Imagine a Washington in which President Trump was held to account. A Washington in which Congress doesn’t roll over like a dog begging for a treat. A Washington that functions the way it’s supposed to, with that whole checks-and-balances thing working.
Enticing, no?
Democrats need to win just three seats in 2026 to seize control of the House and impose some measure of accountability on our rogue-elephant president. That’s something Trump is keenly aware of, which is why he’s pushing Texas to take the extraordinary step of redrawing its congressional boundaries ahead of the midterm election.
Republicans, who’ve exercised iron-clad control over Texas for decades, hold 25 of Texas’ 38 congressional seats. A special session scheduled next week in Austin is aimed at boosting that number by as many as five seats, increasing the GOP’s odds of hanging onto the House.
Enter, stage left, California’s White House-lusting governor.
As part of a recent Southern campaign swing, Gavin Newsom sat down with a progressive Tennessee podcaster to discuss the Republican power grab. (The picnic bench, rolled up shirt sleeves, beer and f-bomb showed the governor was being authentic, in case there was any doubt.)
“They’re not f——ing around now. They’re playing by a totally different set of rules,” Newsom said of Texas Gov. Greg Abbott and his fellow Republicans. Years ago, he noted, California created an independent commission to draw its political lines, which states normally do once a decade after new census figures come out.
But with a super-majority in Sacramento, Newsom said, Democrats could “gerrymander like no other state.”
“We’ve been playing fair,” he continued, but Abbott’s actions “made me question that entire program.” Later, elaborating on social media, the governor accused Republicans of cheating their way to extra House seats and warned, “CA is watching — and you can bet we won’t stand idly by.”
There’s a Texas expression for that: All hat and no cattle.
The fact is, voters took the power of political line-drawing away from the governor and his fellow lawmakers, for good reason, and it’s not like Newsom can unilaterally take that power back — no matter how well his chesty swagger might play with Trump-loathing Democrats.
“We have a commission,” said Justin Levitt, an expert on redistricting law at Loyola Law School. “Not only that, a Constitution and the commission’s in the Constitution. And not only that, we have a Constitution that says you only get to redistrict once every 10 years, unless there’s a legal problem with the existing maps.”
In other words, it’s not up to Newsom to huff and puff and blow existing House districts down.
California voters approved Proposition 20, which turned congressional line-drawing over to a nonpartisan, 14-member commission, in November 2010. The point was to introduce competition by taking redistricting away from self-dealing lawmakers. It passed by an overwhelming margin, 61% to 39%, and has worked just as intended.
After decades of pre-baked congressional contests, when the success of one party or the other was virtually guaranteed, California has become a hotbed of competition; in recent years, the state — an afterthought in November balloting for president — has been key to control of the House. In 2026, as many as a dozen seats, out of 52, could be at least somewhat competitive.
“I think it’s worked out great,” said Sara Sadhwani, an assistant politics professor at Pomona College and a member of the redistricting commission (Others doing the map-making included a seminary professor, a structural engineer and an investigator for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.)
There are two ways, Levitt said, that Newsom and fellow Democrats could undo the commission’s handiwork.
They could break the law and pass legislation drawing new lines, face an inevitable lawsuit and prevail with a sympathetic ruling from the California Supreme Court. Or they could ask voters to approve different lines through a new constitutional amendment, in a hurried-up special election ahead of the 2026 midterms.
Both scenarios seem as plausible as Newsom delivering universal healthcare and fulfilling his pledge to build 3.5 million new homes a year, to name two other extravagant promises.
To be clear, none of the above condones the plot that Trump and Abbott are attempting to hatch. Their actions are politically ruthless and more than a little cynical. (A letter from Trump’s hand-in-glove Justice Department has provided a legal fig leaf for the special session. Texas was recently — expediently — notified that four of its majority-minority congressional districts were unconstitutionally gerrymandered along racial lines, thus justifying the drawing of a new map.)
That’s no excuse, however, for Newsom to end-run California voters, or call a special election that could cost hundreds of millions of dollars at a time the state is gushing red ink.
Politics rooted in vengeance is both dangerous and wrong, whether it’s Trump or Newsom looking to settle scores.
There’s also the matter of delivering vacant threats. Some Democrats may thrill each time Newsom delivers one of his pugnacious pronouncements. That seems to be a big part of his presidential campaign strategy. But those same voters may tire of the lack of follow through, as Californians have.
Newsom has a well-deserved reputation for over-promising and under-delivering.
That’s not likely to serve him well on the national stage.
