The night before cage fighters bloodied each other on the White House South Lawn, Ja Rule — the rapper who topped the charts in 1999 by packaging street menace into radio-friendly hits — performed inside a members-only club in Washington founded by Donald Trump Jr. He sang those hits, a quarter-century on, for a crowd eating caviar kept cold by an ice sculpture. The scene comes from Politico Magazine’s recent tour of the 1990s nostalgia sweeping Trump’s Washington, and it is no outlier: the culture-keepers of the MAGA movement are fluent in the anti-establishment canon of their youth.

MAGA sees itself as a reaction to the “old” political establishment in the same way that hip-hop and alt-rock were reactions to the musical establishment back in the 1990s. The article quotes the MAGA podcaster Jack Posobiec: “This idea that you can break the rules and still be successful, that is almost the quintessential difference between us and the old right.”

In recent weeks, we’re seeing how the same current runs through the Democratic Party, where insurgents are toppling incumbents and the energy belongs to those who promise confrontation with their own establishment. Both parties are now competing for the same voter — the cynic — with different soundtracks. The most energetic branches of the left and the right agree with each other and with Posobiec: “If the system got us to a bad place, then we need to break the system to get us back to a good place.”

But breaking things just leaves you with broken things. Transgression is an aesthetic, not a governing agenda.

I understand the cynicism. I live in San Francisco, where a single party has governed for a generation, and the results speak plainly: some 22,000 of our neighbors sleep unsheltered across the Bay Area. Housing costs two and a half times what it does in Austin. BART operator compensation grew 32 percent while ridership fell 57 percent. One in four low-income eighth graders is proficient in math. You can’t look at those numbers and defend our institutions as they are today.

But anger is not a plan. While anti-institutional politics is superb at winning attention and primaries, it has yet to show it can run a transit system, permit a housing development, or teach a child to read.

Small-r republicanism starts from a different premise, the founding one: in a republic, the government is not “them.” It is us. Our institutions — school boards, city councils, transit agencies, the parties themselves — are not an occupying power to be overthrown. They are our common property, badly maintained. You do not burn down a house you own. You fix it, even when the previous tenants left it in shameful condition. Franklin’s famous answer — “a republic, if you can keep it” — was an assignment, not a boast.

What does the work look like? Less dramatic than a cage match, I admit.

At Frontier Republicans & Friends, the work starts with honest conversations over dinner. Over the past six months, we have hosted gatherings across the Bay Area where Republicans, independents, and disaffected Democrats talk about governance like adults — 18 dinners, more than 130 guests, 89 founding members and counting — a majority of them invited not by me but by fellow members.

It looks like showing up to run for unglamorous offices — the ones you must win before anyone trusts you with a glamorous one. In the coming years, we will recruit and support strong candidates for school boards, city councils, and special districts — the rooms where the Bay Area’s daily failures are manufactured, and where they can be fixed.

And it looks like opposition to bad ideas paired with a clear vision of a better alternative. This November, we are likely to oppose the regional transit tax — not because transit shouldn’t be funded, but because the agencies asking for fourteen more years of our money have not yet earned it. We will make our case with audited numbers, acknowledge the strongest arguments on the other side, and describe the conditions under which we would support more funding.

We value our transit systems and want them to endure — which means evolving them so their costs stay in line with the value they deliver.

Politics is cyclical, and parties that win on attitude eventually have to govern on competence — or lose to someone who can. When that turn comes, the people who spent the intervening years learning to run things will be better prepared to meet the moment than those who spent them curating playlists.

So this is an invitation, especially to the politically homeless: if burn-it-down leaves you cold, but defend-the-status-quo insults your intelligence, you are not actually homeless. You are a small-r republican. There are more of us than you think, and we are already at the table — passing the bread, comparing school data, planning the repair.

The system is ours. Come help fix it.

Frontier Republicans & Friends hosts small dinners across the Bay Area. If you’d like to join one, get connected at frontierrepublicans.org.

Over the past two weeks, democratic socialists have won a string of Democratic primaries, first in New York and then in Colorado, where a self-described socialist unseated a fifteen-term incumbent. In a sharp piece in City Journal, Jesse Arm and Sean Speer argue that these victories are not primarily about charismatic individuals — they’re about infrastructure. The Democratic Socialists of America spent years building the machinery of politics: recruiting candidates, training activists, raising money, and enforcing discipline. Now that machine wins “regardless of who is on the ballot.”

Their most important idea: “Political movements defeat collections of interests far more often than collections of interests defeat political movements.”

Arm and Speer identify a paradox. The socialist left has a movement. Its opponents have a majority: business leaders worried about the investment climate, center-left Democrats tired of purity tests, immigrant entrepreneurs, parents anxious about safety and schools, moderates of every background. What that majority lacks is not numbers. It is, in their words, “a shared political identity and the institutional infrastructure that would enable them to act together.” You might describe these folks as “politically homeless.”

Many Frontier dinner attendees over the past five months describe themselves the same way. They have watched a single party run this region for a generation, and they see the budgets balloon while the schools stall and the trains empty out. Many have quietly concluded that, at the ballot box, they have nowhere to go.

The answer is not merely to oppose socialism. As Arm and Speer argue, opposition is not an agenda, and anger is not a plan. What’s needed, they write, is “an affirmative, optimistic agenda” built around public safety, economic growth, housing, functional public services, upward mobility, and institutional competence. That’s what we are trying to build here in the Bay Area.

I should add another conviction: You cannot build a coalition from a keyboard.

Coalitions are made of relationships, and relationships are made through person-to-person contact, one conversation at a time. The DSA understands this. Before they won elections, they showed up — meeting after meeting — until they had built a coalition with a mission that is larger than a single candidate.

This is what Frontier is trying to do in the Bay Area, albeit with different political convictions. We bring Republicans, independents, and disaffected Democrats together around a hopeful, practical agenda: safer streets, a lower cost of living, better schools, more effective government. We aim to build a network and eventually a powerful governing bloc, candidate by candidate, member by member.

We’re not just interested in elected office: We intend to raise our hands and earn our place at the tables where this region’s future is debated and decided — in its civic and community institutions — and to bring some political diversity to rooms that have had almost none.

It is already happening. In our first five months, more than 130 people have come to a Frontier dinner, and more than half have joined. We are eighty-six founding members strong, and a majority of them were brought in not by me, but by other members inviting their friends. This is no longer just a founder with a following; it’s a network that has begun to grow on its own.

It is slow and unglamorous. And it is what wins in the long term.

The socialists spent a decade building institutions before they began collecting victories. The results we are watching now are the return on that investment. Arm and Speer ask: Is the center-right willing to do the same?

At Frontier, our answer is yes — and we’re already in the arena. If you’re one of the politically homeless, there’s a place for you here with us. Reach out to me at bill@republicanreset.org.

Today the United States turns 250. I am looking forward to the parade later this morning, the cookout this afternoon, and the fireworks tonight. And, as I reflect on what I love best about America, I’m thinking about an idea expressed not at our founding, but near the end of the cataclysmic Civil War we endured nearly a century later.

These are my favorite American words — the close of Abraham Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address:

“Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman’s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, ‘the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.’”

