Anti-Billionaire Billionaire? Steyer Takes On Sacramento’s Power Players

Paul Riverbank, 11/20/2025Billionaire Tom Steyer shakes up California's governor race, vowing to battle big money and lower costs for ordinary Californians. Can an “anti-billionaire billionaire” truly upend Sacramento, or will voters see just another wealthy player in politics? The state’s wide-open race may soon have its answer.

There’s less than half a year until the state’s peculiar all-comers primary, and the political landscape looks more scrambled than a rainy morning on the 405. Gavin Newsom, term-limited and already eyeing D.C., has cleared the decks. The Democrats’ field feels like a shuffle—a former congresswoman in Katie Porter, a health policy technocrat in Xavier Becerra, a city fixer in Antonio Villaraigosa, and Betty Yee, who kept Sacramento’s fiscal books. Meanwhile, over in the GOP tent, lawman Chad Bianco and Steve Hilton—who brings Fox News flair—are pitching rightward. Yet, if you listen to political chatter at a Santa Monica coffee shop, you’ll hear mostly uncertainty. Nearly half of voters haven’t made up their minds, Berkeley’s pollsters say. This contest is still up for grabs.

Steyer pitches himself less as a polished statesman, more as a disruptor in the buttoned shirt. After landing in San Francisco decades ago to launch a hedge fund, his résumé shifted—exit Farallon Capital, enter climate crusades and a media-soaked bid to impeach Donald Trump. Through his nonprofit, NextGen America, Steyer’s poured millions into youth turnout, ballot measures, tax reform, and just about every crusade that animates California progressives. Even recently he dropped $12 million on redistricting efforts with a folksy, “Let’s stick it to Trump.” Skeptics might note the echoing halls of his $4 million mansion renovation in Sea Cliff, or his retreat up at Lake Tahoe, which realtors would list north of $18 million.

His campaign platform? Give California a reset: curb surging costs, make room for affordable homes, chop down energy bills, and yank clout from entrenched corporate power. “Sacramento’s been bought,” Steyer tells me bluntly, nursing the same mug of coffee. “You want change? Don’t expect these insiders to deliver it. They’re too scared to upend the game. I’m not.”

Critics love to needle Steyer about his fortune—how can an anti-billionaire who’s bankrolled half the progressive internet plausibly run as an outsider? The irony isn’t lost on anyone, least of all Steyer himself. He isn’t coy about the money: $317 million evaporated in his short-lived 2020 run for president, and deep pockets mean he won’t beg for cash on the trail like his rivals.

There’s also the fundamental quirk of California elections at play. With the state’s nonpartisan primary, every candidate piles onto a single ballot. The top two, no matter their party, push through to November. In a state where Democrats still rule by the numbers but complacency has crept into the machinery, this shakes out as an open invitation to surprises.

What marks Steyer as different isn’t just his willingness to lob grenades at the rich while spending from his own vault—it’s that he moves quickly from talk to action, sometimes with dizzying confidence. But whether California’s working class, battered by bruising housing costs and utility bills that rival rents, will buy what he’s selling is another matter.

This time, Steyer says, he wants to level the scales. “Californians deserve a life they can afford, but the folks keeping this state humming are being run over,” he insists, gesturing from a living room dotted with campaign posters and the detritus of takeout. “It’s time corporations pay their fair share—again.”

Yet as the race jolts along and undecideds watch from the sidelines, the question keeps circling: Can a man who’s banked enough to terrify an entire field—and isn’t afraid to say so—convince voters he’s the one to break the system that gave him his billions in the first place?

A camera pans in, tight on Tom Steyer standing in a sunlit kitchen—apron askew, coffee cooling on the counter. “The richest people in America think they earned everything themselves. Bulls—t, man. That’s so ridiculous,” he says, setting the 2026 California governor’s race on a raw note. For a billionaire who’s spent much of his life among the world’s financial elite, calling out the wealthy is a move with bite. But in California, boldness sometimes counts for more than polish.There’s less than half a year until the state’s peculiar all-comers primary, and the political landscape looks more scrambled than a rainy morning on the 405. Gavin Newsom, term-limited and already eyeing D.C., has cleared the decks. The Democrats’ field feels like a shuffle—a former congresswoman in Katie Porter, a health policy technocrat in Xavier Becerra, a city fixer in Antonio Villaraigosa, and Betty Yee, who kept Sacramento’s fiscal books. Meanwhile, over in the GOP tent, lawman Chad Bianco and Steve Hilton—who brings Fox News flair—are pitching rightward. Yet, if you listen to political chatter at a Santa Monica coffee shop, you’ll hear mostly uncertainty. Nearly half of voters haven’t made up their minds, Berkeley’s pollsters say. This contest is still up for grabs.Steyer pitches himself less as a polished statesman, more as a disruptor in the buttoned shirt. After landing in San Francisco decades ago to launch a hedge fund, his résumé shifted—exit Farallon Capital, enter climate crusades and a media-soaked bid to impeach Donald Trump. Through his nonprofit, NextGen America, Steyer’s poured millions into youth turnout, ballot measures, tax reform, and just about every crusade that animates California progressives. Even recently he dropped $12 million on redistricting efforts with a folksy, “Let’s stick it to Trump.” Skeptics might note the echoing halls of his $4 million mansion renovation in Sea Cliff, or his retreat up at Lake Tahoe, which realtors would list north of $18 million.His campaign platform? Give California a reset: curb surging costs, make room for affordable homes, chop down energy bills, and yank clout from entrenched corporate power. “Sacramento’s been bought,” Steyer tells me bluntly, nursing the same mug of coffee. “You want change? Don’t expect these insiders to deliver it. They’re too scared to upend the game. I’m not.”Critics love to needle Steyer about his fortune—how can an anti-billionaire who’s bankrolled half the progressive internet plausibly run as an outsider? The irony isn’t lost on anyone, least of all Steyer himself. He isn’t coy about the money: $317 million evaporated in his short-lived 2020 run for president, and deep pockets mean he won’t beg for cash on the trail like his rivals.There’s also the fundamental quirk of California elections at play. With the state’s nonpartisan primary, every candidate piles onto a single ballot. The top two, no matter their party, push through to November. In a state where Democrats still rule by the numbers but complacency has crept into the machinery, this shakes out as an open invitation to surprises.What marks Steyer as different isn’t just his willingness to lob grenades at the rich while spending from his own vault—it’s that he moves quickly from talk to action, sometimes with dizzying confidence. But whether California’s working class, battered by bruising housing costs and utility bills that rival rents, will buy what he’s selling is another matter.This time, Steyer says, he wants to level the scales. “Californians deserve a life they can afford, but the folks keeping this state humming are being run over,” he insists, gesturing from a living room dotted with campaign posters and the detritus of takeout. “It’s time corporations pay their fair share—again.”Yet as the race jolts along and undecideds watch from the sidelines, the question keeps circling: Can a man who’s banked enough to terrify an entire field—and isn’t afraid to say so—convince voters he’s the one to break the system that gave him his billions in the first place?