politician

Gov. Gavin Newsom’s ascent to the top of California’s political pyramid did not happen overnight. It’s been 23 years since he entered public life as a San Francisco parking and traffic commissioner and more than a decade since first saying he wanted to be governor.

But through an alchemy of hard work, lucky breaks and larger demographic and electoral shifts, Newsom has hit his stride at a unique moment in California. And it is hard to argue with the observation that he is now the most powerful person in California politics.

How long the moment lasts depends on what happens next. Newsom must choose which battles to fight, and which causes to champion. The size of his list seems equal to his enthusiasm.

“The world is waiting on us,” he said after taking the oath, pausing briefly for maximum impact. “The future depends on us. And we will seize this moment.”

That Newsom managed to win the job as the presumptive favorite from wire to wire of the 2018 campaign was, in part, due to his own decision to seize the opportunity four years ago this week. It was then, in the wake of a surprise announcement by Sen. Barbara Boxer that she would not seek reelection, that several prominent Democrats wrestled with whether to jump at the chance that appeared.

For Newsom, that day in 2015 was serendipitous. He had been on a collision course to the gubernatorial election for three years with another political heavyweight, then-state Atty. Gen. Kamala Harris. It wasn’t clear he would win such a showdown. And so four days after Boxer stepped aside, Newsom stepped forward to decline a Senate race and — in effect — announce his intentions to run for governor.

Read Gov. Gavin Newsom’s inaugural address »

The next day, Harris did just the opposite. Newsom simultaneously encouraged his most powerful rival to switch gears and launched his 2018 campaign — all with a speed that meant his political machine would be fully operational months and years before others decided if they wanted to run.

The move also allowed Newsom to take the job of lieutenant governor and expand it from a nothing-to-do way station into a legitimate role of California governor-in-waiting. In 2015, he dug into the policy debate over legalizing marijuana, helping craft the following year’s successful ballot measure, Proposition 64. He challenged the National Rifle Assn. to fight against Proposition 63 and its requirement of new background checks before buying ammunition for guns — even though it crossed paths with a similar effort by his fellow Democrats in the Legislature.

More recently, Newsom used his de facto role as California’s political heir apparent to ramp up his criticisms of President Trump. And he expanded his base of friends in politics, campaigning last fall for the party’s challengers in battleground congressional and legislative races. Some of those new members of Congress left Washington in the middle of a tense federal government shutdown to celebrate his inauguration.

Only a gubernatorial candidate ahead in the polls and confident of victory would have diverted that much time to other efforts. But Newsom likely knew how helpful it could be in the long run. He can count among his assets a handful of important IOUs on Capitol Hill, ones that could pay off long after House Speaker Nancy Pelosi — a longtime friend — relinquishes her own place of power.

It can’t get much better for Gavin Newsom as California’s next governor. But it’s almost certain to get worse »

What California’s 40th governor does with his newly expanded influence is one of the new year’s most fascinating questions. History will remind him that there’s a very real chance of overplaying his hand: Former Gov. Gray Davis famously told a newspaper editorial board that legislators must “implement my vision,” and former Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger lurched so far to the right in his first two years that it took twice as long to regain his political footing.

But in an era of indisputable Democratic dominance — Republicans have failed for three consecutive elections to win a statewide race — Newsom’s prowess seems especially important. No one is better positioned to singularly determine the path forward for major public policies, to play political kingmaker or to go toe-to-toe with the president of the United States.

The kingmaker role could prove especially interesting as California’s early presidential primary next March could feature a number of Newsom’s fellow Democrats in the state — including one-time rival Harris — who hope to challenge Trump. An endorsement from Newsom, now the state party’s nominal leader, could carry real weight in a crowded field.

Less likely, but always possible if Democrats are divided by a wide field of candidates: Newsom could put his own name on the ballot using an old power move called the “favorite son” strategy. There, a home state leader pledges to later throw all of California’s delegates toward one of the hopefuls at the national convention. It would be controversial — but conceivable — if his political power endures.

The presidential machinations might not end there. Legislative Democrats were unable to get Brown to sign a law requiring a presidential candidate to release his or her tax returns before being placed on California’s ballot. The bill was squarely aimed at Trump, who has steadfastly refused to do so. Would Newsom agree to put the squeeze on the president and sign the bill?

