California Governor Gavin Newsom has finally hinted at what many in Washington have long suspected: he is seriously considering a run for president in 2028.
In a candid interview aired on “CBS Sunday Morning,” the outspoken Democratic governor admitted that once the 2026 midterm elections are over, he will weigh his chances of taking his political career to the national stage.
When pressed on whether he would give a presidential campaign serious thought, Newsom smiled and replied, “I’d be lying otherwise.” It was the clearest signal yet from a man whose every move in recent years has seemed aimed at building a national profile.
Newsom, who has built his reputation as one of the most combative critics of Republican President Donald Trump, now finds himself at a crossroads. His term as governor of the nation’s most populous state will end in early 2027, leaving him free to pursue other ambitions.
With the Democratic Party searching for its next generation of leaders after two turbulent presidential cycles, Newsom’s timing could hardly be more strategic.
For months, he has been waging a proxy war with Trump over issues ranging from immigration enforcement to redistricting — battles that have not only kept him in the headlines but also positioned him as a foil to the Republican president’s combative populism.
In California, the governor’s latest clash with Trump revolves around the deployment of the state’s National Guard following a series of immigration protests.
When federal authorities attempted to use California Guard units for crowd control at ports of entry near San Diego, Newsom refused to comply. He accused Trump of “using the military as a political tool” and warned that California would not be “bullied into betraying its values.”
Trump responded in kind on social media, labeling Newsom “a grandstanding lightweight” and threatening to redirect federal disaster relief funds.
The feud only intensified when Newsom led a campaign to redraw California’s congressional maps to add five Democratic seats — a direct response, he said, to Trump’s “gerrymandering spree” in Texas.
California’s Proposition 50, which would authorize those new districts, has become a centerpiece of Newsom’s political strategy. Voting is already underway, and the measure’s outcome could either cement his national credibility or deal him a major setback.
To Newsom, it’s about fighting fire with fire. “If Texas can game the system, so can we,” he told supporters at a rally in Los Angeles. His critics call it partisan revenge dressed up as reform.
But for Newsom, every confrontation with Trump seems to strengthen his brand as the Democratic counterweight to the Republican establishment.
The governor’s rise has not been subtle. He has embraced a new brand of digital politics — one that mimics Trump’s own media tactics. His social posts come in all-caps slogans and sarcastic memes.
His campaign shop sells merchandise emblazoned with slogans like “MAKE CALIFORNIA THINK AGAIN” and “TRUTH IS BLUE.” For a politician who once styled himself as a policy wonk, the transformation into a media-savvy brawler has been startling.
Yet the strategy appears to be working. His name recognition is climbing nationwide, and party donors view him as one of the few Democrats capable of taking on Trump head-to-head on a debate stage.
During his CBS interview, Newsom was asked about Trump’s recent decision to demolish and rebuild part of the White House East Wing to create a presidential ballroom — a move widely criticized as symbolic excess.
“He’s an invasive species,” Newsom quipped, half amused and half disgusted. “He’s a wrecking ball. Not just the symbolism and substance of the East Wing — he’s wrecking alliances, truth, trust, tradition, institutions.”
His words, sharp and deliberate, reflect how deeply personal the feud has become. Trump, in response, has privately told advisers that Newsom “loves the sound of his own voice” and dismissed the California governor as “another media-made fake.”
Behind the theatrics, Newsom’s ambitions are unmistakable. He has launched a podcast aimed at rebranding himself as a centrist willing to engage with opponents across the spectrum.
In a surprising move, he has hosted figures as ideologically diverse as conservative provocateur Steve Bannon, Democratic congresswoman Jasmine Crockett of Texas, and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz — who served as Kamala Harris’s running mate in the 2024 election.
The podcast has been an unlikely hit, blending political discussion with personal storytelling. One particularly emotional episode featured Newsom reflecting on the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, calling it “a tragic moment that should remind all of us what happens when politics becomes poison.”
This careful balance — of combativeness and openness — has become Newsom’s political signature. He attacks Trump and the Republican right with theatrical flair, yet positions himself as someone willing to listen to ideas from every side.
