A modern Western where the government’s got the badge—and taxpayers get the bill
It started like any Texas showdown.
The sun was hot, the statehouse was humming, and a few sharp-talking lawmakers in Austin decided it was high time someone stood up to the banks. Said they didn’t like the look of certain companies being dropped. Said they didn’t trust the suits behind the glass. Said Texas needed to draw a line in the sand.
So they grabbed a pen, called it policy, and made themselves the sheriff.
Under their plan, if a bank cuts ties with a client in oil, gas, or guns—or anyone the state thinks oughta be protected—that bank gets blacklisted. No contracts. No bond deals. No business with Texas.
Doesn’t matter why the account was closed. We’ve all seen it—sometimes it’s legal risk, sometimes a federal red flag. And it sure doesn’t matter that federal law keeps banks from explaining why they ended the relationship in the first place.
The silence is taken as guilt. And the blacklist grows.
But this ain’t Yellowstone. Because the next scene doesn’t feature justice—it features consequences.
See, banks don’t like playing chicken with regulators. Especially not when California tells them one thing, Texas demands another, and federal agencies loom over both shoulders with subpoenas. So they do what any self-interested actor does when the stakes are high and the law’s unclear:
They ride out.
And when they do, they don’t just leave behind the big city towers. They leave behind the school district trying to build a new gym. The town council refinancing water bonds. The hospital that needs a new ER wing.
Back in 2021, Texas passed its first blacklists—punishing banks for pulling away from fossil fuel or firearm clients. Municipal bond underwriters left the state faster than a bar fight clears out on a Friday night. No fist raised. No speech made. Just fewer bidders at the table—and a lot of local leaders left scratching their heads.
And that silence? It cost Texans over $300 million in higher interest payments in less than a year.
Gun rights weren’t protected. Pipelines weren’t laid. Just local governments stuck paying more to borrow money—all because someone in Austin wanted to make a statement.
Now they want to expand the blacklist again. Bigger. Broader. More sweeping. They say it’s about standing tall. But it’s starting to look like those lawmakers aren’t riding for the brand anymore.
Because we know the rules. If you give the government a bigger lasso, you better trust the next guy holding the reins. And if you build a blacklist today, don’t act surprised when the other party flips it on you tomorrow.
So what’s the moral of this episode?
The banks don’t get hurt. The bond lawyers don’t get hurt. It’s the property owners, business owners, and taxpayers —people we know, people you care about—who end up face down in the dust . . . wondering what the fight was ever really about.
The banks will be fine. But we can’t stand by while regular Texans pay more for less, all because someone wanted a headline and a fight.
That’s no way to run a state that was born to run free.