George Skelton: As California’s new governor, Gavin Newsom needs to address what no one wants to talk about »

Newsom could also take a much more active role in bringing lawsuits against the Republican president and his administration. His predecessor left much of the political rhetoric over California’s four dozen Trump-related lawsuits to state Atty. Gen. Xavier Becerra. Or Newsom could simply ratchet up his critiques of Trump, whom he’s called a “disgrace” with a “limited attention span.”

In his inaugural speech, the new governor singled out a host of bogeymen, including pharmaceutical companies and the pay-day lending industry.

“Here in California, we have the power to stand up to them,” he said. “And we will.”

Waging those kinds of battles could further grow Newsom’s political influence, bringing along with it more television interviews, talk show segments and speaking invitations in Washington and beyond.

Still more significant uses of his newfound political power could be on the horizon. Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who will turn 86 in June, could decide to retire before the end of her newly won six-year term. Newsom would pick her successor, a weighty decision given the Democrats’ lock on statewide races.

Maybe not a bond, but there’s a connection between Jerry Brown and Gavin Newsom as governors of California »

Nor is it out of the question that Newsom himself could develop a case of what’s politely been called “Potomac Fever.” The last four governors have all either run for president — Gov. Pete Wilson and Brown — or been talked up as having what it takes to win the White House on the strength of California’s electoral college heft. Depending on what happens in 2020 and whether he’s reelected in 2022, Newsom could use his political muscle to launch a presidential campaign in 2024 at age 57.

Should he choose to remain focused on Sacramento, Newsom will still have enormous political potential. More Democrats than any other time in modern history hold seats in the Legislature, but they all must lobby for the governor’s signature on their bills. Newsom also has line-item veto authority over the state budget. In general, vetoes by the state’s chief executive have become sacrosanct; none has been overturned by lawmakers since 1980.

And if lawmakers don’t bend to his will, Newsom can go around them and take proposals directly to the ballot. The recent record of governors promoting such measures is mixed — Brown won all of his efforts over the last eight years while Schwarzenegger bombed in 2005 only to return with success in 2006 and 2010.

The arrival of each new governor resets the state’s political compass, and some of the resulting dominance — the power of the executive branch — is institutional. But few moments have seemed to find more stars aligned for a single figure to dominate the state than this one.

john.myers@latimes.com

Follow @johnmyers on Twitter, sign up for our daily Essential Politics newsletter and listen to the weekly California Politics Podcast

SACRAMENTO — Californians have never been forced to choose between Gavin Newsom and Kamala Harris, two homegrown political darlings, during any election.

But if the state’s registered Democrats picked now, Newsom would trounce Harris as their party’s next nominee for president and have the edge over other Democratic contenders, according to a poll released Friday by the UC Berkeley Institute of Governmental Studies and co-sponsored by The Times.

Twenty-eight percent of the California Democrats who were surveyed selected the governor as their top choice in the 2028 presidential election. U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-New York) followed with 14% and former U.S. Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg received 11%. Harris came in fourth, with only 9% of voters in her own state naming her as their preferred Democratic nominee.

“It’s quite a positive result for Newsom,” said Mark DiCamillo, director of the Berkeley IGS Poll. “He’s separated himself from the rest of the pack, and especially when you compare him to the other major Californian in the considerations, he’s three times as much as Kamala. That’s quite impressive.”

The political careers of the governor and former vice president have orbited each other but never crossed since Newsom was sworn in as San Francisco’s mayor and Harris as the city’s district attorney on the same day in 2004. Now the two Bay Area natives are both flirting with the 2028 presidential contest as they travel the country promoting their life stories on respective book tours.

It’s early days and neither politician has said they will or won’t launch official campaigns for the Oval Office. The possibility remains that Californians might finally see a matchup that the two Democrats have long avoided.

Newsom set his sights on the governor’s office in 2010 before dropping out and running for lieutenant governor, a largely powerless post in which he served in the shadow of Gov. Jerry Brown for eight years. Harris won election that year as California attorney general.

Harris’ and Newsom’s paths diverged again when she chose to run for U.S. Senate in a 2016 contest to replace former Sen. Barbara Boxer and he announced his candidacy for governor in the 2018 election.

When Harris jumped into the 2020 and 2024 races for the White House, Newsom said he wouldn’t run against her. He’s discredited the idea that the two politicians have some kind of a sibling rivalry and noted that their trajectories ran adjacent and never collided.