Consider when Lincoln said this. The North was near total victory. He could have claimed the high ground — we are righteous and they are guilty — but he does the opposite. Speaking to the whole country, he calls slavery not the South’s sin but America’s, an offense for which the entire nation is being made to pay in blood and treasure. Earlier in the same address he had said that both sides “read the same Bible and pray to the same God,” that “the prayers of both could not be answered,” and — most startling of all — “let us judge not, that we be not judged.”

He is speaking not as a conqueror standing over the defeated, but rather as a fellow sinner kneeling beside them.

And notice the severity underneath the mercy. Lincoln does not soften the evil of slavery to make peace easier. He submits to the possibility that a just God might require every drop of blood drawn by the lash to be repaid by the sword. He holds together two things that lesser men keep apart: an unflinching judgment about the wrong, and a refusal to exempt his own side from the reckoning.

Then comes the turn — the most famous sentence, and the one I love most:

“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

Malice toward none. After four years and more than 600,000 dead — malice toward none. Charity for all. At the height of his power, when retribution was his for the taking, Lincoln laid down the Christian ethic as the standard to which a broken nation should aspire: not domination but mercy, not revenge but the binding up of wounds and the care of widows and orphans on both sides.

It is the middle clause that resonates most deeply with me: “with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right.” Lincoln does not pretend the war was a misunderstanding, or that right and wrong are matters of taste. Yet he adds a phrase of deep humility: as God gives us to see the right. He does not claim to see perfectly. He claims only to act, faithfully, on as much of the right as he has so far been given to see.

That, I believe, is the truest description of what it means to be American. We are not the people who already possess the right and impose it on others. We are the people who engage in constant self-examination — who keep straining to see the right more clearly, and to act on it more faithfully, than we did the year before. Our founding documents did not describe a finished country; they set down a standard we have spent 250 years struggling, and failing, and struggling again to live up to.

We have not always managed it. Reconstruction collapsed and left the freedmen to generations of injustice. And yet the impulse keeps resurfacing in our better moments. It is there, I think, in the way America, at the summit of its power after the Second World War, chose to rebuild Germany and Japan rather than exact retribution — charity for all, again, offered by the victor.

And did you spot this convergence? Lincoln spoke of “two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil.” Today, we are celebrating the nation’s two hundred and fiftieth birthday. That echo reminds us that the American story has always held both things at once — the wealth and the wound, the pride and the penance — and that our greatness has never been in pretending otherwise, but in reckoning honestly and then choosing, anyway, to bind up the wounds.

So tonight let’s watch the fireworks with a full heart. And tomorrow, let’s strive on to finish the work we are in, “with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right” — which is only ever a little at a time, and always, we hope, a little more than the day before.

Happy birthday, America. Here’s to the next 250 years of learning to see.

Smart investors know that some of the best opportunities are the ones everyone else has written off. By that logic, the center-right in the Bay Area may be the most underpriced asset in California politics. The conventional wisdom says a Republican can’t win here, so serious people don’t bother — which is precisely why the upside is so large for those willing to build before the rest of the market catches on.

I’m inviting you to become a Founding Member of Frontier Republicans & Friends and help lay the foundation. There are four good reasons to do so: community, power, personal growth, and political reform. Any one of these reasons might be enough, but taken together, they make a powerful case for investing a modest amount of your time and money.

Community

Start with the simplest reason: Frontier is social, and you’ll make new friends.

We meet regularly — mostly in person, in small groups over dinner and in larger gatherings for debates, happy hours, and conversation. The point of being together in a room is not incidental to this project; it is the project. Relationships are how trust gets built, and trust is the thing our politics is starving for.

The quality of the conversation is high. Frontier members know how to listen, ask a real question, and sit with an answer they don’t agree with. In a culture that increasingly sorts people into camps and then teaches them to talk past one another, that turns out to be rare — and valuable.

Ours is a community where conservative and right-of-center ideas are welcome, but not required. If you’re a conservative who has learned to keep quiet at dinner parties — who has felt the temperature drop in a room when you offered an honest opinion — Frontier is for you. And if you’re a moderate or a liberal who simply wishes we could talk about politics with more openness and less contempt, Frontier is also for you. That second group is the “and Friends” in our name, and we mean it. You don’t have to agree with me, or with each other, about much of anything. You only have to be willing to show up curious.

Power

Now a harder truth. Republicans have very little power in the Bay Area, for a simple reason: we almost never win elections.

Frontier intends to change that — slowly but surely, and in three ways. First, we will build a Republican brand that actually appeals to the large bloc of moderate voters who decide elections here, grounded in freedom, character, and opportunity rather than grievance. Second, we will find and support excellent candidates for down-ballot races — people already known and trusted in their own communities, running for school boards, city councils, and special districts where competence is visible and ideology matters less. Third, we will build a large community — tens of thousands of members over time — willing to back those candidates with their time and their money.

But power isn’t only about holding seats. Even before we win majorities, a more principled and situationally aware Republican voice changes the conversation. When we trade outrage for data and clearly stated principles, moderate Democrats are forced to engage our ideas instead of dismissing the “R” next to a name. A credible second voice makes the party in power more honest, and makes the whole region better governed. That, too, is a form of power — and it is available to us long before election night.

Personal Growth

Here is a promise that may sound strange coming from a political project: joining Frontier will help you grow.

We ask each member to bring in two new members a year. That sounds daunting at first, and I won’t pretend otherwise. But the process of doing it develops a set of skills our political culture has largely forgotten: listening to someone whose politics differ from yours, showing genuine respect rather than merely tolerating disagreement, and learning to explain your own convictions in language the other person can actually hear. We will learn how to do this together.

Those same skills get sharpened at the dinner table. Many of our gatherings are designed to bring members together with people who are curious but not yet committed. Over time, you’ll reverse-engineer the quiet art of it: how to invite someone in a way that feels like an opportunity rather than an ambush; how to build rapport among strangers; how to leave a room of people who arrived as individuals feeling, by the end of the night, like they share a purpose. These are leadership skills, and they travel well — into your work, your volunteer life, and your family.

Political Reform

The fourth reason is the one closest to my own heart, and it has two parts.

The first is party reform. In their recent book The Hollow Parties, political scientists Daniel Schlozman and Sam Rosenfeld argue that America’s parties have become hollow — hard shells of electoral combat wrapped around an empty core. They are loud but unrooted, captured by satellite actors like talk-radio hosts, single-issue activists, consultants, and megadonors, even as they lose their footing in the daily civic life of actual communities. The authors’ prescription is not to weaken parties further or to chase money out of politics, but the opposite: to rebuild parties from the ground up, rooted in the bread-and-butter concerns of the places they serve. That is very nearly a description of what we are trying to do. Frontier is, in part, a party-reform project — an effort to fill a hollow party with people, ideas, and relationships.

The second part is government reform. Many of you wish that candidates and elected officials were more principled and more focused on solving problems than on posting to Instagram. So do I. By electing capable, principled Republicans to local office — and by refusing to play the game of performative outrage — Frontier aims to demonstrate something too few Bay Area residents currently believe: that politics can actually make daily life better. Safer streets. Schools that take every student as far as they can go. A city where a young family can afford to stay. When government delivers those things, it rebuilds trust. When Frontier Republicans are the ones delivering, that trust becomes our appeal.

