The Valley Viewpoint

“Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! For ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.”
— Luke 11:46

There comes a moment in nearly every life when we first collide with the legal system. It might be buying a first home, navigating a work dispute, showing up to small claims court, or facing a painful family matter. Most people walk in expecting fairness—that justice is blind, the rules are clear, the judges impartial, and the lawyers working toward resolution.

But after twenty-five years in employment law, I’ve had to break it to many good people: that vision of the legal system is largely a myth. Trials rarely happen. Correctional systems rarely correct. And mandatory arbitration? That’s not justice—it’s a privatized echo of it, hidden behind closed doors and stacked decks.

The system has grown into something alien—bureaucratic, bloated, and incomprehensible to those who need it most. Worst of all, it often feels as though it was designed to confuse, to delay, and to profit.

Yes, I understand the strange comfort in hiring a lawyer—the yellow legal pad, the solemn nods, the assurances that “you have a case.” But what I’ve seen, too many times, is the shock that follows. The first bill arrives. The retainer is gone. Months pass. Tens of thousands of dollars disappear. And nothing has been resolved. The case hasn’t even really begun.

And now, the cracks in the system are becoming impossible to ignore.

In Georgia, a trial court issued a ruling relying on AI-generated case citations that did not exist. On appeal, both sides submitted briefs containing additional fabricated citations. Twelve phantom cases made their way into the judicial process before anyone caught them. If lawyers, judges, and court officers cannot distinguish real precedent from artificial hallucinations, what confidence should ordinary citizens have?

In Maryland, all fifteen federal judges on the district court retained private legal counsel amid a controversy that has shaken public confidence in the judiciary. Whatever one’s opinion of the underlying dispute, the image is striking: even those entrusted with dispensing justice now find themselves seeking legal protection.

For me, however, this debate stopped being theoretical years ago.

It became deeply personal when I watched my own daughter become entangled in a federal civil proceeding before Obama-appointed U.S. District Judge Victor Bolden. In what was a civil case—not a criminal prosecution—she was twice ordered into civil confinement. No criminal conviction. No jury. No sentence. Yet her liberty was taken.

Watching your own child lose her freedom in a civil courtroom changes the way you look at the legal system forever. You begin asking questions you never imagined asking. Where are the safeguards? Who reviews the exercise of such extraordinary judicial power? And when judges themselves make mistakes, who holds them accountable?

That experience did not simply shake my confidence in one courtroom. It fundamentally changed my confidence in a legal system I had spent more than twenty-five years working within.

This is no longer merely a flawed system. It is a system straining under the weight of its own contradictions. Yet every day ordinary Americans are expected to walk into court believing justice will prevail—that someone will listen, that truth matters, and that fairness ultimately wins.

If I sound jaded, I won’t apologize.

I am jaded.

I’ve watched the legal system break people emotionally, financially, and sometimes spiritually. I’ve watched it consume businesses, marriages, retirement savings, and years of people’s lives. And too often I’ve watched the system protect itself before protecting the public it was created to serve.

Let me leave you with one final comparison.

In some jurisdictions, newly appointed judges receive less formal training before taking the bench than California requires of licensed manicurists, who must complete 400 hours of instruction before they are permitted to practice their profession.

Whether symbolic or substantive, that comparison should give every American pause.

Charles Dickens recognized the problem nearly two centuries ago. In Bleak House, he wrote:

“The one great principle of the English law is to make business for itself. There is no other principle distinctly, certainly, and consistently maintained through all its narrow turnings.”

It is a remarkable observation because, after all these years, it still rings uncomfortably true.

Our legal system is filled with honorable judges, ethical lawyers, and dedicated public servants. This is not an indictment of every individual who serves within it.

It is, however, an indictment of a system that too often seems to exist for its own preservation rather than for the pursuit of justice.

Justice should never become an industry.

It should always remain a promise.

The news that WKIP has laid off Uncle Mike is disappointing—not just because another familiar voice has left local radio, but because people like Mike are becoming increasingly rare.

