There is a photograph in my mind, a memory as clear as any I possess, of my maternal grandfather. He is standing in the sprawling, chaotic expanse of a rail yard, a giant of a man made taller by the blue-and-white striped Roundhouse overalls he wore every day of his life. He worked for the Rock Island line, and to a young boy, he was not just a man; he was a master of a secret, powerful world of steel and steam and distant horizons. I remember the gentle, rhythmic rocking of the cars on my first train ride when I was three, the impossible sight of long-horn sheep clinging to the side of a mountain as we crossed through the Rockies. It was the last touch of a day, and a pleasure, gone by.
That romantic, human-scale vision of the American railroad feels like a dispatch from another century. It has been replaced by the cold, hard reality of a new announcement: a proposed $200 billion merger between Union Pacific and Norfolk Southern, a colossal business deal that would create the first modern, coast-to-coast, single-line freight railroad in the United States. This is not a story about your grandfather’s railroad. It is a story about a new generation of billionaire owners, a new deregulatory political climate, and a profound economic rot at the heart of the modern rail industry. And yet, this last, great consolidation, a deal haunted by the ghosts of disastrous past mergers, offers one final, fleeting chance to build a railroad that a man in Roundhouse overalls would be proud of.

The Deal of the Century and the Ghosts in the Machine
The sheer scale of the proposed merger is breathtaking. It would combine Union Pacific’s dominance of the western two-thirds of the country with Norfolk Southern’s vast eastern network, creating a single, seamless logistical artery across the continent. The announcement has already triggered a predictable domino effect, with the other two giants, BNSF and CSX, now openly exploring their own “megamerger” to remain competitive. We are witnessing the potential endgame of a century of consolidation: the creation of a national rail duopoly.
This is a deal that could only happen now. As recently as a few years ago, such a merger was considered impossible, a fantasy blocked by decades of aggressive antitrust enforcement. But the political winds have shifted. The new, deregulatory posture of the Trump administration, and specifically of his appointed chairman of the Surface Transportation Board (STB), Patrick Fuchs, has provided the crucial green light, unlocking a long-dormant corporate ambition.
But this new ambition is haunted by the ghosts of mergers past. The last great wave of consolidation in the late 1990s was a catastrophe. The merger of Union Pacific and Southern Pacific, followed by the breakup of Conrail, led to years of “snarled traffic,” logistical chaos, and a near-breakdown of the national rail system. It was this historical trauma that forced the STB to create its strict new merger rules in 2001, a high bar that requires any new deal to prove it is not just profitable, but unambiguously in the “public interest.” It is a test this new deal must now pass.

The Rot at the Core: Profit Over Freight
To understand the stakes of this public interest test, one must first understand the central, damning lie at the heart of the modern railroad industry. For years, its leaders have claimed that their primary focus is on growth, on competing with the trucking industry to move more of America’s goods. The data, as meticulously detailed in a recent Bloomberg analysis, tells a very different story.
The modern railroad industry is not a growth industry; it is an extraction industry. Consider the case of Union Pacific. Over the past 20 years, the actual volume of freight it carries has not grown; it has declined by 13%. Over that same period, the company has paid out a staggering $89 billion to its shareholders in the form of dividends and stock buybacks. The company’s operating margin is a breathtaking 42%, compared to just 7% for a major long-haul trucking company.
This is not the picture of a competitive, innovative industry fighting for market share. It is the picture of a comfortable, entrenched duopoly that has largely stopped competing. It has chosen to squeeze its “captive customers”—the farmers, manufacturers, and chemical companies who have no other way to move their bulky goods—for maximum profit, all while letting its actual service to the nation stagnate and decline.

The Public Interest Test: A Blueprint for a Better Deal
This legacy of prioritizing shareholder returns over the public good is precisely why the STB’s 2001 “public interest” mandate is the single most powerful tool the American people have in this negotiation. This merger cannot be allowed to be another simple exercise in corporate consolidation and cost-cutting. It must be a transformative moment.
The potential benefits to the nation, if the railroads were forced to actually compete and grow their volume, are immense. Railroads are four times more fuel-efficient than trucks; shifting more freight to rail would be a massive victory for a greener America, dramatically reducing carbon emissions. It would also be a victory for a safer America, leading to a significant reduction in the 5,375 fatalities caused by large truck accidents each year. And it would be a victory for a more prosperous America, as true competition with the trucking industry would inevitably lead to lower shipping costs for everything from grain to cars, reducing the inflationary pressures that affect every single family.
The question is how to force this change. The answer, as proposed by Bloomberg Opinion, is as elegant as it is powerful. The STB should approve the merger, but with a critical, non-negotiable condition: the new, combined railroad must be required to meet specific, aggressive cargo volume growth targets, at or above the rate of U.S. economic growth, before it is allowed to engage in any shareholder buybacks. This simple, enforceable mechanism would, for the first time in a generation, force the new railroad giant to prioritize the public good over shareholder returns. It would compel them actually to compete, to innovate, and to grow.

The Last Train Home
The romance of my grandfather’s Rock Island line is gone, replaced by the cold, hard logic of shareholder value. The rhythmic rocking of the passenger cars has been supplanted by the relentless churn of the stock ticker. But this merger, for all its immense risks and its history of failure, represents a single, fleeting, once-in-a-generation opportunity.
It is a chance to use the awesome power of the state to bend the arc of a massive, essential industry back toward the public good. The goal is not to recreate the past, but to build a future that honors its spirit. We need a railroad that is not just profitable, but powerful. Not just efficient, but essential. A system that moves the nation’s goods with a speed, safety, and sense of purpose that would make a man in Roundhouse overalls proud. This is the last train home, and we have to make sure it’s one worth catching.
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