Will You Join Us?

So there are the four reasons: community, power, personal growth, and political reform. They are also, not coincidentally, the four reasons I get out of bed for this work. I love this region, and I believe its governance can be far better than it is. I also believe the people best positioned to help — people like you — have simply been waiting for something worth joining.

I’ll be honest: this is hard, and it isn’t guaranteed to work. We are building something new, and it will take resources, patience, and a critical mass of committed members to get off the ground. That’s precisely why Founding Members matter so much. You’ll be shaping the culture, standards, and direction of Frontier at the moment those things are still being set.

If any of this resonates, let’s talk. Reach out to me at bill@republicanreset.org, and consider becoming a Founding Member of Frontier Republicans & Friends. The Bay Area deserves a better politics, and someone has to build it. Why not us?

Over the past several months, I’ve hosted 18 dinners with more than 125 Republicans, No Party Preference (NPP) voters, and disaffected Democrats from across the Bay Area. Those conversations have demonstrated strong demand for a center-right movement that can broaden the range of policy solutions under consideration, restore healthy political competition, and improve local governance. To help advance that vision, I am launching a new organization: Frontier Republicans & Friends (“Frontier”).

The name is intentional. Each word reflects an important part of the vision: the spirit of the movement we hope to build, the political tradition we hope to strengthen, and the broader coalition it will take to succeed.

The word Frontier reflects the spirit of the project. Too much of modern politics encourages people to think of themselves as spectators, victims, or defenders of a shrinking territory. In contrast, Frontier reflects the belief that people are — and should be — the architects of their own lives. Frontier evokes optimism, experimentation, and a willingness to build. It reflects a belief that the center-right’s task is not to restore some imagined past but to help shape a better future.

If Frontier evokes the spirit of the project, Republicans explains how we intend to translate that spirit into political influence and better governance.

Many in the Bay Area who share Frontier’s concerns about housing affordability, public safety, educational quality, fiscal discipline, and government performance are reluctant to identify as Republicans. Many are NPPs. Some are Democrats who feel politically homeless. And some are Republicans who have significant reservations about aspects of the national party.

Given that reality, why make this a Republican project?

The answer begins with a practical reality: politics is still conducted largely through political parties in the United States. Candidates come and go, but parties are the institutions through which governing philosophies, policy innovations, and political coalitions are developed and sustained. We remember Reconstruction, the New Deal, and Reaganism not because of any single election, but because they represented broader movements that reshaped American politics.

The same principle applies in California today, where improving governance requires developing new ideas, building new coalitions, and refining them over time. If successful, those ideas and coalitions can gradually move from city councils, school boards, and county governments to statewide office. Given the entrenched ideas and coalitions that sustain one-party rule in California, political renewal will need to be built from the ground up.

While the Republican Party is a tarnished brand in the eyes of some, there isn’t actually a realistic alternative vehicle for building a center-right movement in California. New political parties rarely gain traction in the American system, and organizations that avoid party politics struggle to translate ideas into electoral success. Whatever its flaws, the Republican Party already possesses the institutional infrastructure, ballot access, volunteer networks, donor relationships, and local organizations needed to compete in elections.

The path toward greater relevance for the center-right lies not in abandoning this venerable institution, but in strengthening it by injecting new ideas, developing new leaders, and building new coalitions better suited to the Bay Area and California. That is why this must be a Republican project.

If Republicans explains the political vehicle, Friends explains the coalition-building strategy.

One of the most surprising findings from the Bay Area Republican Reset Project is that many of the people most enthusiastic about its goals are not Republicans.

Some are No Party Preference (NPP) voters. Some are Democrats who have become frustrated with Bay Area governance and political culture. Some are former Republicans who no longer feel at home in the party as it exists today. Regardless, they share a belief that the Bay Area would benefit from more political competition and a broader range of ideas represented in public life.

Many of these individuals will support the mission before they will join the party.

The Bay Area is home to millions of people who are concerned about public safety, housing affordability, educational quality, fiscal discipline, and government performance but who are not ready to become Republicans. Some may never register as Republicans at all. Others eventually will — if they see that the party is operating effectively and consistently with their values. All are potential allies in the effort to restore healthy political competition and improve governance.

The phrase and Friends reflects that reality. It signals that Frontier is building a coalition of people who share values and a vision for the future — not a tribal identity. It reflects a belief that people can work together without agreeing on every issue and that political movements become stronger when they are confident enough to build on-ramps for people who have not recently felt welcome.

Furthermore, if successful, Frontier Republicans & Friends will gradually influence the California Republican Party. As Frontier develops compelling policy ideas, hosts thoughtful debates, and supports strong candidates, members and voters will gain confidence in the party’s future. As Frontier-backed candidates become more competitive and win elections, volunteers and donors will see that their efforts are paying off. Success tends to attract talent, energy, and optimism. Over time, more people will see the Republican Party as a place where they can contribute and belong.

In summary: Frontier provides the spirit; Republicans provides the vehicle; and Friends provides the coalition.

Together, they describe the movement we intend to build.

The Bay Area Republican Reset Project began with a question: Can Republicans, No Party Preference (NPP) voters, and disaffected Democrats come together to build a more credible Republican presence in the Bay Area — one capable of developing compelling ideas, fielding strong candidates, and ultimately improving governance? For the past three months, I’ve explored that question through an old technology that still works remarkably well: inviting people to dinner.

The last three dinners — in Santa Clara, Contra Costa, and San Mateo counties — clarified three themes that have surfaced repeatedly across the 16 dinners I’ve hosted since February. I suspect these themes point toward what many politically homeless Bay Area residents are looking for and what it might take to rebuild Republican influence in the Bay Area.

Theme 1: People are hungry for genuine exchanges of ideas

At one recent dinner, a participant shared that his sisters no longer speak to him because of his conservative political beliefs.

Nobody around the table was surprised. Increasingly, Americans seem to avoid political disagreement rather than navigate it. Families fracture. Friend groups narrow. Colleagues self-censor. People retreat into communities where their assumptions are rarely challenged.

That may reduce conflict in the short run, but it weakens society in the long run.

Again and again, participants expressed some version of the same desire: genuine conversation — the kind that requires listening, curiosity, and enough humility to admit that you might be wrong about something.

Transgender issues came up at two dinners. In both cases, at least one attendee had a transgender child, and many expressed compassion and concern for young people working through gender dysphoria.

At the same time, people worried that ordinary questions about developmental appropriateness, the proper roles of schools and parents, or medical interventions for children have become difficult to discuss honestly. Some feared social consequences for asking questions at all.

People are yearning for opportunities to discuss morally difficult questions without others immediately assuming bad intent. Democracies depend on citizens who can disagree — sometimes profoundly — and still see one another as neighbors rather than enemies.

The 26 people who attended my three most recent dinners are not looking for politicians who reassure them that the other side is evil. Rather, they seem hungry for leaders willing to exercise judgment, acknowledge complexity, and model how ordinary citizens can disagree honestly about important questions.

Theme 2: Kitchen-table issues matter more than ideology

The media often focuses on the most controversial, emotionally charged issues. The people at these dinners, by contrast, kept returning to more practical questions:

• Is my community safe?

