members. Anyone could leave, yet not everyone could stay. Two hundred years later, as the nascent United States expanded westward, it would additionally introduce a complementary freedom — if only for some — the right to belong. Together, these principles established a new and transformative liberty. Instead of enabling communities to dictate their own members, Americans opted to empower individuals to choose their communities.

As Americans transitioned from one place to another, they also ascended socially and economically. The remarkable geographic movement within the United States fueled its equally unique levels of social and economic mobility. Although moving was always a profound upheaval, with the actual pain of transition, individuals who relocated often discovered new beginnings, connections, communities, and opportunities. They gained the chance to break free from stifling social hierarchies, depleted agricultural land, and dead-end careers. On average, migrants have consistently prospered more than those who remained stationary, providing better futures for their offspring — a relationship that has notably endured across four centuries, even amidst considerable societal change.

No guarantees existed. Regardless of how lush the grass seemed, many Americans who ventured to the other side of the fence discovered it to be barren. Boomtowns morphed into ghost towns; entire sectors became redundant. Furthermore, mobility was never without contention. Waves of immigrants encountered prejudice from those who arrived just slightly earlier, often being barred from communities they aspired to join due to their Irish, Italian, or Jewish heritage. Laws discriminated against the Chinese, and vigilante groups forced them from their homes. Women rarely enjoyed the complete freedom of movement, being hindered by societal constraints, legal impediments, and physical threats.

Moreover, even following the abolition of slavery, Black Americans had to persistently contend for their right to move amid segregation and racial violence.

Nevertheless, members of all these groups, as well as others, continued to journey onward whenever possible, recognizing the vital connection between mobility and opportunity. Where

Racists and nativists aimed to exclude newcomers, yet these individuals persistently sought entry. When the initial attempt failed, individuals from various backgrounds were always able to spot another more enticing destination calling them forward. They could set out for the wilds, hit the highways, claim their space, or embark on a fresh beginning in a city that never rests. Our culture is saturated with the idioms of mobility.

The ability to move created avenues for political and religious variety. Individuals dissatisfied with their community’s decisions were not bound to endless conflicts; they could, with minimal resources, relocate to a setting they preferred, casting their votes with their feet. Social identities also evolved from inherited traits into self-made choices. The voluntary groups Americans formed led to a notable flourishing of religious and social life, as newcomers dedicated themselves to nurturing connections, transforming America into a country of joiners. Unburdened by the heavy load of tradition, and the limitations of custom and precedent, the nascent nation gained a reputation for its entrepreneurial spirit and ingenuity and for its swift economic progress. Mobility set the United States apart from the relative stagnation of Europe. American institutions were acclimatized for the continuous movement of the populace, adjusted for individuals relocating repeatedly in pursuit of greater prospects. The most distinctive aspects of the young republic invariably traced back to this singular, foundational truth: Americans were always beginning anew, perpetually looking forward to their next opportunity, constantly striving to ascend by advancing. Mobility has served as the formidable engine of American wealth, the crucial mechanism of social parity, and the stabilizing force of our diverse democracy.

However, in the past five decades, the engine of American opportunity has been gradually stalling, plunging society into turmoil. Americans have become less inclined to shift from one state to another, or to relocate within a state, or to change residences within a city. During the late 19th century, the pinnacle of American mobility, about a third of all Americans may have altered their addresses yearly. In the 1940s and 1950s, roughly one in five Americans moved each year. By 2021, merely one-twelfth of Americans relocated. This sharp drop in geographical mobility stands as the most significant social shift of the last fifty years, and perhaps the least acknowledged.

What caused the decline of American mobility? There is no lack of potential culprits. Individuals have always been most mobile while they are relatively young, and the nation is aging. The average American was merely sixteen years old in 1800 and twenty-eight in 1970, but now exceeds thirty-eight. The rise of occupational licensing may have increased the expenses associated with finding jobs in new locales. Alternatively, the explanations could indicate positive trends. As more women have entered the workforce, dual-income families may have discovered it increasingly challenging to relocate. The prevalence of shared custody complicates the ability of divorced partners to move. More Americans are homeowners, whereas renters have historically shown greater mobility. Perhaps Americans are simply becoming more prosperous and better able to find positions and communities that align with their desires, thereby diminishing their urgency to relocate. Maybe they are depending on remote work to remain in place.

