You can't buy an election in California, but you can certainly set a quarter-billion dollars on fire trying.
Tom Steyer just found this out the hard way. The billionaire hedge-fund-manager-turned-climate-activist poured more than $215 million of his personal fortune into the 2026 California gubernatorial primary. He blanketed the airwaves, jammed mailboxes, and promised a populist revolt against big oil and tech monopolies.
The result? Third place.
Steyer didn't even make the November runoff. Instead, former federal health secretary Xavier Becerra and Trump-endorsed Republican Steve Hilton took the top two spots. In his concession speech, Steyer remarked that he didn't blame voters who "just couldn't stomach voting for a billionaire."
That sentiment is exactly what California columnist Anita Chabria recently took aim at, arguing that the progressive left needs to get over its puritanical aversion to billionaire allies when the stakes are this high. She's right. The reflexive disgust that modern liberals feel toward ultra-wealthy donors isn't just a matter of principle anymore. It's becoming a tactical suicide pact.
The Hypocrisy of Pure Wallets
Progressives love a purity test. We want clean energy, funded by clean grass-roots donations, organized by workers who only buy organic coffee. It sounds beautiful on a bumper sticker. In the brutal arena of modern American politics, though, it's a fantasy.
Look at the numbers from this election cycle. According to digital campaign finance records, candidate self-funding in California reached roughly $250 million. That's an astronomical leap from the 2022 cycle—more than eight times higher, in fact. The vast majority of that total came directly out of Steyer's pocket.
Did that massive spending buy him the governor's mansion? No. Voters saw through the endless ad blitz. But here's the reality check: while Steyer failed to secure his own spot, the institutional left depends heavily on this exact kind of wealth to survive on the broader map.
When Big Oil spends over $10 million in a single cycle to kill state carbon reduction targets, grass-roots $15 donations don't cut it. You need heavy artillery. Steyer has spent over $550 million across his lifetime political career—including his failed 2020 presidential bid—funding climate initiatives, voter registration drives, and progressive infrastructure. To pretend this money hasn't fundamentally altered the legislative landscape for the better is total denial.
Why the Enemy of Your Enemy is Still Your Best Bet
The old proverb says the enemy of my enemy is my friend. In modern politics, the enemy of your enemy is often a billionaire with an ego and a chip on their shoulder.
Take a look at the alternative facing California this November. Steve Hilton, a former Fox News host and top advisor to former British Prime Minister David Cameron, has consolidated the state's conservative base. He's running on a platform to slash state regulations and spending, and he's got the full backing of the White House.
If the progressive movement decides that billionaires are universally toxic, they voluntarily disarm while the other side stacks cash. The conservative movement doesn't suffer from these moral dilemmas. They don't care if their funding comes from Charles Koch, tech venture capitalists, or a real estate mogul. They take the cash and pass the policy.
The left's obsession with funding source purity ignores how political power actually operates. Wealthy individuals who use their resources to bankroll progressive causes—whether it's Steyer fighting oil companies or Sean Parker backing marijuana legalization—are tools. They aren't saints. You don't have to invite them to Thanksgiving dinner, but you shouldn't throw their resources back in their faces when the alternative is institutional collapse.
The Ghost of Meg Whitman
The fear of the self-funded billionaire is deeply baked into California's political DNA. People still talk about 2010. That was the year Meg Whitman, the former CEO of eBay, dropped $144 million of her own money running as a Republican for governor.
It was the most expensive self-funded campaign in American history at the time. The media panicked. Pundits screamed that democracy was being sold to the highest bidder. Then Jerry Brown, running on a relative shoestring budget, absolutely crushed her in the general election.
We saw the exact same script play out with Michael Bloomberg's $500 million presidential primary flop in 2020, and now with Steyer's 2026 gubernatorial flameout.
The data proves that voters don't just blindly obey television commercials. The idea that a rich guy can stroll into a state of 39 million people and buy an election is a myth.
If wealth can't automatically buy an election, why are progressives so terrified of using it? The danger isn't that a billionaire will buy the progressive movement; the danger is that progressives will starve their own ground games out of sheer snobbery.
Moving Past the Billionaire Guilt Trip
If you want to actually win elections instead of just feeling morally superior in a losing campaign office, your approach to wealthy donors has to change. Here is how the pragmatists handle the billionaire dilemma without losing their minds:
- Separate the platform from the person. Assess the policy goals, not the net worth. If an ultra-wealthy donor wants to spend $50 million to fund universal pre-K or climate research, take the win. The policy helps real people; the donor's tax bracket doesn't change that.
- Acknowledge the transactional nature of politics. Stop expecting billionaires to be selfless philanthropists. They have agendas. Your job as a voter or an organizer is to make sure their agenda aligns with yours on specific, tangible issues.
- Build the grass-roots structure anyway. Money buys airtime, but it doesn't buy a neighborhood field office. The best campaigns combine massive financial backing with genuine local enthusiasm. It shouldn't be an either-or choice.
The 2026 general election matchup between Xavier Becerra and Steve Hilton is going to be a grueling, expensive fight. It will determine the direction of healthcare, climate policy, and labor laws for the most populous state in the country.
If the left spends the next five months arguing about whether their donors are too rich, Hilton will coast into Sacramento. It's time to stop overthinking the checkbooks of your allies. Accept the help, pocket the money, and focus on winning the actual fight.
