Golden Goose on the Run: Will California’s Wealth Tax Backfire?

Paul Riverbank, 1/17/2026California's billionaire tax sparks fears of exodus, funding loss, and trust in government spending.
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California’s capital never really quiets down, but lately, the corridors of power in Sacramento have taken on a sharper edge. Call it anxiety. Call it restlessness. Whichever the case, lawmakers face a deficit big enough to rearrange priorities—and with it comes a radical new proposal that’s stirring both hope and fear.

The Billionaire Tax Act, if you believe its backers, would deliver more than loose change. Its premise is direct: anyone whose net worth crosses the $1 billion mark writes a check to the state for 5% of their assets. Not just paychecks or dividends—everything counts. Homes, unsold stock, even the art hanging in the living room.

Now, here’s the rub that has tempers flaring. The tax, still miles away from a public vote, is written to start the calendar back in January 2026. Some unions, especially SEIU United Healthcare Workers West, are championing the plan as a “minor” tweak to the system. But if Silicon Valley’s biggest names are nervous, they’ve already shown it with their feet. Larry Page and Sergey Brin, those household names from Google, aren’t just shifting portfolios—they’re reportedly relocating entire webs of businesses out of the Golden State. One investor, Chamath Palihapitiya, went so far as to claim that a full trillion dollars’ worth of wealth has packed up for the exit. California’s tax officials aren’t thrilled—with good reason.

The math that’s driving these migrations isn’t hard to follow. Garry Tan from Y Combinator spelled it out: assume Page and Brin each hold around 3% of Google’s stock. Now, factor in voting rights and other forms of equity. Suddenly, the law’s 5% calculation rockets into nosebleed territory. For giants like them, it could mean a tax bill approaching $60 billion each—potentially erasing half their holdings with a single stroke.

For labor advocates and longtime supporters of higher taxes, this is a fight over fairness—and they haven’t blinked. Suzanne Jimenez of the healthcare workers’ union brushed off critics, insisting it’s a “very minor thing” in the grand scheme. But voices on both sides of the political aisle worry this goes miles past fairness and into asset seizure. “The asset seizure is the point,” one critic snapped, warning that today’s five percent will tomorrow become a hundred, and that there’s no clear finish line.

A glance across the Atlantic offers a cautionary tale. Wealth taxes once dotted Europe, but by the late 2010s, the continent was mostly done with them. The rich, it turned out, were really good at moving—outpacing tax laws with lawyers, pilots, and shell companies. The lesson? Big fortunes are portable. California’s public officers, still tasked with paying the bills for everything from schools to infrastructure, now face a legitimate question: if the wealthiest bail, who picks up the slack?

Fears of a “slippery slope” have become a refrain, especially among taxpayers just shy of billionaire status. Could a tax crafted for the super-rich drift down to the rest of us—millionaires, then tech engineers, then upper-middle earners in booming suburbs? Skepticism is growing, and it isn’t just coming from the state’s conservative corners.

Listen in on the debates among those eyeing the governor’s seat, and it’s clear the party lines don’t hold. Katie Porter, Antonio Villaraigosa, Xavier Becerra, Ian Calderon—none are leaping to support the measure. “It could end up hurting our ability to fund other key priorities like education,” warned Porter, underscoring the conundrum. Becerra labeled the whole thing “sketchy policy.” Villaraigosa got blunt: pass the billionaire tax, and the people who pay it are gone.

Democrats with deeper pockets, like Tom Steyer, offer more measured support. “I believe we should be taxing billionaires more, but ... if it has unintended consequences, we need to know that before we pass it.” Betty Yee remains cautious; Tony Thurmond hedges.

None of this plays out in a vacuum. Memories of government waste—especially the billions thought lost to fraud during the pandemic—linger in voters’ minds. One critic, exasperated, put it plainly: “Our cities are trashed. Where is all the money going?” Taxpayers in California remember, and they want a measure of accountability before they’re asked to trust again.

For lawmakers and activists on the left, it’s a growing headache. Ro Khanna, representing Silicon Valley, hardly minced words: “I’m not going to defend the waste and fraud.” Plenty of rank-and-file residents agree. The call now isn’t just for new revenue, but for real proof the state can manage money responsibly—before any more is collected.

Ultimately, the furor isn’t solely about billionaires. For a lot of Californians, the images of U-Hauls outside tech campuses and the prospect of a shrinking tax base feel like a prelude to a broader financial squeeze. “Soon, they’ll be itching to confiscate the wealth of millionaires, then those with high six-figure incomes,” warned one concerned observer. Every day brings fresh stories of people nervously eyeing the door.

In the end, this debate stretches beyond one policy fight. Underneath, there are questions about how California funds its promises, whether government can be trusted with its coffers, and what happens when the narrowest sliver of taxpayers holds up much of the budget. It’s not just Sacramento watching nervously—there’s a feeling, not just in the halls of power but in living rooms across the state, that something fundamental is at stake.

Sacramento will keep haggling. Unions and billionaires aren’t likely to lay down arms anytime soon. But as those moving vans pull away from the driveways of tech giants, Californians are left wondering whether this time, the golden goose really has left for good.