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Many international travelers (backpackers, digital nomads, and expatriates) originate from the United States. Stating this demographic reality might lead some readers of this piece to assume I have politically aligned with MAGA. Perhaps they envision me draped in the paraphernalia of a Trump supporter. However, such an assumption would be inaccurate. My aim is purely informational, driven by a commitment to factual accuracy. As a naturalized citizen myself, I’m a fervent advocate for immigration. While I believe in responsible border management to facilitate legal migration, I also empathize with undocumented immigrants. My history as a refugee instilled in me an understanding of the desperation that compels one to flee hardship and seek refuge in the West, yearning for opportunities in education, employment, healthcare, and safety.
The contributions of immigrants in the Western diaspora from developing nations bring immeasurable benefits to their families and communities. Consequently, I unequivocally condemn the draconian measures currently employed by U.S. authorities regarding immigration enforcement. It is worrying (even for Americans), at the very least. American travelers constitute the largest segment of the international tourism market globally. I think this should be acknowledged. While many Westerners journey abroad, my experience in Frankfurt was the substantial presence of Chinese tourists lately. European visitors frequently explore Central and South America. For Americans, these patterns extend to destinations ranging from Thailand and the Philippines to Europe and Australia. Americans are consistently a broader tourist demographic.
This, however, is unfortunately shadowed by a disturbing side effect. The alarming frequency with which American tourists become victims of overseas exploitation. This vulnerability extends beyond simple rudeness. It includes a worrisome lack of intervention from local authorities when Americans are defrauded. The notorious Istanbul nightclub swindle serves as one example. Imagine an American tourist in a Turkish nightclub and a persistent sex worker. After seemingly innocuous drinks and conversation, he’s abruptly confronted with a $500 demand. Should he refuse, a menacing entourage emerges, forcing him (through intimidation) to a cash machine to withdraw the demanded sum. Americans are being drugged, robbed, and killed in South America. An innocent date with a stunning sex worker ends in the American’s death.
A sophisticated network of con artists routinely victimizes American tourists in iconic European capitals like Paris and Rome. These brazen swindlers operate with a chilling efficiency bordering on organized crime. They employ various tactics (from peddling counterfeit relics to outright theft). They have designed an entire system to fleece every visitor. Given the alliances between NATO allies and the United States, the failure of local law enforcement to adequately safeguard American citizens is troubling. This negligence extends beyond France and Italy—reports of anti-American bias and mistreatment of tourists even surface in Spain. Simultaneously, a disturbing apathy pervades the American media. Many journalists, frequently boasting European ancestry, indulge in an excessive, almost idolatrous romanticization of Europe.
This rose-tinted view overshadows and, in many cases, suppresses negative coverage of Europe. While some journalists prioritize sensationalist topics, like sex workers abroad, the plight of Americans targeted by organized crime rings remains tragically marginalized. A nuanced perspective necessitates recognizing the long-standing subtle yet pervasive undercurrent of disrespect directed at the United States and Americans abroad. My own experiences revealed a startling degree of anti-American sentiment in Canada, far exceeding my expectations. Canadians also passionately interject themselves into American political discourse, dominating online comment sections and shaping domestic debates. It is a level of engagement bordering on participatory citizenship. This contrasts with the general American apathy toward Canadian affairs.
Many Americans are ignorant of Canada’s political structure, failing to identify the head of state, let alone name key figures in its government. Conversely, Canadians are intimately familiar with American politics and immerse themselves in American popular culture, participating enthusiastically rather than merely observing. This striking disparity prompted the wry observation that Canadians might secretly desire U.S. voting rights. The US’s recent immigration policy reeks of retaliatory measures, a tit-for-tat game played on a global stage. The intense Canadian involvement in American political discourse appears to have prompted a provocative, albeit untenable, thought—Canada’s annexation as a US state. Let me be clear. I emphatically reject this notion. But it shows the precariousness of international relations between these allies.
Europe’s initial commitment to reciprocal privileges for American citizens crumbled under the weight of local bureaucracy. This provoked a U.S. response: the withdrawal of comparable benefits for European nationals in the States. As a globally-minded citizen with multiple nationalities and international assets, I find this tit-for-tat approach unsettling. It demonstrates a long history of disrespect and mistreatment of Americans abroad—subtle slights, economic exploitation, and cultural marginalization have all played their part. The current global perception of American culture is, frankly, underwhelming. Many Americans might discover a warmer welcome and a more fulfilling travel experience in regions like the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Russia, China, Central America, New Zealand, Australia, or South America than in supposed allied countries.
This reality underscores the urgent need to reassess U.S. foreign policy and its impact on global geopolitics.
