Forget the Sunbelt. More people are moving to the Snowbelt.
The Sunbelt isn't quite as hot — for movers, that is — as it once was.
The pandemic and remote work initially drove people to the South, but that trend has slowed.
Some Midwestern states, particularly Wisconsin and Missouri, are attracting more residents.
Midwestern small towns and suburbs are in luck.
Over the last few decades, domestic migration to the Sunbelt has slowed — and the Midwest is becoming the new place to be.
In the mid-20th century, large numbers of Americans traded chillier, pricier locales in the North — also known as the Snowbelt — for balmy winters and cheaper homes across the South and Southwest, also called the Sunbelt. When the pandemic hit, the widespread adoption of remote work spurred a new surge of Americans to move to Florida, Texas, Arizona, the Carolinas, and other states across the Sunbelt.
But the COVID-related spike in southern transplants obscures a longer-term reverse trend. Over the last few decades, moves to the Sunbelt have significantly slowed. And more recently, some Midwestern and Northeastern states have been losing fewer people than they did pre-pandemic, and a few have even gained population. Rural areas in particular have seen an uptick in movers, creating a reverse Sunbelt to Snowbelt migration trend.
Just before the pandemic, Missouri and Wisconsin were experiencing net population losses, but now they're growing, a new paper from Harvard's Joint Center for Housing Studies found. Illinois, Ohio, and Michigan have seen their outflows slow post-pandemic. In the Northeast, Connecticut has also seen outward migration slow.
Two economists at the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank, Sylvain Leduc, and Daniel Wilson, similarly reported last year that the warmest places in the country have seen their population growth slow while the coldest places are growing. They argue that as temperatures rise with climate change, that trend looks like it's here to stay.
"The 'pivoting' in the U.S. climate-migration correlation over the past 50 years is likely to continue, leading to a reversal of the 20th century Snow Belt to Sun Belt migration pattern," they wrote.
It's not totally clear why we're seeing this new Sunbelt-to-Snowbelt trend, but cost-of-living issues and climate change could be factors, the researchers wrote.
Housing costs have spiked in much of the Sunbelt and South, particularly over the last few years, helping slow southern migration, Riordan Frost, a research analyst at Harvard and the author of the paper, told Business Insider.
"Not only in the typically super high-cost states has affordability been an issue, but it's becoming more of an issue in the Sunbelt," Frost said.
At the same time, much of the Snowbelt, particularly more rural areas, has stayed relatively affordable. The North is also experiencing less frigid winters, while the Sunbelt grows ever steamier, making the Snowbelt increasingly attractive.
"These new migration trends should help mitigate the effects of climate change, as fewer people would be directly exposed to the negative impacts of hotter and more frequent extreme heat days," Leduc and Wilson wrote.
Zooming out, it's important to note that many Americans are staying put. Household mobility in the US has plummeted since its peak in the 1980s, falling from a rate of 18% in 1986 to 9.7% in 2019. The pandemic briefly disrupted that trend, but over the last couple of years rates of moving have continued their pre-2020 decline trajectory.
And a big part of the problem is elevated housing costs. Many can't afford to move because of elevated mortgage rates, home prices, and rents. Others fear losing the low-interest home loans they secured when interest rates fell in the early months of the pandemic.
"In general, the homeowner mobility rate has really plunged, and that's dragging down the overall mobility rate quite a bit," Frost said.
Have you moved to the Midwest — or left? Reach out to this reporter at erelman@businessinsider.com.
