Western New York’s Economy Can Thrive Again
Let’s stop pretending.
Niagara County’s economy isn’t “slow.”
It isn’t “transitioning.”
It isn’t “finding its footing.”
It’s dead.
Stores are empty. Jobs are scarce. Young people leave because they have to. Cities that once powered this region now struggle to hold half the population they once had. Niagara Falls didn’t drop from more than 102,000 people to barely 48,000 by accident. That happened because leaders stopped fighting for this place—and learned how to explain failure instead.
The most dangerous thing isn’t decline itself.
It’s that we’ve gotten used to it.
We’ve normalized boarded-up storefronts, shrinking schools, and the quiet assumption that success means leaving. Say that out loud and people get uncomfortable—not because it’s wrong, but because it forces us to admit how long we’ve accepted less than we deserve.
But denial isn’t leadership.
And nostalgia isn’t a plan.
People keep leaving. Young families don’t stay. Every few years we hear the same talking points, the same promises, the same excuses—followed by the same results.
Be honest: do your kids want to stay here?
Can they?
A Practical Path to Revival
Revival doesn’t start with slogans. It starts with aligning policy to the economy that already exists here—and then getting out of the way of the people doing real work.
First: stop sabotaging our own trade.
If you want a reminder of who we really are, walk into Buffalo City Hall and look at the mural of the U.S.–Canada border. It doesn’t show walls or barbed wire. It shows two nations side by side, separated only by a line — “unfettered by any frowning fortress.”
That wasn’t naïveté.
That was wisdom.
For generations, this region lived that idea — and prospered because of it. Trade ships and pleasure boats crossed the lake constantly, carrying workers, families, and tourists back and forth. Steamers brought crowds to Wilson and Olcott, filling dance halls and waterfront resorts. Rail lines crisscrossed the region, and trains moved freely between Toronto and Buffalo, carrying people, goods, and opportunity in both directions.
And the farms thrived. Fruit growers shipped apples and cherries across the border. Dairy farms moved product quickly to nearby markets. Vineyards expanded — not because of slogans or subsidies, but because access to labor, trade, and transportation made growth possible. Rural towns stayed alive because the farms stayed strong.
Movement wasn’t a threat.
It was the lifeblood.
Western New York still lives and dies by its relationship with Canada. That isn’t opinion — it’s math.
Canada is New York State’s largest trading partner, with roughly $40 billion a year in two-way trade. In a normal year, tens of millions of people cross the U.S.–Canada border in New York, with the Buffalo–Niagara crossings alone handling well over 10 million travelers annually before the pandemic.
That movement supports tourism, manufacturing, agriculture, retail — and thousands of local jobs on both sides of the river. Cross-border trade, tourism, and mobility aren’t political talking points here. They’re economic infrastructure — as real as roads, bridges, and power lines.
So when politicians use Canada as leverage in national culture-war fights, Western New York pays first. Slower crossings hurt tourism. Trade uncertainty hurts manufacturers and small businesses. Reckless rhetoric costs real people real money.
I don’t care what cable news told you. I don’t work for a national politician, a party talking point, or a TV audience that’s never crossed this border. I fight for Western New York — for the economy that actually exists here, including the assets we already have.
We built a beautiful, modern train station in Niagara Falls — and most days it sits nearly empty. You can’t reliably use it to get to Buffalo, let alone Toronto. What’s the point of building infrastructure if we refuse to operate it?
There is no serious economic argument against connecting Buffalo, Niagara Falls, and Canada by rail. None. We built the station, cut the ribbon, took the photos — and then walked away from the responsibility of making it work. For starters, let’s get GO Transit service all the way to Toronto that is actually convenient and actually usable.
Bottom line: defending our relationship with Canada isn’t ideology.
It’s basic economic self-defense.
Second: stop building an economy we refuse to operate.
Western New York isn’t surviving on nostalgia. It’s surviving on work—and on infrastructure we’ve already paid for but refuse to use.
