Why Young Britons Are Leaving: Taxes, Rent, and Poor Healthcare

“I can’t believe more people aren’t making the move,” remarks 28-year-old William Bowden after relocating from the U.K. to Dubai, United Arab Emirates, last year. In Britain, he observes, “things rarely function properly. Even when they do, you feel taken advantage of—and then the weather just adds to it.”

Bowden grew up in Leigh-on-Sea, a coastal town in Essex once named the East of England’s second‑happiest place to live, located roughly 45 minutes east of London by train. He shared a detached house with his mother and younger sister, overlooking the Thames Estuary. After earning a degree from the University of Kent, he began a career as a ship broker in London. He had what many would call a solid city job, but owning even a modest family home in his hometown seemed out of reach.

“For most people in the U.K., owning a home has become almost a distant dream without family help these days,” he explains. Even acquiring a three-bedroom semi‑detached house on a UK salary, given the tax burden, felt like “a million miles away.” In 2024, roughly half of first‑time buyers received help from the Bank of Mum and Dad.

Yet the shift in Bowden’s life came after his move to the Middle East. He continued doing similar work, but his earnings stretched much further. He could live in a well‑appointed apartment that London would have priced out of reach. The UAE does not impose personal income tax on salaries or wages. “Even without any raise,” Bowden notes, “I’d be about 30–40 percent better off.”

The disparity was so striking that it altered his plan. “When I first moved… I expected to stay in Dubai for three to five years, save enough to start a family, and then return to the U.K.” He valued his British upbringing and family ties, but after a few months in Dubai he realized starting a family there would be simpler. “I don’t think I’ll be returning to the United Kingdom anytime soon,” he adds.

Bowden numbers among more than 1.2 million Britons who have left the United Kingdom since 2021. In 2025 alone, 246,000 Britons relocated abroad.

The majority of departures aren’t elderly retirees seeking sunnier skies. They are young, driven individuals pursuing personal and professional ambitions. Government data show that about two‑thirds of British nationals who left the U.K. between April 2024 and March 2025 were aged 16–34. The net loss among younger cohorts has risen every year since 2022, with emigration increasingly concentrated among young adults.

When a country keeps making life harder for the young—through sky‑high housing costs, steep taxes, stagnant wages, underwhelming public services, and a job market with limited prospects—some people opt to leave. Often, those who depart are precisely the types Britain should want to retain: entrepreneurs, parents, developers, and others who value effort and self‑improvement.

As 25‑year‑old Harrison Griffiths, who moved to Serbia in 2024, puts it, they are “people who have the agency to take control of their life, break out of Stagnation Island, and go out and pursue something better.”

‘Cash Cows for Entitled Pensioners’

“Young people, like any other generation, are simply trying to figure out their place in the world and build a life within it,” Griffiths says. He grew up in Evesham, a medieval market town in Worcestershire, and studied at the University of Exeter.

Griffiths, a policy professional, views his decision to leave Britain as part of a new form of British emigration enabled by the possibility of remote work. “If you can work remotely,” he argues, you can relocate to a place with lower living costs and lighter taxation. For that group, Britain is no longer the default place to establish a life; it is just one option among many.

Moving to Serbia was, he admits, “a fairly rogue choice.” Yet in everyday life, he finds it less suffocating than Britain. In the U.K., the government tends to “tax, ban, and dictate” many of the everyday pleasures Griffiths enjoys. “I like a drink, I like a cigarette, I like to vape,” he explains. In Belgrade, he can sit in a bar with a pint costing around three euros, smoke, vape, and relish his life. “These things in daily life feel a bit freer here,” he says, “less meddled with by nannying politicians.”

Housing also played a major role in Griffiths’ decision to leave. In Belgrade, he rents a pleasant two‑bedroom apartment in a good neighborhood. In London, his rent was comparable, but he shared a bedroom with four friends in a space without a proper window.

It wasn’t only housing prices that pushed him away; it was the sense that the system was rigged against young people like him. “We aren’t just cash cows for entitled pensioners,” he asserts.

Britain’s economy now bears a clear divide between generations. The majority of Gen Z Brits—61 percent—feel they must work harder than their parents did at the same age, according to a YouGov poll, and the economic fortunes of younger and older Brits are diverging.

Wealth is growing more rapidly for older Brits but shrinking for younger ones. In real terms, median wealth for people in their sixties was 55 percent higher in 2018–2020 than for those in their sixties in 2006–2008. Conversely, those in their thirties had median wealth 34 percent lower. Median earnings for 25‑year‑olds rose markedly from the generation born in 1957–1961 (about £19,900 in 2024–25 terms) to the 1977–1981 cohort (around £28,500). Since the 2008 financial crisis, however, earnings for 25‑year‑olds have stagnated, with the 1997–2001 cohort earning roughly £28,000—similar to those born two decades earlier. A late‑1980s cohort earning at age 30 was about 8 percent lower than the 1990s cohort at the same age, according to the Resolution Foundation’s Intergenerational Audit 2023.