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3 hours ago
- CNBC
Why Disney and Universal are investing billions into their theme parks
The Walt Disney Company and Universal, two of the biggest names in theme parks, are both undertaking historic expansions to their experiences businesses. Universal Orlando Resort in May opened the gates to Epic Universe, its fourth theme park at its flagship resort. Epic cost an estimated $7 billion to build, according to numbers provided by the University of Central Florida. Brian Roberts, Chairman and CEO of Universal parent company Comcast, called it the "single-largest investment Comcast NBCUniversal has made in its theme park business". "It's so different than anything else that we've ever built, but certainly I think it's different than anything anyone's ever built," said Karen Irwin, Universal Orlando President and COO. Epic's opening coincides with an expansion of Universal Orlando's resort portfolio, adding three Loews hotels to bring its total to 11 operated on the property. Universal is betting that the addition of Epic will turn the resort into a full-week destination, a distinction that is normally reserved for its crosstown neighbor, Walt Disney World. Not to be upstaged, Disney is working on a historic undertaking of its own. In 2023, Disney announced plans to invest $60 billion in its experiences segment, which includes theme parks, cruise ships and consumer products. Of that investment, $30 billion will go to its domestic theme parks, Disney World and Disneyland. "We've got a lion's share of that investment coming to us," said Michael Hundgen, portfolio executive creative producer with Walt Disney Imagineering. "It's about finding what strikes the best creative intent in the most value oriented way possible." These investments come at a time when both Disney and Comcast are paring down or spinning off their linear TV segments, an arena that has seen volatility in recent years. By comparison, theme parks have been consistent revenue drivers for the companies in the post-COVID tourism bounce. However, the timing of these openings and expansions could prove challenging for both theme parks. Epic's opening summer coincides with fears of a travel slowdown due to economic volatility. "If you're uncertain how the economy is going to develop, then you're going to try to be more cautious in your spending," said Jorge Ridderstaat, associate professor at UCF's Rosen College of Hospitality Management.


Atlantic
3 hours ago
- Atlantic
Where Is Barack Obama?
Last month, while Donald Trump was in the Middle East being gifted a $400 million luxury jet from Qatar, Barack Obama headed off on his own foreign excursion: a trip to Norway, in a much smaller and more tasteful jet, to visit the summer estate of his old friend King Harald V. Together, they would savor the genteel glories of Bygdøyveien in May. They chewed over global affairs and the freshest local salmon, which had been smoked on the premises and seasoned with herbs from the royal garden. Trump has begun his second term with a continuous spree of democracy-shaking, economy-quaking, norm-obliterating action. And Obama, true to form, has remained carefully above it all. He picks his spots, which seldom involve Trump. In March, he celebrated the anniversary of the Affordable Care Act and posted his annual NCAA basketball brackets. In April, he sent out an Easter message and mourned the death of the pope. In May, he welcomed His Holiness Pope Leo XIV ('a fellow Chicagoan') and sent prayers to Joe Biden following his prostate-cancer diagnosis. No matter how brazen Trump becomes, the most effective communicator in the Democratic Party continues to opt for minimal communication. His 'audacity of hope' presidency has given way to the fierce lethargy of semi-retirement. Obama occasionally dips into politics with brief and unmemorable statements, or sporadic fundraising emails (subject: 'Barack Obama wants to meet you. Yes you.'). He praised his law-school alma mater, Harvard, for 'rejecting an unlawful and ham-handed attempt' by the White House 'to stifle academic freedom.' He criticized a Republican bill that would threaten health care for millions. He touted a liberal judge who was running for a crucial seat on the Wisconsin Supreme Court. When called upon, he can still deliver a top-notch campaign spiel, donor pitch, convention speech, or eulogy. Beyond that, Obama pops in with summer and year-end book, music, and film recommendations. He recently highlighted a few articles about AI and retweeted a promotional spot for Air Force Elite: Thunderbirds, a new Netflix documentary from his and Michelle's production company. (Michelle also has a fashion book coming out later this year: 'a celebration of confidence, identity, and authenticity,' she calls it.) Apparently, Barack is a devoted listener of The Ringer 's Bill Simmons Podcast, or so he told Jimmy Kimmel over dinner. In normal times, no one would deny Obama these diversions. He performed the world's most stressful job for eight years, served his country, made his history, and deserved to kick back and do the usual ex-president things: start a foundation, build a library, make unspeakable amounts of money. But the inevitable Trump-era counterpoint is that these are not normal times. And Obama's detachment feels jarringly incongruous with the desperation of his longtime admirers—even more so given Trump's assaults on what Obama achieved in office. It would be one thing if Obama had disappeared after leaving the White House, maybe taking up painting like George W. Bush. The problem is that Obama still very much has a public profile—one that screams comfort and nonchalance at a time when so many other Americans are terrified. 