Newsom was asked again last month whether he would vie against Harris in a presidential contest. The governor said he hasn’t “gotten in the way of her ambition ever,” and he doesn’t imagine that he would in the future. His answer changed when he was pressed to respond specifically to the potential for 2028.

“That’s fate. I don’t, I don’t know,” Newsom said to CNN’s Dana Bash, throwing up his hands. “You know, you can only control what you can control.”

Newsom and Harris had greater support from Black and Latino voters than white and Asian American Democrats in the new poll. She performed well among Democrats younger than 30 compared with other age groups, while Newsom fared better with older Democrats. More women selected Newsom as their first or second choice than they did Harris.

Neither California heavyweight performed particularly great among Democratic voters in the Bay Area, which DiCamillo called a curious finding for two politicians from the region. Support was higher for Harris and Newsom in almost every other region of the state.

DiCamillo believes the presence of Ocasio-Cortez on the list probably pulled some support from Harris. California voters in other recent polls were also sour on a third presidential run by Harris.

An Institute of Governmental Studies poll in August gauged interest in the potential candidacy of Newsom and Harris. About 45% of the state’s registered voters said they were enthusiastic about Newsom running, compared with 36% for Harris. Almost two-third of voters in that survey, and half of Democrats, said Harris should not run for president again.

Although Newsom clearly beat the field of candidates in the most recent poll, DiCamillo said receiving support from a little more than a quarter of those surveyed in his own backyard isn’t exactly wonderful. The governor’s approval rating is also down.

The poll found that 48% of California registered voters say they approve of the job Newsom is doing, with the same share disapproving of his performance. That marks a drop from 51% approval the last time DiCamillo asked in August. Disapproval also climbed, by 5 percentage points.

Voters held positive opinions about Newsom’s participation in international conferences, which was described in the poll as the governor “offering an alternative to the policies being promoted by President Trump on issues like climate change and the economy.” The poll found 59% of statewide registered voters approve and 37% disapprove.

Cristina G. Mora, co-director of the poll, said the results suggest Newsom’s more aggressive stance with Trump seems to resonate in his own state.

“Though Californians may hold mixed views on his gubernatorial tenure, they overwhelmingly see him as the strongest counter to Trump and MAGA candidates,” Mora said. “Harris’s earlier presidential defeat, compounded by persistent voter biases against women and candidates of color, may also be shaping these early numbers.”

The Berkeley IGS/Times poll surveyed 5,019 California registered voters online in English and Spanish from March 9 to 14. The results are estimated to have a margin of error of 2.5 percentage points in either direction in the overall sample, and larger numbers for subgroups.

The pet did a neat trick: Before a room filled with heads of state from across Latin America, Little Marco spoke Spanish.

His owner — well, his soul’s owner at least— grinned and joked, “I think he’s better in Spanish” than in English. Following President Trump, it was Pentagon Pete’s turn to tease Little Marco.

“I only speak American,” Secretary of Defense Hegseth cracked. The auditorium stayed quiet save for Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who meekly protested, “I only speak Cuban.”

Trump gave him a pat on the back. Good boy, Marco.

The exchange, which happened over a weekend dominated by the war with Iran, was brief yet said so much about the times Latinos live in. Rubio, the most powerful Latino politician in U.S. history, might as well have been to Trump and Hegseth the Chihuahua that says “Yo quiero Taco Bell.” The man who has played an oversized role in pushing a president who campaigned against costly foreign wars and chaotic regime changes to do both was brought back down to an undignified size.

Little Marco indeed.

Here’s a reminder that no matter how high and mighty you get in Trump’s White House, a Latino is still an exotic “other.”

Tokenizing someone is always an ugly thing — yet Rubio deserves no tears. He has made a career out of wearing his latinidad like a shiny guayabera when convenient, long casting himself as the boy-faced exception to the corrupt, ineffectual Latino politician archetype. That stance has fueled a 27-year career — Florida speaker of the House, U.S. senator, former presidential candidate, secretary of State and national security advisor. That has made many conservatives and more than a few Latinos feel he’s not just capable of a strong White House run but that he could even win were he to do so.

All it cost Rubio was his morals and backbone. All he had to do was roll over.

We Latinos deserve better — and yet we kind of don’t.