The most conspicuous facet of this split is housing. Britain endures the most acute housing shortage among major developed nations, and persistent under‑supply has driven prices and rents well beyond the reach of ordinary young workers. In the late 1990s, a typical home cost roughly 3.5 times the average earnings. Now, a typical English home costs about 7.6 times average earnings, with London homes costing more than 10 times local earnings. Meanwhile, nearly three-quarters of retired households own their home outright—a boon that has substantially boosted private wealth in the country’s history.

For young Britons, the outlook is bleak. In 2000, 59 percent of those aged 25–34 owned their home; by 2022–23, this share had fallen to 39 percent. Many spend a large portion of their income on rent, with private renters in England allocating 34 percent of earnings to housing costs, compared with 19 percent for those with mortgages.

Mouna Ramdani, 28, who left St Albans for Dubai nearly six years ago, also tied housing to a broader problem. She notes that many young people settle for unfavorable living situations just to move out of their parents’ homes. In Dubai, she can afford a lifestyle that is out of reach in London: a well‑appointed apartment with views, amenities, and independence. “I can afford one of the nicest places here,” she says, “but I can’t afford that in London.”

‘For Family Life’

It isn’t only luxury perks that draw Britons away; the cost of starting a family in a country with such price tags is also a decisive factor. That reality makes the United States appealing to those who can navigate immigration.

Carly Rolph, a 31-year-old mother who grew up in Louisiana, married a Brit, became a U.K. citizen, and raised a couple of children, finally saw housing costs as a major obstacle to her family’s well‑being. Their mortgage payments doubled, and both Rolph and her husband lost their jobs.

“It’s starting to feel as if we’re forcing ourselves to persevere for no good reason,” she says. Rolph and her husband plan to relocate with their two young children to Louisiana, where they will be closer to her relatives and enjoy greater opportunities. “I’m genuinely thrilled about the experiences we can offer them in the U.S.,” she adds, “simply because we can afford them.”

The share of women in England and Wales who have not had a child by 30 has surged—from 48 percent for those born in the late 1980s to 58 percent for those born in the early 1990s. The share of people without a university education in their mid to late 20s living with their parents has also risen sharply over the last 25 years, from 15 percent in the late 1990s to 26 percent in 2023–2024. Among that group, roughly 86 percent were childless; about 40 percent of the overall nine‑point rise in childlessness is attributed to the shift toward living with parents, according to the Resolution Foundation.

The high cost of living in Britain has become an intolerable burden for many families. Jason Kwao, 29, and his wife Sumekka found themselves juggling work, childcare fees, and the effort to build a life together. Kwao, a Croydon native in South London, worked long hours at an agency, while his daughter spent significant time in childcare as they tried to manage the day from morning to late evening. “I was burning the candle at both ends,” he recalls, “and it still wasn’t enough.”

Eventually the family took a calculated risk. They left Britain, settled abroad, and began building their own enterprise. In Dubai, Kwao discovered not only a more favorable tax climate but a fundamentally different approach to family life. Rather than a life split between work and distant children, he could work from home, spend more time with his kids, and shape a life around his family. “For family life,” Kwao notes, the move proved worthwhile. “That’s the core reason.”

Even the United Kingdom’s “free” National Health Service could not compete with that option.

‘Not the NHS That I Was Promised’

“Even with the NHS, if you land on a waiting list, you end up waiting far too long to be seen,” Kwao says. “There are numerous issues with it. Frankly, I’d rather pay for private care.”

“The National Health Service is the closest thing the English have to a religion,” former British Chancellor of the Exchequer Nigel Lawson noted in 1992. The U.K.’s publicly funded system has long been a source of national pride and politically untouchable prestige. Yet the country still records some of the longest medical wait times among developed nations, and health outcomes on many metrics lag behind. In 2019, the U.K. reported a treatable‑mortality rate of 71 per 100,000—highest in Western Europe since records began in 2001, even as it was the lowest figure since 2001.

Recently, more Britons have been waking up to the NHS’s shortcomings. In 2024, only one in five adults (21 percent) reported being “very” or “quite” satisfied with the NHS, a drop of 39 percentage points since 2019, according to the British Social Attitudes survey. It stands as the lowest level of satisfaction since the survey began in 1983.

For Rolph, inadequate healthcare was a contributing factor in her family’s decision to move abroad. The turning point came during a pregnancy with their second child. At a routine ultrasound, doctors found what Rolph describes as a “basketball‑sized growth” on her ovary. Initially, staff claimed there was “nothing to worry about.” Then they warned that the growth could be malignant and that it would not be clear until surgery was performed.

“We were told it was an emergency operation,” Rolph recalls, and delaying the procedure later in the pregnancy “could threaten my health” and “my baby’s health.”

For the next month, the operation was repeatedly canceled, sometimes on the eve of the scheduled date. While waiting, Rolph shared rooms with other women experiencing miscarriages or facing ectopic pregnancies, with little privacy. “It was disorienting,” she says.

