Illegal immigration costs taxpayers $45 billion a year in health

In the solemn and cautionary words of Ric Keller, we find a reflection that pierces to the heart of one of civilization’s oldest struggles — the balance between compassion and responsibility: “Illegal immigration costs taxpayers $45 billion a year in health care, education, and incarceration expenses.” Though rooted in the modern world, Keller’s words echo an ancient tension — how a people should sustain their boundaries, protect their resources, and yet remain just and humane. His statement is not merely about numbers or budgets; it is about the unseen burden that nations bear when laws are broken and systems stretched. Beneath the weight of statistics lies a moral question: how does a society uphold order without losing its heart?

From the earliest empires to the modern republic, the prosperity of nations has always rested upon balance — between generosity and prudence, between openness and defense. In Rome, the mighty empire that once embraced the known world, leaders wrestled with a similar question. As the borders expanded and millions sought the promise of Roman peace, the empire strained beneath the cost of maintaining roads, guards, food, and shelter for those it could no longer sustain. The Senate, wise but weary, warned that without discipline, the glory of Rome would crumble under its own benevolence. So too does Keller’s warning carry the same tone: that compassion without structure leads not to harmony, but to collapse.

The origin of Keller’s words lies in his years as a U.S. Congressman and his service in the early twenty-first century, when the issue of immigration stood at the forefront of national debate. He spoke as one responsible for the stewardship of public funds, seeking to awaken his nation to the scale of an invisible cost — the billions spent each year on health care, education, and incarceration for those who entered outside the rule of law. His words, though statistical, were not cold. They were spoken with the urgency of a guardian who fears that a nation, however noble its ideals, cannot serve its own people if its foundation grows weak. For no civilization, however rich in spirit, can endure if it forgets the limits that sustain it.

Yet history also reminds us that behind every number lies a human face. Consider the story of the Great Famine in Ireland during the 19th century, when waves of desperate families fled hunger to seek life in America. They were poor, weary, and often unwelcome. The cities that received them groaned under the cost of care, and resentment flared among those who felt burdened. But in time, the children of those immigrants became builders, soldiers, and leaders, shaping the very nation that once struggled to receive them. Their story reveals the dual truth of Keller’s words — that while costs are real and heavy, the challenge is not to ignore them, but to transform them wisely into investments that strengthen the future rather than weaken the present.

There is a lesson here that transcends politics. Keller’s warning speaks not only to nations, but to all communities and individuals: when generosity is given without boundaries, even kindness becomes unsustainable. The health of a society — physical, economic, and moral — depends upon order. When systems bend too far, they break, and the innocent suffer most. The goal, then, is not to close doors in cruelty, but to open them with wisdom — ensuring that compassion is guided by capacity, and that mercy walks hand in hand with justice.

In this sense, Keller’s quote is not a rejection of immigrants, but a call for balance — for a system where those who come seeking hope may do so lawfully, and where citizens who labor to sustain their nation are not crushed by unmeasured costs. Like the wise rulers of old who rationed grain in times of famine, Keller urges us to remember that resources are sacred, and must be managed with care. To squander them blindly, even in the name of goodwill, is to betray both the giver and the receiver.

Let this then be the teaching drawn from Ric Keller’s words: every act of compassion must be anchored in foresight. A nation that loses its balance between heart and law loses both. In our own lives, too, we must learn this discipline — to give, but not to deplete; to help, but not to harm through excess. For just as a lamp cannot burn without oil, so too can a nation not shine without order, health, and strength.

And so, O listener, remember this wisdom: compassion without structure is chaos; law without compassion is tyranny. The art of governance — and of living — lies in the harmony between the two. As Keller reminds us, to preserve the future, we must weigh the cost of the present. To build a just world, we must honor both our hearts and our boundaries. Only then may a people remain strong, free, and enduring.