The story liberals and conservatives have always told about America’s largest minority is that we would irrevocably change the United States — the former group maintained it would be for the better, the latter insisted we would cause this country’s downfall. Rubio proves that at our worst, Latinos show that in our rush to assimilate and be embraced, we often become the worst kind of Americans.

Secretary of State Marco Rubio speaks as President Trump during a NATO summit in June in the Hague.

(Brendan Smialowski / Pool Photo)

We’re the ones whom the American psyche sees as perpetual invaders, yet we sign up by the thousands for the Border Patrol, Immigration and Customs Enforcement and other agencies in Trump’s deportation Leviathan. Even as Trump slimed Latinos during his first term and his years out of office, an increasing number of us warmed up to him — surely, he was referring to other Latinos — until Trump captured more of our votes in 2024 than any Republican presidential candidate ever.

It takes a certain type of person to go from child of Cuban immigrants — the favorite son of an exile community that transformed Miami from a retiree haven into one of the capitals of Latin America — to tell European leaders last month that they and the United States “opened our doors to an unprecedented wave of mass migration that threatens the cohesion of our societies, the continuity of our culture, and the future of our people.”

It takes the worst kind of Latino.

I called Rubio a vendido in a previous columna after he cheered on the extrajudicial capture of Venezuelan despot Nicolás Maduro. He’s definitely still a sellout — what else to call someone who once fiercely opposed Trump but now sidles up to him like a cockapoo? But the most pathetic part about Rubio’s rise is that his followers see him as the culmination of the long-held dreams of Latinos that things would become better for our ancestral Latin American countries and ourselves once one of us was charge.

Alas, no. He’s living up to a realpolitik maxim attributed to various Latin American caudillos: For my friends, everything; for my enemies, the law.

Strongmen like El Salvador and Argentina presidents Nayib Bukele and Javier Milei get coddled and receive foreign aid; college students on study visas who criticize the Trump administration get nabbed by la migra. Rubio is overseeing a foreign policy that currently has the U.S. dictating how Venezuela will be governed, is bombing Iran like the country was a game of Pachinko and is slowly choking Cuba into collapse. He’s the unholy child of Bush-era neoconservativism and MAGA — and Rubio is just getting started.

That’s how he set himself up to be used as Latino punch line by Trump and Hegseth. The setting: the inaugural meeting at a Trump golf course near Miami of the Shield of the Americas, a coalition of Western Hemisphere countries ostensibly assembled to fight drug cartels. It resembled one of those lesser super-groups in the Marvel Cinematic Universe — you got Costa Rica instead of Mexico, Bolivia instead of Brazil. The group even has a crappy logo. You know how unserious the confab was when Trump’s point person for this is Kristi Noem, whom he literally had just fired as Homeland Security secretary.

After Trump rambled through a short speech, it was Rubio’s time to offer remarks. Here was a chance for the secretary of State, the man the Atlantic recently called “bright and well spoken,” to channel his inner Simón Bolivar or José Martí. The secretary of State thanked everyone present in English, but not before praising Trump for his “bold leadership” and bragging that the president is “one of the most historic figures in American history.”

Then Rubio looked back at his beaming master.

President Trump signs a proclamation committing to countering cartel criminal activity at the Shield of the Americas Summit on Saturday at Trump National Doral Miami in Doral, Fla.

(Rebecca Blackwell / Associated Press)

“You all right if I — “ he began before Trump cut him off with a magnanimous, “Sure. Please.”

That’s when Little Marco spoke in flawless Spanish. Rubio’s comments weren’t much different from what he said in English, save his remark that what they all planned to do by following Trump “will make future generations grateful for the work we are doing today.”

That last statement sums up Rubio. For centuries, Latin America has yearned for prosperity and peace free from American interference. This hope has fueled revolutions, music, film, culture and all the best things the region has produced only to have U.S.-backed tyrants crush those movements.

That’s the torch Rubio now proudly carries.

“All my life I’ve been in a hurry to get to my future,” he wrote in his 2013 memoir, “American Son.” Rubio’s future is now. And our present — not just Latinos, but all Americans — is worse because of it.

Dios mío.

Donald Trump has never been one to play by the rules.

Whether it’s stiffing contractors as a real estate developer, defying court orders he doesn’t like as president or leveraging the Oval Office to vastly inflate his family’s fortune, Trump’s guiding principle can be distilled to a simple, unswerving calculation: What’s in it for me?

