I don't want to be under water in 10 years
On a Tuesday in June, California voters stepped into a political moment shaped as much by absence as by presence — the state's most prominent Democrats having declined to run, leaving a governor's race without a clear heir to Gavin Newsom's legacy. Two Democrats, a former attorney general and a billionaire climate activist, competed for the right to face a Trump-backed Republican in November, while in Los Angeles, the boundary between celebrity and civic life blurred once more. The results would speak not only to California's future, but to the broader question of what voters seek when the familiar faces step aside.
- With Kamala Harris and Alex Padilla both declining to enter, California's governor's race opened into an unusually wide and uncertain field, creating real anxiety that Democratic votes could splinter and hand Republicans an unlikely advantage.
- Xavier Becerra and Tom Steyer emerged as the two most serious Democratic contenders — one carrying the weight of institutional credibility, the other the urgency of a self-funded climate crusade — with neither able to claim a commanding lead heading into election day.
- Steve Hilton, running with Donald Trump's endorsement, represented the Republican Party's most credible attempt in two decades to break Democratic dominance in a state where the party has won every statewide race.
- In Los Angeles, Spencer Pratt's mayoral bid — celebrated quietly at a West L.A. restaurant rather than a traditional watch party — captured the increasingly porous line between political ambition and reality television fame.
- For voters like 24-year-old Jude Mayer, climate change was not an abstraction but a lived urgency — wildfires, droughts, and rising seas making the question of gubernatorial leadership feel immediate and existential.
- As ballots were counted, California's primary became a referendum on the state's political identity: whether Democratic dominance remained intact, whether activism or experience was the more compelling credential, and what the nation might read into the results.
Across California on Tuesday, voters decided who would lead the state and its largest city — a moment consequential not just for what was on the ballot, but for what was conspicuously absent from it. Gavin Newsom, barred by term limits from seeking a third term, left behind an office once held by Reagan, Schwarzenegger, and Jerry Brown. Kamala Harris declined to run. So did Senator Alex Padilla. The vacuum they created drew in a diverse field of ambitious politicians and wealthy activists willing to spend their own fortunes on the race.
Two Democrats emerged as the most serious contenders in the final weeks. Xavier Becerra — former congressman, California attorney general, and Biden's health secretary — represented the party's establishment wing. Tom Steyer, a billionaire investor and climate activist, offered something different: a self-funded campaign built around environmental urgency. On the Republican side, Steve Hilton ran with Donald Trump's endorsement, positioning himself as the party's best hope in a state where Democrats had won every statewide race for twenty years.
California's jungle primary system — where all candidates share a single ballot and the top two finishers advance regardless of party — had generated genuine anxiety among Democratic strategists early in the race. A fragmented Democratic vote could theoretically allow Republicans to claim both November slots. By election day, those fears had eased somewhat, though which Democrat would advance remained genuinely uncertain.
In Los Angeles, Spencer Pratt, known to audiences through reality television, was running for mayor. Rather than staging the standard election night spectacle, he gathered supporters privately at a West L.A. restaurant — a detail that said something about the unconventional texture of the race.
For many voters, the governor's contest had crystallized around climate. Jude Mayer, 24, said she had reservations about voting for a billionaire, but Steyer's environmental focus had moved her. 'I don't want to be under water in 10 years,' she said after casting her ballot — a fear increasingly concrete for Californians living through wildfires, droughts, and coastal erosion.
As results came in, California's primary offered a window into the state's political soul: whether Democratic dominance remained secure, whether voters preferred activist urgency or institutional experience, and what the answers might signal to a nation watching closely.
Across California on Tuesday, voters moved through polling places to decide who would lead the state and its largest city. The ballots were simple in form but consequential in scope: a sprawling governor's race with no clear frontrunner, a Los Angeles mayoral contest that included a reality television personality, and dozens of congressional and local races that would shape the state's political direction for years to come.