You can tell everything about a person by how they treat those who can never pay them back.

That’s why I want to recognize someone who has lived that truth every single day.

Whether you know him from the radio or from the countless acts of kindness he performs quietly throughout the Hudson Valley, Uncle Mike has never measured success by ratings or recognition. He has measured it by service.

He has been a tireless advocate for our veterans. He has stood beside first responders. He has organized drives for families in need. He has answered phone calls from people looking for help, often without anyone ever knowing about it.

He didn’t do those things because they were part of his job description.

He did them because that’s who he is.

The measure of a broadcaster isn’t simply the number of listeners they reach. It’s the number of lives they touch.

In an era when syndicated programming is replacing local voices, stations aren’t just eliminating positions—they’re losing relationships. They’re losing decades of trust built one conversation, one fundraiser, one community event, and one act of kindness at a time.

Mike reminded us that radio, at its best, isn’t about transmitting a signal.

It’s about connecting people.

As the saying goes, “A person’s true character is revealed by how they treat those who can offer them nothing in return.”

That describes Uncle Mike perfectly.

Whatever comes next for him, the Hudson Valley will continue to benefit from his compassion, his generosity, and his unwavering commitment to helping others.

We see you, Mike.

And this community is better because of you.

A big thank you to my friend Zolz for the Yankee tickets. It was a thoughtful gesture, and I’m really looking forward to the game.

Assuming, of course, I can actually get to the tickets.

There was a time when heading to Yankee Stadium from the Hudson Valley was easy. Someone handed you two paper tickets. You slipped them into your wallet, grabbed your keys, and whether you drove down or caught Metro-North, you knew one thing for certain:

You had the tickets.

Today, that’s no longer a given.

The tickets don’t come in an envelope. They arrive in an email, which sends you to an app, which asks for a password you haven’t used since Mariano Rivera was still closing games. You reset the password. A verification code arrives. You enter it. Another screen appears. Then another.

Somewhere in all of this are two Yankee tickets.

I think.

Then comes the instruction to “Add to Apple Wallet.”

That sounds reassuring—until nothing happens.

You tap. You swipe. You close the app. You reopen it. You wonder if the tickets are hiding behind another login or if they’ve simply decided they’re not going to the game either.

Technology promised convenience.

Instead, it’s turned attending a baseball game into an escape room.

At one point I found myself thinking, “I’m not trying to launch a rocket. I just want to watch Aaron Judge hit one.”

The funny part is that I’m willing to bet that once I finally make it to Yankee Stadium, someone half my age will scan the tickets in about two seconds and wave me through like this whole ordeal never happened.

So, thanks again, Zolz, for your generosity. The tickets were easy to send.

Finding them has become my pregame entertainment.

If all goes well, by the time first pitch is thrown, I’ll be in my seat.

If not, you’ll probably find me outside Gate 4, staring at my phone, muttering, “I know they’re in here somewhere.”

Sometimes I think the greatest comeback in baseball wouldn’t be from three runs down in the ninth.

It would be the return of two little paper tickets tucked safely inside your wallet.

Beginning July 1, 2026, New Jersey has implemented a new law (P.L. 2026, c.23) that could create a significant new cost for employers with 50 or more employees.

Under the law, employers may be required to pay an annual assessment when an employee—or even one of their dependents—is enrolled in a New Jersey Medicaid program. The State estimates the program will generate approximately $145 million each year to help offset Medicaid funding shortfalls.

The annual assessment ranges from:
• $325 per Medicaid-enrolled employee or dependent for employers with 50–249 employees
• $525 for employers with 250–499 employees
• $725 for employers with 500 or more employees

What’s particularly noteworthy is that the law is not limited to New Jersey-based companies. Employers headquartered outside the state may also be subject to the assessment if they have employees working in New Jersey.

