Maher to Democrats: Silence Hollywood Elites or Lose the Heartland

Paul Riverbank, 1/27/2026Bill Maher urges Democrats to rein in celebrity activism, while Gov. Newsom challenges TikTok’s alleged political bias—underscoring a larger struggle over narrative power, party identity, and the forces shaping public opinion in a polarized America.

This isn’t the sort of talk that wins much applause in entertainment circles. Anyone who’s brushed shoulders with Beverly Hills elites could see the discomfort when Maher’s name comes up. Wanda Sykes, never one to waste a punchline, couldn’t resist a pointed dig at the Golden Globes: "You give us so much, Bill. But really, a little less would be nice." It was raw, unscripted, and proof that the rift inside Hollywood’s political class is as wide as ever.

Meanwhile, outside the studios and echo chambers, California brews its own political intrigue. Gavin Newsom—polished, governor, ever attuned to his state’s progressive mood—has turned a wary gaze toward TikTok. The governor’s office has gone public with claims: after the platform’s sale to a group with Trump ties, they allege, criticism of Donald Trump started vanishing. "We’ve received reports and confirmed that content critical of President Trump has been suppressed," Newsom’s office announced on X (formerly Twitter). TikTok countered, blaming a technical hiccup; Newsom, no stranger to political theater himself, called for a formal review. He’s wagering that who gets to control online discourse is more than a technicality—it’s a matter of democracy itself, especially when millions scroll those feeds each day.

For Maher, this spectacle is part of a bigger disease—single-party dominance, wherever it crops up. "It’s never healthy when one side holds all the cards," he mused recently. California, deep blue, is his case in point, but he doesn’t spare Republicans either. “When power goes unchecked, both parties get carried away.” He’s made a career lobotomizing the extremes, urging a politics with fewer wild swings and more common sense. It’s not a call for milquetoast centrism, but for a truce—a plea to marginalize the loudest, least productive factions on both sides.

That brings us back to Newsom, a figure Maher treats with a mix of affection and exasperation. “Look, I’ve got my issues with the governor and the state, but I do like him. Gavin’s a pro. I just wish he’d edge closer to the middle. That’s how Democrats win, and frankly, it’s what the country needs.” These aren’t empty platitudes—Maher steers away from the theatrics of memes and celebrity speeches. For him, those viral moments are just political background noise. “Maybe they’re fun, but do they move votes? Honestly, I doubt it. Some of it’s downright silly.”

Yet, when it comes to platforms like TikTok, Maher acknowledges this isn’t just entertainment, it’s the new battleground for shaping what the public sees and hears. Trump, now with a digital army of over 16 million TikTok followers, credits the app for his comeback. Newsom’s challenge isn’t just bluster—he’s asking whether the platform’s American-led ownership is playing fair or gaming the system for political gain. These aren’t abstract concerns. Whoever gets to steer the conversation—whether it’s a celebrity tweet, a governor’s probe, or an algorithm deep in Silicon Valley—has leverage over what narratives take hold.

So, as the 2024 campaign trail heats up, this isn’t just a story about red and blue, or about which party lands the sharper zingers. It’s about the messier, more consequential fight over who controls the microphone in American life. Bill Maher says the Democrats could learn a thing or two by turning down the star power and tuning in to average voters. Newsom, meanwhile, is banking on state oversight to ensure that no candidate gets an unfair digital boost. The months ahead will test both strategies—one rooted in humility, the other in institutional muscle. In the end, it’s not just about who speaks loudest, but whose message actually gets heard.

There’s no mistaking Bill Maher when he enters the political stage—he’s a man almost genetically incapable of biting his tongue. Take his recent broadside at the Democratic Party’s star-studded wing. “Hollywood—come on. You folks are the nerve center of performative wokeness," Maher declared, unfiltered as ever. He minced no words: if Democrats want traction in Middle America, their more famous supporters should do, well, less talking. "People don’t see you as credible or connected to reality," he continued, sounding more like a tough-love coach than a late-night provocateur.This isn’t the sort of talk that wins much applause in entertainment circles. Anyone who’s brushed shoulders with Beverly Hills elites could see the discomfort when Maher’s name comes up. Wanda Sykes, never one to waste a punchline, couldn’t resist a pointed dig at the Golden Globes: "You give us so much, Bill. But really, a little less would be nice." It was raw, unscripted, and proof that the rift inside Hollywood’s political class is as wide as ever.Meanwhile, outside the studios and echo chambers, California brews its own political intrigue. Gavin Newsom—polished, governor, ever attuned to his state’s progressive mood—has turned a wary gaze toward TikTok. The governor’s office has gone public with claims: after the platform’s sale to a group with Trump ties, they allege, criticism of Donald Trump started vanishing. "We’ve received reports and confirmed that content critical of President Trump has been suppressed," Newsom’s office announced on X (formerly Twitter). TikTok countered, blaming a technical hiccup; Newsom, no stranger to political theater himself, called for a formal review. He’s wagering that who gets to control online discourse is more than a technicality—it’s a matter of democracy itself, especially when millions scroll those feeds each day.For Maher, this spectacle is part of a bigger disease—single-party dominance, wherever it crops up. "It’s never healthy when one side holds all the cards," he mused recently. California, deep blue, is his case in point, but he doesn’t spare Republicans either. “When power goes unchecked, both parties get carried away.” He’s made a career lobotomizing the extremes, urging a politics with fewer wild swings and more common sense. It’s not a call for milquetoast centrism, but for a truce—a plea to marginalize the loudest, least productive factions on both sides.That brings us back to Newsom, a figure Maher treats with a mix of affection and exasperation. “Look, I’ve got my issues with the governor and the state, but I do like him. Gavin’s a pro. I just wish he’d edge closer to the middle. That’s how Democrats win, and frankly, it’s what the country needs.” These aren’t empty platitudes—Maher steers away from the theatrics of memes and celebrity speeches. For him, those viral moments are just political background noise. “Maybe they’re fun, but do they move votes? Honestly, I doubt it. Some of it’s downright silly.”Yet, when it comes to platforms like TikTok, Maher acknowledges this isn’t just entertainment, it’s the new battleground for shaping what the public sees and hears. Trump, now with a digital army of over 16 million TikTok followers, credits the app for his comeback. Newsom’s challenge isn’t just bluster—he’s asking whether the platform’s American-led ownership is playing fair or gaming the system for political gain. These aren’t abstract concerns. Whoever gets to steer the conversation—whether it’s a celebrity tweet, a governor’s probe, or an algorithm deep in Silicon Valley—has leverage over what narratives take hold.So, as the 2024 campaign trail heats up, this isn’t just a story about red and blue, or about which party lands the sharper zingers. It’s about the messier, more consequential fight over who controls the microphone in American life. Bill Maher says the Democrats could learn a thing or two by turning down the star power and tuning in to average voters. Newsom, meanwhile, is banking on state oversight to ensure that no candidate gets an unfair digital boost. The months ahead will test both strategies—one rooted in humility, the other in institutional muscle. In the end, it’s not just about who speaks loudest, but whose message actually gets heard.