His critics call it hypocrisy; his supporters call it evolution. Either way, the strategy is clearly designed to appeal to the broad coalition a Democratic candidate would need to win the presidency.
“He’s trying to be the anti-Trump who understands Trump,” said one longtime California political strategist. “He’s not trying to out-shout him; he’s trying to outlast him.”
Still, the road to 2028 will not be uncontested. Former Vice President Kamala Harris, who led the Democratic ticket in 2024 after Joe Biden withdrew from the race, has hinted that she may run again.
In a recent interview with the BBC, Harris said she believes a woman will be president “possibly in my lifetime, possibly me.” Her new memoir, 107 Days, recounts her experience as the reluctant nominee who ultimately lost to Trump.
Despite that defeat, she insists she’s “not done.” Asked about the prospect of facing Newsom in a primary, she laughed softly and said, “The Democratic Party has room for more than one fighter.”
A potential Harris–Newsom showdown would be historic. Both hail from California, both have served as the state’s top executives, and both command loyal factions within the Democratic establishment.
Harris represents the party’s progressive but pragmatic wing, while Newsom embodies its more performative, media-driven populism. Their personal relationship, though cordial, has grown more strained as speculation about 2028 intensifies.
Aides to both insist there is “mutual respect,” but operatives on the ground in Sacramento whisper that each sees the other as an obstacle to destiny.
The broader Democratic landscape remains unsettled. The party is still grappling with the fallout of its 2024 loss, in which Trump reclaimed the presidency after Democrats struggled to unify behind Harris.
Voters are increasingly disillusioned, with polls showing deep frustration over economic stagnation and immigration gridlock. Into that void, figures like Newsom see opportunity.
The California governor’s confidence, wealth, and command of political theater make him a natural fit for the age of viral politics. But they also make him a target.
Conservatives portray him as elitist, and progressives distrust his centrist flirtations. “He’s too polished to be authentic,” said one activist on the left. “He talks about equality while dining with billionaires.”
Yet for all the criticism, few doubt Newsom’s discipline or ambition. Those who know him describe a man who plans every move years in advance. His battles with Trump are not random spats; they are carefully staged episodes in a long campaign of contrast.
His push to expand California’s Democratic representation in Congress isn’t just about state politics — it’s about national leverage. His podcast, his social media presence, even his newfound love of memes are all tools in a project to transform his image from technocrat to cultural icon.
In private, allies say Newsom has already begun assembling an informal team of advisers who could pivot into campaign mode after the 2026 midterms.
His political network stretches from Silicon Valley donors to Hollywood fundraisers, and he’s quietly built relationships with local leaders across swing states.
While he insists that his focus remains on finishing his term as governor, no one in Sacramento believes that’s where his ambitions end. “He’s looking beyond California,” one longtime aide admitted. “He’s been looking for years.”
Meanwhile, Trump’s continued dominance of the Republican Party ensures that Newsom’s path will remain defined by opposition. Their rivalry — part ideological war, part media spectacle — has become a microcosm of the nation’s polarization.
When Trump recently threatened to send federal officers to San Francisco to “restore order,” tech executives and the city’s mayor pleaded with him to stand down.
He eventually relented, but only after mocking Newsom on television. The governor responded by calling Trump’s presidency “a wrecking ball to democracy.” The exchange was pure theater — and exactly the kind of drama both men seem to thrive on.
As 2028 approaches, the stage is slowly being set for a generational battle within the Democratic Party. Harris, the experienced former vice president who wants redemption.
Newsom, the ambitious governor who believes he can go toe-to-toe with Trump on style and substance alike. And perhaps others yet to emerge, each representing a different vision of what post-Trump America should look like.
For now, Newsom insists he’s focused on governing — but even his most loyal allies admit that the glint in his eye says otherwise.
When asked what kind of leader he believes America needs next, Newsom leaned back in his chair during the interview and smiled. “Someone who’s unafraid to fight for what’s right,” he said.
“Someone who knows that leadership isn’t about noise — it’s about conviction.” It was the kind of answer politicians give when they’ve already decided what comes next.
And for Gavin Newsom, it seems clear that the next chapter he intends to write won’t be in Sacramento. It will be in Washington, D.C., under the brightest spotlight of all.
