California Gov. Gavin Newsom is dusting off the pandemic-era playbook — and he’s bringing two blue-state neighbors with him. On Wednesday, Newsom joined Oregon Gov. Tina Kotek and Washington Gov. Bob Ferguson to launch a “West Coast Health Alliance,” a regional pact that will coordinate vaccine and health guidance independent of the Trump administration’s revamped CDC. They say the move is about “protecting science.” To many who lived through school closures, mask edicts, and shifting rules, it sounds like a sequel no one asked for.

At the core of the alliance is a blunt message: the three governors do not trust the CDC under Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., who has ousted the agency’s old guard and promised a top-to-bottom reset of vaccine policy. The West Coast bloc says it will lean on recommendations from professional groups like the American Academy of Pediatrics and the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists and then issue synchronized guidance for California, Oregon, and Washington. The practical effect is to set up dueling recommendations for millions of Americans.

The governors frame their gambit as a response to “politicization.” Critics remember who politicized public health first. California and its allies led the nation in mandates that often contradicted real-world outcomes — restricting beaches while keeping big-box stores open, closing classrooms long after data showed schools were not super-spreaders, and promoting cloth masks that barely moved community transmission. When questions mounted, dissenters were scolded or throttled online. Trust in public health didn’t collapse by accident; it was pushed.

Kennedy’s overhaul at CDC is an attempt — however controversial — to rebuild that broken trust by questioning sacred cows and demanding evidence for long-standing recommendations. The West Coast response essentially declares that no matter what reforms come out of Washington, governors will curate their own “science” and dare everyone else to object. That stance may play well in Sacramento, Salem, and Olympia. It won’t reassure parents who watched learning loss explode while politicians and unions argued over theater seating charts.

There’s also a federalism wrinkle. States have wide latitude over public health, but they typically coordinate with CDC to avoid chaos. By announcing a standing alliance to diverge from federal guidance, the West Coast trio is inviting a patchwork where your medical advice depends on ZIP code and party. During a genuine emergency, that balkanization could slow responses, confuse providers, and erode confidence even further.

Politically, Newsom is auditioning. He wants to be seen as the counterweight to Trump’s reforms — calm, technocratic, “following the science.” Yet his record is dismal: a homelessness crisis that worsened amid record spending, crime spikes coinciding with decarceration experiments, and COVID rules that privileged the well-connected while shuttering small businesses. Voters remember a governor who broke his own edicts at a fancy dinner while lecturing everyone else to stay home.

If the alliance becomes a vehicle for re-mandating masks in airports and classrooms, resurrecting vaccine passports, or sidelining skeptical doctors, expect backlash — especially from families and employers that still haven’t recovered. The better path is simple: publish the data, debate openly, tailor policy to risk, and let adults make informed choices. That’s how you restore trust.

For now, the “West Coast Health Alliance” reads less like prudent preparedness and more like an ideological insurance policy against an unfriendly CDC. Voters should treat it that way and ask a basic question Newsom and friends refuse to answer: if your last round of “science” failed students, workers, and the most vulnerable, why should anyone trust you with the next one? Real leadership means humility, transparency, and consent — not reflexive control. Again.