Agriculture is a modern economic engine here. It generates billions of dollars statewide and supports tens of thousands of jobs, especially upstate. Niagara County alone is home to hundreds of family farms—fruit growers, dairy operations, vineyards—many operating on razor-thin margins.
When farms fail, rural towns hollow out. Schools shrink. Main Streets empty. That isn’t theory. It’s a chain reaction.
Our agricultural economy cannot survive without workers. The population simply isn’t there. Pretending otherwise doesn’t protect jobs—it closes farms.
We need practical, legal, seasonal labor programs that reflect reality, not talking points. Supporting farmers means supporting the workforce they actually need—not forcing them into quiet collapse.
Nearly every farmer in this region knows this—even if politicians won’t say it out loud.
Third: reinvest where wealth is already being generated.
Niagara Falls, tourism, energy, and cross-border commerce generate enormous value—but too much of that wealth is extracted and spent elsewhere. Meanwhile, the Canadian side—already far ahead—is investing billions to turn Niagara Falls, Ontario into the Las Vegas of the North.
Why are we willing to accept being the neglected side of one of the most valuable tourist destinations on Earth?
Revival means fighting to keep more revenue local: reinvesting in infrastructure, small businesses, housing, and walkable commercial districts instead of routing money through distant authorities that never see the consequences. (See the section on this site about how Niagara Falls is being robbed.)
Fourth: rebuild places, not just balance sheets.
People stay where life feels possible.
That means vibrant main streets, affordable housing, reliable transit, and neighborhoods where starting a business or raising a family doesn’t feel like swimming upstream.
Economic policy isn’t abstract. It shows up in whether downtowns are alive after 5 p.m.—or boarded up.
Health care is part of that reality. When health care is affordable and accessible, people are freer to stay, take risks, and build lives here. Families aren’t crushed by medical bills. Small businesses aren’t forced to shoulder the heaviest burden in a broken system.
Lower health care costs don’t just help patients. They put money back into local pockets, ease pressure on employers, and make it easier for small businesses to hire, grow, and survive.
That’s how regions recover.
Fifth: focus state policy on leverage, not micromanagement.
The state can’t—and shouldn’t—run the local economy. But it can clear bottlenecks, align incentives, and stop blocking growth with one-size-fits-all rules written for places that look nothing like Western New York.
Smart policy amplifies local effort.
Bad policy smothers it.
And here’s the uncomfortable truth no one wants to say out loud: a Republican leader from a crony local system cannot effectively advocate for Western New York in Albany when Republicans are locked out of power by a Democratic supermajority.
That’s not ideology.
That’s math.
Power determines outcomes. Committee chairs, budget negotiations, floor votes—those aren’t awarded for “sticking it to the Democrats.” A Republican from a region already treated as expendable won’t reshape state policy. They’ll be allowed to complain, issue press releases, and rail against the system.
Be honest: what has that strategy delivered?
Our cities are weaker. Infrastructure is neglected. Corruption festers locally while the region has no influence statewide. We get the worst of both worlds—insider politics at home and irrelevance in Albany.
Western New York doesn’t need louder complaining.
It needs leverage.
And leverage comes from being at the table where decisions are actually made.
That’s not politics.
That’s common sense.
Finally: measure success by people staying.
Revival isn’t a ribbon-cutting. It’s when young families don’t feel forced to leave. It’s when farms stay in business. It’s when downtowns fill in instead of hollowing out.
If policies don’t move those needles, they aren’t working—no matter how good they sound.
The problem isn’t that the engines of economic change don’t exist. It’s that too often they’re ignored, undercut, or drained to fund someone else’s idea of progress.
Real revival doesn’t come from pretending we’re something we’re not. It comes from fixing what’s broken around what already works—clearing obstacles, reinvesting locally, and letting people who know this region do what they do best.
That’s not a gimmick.
That’s not a slogan.
That’s how regions actually recover.