• How will I be able to afford a house?

• Will the next generation have a better life than mine?

Affordability surfaced at every dinner. People are worried about the cost of housing, insurance, energy, and taxes. Beneath many specific complaints was a broader anxiety: the growing difficulty of building a stable middle-class life in California.

Education surfaced repeatedly. Participants were skeptical that schools are preparing children for adulthood and economic independence. One participant noted that very few students will develop the technical skills needed to become engineers at companies like Nvidia — despite growing up next to some of the most innovative firms in human history.

Others worried that screens and computers — now nearly ubiquitous in schools — are undermining attention and contributing to anxiety among young people.

Parents described children who feel overwhelmed, discouraged, and uncertain about their futures. Participants disagreed about causes and solutions, but many converged on a similar conclusion: young people need more adults in their lives who believe in them, challenge them, and help them develop resilience, judgment, and purpose.

I left these dinners with the impression that politically homeless Bay Area residents are less interested in ideological battles than in whether institutions are helping ordinary people thrive. Again and again, people expressed a desire for competent government, greater opportunity, and reassurance that effort, responsibility, and skill still matter.

Theme 3: “It’s the culture, stupid”

Many of the deepest concerns people expressed at these dinners were not about taxes, regulations, or elections.

They were about culture.

In the Bay Area, many people instinctively distrust conservatives on cultural issues, perceiving them as judgmental, intolerant, or inclined to impose their moral standards on others. Local culture values innovation and personal freedom, and many residents are wary of a return to older norms they associate with exclusion or conformity.

But cultures can overcorrect. In reacting against one form of rigidity, they may create another.

At recent dinners, people expressed concern that some Bay Area institutions — schools, workplaces, nonprofits, even religious communities — have become so oriented toward questioning inherited norms and traditions that they no longer know how to defend the parts of them that still support human flourishing.

Participants worried that modern elite culture increasingly prizes critique over construction. Persistent skepticism toward authority, religion, merit, family formation, and shared expectations of behavior weaken the sources of meaning and obligation on which healthy societies depend. Social progress requires people willing to challenge unfairness and hypocrisy, but a culture centered on criticism risks producing citizens more comfortable deconstructing institutions than building them.

People admired builders: mentors, business owners, religious leaders, teachers, parents, community organizers, and elected officials willing to roll up their sleeves and solve practical problems. They want to live in a culture that lifts up people who build — families, companies, and communities.

That points toward a different possibility for Republicans in the Bay Area.

Perhaps rebuilding Republican influence here depends less on sharper messaging or better campaign tactics and more on becoming associated with building: stronger communities, more capable young people, competent governance, and a civic culture that both expects responsibility from citizens and believes they are capable of meeting it.

I hosted the 13th Republican Reset dinner last Wednesday at my home. One of the participants said: “You have to make things sexy. The message has to be spicy and rebellious.”

Indeed, you’ve got to get people’s attention! Spencer Pratt as Batman is spicy and rebellious. But there are other ways to get people’s attention. Zohran Mamdani is personal and authentic in Without the night shift, there is no morning. Patrick Wolff turns an abstract argument about competence into something concrete and intuitive in Fix It.

Success in politics requires pairing powerful communications with effective policy. Think of it as a two-layered pyramid.

Communications: the top of the pyramid

The top part is “communications.” I look for three qualities in effective communications:

• Clarity. Does it grab people’s attention with a simple, effective message?

• Truth. Is the message true, pure propaganda, or somewhere in between?

• Vision. Does the communication offer a positive vision, or just bash the other side?

Pratt, Mamdani, and Wolff all make their cases through emotionally resonant images and language that capture attention and stick in the viewer’s mind. They all get an “A” for clarity.

Truth is harder to judge. Pratt’s video is trying to get at a larger truth about the failure of establishment politicians to deliver results. Its truth will be measured by viewers: do they feel that Karen Bass has been doing a good job keeping them safe and rebuilding fire-ravaged Los Angeles? Wolff’s fundamental claim that his predecessor and major opponents have no insurance experience is very true.

At least some of Nick Shirley’s videos fail the truth test in my view. Take his purported exposé of daycare fraud in Minnesota. He didn’t actually establish that the daycares he visited didn’t have children inside. Now you could say that he’s getting at a larger truth: there is substantial fraud in these kinds of government programs. Sure, but it’s a slippery slope. The Trump administration cancelled or postponed hundreds of millions of dollars of federal funding to Minnesota following this video. Justified?

Like him or not, Mamdani’s video offers a vision for his stewardship of New York City. Marie Hurabiell, candidate for Congress in San Francisco, offers a vision of what “moderate” should mean in her campaign ads. And then there’s Graham Plattner, who sounds a lot like Donald Trump while he’s blasting Donald Trump. Vision is in the images and personality as well as in the words.

Policy: the base of the pyramid

Communications is the sizzle. But you can’t eat sizzle.

Politics runs aground when powerful communication is not backed up by good ideas, sound judgment, and effective execution. It’s much easier to go viral by mocking opponents or generating outrage than it is to govern well.

My political views flow from my own vision of the good life and the good society. Life is an adventure. Results will vary. Victory is achieved not by reaching a particular end state but rather by running the race well. We are here to love and serve the people closest to us — our families, our neighbors, our communities. We are here to discover and pursue what is good and true and beautiful, rather than settling for what is merely self-gratifying or profitable. We are here to do useful work for our communities and to solve problems that burden our world.

Freedom is my first priority — so that individuals and communities have the latitude to pursue their vision of the good life. I want government to create the conditions that make freedom work for me and my fellow citizens: public safety, education, and infrastructure are among the critical building blocks. I want government to care for the vulnerable without collapsing into dependency, waste, or disorder. And I want government to do these things well.

Good policy should unleash human potential rather than smother it under bureaucracy, corruption, or concentrated political power. It should create room for people to experiment, build businesses, invent things, solve problems, and shape their own futures.

Of course, freedom means different things to different people. The Trump Administration emphasizes freedom from violence perpetrated by illegal immigrants. The Human Rights Campaign emphasizes freedom from discrimination perpetrated by the government. For all of our benefit, we need leaders committed to equal liberty under the rule of law. In a diverse society, citizens will disagree — sometimes profoundly — about morality, rights, and the meaning of freedom itself. The role of political leadership is not to eliminate those disagreements, but to help people live together peacefully despite them. A free society protects individual rights, applies laws fairly, maintains public order, and leaves wide room for people and communities to pursue different visions of the good life.

Character is my second priority — because a healthy society depends on citizens and leaders who can be trusted to do the right thing even when it’s difficult or unpopular. Responsibility, honesty, courage, self-control, and basic manners are the social infrastructure of a functioning republic. Families, schools, churches, volunteer organizations, and civic traditions all help shape the habits that make self-government possible.

Modern politics often undermines character instead of strengthening it. Compassion matters, but so do expectations, norms, and personal responsibility. Policies that ignore the importance of self-control, responsibility, and accountability may relieve immediate suffering while deepening long-term dysfunction. Too often, leaders encourage citizens to think of themselves primarily as victims, consumers, or members of competing identity groups rather than as neighbors who share responsibility for a common future. I want politics that calls people upward rather than downward — politics that encourages integrity, humility, and service.