There are also important unanswered questions. Employers are not required to self-report Medicaid enrollment, and the law does not explain exactly how the State will identify covered employees or dependents. The expectation is that New Jersey will match Medicaid enrollment records with unemployment insurance and wage reporting data—a process that raises legitimate privacy and administrative concerns.

The law also includes strong anti-retaliation protections. Employers cannot consider Medicaid enrollment when making hiring, promotion, or employment decisions, and employees have enforcement rights under the New Jersey Civil Rights Act.

If you have employees in New Jersey, now is the time to:

• Review the affordability of your health plan.
• Evaluate your potential financial exposure.
• Monitor upcoming state regulations and guidance.
• Work with your benefits consultant, attorney, or compliance advisor to understand how this law may affect your organization.

As with many new employment laws, the details will matter. Employers should be paying close attention as New Jersey releases additional guidance in the months ahead.

Justice in America is supposed to be blind.

It isn’t supposed to matter whether you’re a construction worker, a police officer, a politician—or a judge. When someone intentionally interferes with law enforcement, there are supposed to be consequences.

Unless, apparently, you’re wearing a black robe.

This week, former Wisconsin Judge Hannah Dugan was sentenced after a federal jury convicted her of obstructing immigration enforcement for helping an illegal immigrant evade ICE agents waiting outside her courtroom. The verdict was guilty. The punishment? A $5,000 fine.

No jail.

No probation.

No meaningful consequence beyond writing a check.

For millions of Americans, that’s not justice. That’s a double standard.

Our judges swear an oath to uphold the Constitution and faithfully apply the law—not to decide which laws they personally agree with and which ones they don’t. The courtroom is not a sanctuary from federal law, and the bench is not a license to obstruct it.

If an ordinary citizen had deliberately helped a wanted individual escape federal authorities, would prosecutors have sought only a fine? Would a judge have dismissed prison as unnecessary? Most Americans already know the answer.

The integrity of our justice system depends on one fundamental principle: the law must apply equally to everyone. The moment Americans begin believing there is one set of rules for government officials and another for everyone else, confidence in our courts begins to crumble.

Here in New York—and especially throughout the Hudson Valley—we’ve watched the debate over illegal immigration spill into our schools, hospitals, neighborhoods, and local governments. Communities are expected to comply with the law. Citizens are expected to comply with the law. Law enforcement officers are expected to comply with the law.

Judges should be held to an even higher standard.

No one is suggesting that every conviction demands prison. Sentencing is, and should remain, within a judge’s discretion. But accountability must also reflect the seriousness of the offense and the position of trust held by the person committing it.

When a judge is convicted of obstructing federal law enforcement and walks away with nothing more than a modest fine, Americans are left asking an uncomfortable question:

Would justice have looked the same if the defendant’s name wasn’t preceded by the word “Judge”?

That question alone should concern every American—regardless of political party.

Because once the public begins to believe justice depends on who you are instead of what you did, faith in the rule of law begins to disappear.

And without equal justice under the law, the foundation of our Republic becomes a little weaker.

Every time ICE conducts an enforcement operation, the protests begin.

Politicians hold press conferences. Activists denounce the agency. Social media fills with accusations that the men and women enforcing our immigration laws are somehow the real threat.

That response has always struck me as backwards.

The real question isn’t whether ICE should be accountable. Every law enforcement agency should be. The real question is this:

Who is standing up for the innocent victims whose lives might have been saved if our immigration laws had been enforced in the first place?

That raises an uncomfortable question.

If these tragedies were potentially preventable through effective immigration enforcement, why do elected officials like Congressman Pat Ryan continue to protest ICE’s enforcement activities rather than stand behind the agency charged with enforcing our nation’s immigration laws?

No law enforcement agency is above scrutiny. If an ICE agent violates the law, that conduct should be investigated, those responsible held accountable, and reforms made where necessary. That should never be in dispute.

But holding individual officers accountable is very different from protesting or vilifying the agency itself.