After she finally underwent surgery, the postoperative care was sometimes alarming. Rolph describes extreme pain after major surgery, having to plead repeatedly for her morphine pump to be refilled, and being told by a nurse to “get over it” and “be tough,” even as doctors warned that mismanaging pain could endanger her pregnancy. After the procedure she was given some medication and told to monitor everything herself. “I was there for five days and didn’t even shower. No one changed my bedding,” she recalls.

“I endured substantial emotional and physical mistreatment at the NHS,” she adds. “I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a major reason we’re considering relocating abroad, because the NHS I was promised simply wasn’t what we experienced.”

At one point, the experience was so frightening that it changed even her view of medical care in the United States. “There came a moment when I would have gone into medical debt in the U.S. just to avoid what happened to me there.”

‘I Couldn’t Find Anything in the U.K.’

Sadly, the financial hardship facing young Britons does not end there. Official figures from the U.K.’s Office for National Statistics show that more than a million people aged 16–24—13.5 percent—are not in education, employment, or training (NEET). Those who do work face a punitive tax system. By 2026, Britons will work about 156 days for the tax authorities; roughly every penny earned up to June 5 will go to taxes. A graduate in the lowest tax bracket earning over £28,470 would keep about 68 percent of each additional pound earned after taxes, while a higher‑rate taxpayer would retain only around 58 percent.

The government has recently raised employment taxes, increased the legal minimum wage, and introduced broader regulatory burdens on the labor market. For instance, the newly enacted Employment Rights Act grants every employee the right to challenge unfair dismissal after six months of work, among other costly provisions that burden employers with red tape.

These policy shifts have contributed to a cautious attitude among employers when it comes to hiring young and inexperienced workers. The government’s own impact assessment estimates that the measures could cost businesses as much as £5 billion annually (about $6.8 billion), a cost largely passed on to consumers through higher prices or to workers through lower wages or reduced hiring.

Regardless of the cause, Britain’s job market has become noticeably less welcoming to younger workers. Job openings have shrunk: vacancies dropped from 1.3 million in spring 2022 to around 705,000 in parts of 2026. Meanwhile, about 606,000—roughly one in nine—of 16‑ to 24‑year‑olds are not employed and rely on Universal Credit.

As the labour market worsens, more young people face prolonged unemployment. Six in ten NEETs have never held a job. Many have given up; around 60 percent of young NEETs are economically inactive, meaning they are not working and not seeking work.

For a generation already contending with a higher cost of living and slim prospects of homeownership, simply securing a job is challenging.

Those who leave Britain do so against the backdrop of a broken compact. They are high‑achievers who judge Britain’s sluggish economy, steep rents, punitive taxes, and shrinking opportunities to be incompatible with their ambitions. For some, flight is an act of pragmatism; for others, a step toward a better life elsewhere. While some join the ranks of government assistance, others take the leap across borders.

This reflects Ramdani’s experience. “I think the root issue is our economy,” she says, “but it’s also the lack of opportunity.” In the U.K., employers increasingly want “experience for entry‑level roles.” In Dubai, however, you can secure an entry‑level job simply by taking it. After moving, she began by taking on freelance work, secured a major contract, and eventually built her own personal‑branding agency. “I knew I would start my own business,” she explains, “and I knew I wouldn’t do that in the U.K.”

She isn’t alone.

‘A Box in London’

The young Britons choosing to leave aren’t typically flush with cash or living as tax exiles, but they tend to be entrepreneurial and highly mobile.

According to the Dubai Chamber of Commerce, 2,733 British members joined in 2025 alone, making Britain the fourth‑largest source of new foreign businesses filing with the chamber. “In the UAE, you’ll find many young people who come over, start ventures. They have a hustler’s mindset and are ready to work,” Kwao says. Now a self‑made millionaire, he notes that the tax regime is a major part of the appeal: “If you’re in the U.K., you’ll surely want to experience what it’s like not to pay taxes.”

Ramdani shares the sentiment. “I could have launched a business in the U.K., but I wouldn’t have been able to sustain it long‑term with so much tax. It just didn’t seem viable at the time,” she says.

Yet the British expats who head for Serbia, the U.S., and the UAE still wish well for Britain and hope their homeland can offer a better life and a brighter future.

“Don’t get me wrong, I adore the U.K.,” says Griffiths. “This is my homeland, my people… I genuinely believe the British are exceptional.” But when he pictured building a life there, the harsh truth was “a lot of money,” “a lot of uncertainty,” “a lot of red tape,” and ultimately the prospect of living “in a box in London.”

Moving abroad has never been easier, and air travel makes visiting home even simpler. For bold young Britons, the decision to leave no longer means severing ties with their roots. It means choosing a home that better rewards their drive and helps them construct the life they want.

This should worry political leaders in Britain. The young are departing not out of disloyalty but from a conviction that they can’t reach their economic goals at home. They are not opposed to their country; they embody core British virtues—diligence, ambition, entrepreneurship, and a determination to make more of themselves. Yet in a transforming Britain, many who once embodied those traits see more appealing prospects elsewhere.

They have not abandoned Britain. Britain has abandoned them.