115 Hospitals Closed. The Insurers Got Richer.
Speaker Johnson said it would catch people playing video games. It caught maternity wards.
Introduction
Speaker Mike Johnson sold the One Big Beautiful Bill Act as a way to catch people sitting on their couches playing video games. What it caught, in its first six months, was 115 hospitals and clinics that shut their doors or eliminated services, plus more than 6,400 healthcare workers laid off. Meanwhile UnitedHealth Group, which spent $9.2 million lobbying on "Medicaid and Commercial Market Coverage Policy" while the bill was being written, raised its full-year profit guidance in April.
The Couch Argument vs. the Closure List
The bill became law on July 4, 2025. The selling point was always fraud and work incentives: find the people gaming the system, push them off the rolls, save the money. Johnson's video-game line was the clean version of that pitch.
By the end of February 2026, Senate Finance Committee ranking member Ron Wyden and House Energy & Commerce ranking member Frank Pallone Jr. had logged the first count of what the law actually did to physical infrastructure: 115 hospitals and clinics closed or cut services like maternity care, primary care, and behavioral health within six months of enactment. Those are minority-party numbers carrying minority-party framing, but the underlying closures come with names, dates, and institutional statements, so I'm sticking to the documented count rather than the broader projections.
So here's the gap no single article has put in one sentence. The bill is closing hospitals and cutting maternity wards at a measurable pace, while the insurers who lobbied to shape it post record quarterly profits from the smaller, higher-margin patient pool the law created. The hospitals got hollowed out, and the insurers kept the margin.
Where the Maternity Wards Went
The closures aren't abstract. CNN's March investigation named them one by one. St. Mary's Sacred Heart Hospital in Lavonia, Georgia closed its maternity unit and OB/GYN center in November 2025, with a hospital statement that read: "Recent Congressional cuts to Medicaid solidified this decision." Expectant mothers there now drive 30 to 60 minutes to the nearest labor and delivery unit. Centra Southside Community Hospital in Farmville, Virginia closed labor, delivery, and OB surgical services, citing "recently enacted reductions in federal health care funding." Greene County General Hospital in Linton, Indiana ended obstetric services in January 2026. In Arkansas, the state-by-state tracker shows Ouachita County Medical Center and Baptist Health Fort Smith both shutting labor and delivery this year.
That this lands hardest on births isn't an accident of the math. Medicaid covers more than 40% of all U.S. births and nearly 50% in rural communities, per American Hospital Association data. A Harvard analysis found the hospitals most likely to close obstetric units are the ones most reliant on Medicaid, because Medicaid pays less than commercial insurance. Squeeze Medicaid funding and the maternity ward is the first thing on the chopping block. If there's a labor and delivery unit in your county, the financial logic of this law is pointing at it.
The damage radiates past delivery rooms. Public Citizen's March analysis, built from CMS cost-report data covering roughly 95% of U.S. acute care facilities, flagged 446 hospitals at heightened risk of closing or cutting services. Those hospitals hold 69,000 beds and serve 6.6 million patients a year. Protect Our Care's broader Hospital Crisis Watch has now logged 900 hospitals, nursing homes, and clinics that have shuttered, are at risk, or are cutting services. And the money behind all of it is enormous: RAND projects states will lose $664 billion in combined federal-state Medicaid funding through 2034, with 20 states facing reductions of 5% or more.
The Same Quarter, the Other Ledger
Now line up the calendar. The hospitals were posting their closure notices through late 2025 and early 2026. In that exact window, the insurers reported earnings.
Centene, the largest Medicaid managed care insurer, lost roughly 2 million ACA marketplace members year over year, dropping from 5.6 million to 3.6 million. It posted $1.5 billion in net earnings in Q1 2026 anyway, with revenue climbing from $46.6 billion to $49.9 billion, and raised its full-year guidance. Cigna posted $1.65 billion in quarterly profit while announcing it would exit the ACA exchanges after 2026, stranding 369,000 members across 11 states. UnitedHealth booked $111.7 billion in Q1 revenue, watched its medical cost ratio improve to 83.9%, and lifted its full-year adjusted EPS guidance above $18.25.
