Stay and Resist, or Go into Exile?

The dilemma of whether (and when) to leave the country when autocracy arrives

"Should I leave the country now for somewhere safer?” “How do you know when it's time to move?" “Where should I go?” Almost every day now, as the inauguration of Donald Trump approaches, I receive queries like these from fellow Americans. The personalized nature of the decision to go into exile means that it is very difficult to counsel people. However, we can learn from the history of such fateful choices, which also teaches us that exile is not a linear path, nor an irreversible one.

I have been engaging with the history of émigrés from dictatorships for decades. My interest in studying Fascism was sparked by growing up in Pacific Palisades, California, where the writer Thomas Mann and other famous exiles had sought refuge from Nazism. Over the next century, America became a destination for so many others fleeing dictatorship. Now it may be our turn to experience some form of autocracy.

The title of this essay sums up the eternal dilemma of the anti-authoritarian: do I stay and resist, or go into exile? In reality, there is a third option, and as everywhere in the world, it is likely to be the most popular one. You stay put, and keep your head down and your criticism of the government private. That way you and your loved ones can minimize any adverse consequences while you “wait it out.”

Only a small percentage of the population leaves the country, or stays and actively resists, not least because these choices pose financial, legal, physical, and other challenges. And yet it is often these minorities who make history, whether by leading the opposition from abroad (as Belarusian politician Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya is doing from Lithuania) or from inside the country, organizing protests or other resistance actions. And in our age of transnational repression, being abroad can still be dangerous for dissidents who persist with political activities.

Yet the questions that the politically active have grappled with have changed little since the dawn of authoritarianism. If all the resisters leave, who is left to fight for freedom? How can I turn my back on my country? “Guilt is exile’s eternal companion,” reflects the writer Hisham Matar, who, as the son of Jaballa Matar, an opponent of Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi, was forced to follow his compatriots’ fates from abroad and had no information about his imprisoned relatives back home.

And if the resisters who stay are silenced, who is left to lead the struggle, document the abuses, and counter the propaganda? Isn’t it more pragmatic to leave and be able to work for freedom rather than sit in jail? Alexi Navalny’s death in a Siberian lager is an example of what can happen to high-profile opponents of the dictator when they do not leave. Navalny could have easily remained abroad after his stay in Germany to recover from a Kremlin poisoning, but he refused to remove himself voluntarily and make it easier for the “thieving little man in his bunker,” as he memorably referred to Vladimir Putin during his 2021 Moscow sentencing, to claim victory over him and his anti-corruption work.

Some people escape one dictatorship by going to another. That might seem strange, and yet geographical proximity or the ability to get residence papers make it a not uncommon choice. Chileans who fled Augusto Pinochet’s military regime after the 1973 coup settled in Brazil’s military regime, or (if they were Communists) in East Germany. Germans found refuge from Nazism in Fascist Italy, and Syrians crossed the border to Turkey as they fled the Assad regime. Some exiles also return home, thinking maybe it won’t be that bad, before leaving again for good.

Many people want to know the right time to leave, and history is full of stories of people who did not leave their countries in time to escape persecution. There are good reasons for this. Dictators are impulsive, and love “shock events,” as I refer to them in Strongmen (which has exile as a theme). What is fine today may be grounds for persecution tomorrow, and all bets are off if a state of emergency is declared.

Going into exile also requires money and other things that many individuals do not have: a job offer, the right connections, entry papers, a way to care for loved ones who cannot leave, or a place to stay in another country. Those at elite institutions or multinational/global companies might have more possibilities to move abroad than activists or politicians rooted in local contexts.

That’s why we should not assume that those who stay in dictatorships are in denial. The Jewish linguist Viktor Klemperer is a case in point. He remained in Nazi Germany because he could not find a university position abroad (unlike his famous conductor cousin, Otto Klemperer, who moved to Los Angeles). “Don’t think about it, live one’s life, bury oneself in the most private matters!" he wrote in late September 1938, hoping, like other Jews who stayed in Germany, that each new round of persecution would be the last. "Fine resolution, but so difficult to keep.”

As we prepare for some form of autocracy in America, it is no comfort to know that Trump and his zealous and unscrupulous associates have advertised their desire to go after groups of people perennially targeted by authoritarians: immigrants, Muslims, Jews, opposition politicians, the unhoused, LGBTQ+ people, activists, journalists, scientists, and educators. It will be especially dangerous to be a transgender person in America, or anyone involved with reproductive and immigrant rights.

American movements in response to autocracy may differ from those of other populations due to the strength of states’ rights here. We are likely to see internal migration instead of exile, with people leaving states where voting, reproductive, LGBTQ+ and other rights are being extinguished.

There's also a history of regional movement in search of freedom in our country that we can build on. The Jim Crow South was a regional authoritarianism in many respects. That’s why the former CEO and President of the NAACP, Cornell William Brooks, states in our 2021 Lucid interview that we might begin to see “Black Southerners who came to New York and Chicago and Detroit” as “refugees; they were fleeing terrorism. And so Black folk are the descendants of these refugees, as well as of enslaved people."

While every person contemplating exile has their own unique situation and resources, there is one constant among such departures: when you exit your homeland, you enter into a state of waiting. Waiting for things to get better; waiting for the tyrant to die or, if elections still exist, be voted out; waiting for freedom to arrive so you can return to beloved places and people.

The Syrians who rushed to the Turkish border to enter their native country as soon as they heard that the Assad regime had fallen bear witness to the pain of living in exile, even if on the surface you have adjusted to your new life.

A mother and her son, Syrian refugees in Turkey, cross the border to return home after the fall of the Assad regime. Dec, 11, 2024. Murat Kocabas/SOPA Images/LightRocket/via Getty Images

Iván Jaksic knew this pain well. He left his native Chile for Argentina and then the US after the 1973 coup. After a few years, he returned to Chile, only to be tried by a military court. It took another period in the US and Sweden for him to accept that his departure from Chile would be permanent.

Jaksic became a professor at Notre Dame University and Stanford University, and a US citizen. Exile saved Jaksic from serving in Pinochet's murderous military, and gave him a new start. Yet he never stopped missing his home.

Years later, he still longed for "a certain texture of air, and light, and tones of voice and fragrances of sea, mountains and food, from which you are, perhaps permanently, removed. There is also the longing for the life that could have been…. the desire to have lived a life without catastrophic breaks, a life in the place it was meant to be."