'There are many grandmas and Rachel Maddow viewers who have been more vocal in this moment than Barack Obama has,' Adam Green, a co-founder of the Progressive Change Institute, told me. 'It is heartbreaking,' he added, 'to see him sacrificing that megaphone when nobody else quite has it.' People who have worked with Obama since he left office say that he is extremely judicious about when he weighs in. 'We try to preserve his voice so that when he does speak, it has impact,' Eric Schultz, a close adviser to Obama in his post-presidency, told me. 'There is a dilution factor that we're very aware of.' 'The thing you don't want to do is, you don't want to regularize him,' former Attorney General Eric Holder, a close Obama friend and collaborator, told me. When I asked Holder what he meant by 'regularize,' he explained that there was a danger of turning Obama into just another hack commentator—' Tuesdays With Barack, or something like that,' Holder said. Like many of Obama's confidants, Holder bristles at suggestions that the former president has somehow deserted the Trump opposition. 'Should he do more? Everybody can have their opinions,' Holder said. 'The one thing that always kind of pisses me off is when people say he's not out there, or that he's not doing things, that he's just retired and we never hear from him. If you fucking look, folks, you would see that he's out there.' From the April 2016 issue: The Obama doctrine Obama's aides also say that he is loath to overshadow the next generation of Democratic leaders. They emphasize that he spends a great deal of time speaking privately with candidates and officials who seek his advice. But unfortunately for Democrats, they have not found their next fresh generational sensation since Obama was elected 17 years ago (Joe Biden obviously doesn't count). Until a new leader emerges, Obama could certainly take on a more vocal role without 'regularizing' himself in the lowlands of Trump-era politics. Obama remains the most popular Democrat alive at a time of historic unpopularity for his party. Unlike Biden, he appears not to have lost a step, or three. Unlike with Bill Clinton, his voice remains strong and his baggage minimal. Unlike both Biden and Clinton, he is relatively young and has a large constituency of Americans who still want to hear from him, including Black Americans, young voters, and other longtime Democratic blocs that gravitated toward Trump in November. 'Should Obama get out and do more? Yes, please,' Tracy Sefl, a Democratic media consultant in Chicago, told me. 'Help us,' she added. 'We're sinking over here.' Obama's conspicuous scarcity while Trump inflicts such damage isn't just a bad look. It's a dereliction of the message that he built his career on. When Obama first ran for president in 2008, his former life as a community organizer was central to his message. His campaign was not merely for him, but for civic action itself—the idea of Americans being invested in their own change. Throughout his time in the White House, he emphasized that 'citizen' was his most important title. After he left office in 2017, Obama said that he would work to inspire and develop the next cohort of leaders, which is essentially the mission of his foundation. It would seem a contradiction for him to say that he's devoting much of his post-presidency to promoting civic engagement when he himself seems so disengaged. To some degree, patience with Obama began wearing thin when he was still in office. His approval ratings sagged partway through his second term (before rebounding at the end). The rollout of the Affordable Care Act in 2013 was a fiasco, and the midterm elections of 2014 were a massacre. Obama looked powerless as Republicans in Congress ensured that he would pass no major legislation in his second term and blocked his nomination of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court. 'Obama, out,' the president said in the denouement of his last comedy routine at the White House Correspondents' Dinner, in 2016. In Obama lore, this mic-drop moment would instantly become famous—and prophetic. After Trump's first victory, Obama tried to reassure supporters that this was merely a setback. 