Character matters in public life too. Leaders should see public office as a responsibility, not as a platform for self-promotion or personal enrichment. They should seek truth rather than simply telling supporters what they want to hear. They should strengthen institutions rather than hollowing them out for short-term political advantage. In an age of performative politics, seriousness is a kind of rebellion.

Finally, Opportunity is my third priority — because it is the promise that makes freedom meaningful for ordinary people. In a healthy society, hard-working people can afford housing, build businesses, and move up through talent and effort. Once again, individual results will vary, but upward mobility should remain attainable through effort, skill, and initiative.

A society with opportunity requires good schools, abundant housing, modern infrastructure, and an economy open to builders and strivers rather than dominated by insiders and gatekeepers. Opportunity is squelched by unnecessary regulatory barriers that make it harder to build homes, start businesses, or create jobs. Opportunity is enhanced when we build pathways — college, apprenticeships, technical training, and credentialing programs — that help people develop useful skills in a rapidly changing economy.

At its best, America is a country where people can take risks, invent things, create businesses, support families, and build better lives than the generations before them. That sense of upward possibility has weakened in many parts of California. Too many people experience government less as a source of opportunity than as a maze of costs, delays, dysfunction, and stagnation. Good policy — the foundation of the pyramid — should create the conditions for human flourishing and upward mobility. Without that foundation, the top of the pyramid collapses.

In the past three weeks, I’ve held two more dinners with a total of fourteen people in Los Gatos and San Francisco. As these conversations accumulate, it’s becoming clearer what it will take to build a more competitive center-right presence in the Bay Area. What follows are five working hypotheses drawn from these conversations.

Hypothesis One: Market center-right policies through the lens of “opportunity”

In left-leaning places like the Bay Area, the rap on Republicans is that they “don’t care.” They oppose taxes to fund more social services because they don’t care about poor people. They oppose abortion because they don’t care about the well-being of women. They oppose tax increases to fund public transit because they don’t care about systems they don’t use themselves.

Of course, some Republicans may fit that description, but overall it’s a bad rap. Most want government to help those in need through targeted, effective programs. To overcome this perception, we should frame our ideas around expanding opportunity — better schools, safer neighborhoods, and stronger pathways to upward mobility. “Caring” is performative unless the programs that express it actually work. When voters see that our policies aim both to help people and hold systems accountable for results, the caricature of indifference becomes harder to sustain.

Hypothesis Two: Invite moderates and NPPs for high-quality conversations

Bay Area Republicans are not going to convert large numbers of No Party Preference (NPP) voters through messaging alone. Rather, we need to create environments where people can think clearly, speak honestly, and hear one another without the usual tribal pressures. Many NPPs and moderate Democrats are not looking for a new ideology so much as a place where thoughtful people can have honest conversations without being quickly sorted into moral categories.

Done well, small gatherings — over dinner or at local bars — can begin to dissolve the reflexive distrust that defines much of American politics. When NPPs encounter Republicans who are serious, grounded, and pragmatic, it becomes easier to appreciate their ideas and imagine ways to collaborate. The goal is not to “convert,” but to expand how people think and foster collaboration where possible. Over time, these relationships become the foundation for a new brand and coalition.

Hypothesis Three: Talk about Trump privately — not publicly

No effort to build a center-right presence in the Bay Area can avoid the question of Donald Trump. The problem is that Trump’s gravitational pull quickly makes him the only topic people can think about, overwhelming any attempt to articulate a forward-looking agenda. For that reason, it is counterproductive to talk about him in public messaging, even when the underlying concerns are legitimate. The practical effect is to collapse a local project into a referendum on a single national figure — which gets us nowhere fast.

At the same time, avoiding the topic entirely is neither credible nor wise. In private, high-trust conversations, it is both possible and desirable to engage honestly with how Trump has reshaped the country and the party. Foundational questions about strategy and ethics — how a party builds trust, how leaders should conduct themselves, and what standards followers should uphold — are not resolved through messaging, but through candid discussion among those doing the work. By keeping the focus externally on what we are building, and internally on these questions, we preserve both clarity of purpose and the honest dialogue needed to develop alignment over time.

Hypothesis Four: Demonstrate a path to winning locally, then statewide

In a region where Republicans are widely assumed to be noncompetitive, the most persuasive argument is not rhetorical but empirical. What people need to see is a credible path to winning. That path begins with local elections that may lack visibility but offer something more valuable: the opportunity to demonstrate competence, build trust, and show that a center-right approach can deliver tangible results in communities skeptical of the Republican brand.

Success in the local arena does more than add a few seats; it begins to change expectations. When voters see capable, grounded Republicans governing effectively, it becomes easier to imagine Republicans in higher office. Local victories also create a bench of leaders who understand governance and coalition-building in a place like the Bay Area. The path to statewide relevance does not run around local politics — it runs through it.

Hypothesis Five: Find great candidates — then find the right election

Typically, Republican leaders decide to target a race and then look for a candidate to fill it. Given the registration and trust deficit Republicans face in the Bay Area, a more promising approach is to reverse that logic: identify individuals already demonstrating leadership, judgment, and commitment to their communities, and then determine where they have the best chance to succeed. This requires patience and discipline, but it increases the likelihood that candidates run from a position of strength.

In the Bay Area, where the margin for error is small, candidate quality matters enormously. Voters are not simply evaluating policy positions; they are assessing whether someone seems capable, reasonable, and trustworthy. By focusing first on people — their character, credibility, and ability to engage across differences — Frontier Republicans can put forward candidates well-positioned to earn the trust of voters and advance the Frontier mission. Over time, this approach compounds — building a bench of credible leaders who gradually reshape expectations about what a Republican candidate can be in the Bay Area.

These hypotheses are starting points, not final answers. Each will need to be tested, refined, and in some cases discarded as the work continues. Taken together, they point toward a different way of building a center-right presence in the Bay Area — one grounded in relationships, credibility, and demonstrated results.

Last Sunday, I heard a spectacular piano concert at Noe Music in San Francisco. Pianist Dan Tepfer performed his Goldberg Variations Variations. Highly recommended. I’m still processing it: how Bach’s themes can be explored, stretched, and reimagined in so many different ways.

This week, I hosted three Bay Area Republican Reset dinners with 31 people in Marin, Contra Costa, and San Francisco. Excellent conversations. I’m still processing them.

Here are a few Political Variations Variations inspired by those dinner conversations.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Tuesday: “I don’t want to lose the war of ideas.”

Heard on Thursday: “People aren’t persuaded by argument alone. We have to understand psychology.”

What if our goal was not “winning arguments,” but “having arguments?” Even better: “having good arguments”?

The very act of arguing changes people. I’m reminded of what my pastor says about the value of service. “When we give our time and resources to others, we are not only helping our neighbors — we are also shaping ourselves, growing in compassion and solidarity.”

Similarly: When we have good faith arguments with people who see things differently, we are not only benefiting our argument partners — hopefully they are learning something new — we are also shaping ourselves, sharpening our ability to articulate our ideas and learning from the reactions of others.

* * * * * * * * *

So many people avoid real arguments today because everyone is so sensitive — so easily triggered by opinions they don’t like.

