The Biden administration is setting its sights on a new source of revenue: the wallets of immigrant communities. After cracking down on visas, cutting aid, and raising tariffs, Washington is now pushing for a 3.5% federal tax on money transfers sent abroad by non-U.S. citizens. Tucked inside the sweeping new budget bill known informally as the “One Big Beautiful Bill,” the proposal is drawing sharp criticism—not only for its fiscal implications, but for the disproportionate burden it would place on millions of migrant workers. Among the countries likely to feel the sting, Morocco stands out.
The White House argues that the measure is part of a broader effort to shore up the federal budget. Under the plan, every international wire transfer made by a non-citizen resident in the United States would face this new levy—on top of existing fees charged by money transfer services. A $100 remittance to Morocco, for instance, could lose more than $10 before it even reaches the recipient.
This couldn’t come at a worse time for the North African nation. In 2024, remittances from the Moroccan diaspora hit nearly $12 billion, with a significant share originating from the United States. These funds account for about 6% of Morocco’s GDP—more than what many industrial sectors contribute—and they serve as a financial lifeline for hundreds of thousands of families. From groceries and school fees to medical care and rent, this money sustains everyday life for many.
Beyond the household level, remittances also help balance the national economy. They bolster foreign currency reserves, stimulate domestic consumption, and provide vital support for private investment. A drop in these flows would hit hardest in the regions most dependent on emigration—and the damage wouldn’t be merely financial. It would unravel the delicate threads of a transnational support system built over generations.
For Moroccan migrants in the U.S.—many working long hours in unstable, low-wage jobs—the tax feels like a penalty on family solidarity. The new cost could lead some to stop sending money altogether, while others might turn to informal channels to avoid the surcharge. That means more cash carried by hand, unrecorded transfers through third parties, and a growing shadow economy. These methods are harder to regulate, more prone to abuse, and reduce the overall transparency of global financial flows.
Morocco isn’t the only country facing the consequences. Nations across Africa—from Nigeria and Senegal to Liberia and Sierra Leone—rely heavily on remittances from their diaspora communities in America. But Morocco’s case is distinct, both in the sheer volume of money involved and the structure of its remittance network. Unlike many of its peers, Morocco has built a formal, secure, and largely bank-integrated system for receiving money from abroad. Washington’s proposed tax threatens to destabilize that ecosystem, pushing more transactions underground and weakening a channel that has long operated with relative clarity.
If this legislation passes, the fallout could be far-reaching—not only for Moroccan families, but for the global flow of remittances that underpin the economies of dozens of countries. What’s billed in Washington as a budget fix could end up as a blow to the very communities that fuel both sides of the Atlantic.