'I don't believe in apocalyptic—until the apocalypse comes,' he said in an interview with The New Yorker. Insofar as Obama talked about how he imagined his post-presidency, he was inclined to disengage from day-to-day politics. At a press conference in November 2016, Obama said that he planned to 'take Michelle on vacation, get some rest, spend time with my girls, and do some writing, do some thinking.' He promised to give Trump the chance to do his job 'without somebody popping off in every instance.' But in that same press conference, he also allowed that if something arose that raised 'core questions about our values and our ideals, and if I think that it's necessary or helpful for me to defend those ideals, then I'll examine it when it comes.' That happened almost immediately. A few days after vowing in his inaugural address to end the 'American carnage' that he was inheriting, Trump signed an executive order banning foreign nationals from seven predominantly Muslim countries from entering the United States for 90 days. The so-called Muslim travel ban would quickly be blocked by the courts, but not before sowing chaos at U.S. points of entry. Obama put out a brief statement through a spokesperson ('the president fundamentally disagrees with the notion of discriminating against individuals because of their faith or religion'), and went on vacation. Trump's early onslaught made clear that Obama's ex-presidency would prove far more complicated than previous ones. And Obama's taste for glamorous settings and famous company—Richard Branson, David Geffen, George Clooney—made for a grating contrast with the turmoil back home. 'Just tone it down with the kitesurfing pictures,' John Oliver, the host of HBO's Last Week Tonight, said of Obama in an interview with Seth Meyers less than a month after the president left office. 'America is on fire,' Oliver added. 'I know that people accused him of being out of touch with the American people during his presidency. I'm not sure he's ever been more out of touch than he is now.' Oliver's spasm foreshadowed a rolling annoyance that continued as Trump's presidency wore on: that Obama was squandering his power and influence. 'Oh, Obama is still tweeting good tweets. That's very nice of him,' the anti-Trump writer Drew Magary wrote in a Medium column titled 'Where the Hell Is Barack Obama?' in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic. 'I'm sick of Obama staying above the fray while that fray is swallowing us whole.' Obama did insert himself in the 2024 election, reportedly taking an aggressive behind-the-scenes role last summer in trying to nudge Biden out of the race. He delivered a showstopper speech at the Democratic National Convention and campaigned several times for Kamala Harris in the fall. But among longtime Obama admirers I've spoken with, frustration with the former president has built since Trump returned to office. While campaigning for Harris last year, Obama framed the stakes of the election in terms of a looming catastrophe. 'These aren't ordinary times, and these are not ordinary elections,' he said at a campaign stop in Pittsburgh. Yet now that the impact is unfolding in the most pernicious ways, Obama seems to be resuming his ordinary chill and same old bits. Green, of the Progressive Change Institute, told me that when Obama put out his March Madness picks this year, he texted Schultz, the Obama adviser. 'Have I missed him speaking up in other places recently?' Green asked him. 'He did not respond to that.' (Schultz confirmed to me that he ignored the message but vowed to be 'more responsive to Adam Green's texts in the future.') Being a former president is inherently tricky: The role is ill-defined, and peripheral by definition. Part of the trickiness is how an ex-president can remain relevant, if he wants to. This is especially so given the current president. 'I don't know that anybody is relevant in the Trump era,' Mark Updegrove, a presidential historian and head of the LBJ Foundation, told me. Updegrove, who wrote a book called Second Acts: Presidential Lives and Legacies After the White House, said that Trump has succeeded in creating a reality in which every president who came before is suspect. 'All the standard rules of being an ex-president are no longer applicable,' he said. Still, Obama never presented himself as a 'standard rules' leader. This was the idea that his political rise was predicated on—that change required bold, against-the-grain thinking and uncomfortable action. Clearly, Obama still views himself this way, or at least still wants to be perceived this way. (A few years ago, he hosted a podcast with Bruce Springsteen called Renegades.) From the July 1973 issue: The last days of the president Stepping into the current political melee would not be an easy or comfortable role for Obama. He represents a figure of the past, which seems more and more like the ancient past as the Trump era crushes on. He is a notably long-view guy, who has spent a great deal of time composing a meticulous account of his own narrative. 'We're part of a long-running story,' Obama said in 2014. 