Property Tax—or a Citizen Existence Fee?
Does it matter what we call it? The things property taxes pay for don’t disappear when the tax does.
Few topics stir up emotion like property taxes. The idea that you can spend your life paying off a mortgage and still owe the government money every year just doesn’t sit right with a lot of people—and honestly, I understand that. On the surface, it feels unfair. You finally own your home, yet the bills never stop coming.
It’s a frustration that resonates deeply, especially with people who value independence and limited government. Unfortunately, some groups have learned to amplify that emotion. They tap into the anger, turning a legitimate concern into a broader message that government is always the enemy and property taxes are proof. The problem is, that story leaves out a lot of truth.
For starters, no state in America has eliminated property taxes—none. Even in places that advertise themselves as “tax-free,” like Texas, Florida, or Nevada, homeowners still pay property taxes, often at rates equal to or higher than ours in Idaho. The money just flows through different channels or under different names.
And that’s the heart of the issue: getting rid of property taxes doesn’t make the costs go away. The sheriff’s department will still cost what it costs. The fire trucks still need fuel. The roads still need to be plowed, and the schools still need teachers. Eliminating property tax doesn’t eliminate the bill—it only shifts it somewhere else.
It’s easy to see why the idea of “abolishing property taxes” sounds so appealing. It feels like a rallying cry for freedom, for ownership, for getting government out of your pocket. But like most ideas that sound too good to be true, this one falls apart when you run the numbers.
Let’s start where so many of these conversations do—with freedom. The Declaration of Independence didn’t say “life, liberty, and property.” It said “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” Some of the Founders discussed including property, sure. But in the end, they didn’t. That matters. They understood that property wasn’t the same as liberty. Happiness, opportunity, and the freedom to pursue them—that’s the goal.
So when people talk about abolishing property taxes in the name of freedom, it’s worth asking: freedom from what, exactly? From paying for the very services that make our homes worth living in? Because that’s what property taxes really are. They’re not punishment for owning something—they’re the price of having functioning communities. Fire protection. Police and ambulance services. Parks and recreation. Schools and libraries that teach our children. Snow removal and road maintenance. Property tax is nothing more than a use fee. It’s the cost of participation in the things we all use every day.
If you hate the term “property tax,” fine—change the label. Call it a Citizen Existence Fee. Call it the Community Maintenance Charge. The name doesn’t change the reality: these services don’t disappear if we stop collecting the tax. The roads still need to be plowed. The fires still need to be put out. The deputies still need to answer the call.
And while we’re on the subject, it’s worth being grateful for one thing most people never think about: the government doesn’t charge sales tax on your home. Sales tax applies to nearly everything else we buy—cars, furniture, appliances, even a cup of coffee. Imagine if that same 6% sales tax applied to your $500,000 home. That’s $30,000 upfront. Most people would have to wrap that into their mortgage, and at 5% interest over 30 years, that $30,000 would balloon to nearly $58,000 by the time it’s paid off.
And what if you move four or five times over your lifetime, as most people do? You’d pay that sales tax every single time—tens of thousands of dollars, over and over again. Suddenly, that annual property tax bill doesn’t seem quite as unfair
And that “renting your home from the government” idea? It sounds good on a meme, but it doesn’t hold up in practice. If you own your home free and clear, you own it. You’re not renting it—you’re simply contributing your share to keep your community operating. It’s no different than paying a registration fee to drive your car, or the tax embedded in your health insurance premium (yes, that’s real), or the sales tax you pay every time you buy a couch or a lawnmower.
If you really want to opt out of property taxes, we could probably do that—but we’d have to make it fair. You’d also need to opt out of the services they fund: no police protection, no fire department, no road maintenance, no snow removal, no libraries, no recreation, and no parks. I’ve run the math. If we billed citizens individually for those services, your personal cost would almost certainly exceed what you pay now. The “no-tax” version of society is actually more expensive.
Some argue that property tax is a tax on unrealized gains—that because your home’s value increases, you’re being taxed on money you haven’t made. But that’s not how property tax works. Your tax isn’t based on what you could sell your home for; it’s determined by a levy rate set by your local officials. That rate rises or falls depending on the budget and the number of taxpayers. Your home’s value might go up, but if more homes or businesses are added to the tax base, your share can actually go down. It happens all the time.
Property tax isn’t tied to stock-market-style “paper profits.” It’s tied to the cost of real services—law enforcement, fire protection, roads, and schools. That’s why calling it a tax on unrealized gains misses the mark. And when you eventually do sell your home? The IRS lets a married couple exclude up to $500,000 of gain from capital gains tax. Try finding another investment that generous.
Then there’s the moral claim: that it’s wrong to tax property because everyone “needs” a home. I’ve heard that too, but not everyone defines home the same way. Some people are perfectly happy renting or living in an RV. A recent study found that one in three Gen Z adults actually prefers renting because it’s flexible and less stressful. “Home” is where your heart is—not necessarily a mortgage on a three-bedroom house.
And if we’re going to start defining human rights as “things everyone needs,” we’d better be consistent. The same people calling homeownership a basic right are often the same ones arguing to eliminate programs like Medicaid or food assistance that meet far more fundamental needs. Food and clothing might fall under “life,” but a 6,000-square-foot home does not.
If we want to talk about taxes that really limit personal freedom, let’s start with income tax—the one that skims your paycheck before you even see it. That’s the tax that constrains choice and investment. Property taxes, by contrast, fund the sheriff, the firefighter, the local park, and the school bus that passes your house every morning. They’re local, transparent, and among the few taxes you can directly influence with your vote.
So yes, property taxes can feel heavy. And yes, we should always look for ways to ease that burden—whether by fully funding school facilities at the state level, increasing the homeowner’s exemption, encouraging business growth, or letting families pay monthly instead of twice a year. But pretending we can just “get rid” of property taxes without losing the services they pay for isn’t realism—it’s wishful thinking.
Property tax isn’t a shackle. It’s a shared responsibility, one that comes with the freedom of living in communities that work. And in a state that values self-reliance and local control, that’s something to be proud of.