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Only two things are certain in life: death and taxes. In Italy, the certainty of paying taxes gets replaced by the certainty of complaining.
You were sold the dream of la dolce vita (the sweet life) in Italy and the afternoon siesta, but every Italian you meet seems to be complaining about life.
What’s actually going on and how does this affect your potential move to Italy?
What Italians complain about
Let’s start by pinning down what Italians complain about.
Each Italian is different, but there are broad categories of complaints that apply to most.
Italians complain about taxes being too high. Objectively, they are. A few exceptions ease fiscal pressure for some, but overall, taxes are some of the highest in Europe.
This is in part because so many evade taxes. The taxi driver with a constantly “malfunctioning” card reader, the bar not issuing a scontrino (fiscal receipt), and the host offering to cancel your Expedia booking for a discount if you pay cash are all examples of furbi (cunning people) trying to dodge taxes.
This, in turn, becomes a vicious cycle in which tax rates must be high enough to offset the shortfall in revenue. You might think that going after tax evaders is the right strategy, but it’s often political suicide.
I’ll give you one example before we move on to other reasons for complaining. In Italy, people who own a TV (virtually every household) have to pay “il canone RAI,” a tax of 90 euros a year. Millions of Italians did not pay it, and enforcing it wasn’t easy.
So then Prime Minister Matteo Renzi rolled the canone into the electricity bill every Italian has to pay (10 installments of 9 euros each, per year). Suddenly, over 5.5 million Italian households started paying the canone. Also, suddenly 5.5 million households stopped voting for Renzi, and he went from being a popular moderate leftist politician to sitting on the sidelines. (There were other factors, but this didn’t make him any friends.)
On that note, and not unique to Italians, we do love to complain about politicians regardless of who is in charge. “È tutto un magna magna” (it’s all one big feeding frenzy) is a common expression to vent about politicians being greedy and only looking out for themselves.
Another common complaint, perhaps even more popular than taxes, is the lack of jobs and low wages for the jobs that do exist. Only 67.6% of working-age Italians have jobs, compared with 81.1% in Germany. Italy and Romania are the only two countries in the EU below 70%. A third of the working-age population isn’t even looking for work, the highest inactivity rate in Europe. The south is worse still: Calabria and Campania are the only regions in the entire EU where fewer than half of working-age people have a job.
And the average country-wide salary, bumped by the prosperous north, is about 1,700 euros a month, net. On average annual wages, Italy sits second to last in the G7, ahead of only Japan. Above all, it’s the only country in the EU to have had its wages go down over the past 30 years, instead of going up or at least keeping up with inflation.
Healthcare, and services in general, are another source of frustration. The truth, at least as far as healthcare goes, is that Italians are a bit spoiled and don’t fully realize how good they have it.
Virtually everybody has a GP without being on a years-long wait list as we do in Canada. In many places, doctors will come visit you at home. There is even a medical night service at home, and 24/7 access to at least one pharmacy in the area. Finally, the standard of care is genuinely high.
All of it is virtually “free,” even most medicines. The catch is slow access to specialists, but private access is fast (days or a couple of weeks) and relatively inexpensive. Still, if you do go the public route, you might have to wait for months for specialists.
Italians then complain about the heat. Rightfully so in summer, even though modern technology such as air conditioning exists to make everyone more comfortable. That comes at a cost, however, and we already discussed that finances are tight for most.
Finally, a major complaint by almost half the population is immigration. A significant percentage of the country sees immigrants as problematic and wants them gone, which puts Prime Minister Meloni in the awkward position of being Schrödinger’s fascist; some critics see her as a fascist while others see her as not fascist enough to enact ICE-style remigrations.
This is helping Futuro Nazionale, Roberto Vannacci’s very right-wing party, to advance quickly in the polls off the frustration of Italians who see immigrants, particularly North African ones, as a source of crime rather than a resource for the country. Founded six months ago, it is polling around 7% in the summer of 2026, fifth (soon fourth) nationally and ahead of Salvini’s Lega.