'We just try to get our paragraph right.' Or thousands of paragraphs, in his case: The first installment of Obama's presidential memoir, A Promised Land, covered 768 pages and 29 hours of audio. No release date has been set for the second volume. But this might be one of those times for Obama to take a break from the long arc of the moral universe and tend to the immediate crisis. Several Democrats I've spoken with said they wish that Obama would stop worrying so much about the 'dilution factor.' While Democrats struggle to find their next phenom, Obama could be their interim boss. He could engage regularly, pointing out Trump's latest abuses. He did so earlier this spring, during an onstage conversation at Hamilton College. He was thoughtful, funny, and sounded genuinely aghast, even angry. He could do these public dialogues much more often, and even make them thematic. Focus on Trump's serial violations of the Constitution one week (recall that Obama once taught constitutional law), the latest instance of Trump's naked corruption the next. Blast out the most scathing lines on social media. Yes, it might trigger Trump, and create more attention than Obama evidently wants. But Trump has shown that ubiquity can be a superpower, just as Biden showed that obscurity can be ruinous. People would notice. Democrats love nothing more than to hold up Obama as their monument to Republican bad faith. Can you imagine if Obama did this? some Democrat will inevitably say whenever Trump does something tacky, cruel, or blatantly unethical (usually before breakfast). Obama could lean into this hypocrisy—tape recurring five-minute video clips highlighting Trump's latest scurrilous act and title the series 'Can You Imagine If I Did This?' Or another idea—an admittedly far-fetched one. Trump has decreed that a massive military parade be held through the streets of Washington on June 14. This will ostensibly celebrate the Army's 250th anniversary, but it also happens to fall on Trump's 79th birthday. The parade will cost an estimated $45 million, including $16 million in damage to the streets. (Can you imagine if Obama did this?) The spectacle cries out for counterprogramming. Obama could hold his own event, in Washington or somewhere nearby. It would get tons of attention and drive Trump crazy, especially if it draws a bigger crowd. Better yet, make it a parade, or 'citizen's march,' something that builds momentum as it goes, the former president and community organizer leading on foot. This would be the renegade move. Few things would fire up Democrats like a head-to-head matchup between Trump and Obama. If nothing else, it would be fun to contemplate while Democrats keep casting about for their long-delayed future. 'The party needs new rising stars, and they need the room to figure out how to meet this moment, just like Obama figured out how to meet the moment 20 years ago,' Jon Favreau, a co-host of Pod Save America and former director of speechwriting for the 44th president, told me. 'Unless, of course, Trump tries to run for a third term, in which case I'll be begging Obama to come out of retirement.'


CNBC
3 hours ago
- CNBC
Trump wants to bring manufacturing jobs back. The aviation industry can't hire fast enough
LAFAYETTE, Ind. — President Donald Trump has said he wants to bolster manufacturing jobs and other technical employment in the United States. But in the aviation industry, finding skilled workers to make airplanes and engines — and maintaining those jobs for years to come — has been a struggle. The average age of a certified aircraft mechanic in the U.S. is 54, and 40% of them are over the age of 60, according to a joint 2024 report from the Aviation Technician Education Council and consulting firm Oliver Wyman, which cites Federal Aviation Administration data. The U.S. will be short 25,000 aircraft technicians by 2028, according to the report. "A lot of them were hired on in the '80s and early '90s. You just start doing some math and you start saying at some point they're going to retire," said American Airlines Chief Operating Officer David Seymour, who oversees the carrier's more than 6,000 daily flights. To boost their ranks, airlines and big manufacturers of airplanes and their thousands of components are trying to get more younger people interested in the field. The industry was already facing a retirement wave when Covid hit, and companies cut or offered buyouts to experienced workers — from those who build aircraft to those who maintain them to keep flying. "People forget that the aerospace industry was in a pretty serious ramp at the time pre-Covid. And then frankly, of course overnight we went from ramping to zero demand over time. And so we lost a lot of talent," said Christian Meisner, GE Aerospace's chief human resources officer. GE, along with its French joint venture partner Safran, makes the bestselling engines that power Boeing and Airbus top-selling jetliners, and has been ramping up hiring, though it is also dependent on a web of smaller suppliers that have also been getting back up to speed since the pandemic. Meisner said that the company has a strong retention rate and that some employees earn their FAA licenses to work on airplane engines