Nevertheless, none of these explanations can sufficiently account for the widespread, ongoing decreases in geographical mobility alone, or even in combination. The nation may be aging, yet the decline has been particularly pronounced among younger Americans. The expansion of occupational licensing is genuine, but the majority of jobs are not licensed, and it contributes perhaps five percent to the overall decrease. While dual-earner households may be less mobile, their decline has mirrored that of other demographics. Declines in mobility are evident not only among homeowners but also among renters, and this trend predates the advent of remote work. And just observe the surroundings. Do Americans appear to be happier and more satisfied to you?

Yet, there is another group of suspects, and the evidence against them is convincing: American mobility has been gradually suffocated by generations of reformers aiming to reassert control over their neighborhoods and neighbors. At the beginning of the 20th century, reformers sought to employ the benefits of science and rationality to manage growth, reinstating order and oversight in a haphazard and chaotic environment that intermingled shops and residences among various ethnicities and income levels. Their preferred instruments were building codes, restrictive covenants, and zoning regulations, designed to segregate land by function, class, and race. New Deal representatives later embraced the cause, mandating local jurisdictions to apply these instruments to their communities and placing new construction firmly under government oversight. Then, in the postwar years, skepticism about large businesses and governmental authority motivated a new generation of activists to empower individuals and gatherings to contest decisions made by bureaucrats. This diverse group of reformers acted on an assortment of motives, some commendable and others reprehensible. Some would likely appreciate the results of their efforts, while others would be horrified by the unintended backlash of their actions. However, collectively, the reforms they implemented have established a uniquely ineffective system. Almost all new construction in the United States now necessitates government approval, and anyone with sufficient time, resources, and knowledge can effectively veto that approval, or at the very least create significant costs and delays. Consequently, in the areas that need it most urgently, housing has become impossibly difficult to build. If the freedom to relocate was originally secured by allowing Americans to select their own communities, it has since been undermined by a succession of legal and political reforms that reestablished the sovereignty of local neighborhoods and permitted them to choose their own inhabitants.

These transformations occurred so gradually that most Americans remain unaware of how drastically they have reshaped society. Throughout much of our history, a highly mobile population gravitated toward opportunities. When a location thrived, it swiftly overflowed with newcomers. Builders rushed to satisfy the demand for housing. Farms gave way to clusters of homes, evolving into townhouses, which blossomed into apartment complexes or even skyscrapers. Yet, in today’s growing urban areas and bustling towns, restrictions have effectively frozen the built environment. As a consequence, housing has become artificially scarce and prohibitively costly. Only a fortunate few can still afford to relocate to their desired locations. Most individuals, however, would find that the escalating costs of housing in thriving cities offering superior job prospects would make relocation overall detrimental to their well-being. Americans are no longer moving because, for so many, the expense of relocating risks outweighing the benefits.

The consequences of our national stagnation are daunting to consider. Fewer Americans are initiating new businesses. Between 1985 and 2014, both the total percentage of entrepreneurs within the population and the number of individuals newly becoming entrepreneurs dropped by half. More Americans have ceased discovering new employment. Regularly changing jobs during youth is linked with occupational and economic mobility, yet the share of individuals transitioning between industries, positions, and employers has dramatically decreased, especially among younger laborers; they are now less likely to have worked for four or more employers by the time they reach thirty, and more likely to have been with just one or two. Additionally, more Americans find themselves in worse economic circumstances than their parents. In 1970, approximately eight out of every ten individuals turning twenty could expect to earn more than their parents; by the close of the century, that was only true for half, and that fraction likely continues to dwindle.

As grim as the economic indicators may appear, the measures of societal health are even more distressing. Compared to Americans at the start of the 1970s, the average American today belongs to roughly half as many organizations. Church membership has declined by about a third, along with the proportion of individuals socializing with neighbors several times a week. A majority of Americans inform pollsters that their social isolation has left them feeling anxious and depressed. The birth rate has diminished, and while half of Americans once believed most people could be trusted, today only a third share the same sentiment. Thus, Americans are not founding new businesses, transitioning to better jobs, or ascending the social ladder as they once did. They aren’t joining groups, gathering for prayer, having children, or socializing as they used to. They no longer trust one another. They are, in a term, trapped.

Copyright © 2025 by Yoni Appelbaum. Published by Random House, an imprint and division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.