ICE exists because Congress enacted immigration laws. Its officers do not decide who enters this country illegally. They do not write immigration policy. They enforce the laws passed by Congress and signed by the President. Weakening or demonizing immigration enforcement does not make our communities safer. It makes it more difficult to identify, detain, and remove individuals who have no legal right to remain in the United States—including those who later commit violent crimes.

Congressman Ryan is free to advocate for changes in immigration law. That is his right as a legislator. But until those laws are changed, shouldn’t he support their lawful enforcement?

He should explain that to the parents of Sheridan Gorman, whose daughter will never come home.

He should explain it to the family of Kate Steinle, who watched their daughter die after she was shot while walking beside her father on a San Francisco pier by a man who had been deported multiple times.

He should explain it to the parents of Laken Riley, whose daughter left for a morning run and never returned.

He should explain it to the five children of Rachel Morin, who will grow up without their mother.

He should explain it to the family of Jamiel Shaw, the high school football player who never got the chance to become the man he dreamed of being.

He should explain it to the husband and children of Mary Nagle, whose life was taken in an act of unimaginable violence.

He should explain it to the family of four-year-old Esmeralda Nava, who was robbed of an entire lifetime before kindergarten.

He should explain it to the loved ones of Min Soo Chang, an 18-year-old freshman whose future ended because a repeat immigration violator remained in this country.

He should explain it to the family of Danielle Gorectke, a young college student whose life was brutally stolen.

And he should explain it to my family. My 17-year-old niece, Elizabeth Butler, was murdered by a man who was in this country illegally. We don’t view this issue through the lens of politics. We live with it every day.

These aren’t statistics.

They were sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, students, neighbors, and friends.

Their families are entitled to ask a simple question: if enforcing our immigration laws could have prevented even one of these tragedies, why are some elected officials spending their time protesting the people enforcing those laws instead of working to ensure they are enforced fairly, consistently, and effectively?

That is a question Congressman Pat Ryan should answer.

The Hudson Valley has always been a place built on institutions that outlast any election cycle. Family farms passed from one generation to the next. Houses of worship that have served the same neighborhoods for over a century. Volunteer fire departments. Veterans organizations. Local schools. Town boards. Civic clubs. These institutions matter not because they are perfect, but because they give our communities stability, identity, and continuity.

Today, however, there is a growing belief that every institution must be redefined, every tradition questioned, every boundary erased, and every long-held definition treated as an obstacle rather than a foundation.

That should concern all of us.

Consider elections. A democracy depends on confidence that every eligible citizen has one vote, that elections are conducted fairly, and that the rules apply equally to everyone. When confidence in those rules erodes—whether through fraud, weak safeguards, or endless disputes over election procedures—the damage extends far beyond who wins or loses. People begin to lose faith in the process itself.

The same principle applies throughout society.

Words matter because definitions matter. Laws require definitions. Rights require definitions. Property requires definitions. Citizenship requires definitions. Marriage, family, and community have historically carried widely understood meanings that allowed society to function.

When every definition becomes endlessly flexible, every institution eventually becomes unstable.

Here in the Hudson Valley, we’ve seen this broader trend play out in many forms. We debate whether biological sex should determine participation in women’s sports. We argue over parental rights in schools. We redefine criminal justice, immigration enforcement, educational standards, and even basic language itself. Each debate may appear separate, but they often reflect a larger question:

Can a society endure if nothing has a settled meaning?

Some argue that expanding definitions simply creates greater equality and inclusion. Others believe that changing definitions too broadly risks weakening the very institutions that hold society together. Reasonable people can disagree about where those lines should be drawn.

But history teaches that institutions survive because they preserve both purpose and meaning. When an institution comes to mean everything, it can eventually mean very little.

George Orwell understood this danger. In 1984, political power depended not only on controlling people but on controlling language itself. If words lose their fixed meanings, truth becomes difficult to recognize, and citizens lose the vocabulary needed to defend their freedoms.

That lesson remains relevant today.