or airframes on the job. At GE's engine plant in Lafayette, Indiana, about an hour outside of Indianapolis, base pay averages between $80,000 and $90,000 a year, based on qualifications and experience, the company said. Median pay for aircraft technicians or mechanics was $79,140 a year in the U.S. in 2024, compared with a nationwide median income of $49,500, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. The agency projects 13,400 job openings in the field each year over the next decade. American's Seymour said that with new pay raises, technicians could make $130,000 a year at the top of their pay scale in nine years at the carrier. While many experts don't expect jobs that have been shipped abroad like clothing manufacturing to come back to the U.S., high-value sectors tend to pay much more and are more likely to stick around. But hiring can still be difficult in a sector that is seen as politically important and symbolic to the country's economic power. The impending worker shortages aren't just for those who repair aircraft and engines. A shortfall of air traffic controllers has also stifled airline growth and raised concerns about safety in recent years. The Trump administration has said it will raise wages and ramp up hiring to try to reverse yearslong shortfalls. Manufacturing is about 9% of U.S. employment but "we all have a bit of a fetish with manufacturing because we focus on it more and than other sectors," said Gordon Hanson, a professor of urban policy at Harvard University. The U.S. unemployment rate in May held steady at 4.2%. One problem with manufacturing jobs, Hanson said, is that workers aren't very geographically mobile, and if factories reopen or hiring ramps up, that could make it harder to attract employees from other places. "You're asking the local labor market to supply workers," Hanson added. Wages for technicians that repair aircraft at airlines, as well as big manufacturers like Boeing, have gone up in recent years, with skilled workers still in short supply and travel and airplane demand robust. But some workers said that's not enough. "We need to increase wages," said Sarah MacLeod, executive director of the Aeronautical Repair Station Association. Most of the companies the association works with are small businesses. She warned that the "entire world is going to feel this workforce shortage. You already can't get your houses built. You already can't do XYZ. I think and pray that aerospace can actually lead the recovery of that." Getting FAA licenses can take years, but the reward can be high. Some students are considering forgoing traditional four-year college degrees straight out of high school to get into the industry. "I'm thinking about going to college, but it's whichever really comes first. If they give me an opportunity to go to the airlines, I'd like to do that," said Sam Mucciardi, a senior at Aviation High School in Queens, New York. The public school offers its roughly 2,000 students the option to stay on for a fifth year to earn their FAA licenses with training at the school. "I stay late after school every day to work on the planes and, probably a little bit too much ... but I still really enjoy it," Mucciardi said. "That's what I put my all my heart into." The school, which has been teaching students how to maintain aircraft since the 1930s, is fielding more demand from airlines in recent years. "After a program like ours, typically you'd go to the regional airlines first, like the Endeavors, the Envoys," said Aviation High School Principal Steven Jackson. "Lately, because of the huge technician need, there's been more students going directly into American, Delta, United, but you have the whole range." He said the school received about 5,000 applications this year from students. Students at the school learn at the campus in the Sunnyside section of Queens but also at other facilities at John F. Kennedy International Airport. Seymour said American has teamed up with high schools before, but is now going even younger and working with some junior highs to raise awareness about the career path. "It is getting into the high schools and showing that a career in aerospace as an engineer or frankly, on a production floor, is not your grandparents' manufacturing. It is high tech," GE's Meisner said. "You're talking about laser-guided machine, precision machining operations, exotic coatings and metals." Krystal Godinez, who has lived in the Lafayette area for about 14 years, graduated last summer from GE's first apprentice program class at the facility after about two years. She said she previously worked in the automotive industry. "I feel like what I do here … definitely does matter. It's like taking all those extra steps, make sure everything is correct," she said. "We're there to kind of keep people safe out there and make them feel safe." American's Seymour was optimistic that younger people are changing their tune. "There was a period of time when people said 'I want a computer, I want tech,'" he said. "There are people who want to get their hands dirty." --