Italians’ complaints easily explain why their default stance when you tell them that you’re considering moving is “ma sei matto?” (Are you crazy?) Even though your circumstances would be wildly different than theirs and moving might be the best thing you’ll ever do.
Complaining is the national language
Here’s something you need to understand about Italians: complaining is the national language. The default mode. It’s akin to small talk. Canadians complain about the weather. Italians about their country.
The expression “piangersi addosso,” literally to cry on yourself, and the noun “la lamentela” (the complaint) are practically national genres.
Neapolitans have an even more colorful expression for the attitude many Italians have: “chiagni e fotti” (you cry and you f**k), meaning that things are actually going pretty well but you still complain about it.
Because the grievances above, for the most part, are legitimate. But life for many Italians is still very good.
What Italians do besides complaining
Italians complain, but do they do anything about their condition? Many do not, in part because they drown in learned helplessness. They don’t think that things are going to get better, regardless of what they do. Walk into the self-help section of an Italian bookstore, and most of what you’ll find is translated from English.
Others do something, but it takes the shape of what I did 23 years ago: they leave the country to seek better opportunities. Italy is in fact bleeding young, highly educated people. Between 2011 and 2024, roughly 630,000 Italians aged 18 to 34 moved abroad. Counting all ages, 156,000 citizens left in 2024 alone, a record (though part of that spike is people abroad finally registering after new penalties kicked in).
Make no mistake, the people who complain the loudest are the ones more likely to stay. Their complaining is the valvola di sfogo (release valve) to vent their frustration so that the moka pot that is their nervous system doesn’t blow up.
It’s like dogs: you don’t have to worry about the yapping Chihuahua. You have to worry about the silent Cane Corso.
So are Italians miserable?
Back in 2008, Pew ran a piece under the title “Italy’s Malaise: La Vita Non É Cosí Dolce.” (By the way, they got both accents wrong.) Only about one Italian in ten believed the next generation would have a better life than the current one, the lowest percentage among the Western countries surveyed.
Plenty of Europeans are gloomy about money. When Il Sole 24 Ore commissioned a survey of young adults across Europe, Italians shared the same economic anxieties as the French, Germans, Spanish, and British but stood out for being the only ones to conclude that there’s no way out. Others see a tough situation. Young Italians see a hopeless one.
The World Happiness Report asks people: “Where does your life stand today, zero to ten?” Italians answer 6.57. That’s well above the global average, and 38th out of 147 countries. It’s the self-report of a country that is, day to day, doing pretty well.
Take this at face value, and Italians are not miserable. They didn’t say 4.
But that question only asks how life feels right now. It never asks the question Italians would respond to most harshly: whether there is a future in Italy.
So here is the interesting paradox: Italians complain a lot and are not hopeful about the future. Yet, they are not miserable.
My theory is that, as much as they take Italy for granted, they do realize that Italy still offers a life worth living. They eat well, they live long, the afternoon still slows down the way the tourist guides suggest. It’s not full-on dolce vita, that’s a myth, but it’s not so bad either.
So a bit defeatist? Yes. Doth the lady protest too much? Absolutely. Miserable? Not really.
What this means if you’re moving to Italy
The decision that will shape your Italian life the most is not which region, though that’s important. It’s whether your income depends on the Italian economy or is insulated from it.
Live off a remote salary, a foreign pension, or savings, and the stagnant wages and lack of hope are, put bluntly, not your problem. You get the amazing food, the light, the cheaper cost of living, the slower afternoon, and the passeggiata: pretty much the postcard Italy you were promised.
In fact, the engine of the lamentela in Italy is stagnant wages. Remove that variable, as an expat, and your own assessment will be much higher than the already respectable 6.57.
Oh wow, coming from Romania where everything costs the same and medium salary is under 1000 euro, healthcare means bringing the antibiotics and the pampers TO the hospital and rural schools have toilet outside the building - the lamentela for living in Italy is an erotic dream 😀
I don't think they're miserable. I think there's a melancholy streak in the national character that you don't notice until you've been here a while. As an English person I recognise and resonate with it. We're all Puddlglum together.
Maybe that's why I like it here so much now. (It certainly isn't the weather, which I hate with all my soul)