The debate confronting America—and yes, even our own Hudson Valley—is ultimately about more than politics. It is about whether we still believe that some institutions deserve preservation rather than perpetual reinvention.

Every generation has the responsibility to improve society. Reform is often necessary. But reform is different from dismantling. Improvement is different from erasure.

Communities thrive because certain ideas remain constant. Family. Citizenship. Responsibility. Faith. Private property. Equal justice under the law. Free speech. The peaceful transfer of power.

These concepts have endured not because they were fashionable, but because they have provided the framework upon which free societies have been built.

The Hudson Valley has weathered wars, recessions, political upheaval, and social change. We have adapted without losing sight of who we are.

The challenge before us is to ensure that, in the pursuit of progress, we do not erase the very definitions that give our communities meaning.

Because once every institution means everything, it ultimately means nothing.

And a society without enduring definitions is a society that struggles to remember what it is trying to preserve.

There is a time for political debate. There is a time to criticize our leaders. There is a time to argue about taxes, immigration, policing, foreign policy, or the economy.

The Fourth of July is not that time.

On the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, Americans weren’t celebrating perfection. They were celebrating an idea—the revolutionary belief that our rights come from God, not government, and that free people are capable of governing themselves.

Yet New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani chose one of the most significant days in our nation’s history to remind Americans of what he believes is wrong with America.

Instead of gratitude, he offered grievance.

Instead of unity, he offered division.

Instead of celebrating the nation that gave him and millions of others opportunities unavailable in much of the world, he delivered another lecture about capitalism, inequality, immigration enforcement, and America’s shortcomings.

That wasn’t leadership. It was ideology.

The irony is impossible to ignore. America welcomed his family. America educated him. America protected his right to speak freely. America allowed him to rise to one of the most powerful elected offices in the country. Yet on the nation’s birthday, his message wasn’t one of appreciation—it was one of condemnation.

Constructive criticism has always been part of the American tradition. In fact, it is one of our greatest strengths. But there is a profound difference between acknowledging flaws and suggesting that America’s defining characteristic is oppression rather than opportunity.

That worldview doesn’t inspire people. It diminishes them.

It also ignores the obvious question: if America is as fundamentally broken as some political leaders insist, why do millions of people still risk everything to come here? Why do they cross deserts, oceans, and borders—not to escape America, but to reach it?

Because they understand something that too many American politicians have forgotten.

America is not perfect.

It is exceptional.

That distinction matters.

Here in the Hudson Valley, patriotism isn’t measured by speeches. It’s measured by the volunteer firefighter who leaves the dinner table when the pager sounds. It’s measured by the sheriff’s deputy working the overnight shift, the veteran carrying memories of distant battlefields, the small-business owner creating jobs, and the families who stand for the National Anthem before a Little League game.

They don’t spend Independence Day apologizing for America.

They celebrate it.

Our nation has endured wars, economic depressions, terrorism, political turmoil, and deep social divisions. Through it all, America has remained the freest, most prosperous, and most generous nation on earth—not because we deny our faults, but because we refuse to let our faults define us.

On our 250th birthday, Americans deserved a message worthy of that legacy.

Instead, New York’s mayor gave us another reminder that for some politicians, America is never the hero of the story.

That’s a sad message on any day.

It’s an especially tragic one on Independence Day.

Senator Rob Rolison’s statement on the proposed ICE detention facility in the Town of Newburgh is a perfect example of the political double-speak that has come to define the immigration debate.

He begins by saying he has received “no official confirmation” regarding the project. Yet, just a few sentences later, he declares that he supports the Town’s decision to oppose it.

Which is it?

If there is no confirmed proposal, why are you already opposing it? If you’re still “seeking answers,” why have you already reached a conclusion?

The federal government is publicly seeking a detention facility in this region. That isn’t rumor or speculation. It’s part of the federal procurement process. Before anyone declares victory or defeat, shouldn’t we know exactly what is being proposed?

Instead, Senator Rolison has chosen the safest political position: oppose first, ask questions later.