That’s a recipe for more polarization, not less, because people aren’t learning from each other.

Regardless of our political persuasion, we should all be running toward good conversations and arguments, not away from them.

The most important debate rule: Always let your curiosity be greater than your indignation.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Tuesday: You need to harness the anger people feel toward our dysfunctional two-party system and give them another place to go. What’s the Uber to the San Francisco taxi system?

A Hoover scholar I spoke with this week agreed: Californians are voting more conservatively on many issues, but the Republican brand remains toxic. In 2024, Proposition 36 (strengthening penalties for certain crimes) won by 37 points, even as Harris beat Trump by 20. More recently, Prop 50 (a protest against Trump) won by 29 points. If this effort is organized as nonpartisan, it will gain traction more quickly.

The counterargument: We have a two-party system, and that is unlikely to change anytime soon — because the only thing the two parties can agree on is that there should not be a third party. Therefore, Republicans need to get their act together and evolve their brand to compete in California.

State parties are not all the same. When Trump urged Republican states to redraw districts to gain seats, some, including Indiana, declined. The California Republican Party that helped fuel Reagan’s rise was a competitive, insurgent party that turned conservative ideas into a governing agenda — not an establishment party managing the status quo.

Political parties cannot be replaced the way Uber — and now Waymo — replaced the San Francisco taxi system.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Wednesday: Slowly but surely, we, the citizens of California, have acquiesced to a state government architecture (headcount, compensation, pension benefits, healthcare benefits) that is unaffordable and unsustainable.

Yes. Let’s make that argument clearly and compellingly, in ways that people can hear. Over and over again.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Thursday: “The right doesn’t fight effectively. We need to put up smart people who are ready to get into the arena and fight for our ideas.”

Heard on Wednesday: “MAGA fights instead of rolling over. That’s what I like about them.”

Thought experiment: What if Frontier Republicans matched that intensity — but directed it toward advancing ideas, not attacking people?

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Wednesday: Republicans need to be like In-N-Out Burger. Super simple. Three items on the menu: Good schools, Safety, Affordability.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard many times this past week: “I love this country.”

At least half a dozen people offered up that statement. That is such a strong place to start, as we lean in to define what we believe and make decisions about what we want to do.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Wednesday: I admire Trump. I appreciate that he wanted to drain the swamp. I admire that he closed the border and stood up to woke culture. But his influence is declining. What do we Bay Area Republicans want to be when we grow up? I care about the long game. It may be time to rebrand the CAGOP.

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Tuesday: “That’s like showing up to a gun fight with a back-tickler.”

She was questioning my focus on party-building. It takes too long, she said; the Republic may not survive long enough. There are too many people on both sides sowing chaos. She argued for structural changes, such as getting money out of politics.

A project adviser recently made a similar point: gathering people in person to inspire political action is no match for the sophisticated online influence operations that are radicalizing young people. Today: cat videos. Tomorrow: cosmetics. The next day: “globalize the intifada.” It works far too often.

If person-to-person organizing is going to matter in a digital age, it has to be compelling enough to spread — and fast enough to compete.

* * * * * * * * *

Many voters on the moderate left don’t recognize how quickly they dismiss anyone with an “R” next to their name. They don’t even see it happening. Republicans who ran for school board seats in Contra Costa districts in 2022 were largely shouted off the metaphorical stage because they were seen as tied to Trump. Instead of engaging them on local school issues, many voters — and much of the local media — reduced them to a scarlet “R.”

* * * * * * * * *

Heard on Wednesday: Want to get started in politics? Get on a city or county commission. You’ll learn about an issue and get access to people. People will change their minds about you (and Republicans) as you collaborate well with others and do useful work.

* * * * * * * * *

We live in an age of transgression. Pick yours, and I’ll tell you what party you’re in.

• Redefine social norms in ways that ignore widely held intuitions

  vs

  Break basic norms of decency in public life

• Stop prosecuting violent criminals

  vs

  Show indifference to the horrors of violence

• Replace equal treatment with identity-based politics

  vs

  Flirt with authoritarian solutions

• Resist basic election safeguards like voter ID

  vs

  Undermine confidence in election results

• Offer no substantive ideas

  vs

  Turn politics into a spectacle of insults

Today, perhaps the most transgressive thing we could do — the most countercultural move — would be to stop with the transgression. Show some class. Show some restraint. Rediscover small-r republican values: personal responsibility, civic restraint, and negotiation with political opponents. Stop insulting people. Start arguing with them.

This week I had eight guests over for dinner — a mix of San Francisco Republicans and politically moderate No Party Preference voters. Our conversation clarified three things for me that, taken together, point toward a more persuasive style of Republican politics in the Bay Area.

First: If we want to matter in San Francisco, we have to speak not only to people’s minds but to their hearts. Republicans often assume that if we explain the facts, make the argument, and point out the failures of progressive governance, people will eventually come along. But politics rarely works that way, especially in a city like this one.

San Franciscans are moved by compassion, kindness, and a sincere desire to help others. Republicans make a serious mistake when we leave that entire emotional register to the left. We need rhetoric that is not only truthful but big-hearted. People will listen more closely if they believe we genuinely care about addiction, bad schools, unsafe streets, loneliness, and the dislocation that is likely to come as AI transforms the economy. At the same time, we need to say, gently but clearly, that what feels kind in the short run is not always what is truly kind in the long run. Our path to success involves blending empathy and honesty.

Second: We need clear principles, and one of the best I heard this week was the old adage: give people a fishing pole rather than a fish. I like this idea because it points toward a form of compassion that does not merely relieve immediate discomfort, but tries to help people become stronger, more capable, and more free.

That principle can travel a long way. In public safety, it means restoring order so people can live, work, and raise families without fear. In education, it means helping students master the basics and igniting their love of learning so they can go as far as their talents can take them. In homelessness, it means offering treatment, structure, and a path back to independence rather than simply providing housing while continuing to tolerate drug abuse.

We need to make the case that generosity detached from a realistic understanding of human psychology often creates moral hazards and leaves people weaker rather than stronger. If we are going to offer the Bay Area a real alternative, it cannot simply be “less progressive” or “less woke.” We should aspire to become an idea machine rooted in conservative principles and honest about human nature: equal opportunity rather than equal outcomes, content of character rather than identity politics, and tolerance that is broad rather than selective.

Third: Education may be the best place to begin, precisely because it is where heart and principle can come together most powerfully. If we want to demonstrate that we care, there are few better ways than becoming passionately devoted to improving public education. And if we want to show that our principles lead somewhere constructive, education is one of the clearest places to prove it, because strong schools remain the most reliable path to upward mobility.

One guest suggested a core principle for our work in education: schools should take students as far as they can go. That simple idea has clear implications. We should support the science of reading, defend merit and academic excellence at schools like Lowell, and insist that equal opportunity is not served by lowering standards. It also means caring just as deeply about students trapped in bad schools as we do about preserving excellence in the schools that are working well.

My takeaway from this week’s conversations is that many Bay Area voters are dissatisfied, but they do not yet see a second voice that is humane, principled, and serious. If we can become that voice, people will listen and respond.