How do you shed members and make more money? The mechanism shows up in the last comparable disenrollment event. During the post-COVID Medicaid "unwinding," national enrollment fell by millions, yet Georgetown's Center for Children and Families found that Molina's Medicaid revenue rose 28.1% and UnitedHealth's rose 23.0%. A shrinking, sicker pool justifies higher payments per remaining member. FitchRatings made the same point about this law specifically: work requirements will produce "higher acuity in the Medicaid pool," which will "necessitate higher capitation rates from states." So the rolls shrink and the dollars per member go up.
There's a second engine on the commercial side. As the ACA marketplace shed 21.5% of its enrollment after enhanced subsidies expired, the people who left were disproportionately the lower-cost, price-sensitive ones. The customers who stayed pay more, and got hit with an average premium increase of 58% net of subsidies, from $113 to $178 a month, per KFF. A smaller pool of higher-paying customers is a more profitable pool. The law cut Medicaid and restructured the commercial customer base at the same time.
Who Benefits
Two groups, and the receipts are sitting in plain sight.
The first is Congressional Republicans and the Trump administration, who get $714 billion in projected federal Medicaid savings over the decade, plus the political cover of a fraud-fighting narrative. The savings help fund tax cuts. The problem with the narrative is that KFF found 92% of working-age Medicaid adults already work, attend school, care for a relative, or have an illness or disability. The couch-bound video-game player the bill was sold to catch is roughly 8% of the population it targets, and that 8% includes retirees and people who can't find work.
The second is the largest insurers, and the receipts run two ways. The incentive is money, and the mechanism is per-member margin. UnitedHealth spent $9.2 million on lobbying in the first nine months of 2025, exceeding its annual total for any year in at least a decade, with disclosures naming "Medicaid and Commercial Market Coverage Policy." Cigna disclosed $8.4 million in federal lobbying for 2025 on its own disclosure page. Here's the honest complication: that lobbying was mostly against the Medicaid cuts, because the insurers wanted the ACA subsidies extended. They lost both fights. But the environment they ended up in, a smaller and higher-margin marketplace plus a sicker and higher-capitation Medicaid pool, turned out to be exactly the kind of market that improves their numbers. They didn't have to win the lobbying fight to benefit from the outcome.
Then there's the part that hasn't shown up in mainstream coverage of the bill. Optum, UnitedHealth's IT subsidiary, is one of ten CMS-approved tech vendors sharing a $600 million agreement to build the systems states need to enforce the work requirements. So UnitedHealth's technology arm is helping build the eligibility-restriction machine that thins the Medicaid rolls, while UnitedHealth's insurance arm benefits from the higher-margin pool that thinning produces. The same parent company is on both ends of the transaction.
The Unfunded Part Nobody Mentioned
The work requirements were the whole pitch, and they're turning out to be expensive for the states forced to run them. Washington gave states $200 million total to implement the rules across 43 states and DC. North Carolina alone received $1.9 million and expects to spend $31.2 million a year enforcing them. Ohio estimates $28 million over two years. Minnesota is putting up a one-time $90 million infusion just to get its counties ready.
That's the second contradiction stacked on the first. The bill promised to save money by rooting out fraud, then handed states a mandate that costs them 10 to 60 times their federal allocation to administer, on top of the Medicaid funding they're losing. Pennsylvania's health secretary put it bluntly: "Instead of focusing on programs to help Pennsylvanians achieve and maintain health, this law has forced our teams to focus on programs that will help people complete paperwork." The CMS interim final rule issued today, June 1, sets the requirement at 80 hours of qualifying activity a month and gives states until January 1, 2027 to implement. Most of the documented harm so far is hospitals acting in anticipation of cuts that haven't fully landed.
The Bottom Line
The bill was sold as a way to find people who weren't pulling their weight. Eleven months in, the measurable result is 115 closed or downsized facilities, maternity wards gone in rural Georgia, Virginia, Indiana, and Arkansas, and three of the largest insurers posting their strongest margins in years off a patient pool the law made smaller and richer.
The aggressive provisions haven't even fully kicked in yet. Work requirements hit most states in January 2027, the largest simultaneous Medicaid eligibility restriction in the program's history. If 115 closures is what anticipation produced, what does the real disenrollment event produce, and which county loses its last labor and delivery unit when it arrives?