Trump is no student of history. He’s famously allergic to books. But he knows enough to know that midterm elections like the one in November have, with few exceptions, been ugly for the party holding the presidency.

With control of the House — and Trump’s virtually unchecked authority — dangling by a gossamer thread, he reckoned correctly that Republicans were all but certain to lose power this fall unless something unusual happened.

So he effectively broke the rules.

Normally, the redrawing of the country’s congressional districts takes place once every 10 years, following the census and accounting for population changes over the previous decade. Instead, Trump prevailed upon the Republican governor of Texas, Greg Abbott, to throw out the state’s political map and refashion congressional lines to wipe out Democrats and boost GOP chances of winning as many as five additional House seats.

The intention was to create a bit of breathing room, as Democrats need a gain of just three seats to seize control of the House.

In relatively short order, California’s Democratic governor, Gavin Newsom, responded with his own partisan gerrymander. He rallied voters to pass a tit-for-tat ballot measure, Proposition 50, which revised the state’s political map to wipe out Republicans and boost Democratic prospects of winning as many as five additional seats.

Then came the deluge.

In more than a dozen states, lawmakers looked at ways to tinker with their congressional maps to lift their candidates, stick it to the other party and gain House seats in November.

Some of those efforts continue, including in Virginia where, as in California, voters are being asked to amend the state Constitution to let majority Democrats redraw political lines ahead of the midterm. A special election is set for April 21.

But as the first ballots of 2026 are cast on Tuesday — in Arkansas, North Carolina and Texas — the broad contours of the House map have become clearer, along with the result of all those partisan machinations. The likely upshot is a nationwide partisan shift of fewer than a handful of seats.

The independent, nonpartisan Cook Political Report, which has a sterling decades-long record of election forecasting, said the most probable outcome is a wash. “At the end of the day,” said Erin Covey, who analyzes House races for the Cook Report, “this doesn’t really benefit either party in a real way.”

Well.

That was a lot of wasted time and energy.

Let’s take a quick spin through the map and the math, knowing that, of course, there are no election guarantees.

In Texas, for instance, new House districts were drawn assuming Latinos would back Republican candidates by the same large percentage they supported Trump in 2024. But that’s become much less certain, given the backlash against his draconian immigration enforcement policies; numerous polls show a significant falloff in Latino support for the president, which could hurt GOP candidates up and down the ballot.

But suppose Texas Republicans gain five seats as hoped for and California Democrats pick up the five seats they’ve hand-crafted. The result would be no net change.

Elsewhere, under the best case for each party, a gain of four Democratic House seats in Virginia would be offset by a gain of four Republican House seats in Florida.

That leaves a smattering of partisan gains here and there. A combined pickup of four or so Republican seats in Ohio, North Carolina and Missouri could be mostly offset by Democratic gains of a seat apiece in New York, Maryland and Utah.

(The latter is not a result of legislative high jinks, but rather a judge throwing out the gerrymandered map passed by Utah Republicans, who ignored a voter-approved ballot measure intended to prevent such heavy-handed partisanship. A newly created district, contained entirely within Democratic-leaning Salt Lake County, seems certain to go Democrats’ way in November.)

In short, it’s easy to characterize the political exertions of Trump, Abbott, Newsom and others as so much sound and fury producing, at bottom, little to nothing.

But that’s not necessarily so.

The campaign surrounding Proposition 50 delivered a huge political boost to Newsom, shoring up his standing with Democrats, significantly raising his profile across the country and, not least for his 2028 presidential hopes, helping the governor build a significant nationwide fundraising base.

In crimson-colored Indiana, Republicans refused to buckle under tremendous pressure from Trump, Vice President JD Vance and other party leaders, rejecting an effort to redraw the state’s congressional map and give the GOP a hold on all nine House seats. That showed even Trump’s Svengali-like hold on his party has its limits.

But the biggest impact is also the most corrosive.

By redrawing political lines to predetermine the outcome of House races, politicians rendered many of their voters irrelevant and obsolete. Millions of Democrats in Texas, Republicans in California and partisans in other states have been effectively disenfranchised, their voices rendered mute. Their ballots spindled and nullified.

In short, the politicians — starting with Trump — extended a big middle finger to a large portion of the American electorate.

Is it any wonder, then, so many voters hold politicians and our political system in contempt?