Let’s also be honest about what an ICE detention facility is. It is not a prison for local residents. It is a secure facility used to detain individuals who are in the country illegally while they await immigration proceedings or removal under federal law.

For years, politicians at every level have promised stronger borders, enforcement of our immigration laws, and safer communities. Those promises sound great in campaign mailers and at election debates.

But when the federal government attempts to build the infrastructure necessary to enforce those laws, suddenly the message becomes, “Not here.”

You cannot have it both ways.

You cannot claim to support immigration enforcement while opposing every detention facility. You cannot demand deportations while objecting to the places where detainees are legally housed during the process.

Senator Rolison says he supports “local control.” Local voices deserve to be heard. Transparency matters. But federal immigration enforcement is not a town program. It is a constitutional responsibility of the federal government. Local governments should be consulted, but consultation should not become a veto over enforcing federal law.

The most telling part of the Senator’s statement is what it doesn’t say.

There is no acknowledgment that illegal immigration has placed enormous financial and public safety burdens on communities across New York. There is no recognition that ICE officers need secure facilities to do the job Congress has assigned them. There is no balancing of local concerns with the national interest.

Instead, the statement reads like an attempt to avoid political backlash rather than provide leadership.

Leadership isn’t about telling every audience what it wants to hear. It’s about telling people the truth—even when it’s unpopular.

If you genuinely believe America’s immigration laws should be enforced, then you must also support the infrastructure required to enforce them.

Otherwise, “secure borders” becomes nothing more than another campaign slogan.

The Hudson Valley deserves elected officials who are willing to lead with consistency—not politicians who support immigration enforcement in theory but oppose it the moment it arrives in their own backyard.

When a town’s own former attorney files suit against the Town Supervisor, every taxpayer should stop and ask one simple question:

What is going on in Red Hook?

Albert Trezza, who previously served as Red Hook’s Town Attorney and knows exactly how municipal government is supposed to operate, has now filed a lawsuit alleging that Supervisor Robert McKeon improperly retained outside law firms to handle the Town’s battle with the Red Hook Boat Club—without the authorization required from the Town Board. According to the lawsuit, hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars may have been spent on outside counsel without the legal approvals required under New York law.

Think about that for a moment.

This isn’t political rhetoric coming from an opponent. It isn’t campaign season finger-pointing.

These allegations are coming from a former Town Attorney who understands municipal law and how local government is supposed to function.

If these allegations prove to be true, this isn’t simply poor judgment. It’s a serious challenge to the very principles of transparency, accountability, and fiscal oversight that taxpayers expect from their elected officials.

The irony is hard to ignore.

The Town’s pursuit of the Red Hook Boat Club has already been mired in controversy. Residents have packed public hearings, overwhelmingly opposing the use of eminent domain to seize private property for a proposed waterfront park. The Town has already suffered significant legal setbacks, including a court decision throwing out key zoning actions because officials failed to comply with New York’s environmental review requirements.

Now taxpayers are learning that another lawsuit has emerged—this one questioning whether the Town even had the legal authority to hire the lawyers leading this fight.

Government cannot demand that citizens follow the law while treating legal requirements as optional when they’re inconvenient.

The rules exist for a reason.

Town Boards authorize expenditures. They provide oversight. They ensure that one elected official cannot simply decide to spend taxpayer money without accountability. Those aren’t technicalities—they’re safeguards that protect every resident.

The question now isn’t simply whether Red Hook should have pursued the Boat Club.

The question is whether this entire process has ignored the very laws that govern local government itself.

How much has this fight cost taxpayers?

How much more will it cost?

How many outside law firms have been retained?

And who approved the bills?

These are fair questions. In fact, they’re questions every taxpayer should be asking.

Regardless of where anyone stands on the future of the Red Hook Boat Club, no one should support a government that appears willing to bypass established legal procedures in pursuit of its own agenda.

Public office is a public trust.

Taxpayer dollars deserve accountability.