Imagine it’s January 2032 on the campaign trail for the Republican presidential nomination. The Democrats took the presidency in 2028, as voters were driven by the same “throw out bums” mentality that characterized their mood in 2020 and 2024. Now Republicans stand to benefit from that same frustration. The campaign is competitive — and the Republican Party is divided into two factions.

Across the country, candidates, activists, and donors are beginning to recognize the divide — and organize around it.

One faction is MAGA Republicans: combative, populist, and personality-driven. They see politics as a fight between ordinary Americans and entrenched elites. They prize loyalty and strength, elevating confrontation over compromise. Their rhetoric is emotionally charged — grievance and defiance over deliberation — and deeply skeptical of institutions that appear to block the popular will.

The other faction is Frontier Republicans: confident, optimistic, and reform-minded. Rejecting permanent political warfare, they focus on strengthening institutions and widening opportunity. They prize competence over theatrics and believe freedom reaches its fullest promise when grounded in the rule of law and translated into upward mobility for ordinary Americans. Frontier Republicans are not afraid of conflict, but they focus their energy on corruption, lawlessness, and the institutional decay that erodes opportunity.

Frontier Republicans are grounded in three concepts: freedom, character, and opportunity.

Freedom

Like MAGA Republicans, Frontier Republicans celebrate freedom. Both factions want a society in which individuals and communities have wide latitude to shape their own lives. Frontier Republicans have also learned something from MAGA: emotion drives politics. People respond to confidence, pride in country, and hope for a better future. Frontier Republicans are unapologetically proud to be American and see life in a free society not as something to be managed cautiously, but as an adventure to be pursued with energy and gratitude.

But celebration alone is not enough. Freedom is not simply the absence of restraint or the triumph of will. It depends on strong institutions, laws applied equally, and leaders who respect limits on their own power. Frontier Republicans fight unequal enforcement of the law, political corruption, and the erosion of trust that follows when institutions stop working for ordinary citizens. The test of a free society is not how fiercely it proclaims freedom, but how effectively it protects rights and preserves the legal and civic order on which freedom depends.

Preserving freedom requires public safety, equal protection, predictable regulation, and fiscal discipline — all of which depend on competent government. Ronald Reagan warned that government, however well intentioned, can become worse than the problems it seeks to solve. Frontier Republicans agree — which is why they fight bureaucratic failure and governmental drift. Government must be disciplined enough to focus on its core responsibilities — and strong enough to carry them out well.

In this view, the point of politics is not domination but stability. Government exists to secure the conditions under which civil society can flourish — and then to get out of the way. Frontier Republicans fight lawlessness, disorder, and the corrosive belief that the rules apply to some Americans but not to others. Freedom is preserved not by constant outrage but by upholding the rule of law, maintaining public order, and ensuring accountability — so citizens can pursue their own happiness and build better lives.

Character

If freedom is the framework, character is the fuel.

As I wrote last week, we are here to love and serve the people closest to us — our families, neighbors, and communities — and to sustain the institutions that make freedom possible. We are here to pursue what is good and true and beautiful, and to do useful work that lightens the burdens of others.

A free society rises or falls on the character of its citizens and leaders. Citizens of character find purposes larger than themselves: providing for family, serving country, strengthening community. They seek the truth rather than consuming media that simply confirms what they already believe. They work with neighbors to solve practical problems. They engage those they disagree with instead of dismissing them as enemies.

Frontier Republicans believe character matters in public life — which is why they fight corruption, self-dealing, and the growing tendency of leaders to treat public office as a platform for self-promotion, grievance, or personal enrichment.

Leaders of character understand that their first duty is to the offices and institutions they serve, not to their own fame or wealth. They resist corruption because they place the public good above personal gain. They accept limits on their power because the rule of law matters more than personal victory. They act with humility, aware that they do not have a monopoly on wisdom.

In an age of performative politics, Frontier Republicans insist that seriousness is strength. Civility is not weakness; integrity is not naïveté. The republic is sustained not by viral moments, but by principled leaders who strengthen the institutions that secure freedom.

Opportunity

If freedom is the framework and character the fuel, opportunity is the promise.

Theodore Roosevelt believed in a nation where ordinary citizens could strive, compete, and rise. He warned against concentrations of power that closed off opportunity. Frontier Republicans stand in that tradition: opportunity is measured not by aggregate growth alone, but by upward mobility — by whether a child born into modest circumstances can build a better life through effort, skill, and initiative.

Frontier Republicans fight systems that quietly block advancement — housing scarcity that pushes families away from opportunity, regulatory thickets that prevent new businesses from forming, and economic structures that favor insiders over strivers.

To fulfill the promise of upward mobility, we need K–12 schools that equip students with literacy, numeracy, civic understanding, and practical skills. We need pathways beyond high school — college, apprenticeships, and credentialing programs — that help young people develop marketable skills. In our AI-driven economy, we must continually reassess which skills are in demand — and ensure that students and workers can acquire them quickly and affordably.

Opportunity also depends on families being able to afford homes near jobs, on infrastructure that connects communities to economic opportunity, and on tax and regulatory systems that minimize unnecessary friction. Frontier Republicans support policies that expand housing supply, modernize infrastructure, minimize taxes, and remove non-essential regulatory barriers. This requires state and local governments to negotiate labor agreements in the public interest — not under undue influence from public employee unions.

At its best, America has been a country where people could take risks, build businesses, and improve their station in life. Frontier Republicans seek to restore that upward momentum — not through nostalgia or grievance — but by equipping people with the skills they need to thrive and clearing the barriers that hold them back.

In 2032, Republicans will have to decide what kind of future they are offering the country. Perpetual combat may animate the base, but a movement rooted in freedom, character, and opportunity can build a governing majority. Frontier Republicans believe Americans are ready for a politics that fights the right battles — against corruption, stagnation, and institutional decay — while building the conditions for people to thrive. When that moment comes, we’ll be ready — with the principles, leaders, and policies needed to win elections and govern effectively.

In the first two essays of this series, I argued that Bay Area Republicans need a “reset” — to build a positive agenda that attracts voters and to help steady the Republic at a fragile moment.

Today I want to go one level deeper and consider how we Republicans could help our fellow citizens grapple with a deep, fundamental question: Why are we here? What is our purpose on earth — as citizens, parents, neighbors — in the year 2026?

Recently I listened to an interview with Ben Sasse, the former U.S. Senator and university president, conducted after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and told that he might have as few as three months to live. Now he sleeps much of the day, writes on morphine, and is launching a podcast titled Not Dead Yet. He says he is trying “to redeem the time.”

That phrase — redeem the time — comes from the Puritans. It means that we have been given a finite number of days and that those days are not ours to waste. Sasse’s diagnosis has forced him to confront that reality more directly than most of us. But we all have numbered days. We just don’t know the number.

When you absorb that fact, much of modern political life begins to look distorted.

Sasse suggests that politics deserves “one or two cheers” — never zero and never three. Constitutional order matters. Government can be a force for good. But politics is not ultimate. It is, in his memorable image, the silver frame — not the golden apple. It secures the space in which families, churches, schools, businesses, and civic associations can flourish. When politics becomes our primary love — entertainment, identity, and moral drama rolled into one — it deforms everything around it.