The governor's race had drawn an unusually wide field of candidates, a direct result of the state's primary system and the absence of obvious successors. Gavin Newsom, barred by term limits from seeking a third term, had held an office that once attracted titans of American politics—Ronald Reagan, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jerry Brown. This year felt different. Kamala Harris, the former vice president, had declined to run. So had Senator Alex Padilla. The vacuum they left behind pulled in a diverse array of ambitious politicians and wealthy activists willing to spend their own fortunes on the race.
Among the Democrats, two names had emerged as the most serious contenders by the primary's final weeks. Xavier Becerra, a former congressman who had served as California's attorney general and then as health secretary under President Biden, represented the establishment wing of the party. Tom Steyer, a billionaire investor and longtime climate activist, offered a different profile—a self-funded candidate who had built his campaign around environmental urgency. On the Republican side, Steve Hilton was running with the endorsement of Donald Trump, positioning himself as the party's best chance to compete in a state where Democrats had won every statewide election for the past two decades.
The primary system itself—where all candidates, regardless of party, appeared on a single ballot with the top two finishers advancing to November—had created genuine anxiety among Democratic strategists in the race's early months. With no clear favorite, the party's vote could splinter across multiple candidates, potentially allowing Republicans to claim both spots on the general election ballot and shut Democrats out entirely. But as voting day arrived, those fears had begun to ease. Party leaders were now confident that at least one Democrat would advance, though the identity of that candidate remained genuinely uncertain.
In Los Angeles, Spencer Pratt, known to television audiences for his appearances on reality shows, was running for mayor. Rather than hosting the kind of election night watch party that had become standard in American politics—a public event with press invited, speeches prepared, the machinery of political theater on full display—Pratt had chosen a different approach. He was gathering supporters at Don Antonio's, a restaurant in West L.A., for what he described as an intimate, private gathering. Reality television star Brody Jenner had been spotted at the event, a detail that captured something about the unconventional nature of the race.
For many voters, the governor's race had crystallized around a single issue: climate change. Jude Mayer, a 24-year-old who cast her ballot in Los Angeles, said she had reservations about voting for a billionaire for governor. But Steyer's willingness to center environmental concerns in his campaign had moved her. "I don't want to be under water in 10 years," she said after voting, articulating a fear that had become increasingly concrete for Californians watching wildfires, droughts, and coastal erosion reshape the state's landscape. For voters like Mayer, the question was not whether climate mattered—it was whether the next governor would treat it with the urgency she believed it demanded.
As the evening wore on and ballots were counted, the results would offer a window into how Californians were thinking about their state's future. In a state where Democrats had held commanding power for two decades, the primary would reveal whether that dominance remained secure, whether voters were ready to embrace a billionaire activist, or whether they preferred the institutional experience of a former attorney general and cabinet official. The answers would come in the hours ahead, written in vote totals and percentages that would shape not just California's November ballot, but the national conversation about climate, governance, and what voters wanted from their leaders.
Citações Notáveis
I don't want to be under water in 10 years— Jude Mayer, 24-year-old voter in Los Angeles, on climate change as a voting concern
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did so many prominent Democrats sit this race out? That seems unusual for a state where the party has this much power.
Newsom's term limit created an opening, but it wasn't an obvious prize. The office has real power, but it also comes with California's intractable problems—housing, water, fire. Harris and Padilla probably looked at the field and decided the risk wasn't worth it. Sometimes the smartest move is to wait.
So the field got crowded instead. How does that hurt Democrats?
In a top-two primary, a crowded field means your vote gets divided. If five Democrats split the vote evenly, a Republican could slip through to the general election even with a minority of support. That's what kept party leaders up at night until recently.
But that fear has eased. Why?
Because the math started working in their favor. Becerra and Steyer pulled ahead enough that it became clear at least one would make it through. The panic subsided once the outcome looked survivable.
What's the difference between those two candidates?
Becerra is the institutional choice—attorney general, congressman, cabinet experience. Steyer is the outsider billionaire betting that voters care more about climate than credentials. They're competing for the same Democratic voters but offering very different visions of what leadership looks like.
And Spencer Pratt running for mayor in L.A.—is that serious?
He's running. Whether he's serious in the traditional sense is a different question. But he's on the ballot, and that matters. Politics has room for all kinds of candidates now.