And when a former Town Attorney is the one sounding the alarm, the public shouldn’t dismiss it—they should demand answers.

I’ve said for years that Chief Justice John Roberts seems more interested in shielding the Supreme Court’s image than upholding the Constitution. His latest opinion on birthright citizenship doesn’t just reinforce that belief—it underscores it.

Conservatives have seen this pattern before.

In 2012, Roberts cast the deciding vote to save Obamacare. Congress repeatedly insisted the individual mandate was not a tax. Roberts effectively replied, “Maybe not politically, but I’ll call it one constitutionally.” That wasn’t interpretation—it was judicial rescue.

Now he’s done it again with birthright citizenship.

Instead of confronting what the Fourteenth Amendment actually says—especially the phrase “subject to the jurisdiction thereof”—Roberts leaned on more than a century of precedent and declared the matter largely settled. But precedent is not a substitute for constitutional meaning.

The framers of the Fourteenth Amendment chose their words deliberately. They did not say every child born on American soil is automatically a citizen. They included a qualifier. The real question is what that qualifier meant at the time it was written—not how courts have chosen to interpret it since.

Reasonable people can disagree about that meaning. But they deserve a Court willing to engage the Constitution honestly, not one that reflexively preserves the status quo to avoid controversy.

That’s the core problem with John Roberts’ tenure as Chief Justice. Time and again, when faced with decisions that could reshape American law, he opts for institutional preservation over constitutional clarity.

Whether it was reworking Obamacare to keep it alive or refusing to seriously revisit the original meaning of the Citizenship Clause, the pattern is unmistakable.

The Supreme Court’s duty is not to protect its reputation. It is not to sidestep political fallout. It is not to cling to precedent at all costs.

Its duty is to interpret and apply the Constitution faithfully.

History will judge John Roberts. But from where I stand, he has too often acted as the Court’s defender when he should have been the Constitution’s guardian.

That distinction matters—not just in Washington, but here in the Hudson Valley and across the country, where Americans rely on judges to follow the law as written, not as they wish it were.

If you think government has finally figured out how to make healthcare more affordable, think again.

California lawmakers have approved a proposal that would increase taxes on private health insurance plans to help fund the state’s expanding healthcare obligations. The practical effect? Higher premiums for employers, employees, and families already struggling to afford coverage. The proposal now awaits Governor Gavin Newsom’s signature.

Let’s call this what it is: another example of government solving one problem by making another one worse.

For years we’ve heard promises that expanding government healthcare programs would reduce costs. Instead, taxpayers and those with employer-sponsored insurance continue to shoulder a larger share of the burden. California’s latest move shifts billions of dollars in additional costs onto businesses and working families who purchase private insurance.

If this sounds familiar, it should.

Here in New York, employers already face some of the highest healthcare costs in the nation. Businesses across the Hudson Valley continue to struggle with double-digit premium increases, rising prescription drug costs, and growing regulatory mandates. Every additional dollar spent on health insurance is a dollar that can’t be invested in wages, hiring, equipment, or expanding a business.

As someone who has spent decades in Human Resources negotiating health plans, I can tell you firsthand that employers desperately want to provide quality benefits. But every year it becomes harder to absorb these increases without passing costs along to employees or reducing benefits.

The California proposal should serve as a cautionary tale—not a blueprint.

Government cannot continue treating private health insurance as an unlimited revenue source. Eventually, businesses reach a breaking point. Small employers drop coverage altogether, employees pay more out of pocket, and taxpayers ultimately end up footing an even larger bill.

The Hudson Valley should pay close attention.

Many of the same policy ideas that begin in Sacramento eventually find their way to Albany. Whether it’s new taxes, healthcare mandates, or expanding government programs without sustainable funding, New York has often followed California’s lead.

Healthcare reform should focus on reducing costs, increasing competition, improving transparency, and expanding consumer choice—not imposing new taxes that simply make insurance more expensive.

Working families don’t need another healthcare tax.

They need affordable healthcare.