That deformation is obvious in the digital age. Sasse notes that only about 14 percent of Americans pay attention to politics on a daily basis, yet those hyper-engaged few dominate our public conversation. The loudest voices, amplified by social media, set the tone. The “weirdos,” as he bluntly calls them, shape the culture of politics, while the broad middle retreats.

The result is a politics that rewards spectacle over seriousness, grievance over responsibility, performance over persuasion.

America is not held together by tribe or blood. We are what Sasse calls a credal nation. We are bound by a shared conviction that rights are not granted by government but are inherent; that government exists to secure those rights; and that even those with whom we disagree possess equal dignity. These are extraordinary claims in human history. They do not perpetuate themselves automatically — they must be deliberately transmitted from generation to generation.

For at least half a century, we have grown lax in that transmission. As we became wealthier and more comfortable, we assumed that prosperity would carry our civic culture forward. Meanwhile, the digital revolution accelerated our distraction. We read less. Our attention spans shrank. Deliberation — the patient weighing of competing claims — began to feel unnatural.

We are told that artificial intelligence and robotics will usher in unprecedented material abundance. But even if that’s true, abundance does not answer the question of purpose. The primary problem facing our society is not material scarcity but a deficit of civic virtue — self-restraint, truthfulness, neighbor-love, and civic responsibility — in a culture increasingly unsure of what freedom is for.

Markets are powerful engines of prosperity, and conservatives are right to defend them. But markets do not form character. They can generate wealth; they cannot generate wisdom. They do not teach children how to find purpose larger than self-interest. If freedom is understood merely as the absence of constraint, it collapses under the weight of abundance. Freedom must be ordered toward something: truth, responsibility, and the common good.

This is why we need a Republican Reset — here in the Bay Area and across the nation. If Republicans cannot articulate why freedom exists — if we reduce our message to tax rates, outrage, or anti-progressive reflex — we won’t get much of a hearing in deep blue places like the Bay Area and we’ll squander the opportunity to speak to people’s deeper longings.

When asked whether America is in irreversible decline, Sasse described our present turmoil as a “phase.” He compared it to the late nineteenth century, when industrialization and urbanization disrupted established patterns of life. Those decades were chaotic and disorienting — yet Americans built new institutions that allowed self-government to endure in a radically altered environment.

The digital revolution may be even more disruptive — the first truly intragenerational revolution in human history. What happens next depends on whether we are willing to rebuild institutions capable of sustaining deliberation, transmitting civic creed, and forming character in our present distracted age.

Here in the Bay Area, we are uniquely positioned to attempt this work.

We live at the epicenter of technological innovation. We see firsthand both the promise of abundance and the erosion of shared meaning. We are well-educated. We are home to thousands of immigrants who often grasp the promise and fragility of America more clearly than those of us who were born here. The Bay Area shapes the nation’s culture and economy. That gives us not just influence, but responsibility.

Back to our original question: Why are we here?

We are here to love and serve the people closest to us—our families, our neighbors, our communities—and to help sustain the institutions that make ordered liberty possible. We are here to discover and pursue what is good and true and beautiful, rather than settling for what is merely self-gratifying or profitable. We are here to do useful work for our communities and the wider world and to solve problems that burden our neighbors. We are here to nurture the next generation and transmit the credal commitments that make our nation possible.

Because self-government is not self-sustaining — it depends on the character of the people who practice it — we are here not simply to enjoy freedom, but to become the kind of people who are worthy of it.

Sasse ended his interview by reading from Tennyson’s In Memoriam:

“Ring out the grief that saps the mind…

Ring out the feud of rich and poor…

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand…”

Bay Area Republicans, let’s take a step back from the grievance and anger that dominates our politics today. Let’s ring out the narrowing lust for power and ring in a larger heart. Let’s build the relationships and find the language necessary to persuade our fellow citizens to embrace limited government that enforces the rule of law, safeguards equal rights, and then gets out of the way of families and communities doing the deeper work.

In this way, we’ll not only build a better political future for ourselves in this deep blue region, we’ll also help our fellow citizens rediscover what freedom is for.

This essay is part of the Bay Area Republican Reset Project, an ongoing series focused on rebuilding a credible, solutions-oriented Republican Party in the Bay Area.

Back in the late 1790s, just ten years after the ratification of the Constitution, things were not looking good for the fledgling United States of America. Farmers in Pennsylvania and other states were in open rebellion against the Federal government. One party, the Federalists, had passed legislation that, in practice, muzzled the speech of the other party. And the upcoming election of 1800 was viewed by both sides as existential; both sides believed the other’s victory could mean the end of republican government.

In western Pennsylvania, resistance to federal authority boiled over when farmers, enraged by a federal excise tax on distilled spirits, intimidated tax collectors and organized armed resistance. After negotiations failed, President Washington mobilized 13,000 troops to suppress the uprising—the first major test of whether the new federal government could enforce its own laws. The episode revealed how fragile national unity remained: many Americans still felt greater loyalty to their state or region than to the federal government in Philadelphia.

At the same time, partisan conflict in Congress was hardening into open hostility. In 1798, Federalists passed the Sedition Act, making it a crime to publish “false, scandalous, and malicious” statements about the federal government. Though framed as a national security measure, the law was enforced almost exclusively against editors and allies of Thomas Jefferson’s Democratic-Republican Party. Newspapers were fined and opposition politicians were jailed. To Jeffersonians, the Act confirmed their worst fears: Federalists would use the machinery of government to silence critics and entrench themselves in power.

As the election of 1800 approached, both sides believed the survival of the Republic depended on the outcome. Federalists warned that a Jefferson victory would unleash mob rule, empower radical French-style revolutionaries, and destroy religion and property rights. Democratic-Republicans countered that Federalists were erecting a quasi-monarchical regime that threatened the liberties won in the Revolution. The question was not merely who would win—but whether the constitutional system could survive the transfer of power if the “wrong” side prevailed.

Sound familiar?

Today, fortunately, we don’t have federal troops marching against regional militias. But the war of words is intense and corrosive. On one side, we hear political opponents described as “fascists,” “authoritarians,” and “enemies of the people.” On the other, we hear talk of “traitors,” “vermin,” and shadowy bureaucratic cabals that must be purged, along with warnings that the country is being “invaded” from within. The more we describe one another as monsters, the harder it becomes to remember that we share a common inheritance—and a common responsibility—to preserve republican government.

As in the 1790s, the law is being used as a political weapon by both Democrats and Republicans. Whatever you think about Donald Trump, some of those lawsuits against him were baseless, naked political prosecutions—we know because some of those prosecutors told us so. And whatever you think of James Comey and Leticia James, Donald Trump’s efforts to indict them are substantially driven by a desire for political retribution—we know because he told us so.

Now, as then, the stakes are described in apocalyptic terms. Voices on the left tell us that the country is living under an emerging authoritarian regime and constitutional government is hanging by a thread. Voices on the right tell us that Democrats are engaged in treasonous sabotage, and that only sweeping purges can “take the country back.” The language on both sides assumes not just disagreement, but moral illegitimacy.

Like in 1800, we are not in a good place. But what should Bay Area Republicans do about it? After all, we are bit players in a huge party and country. How could we possibly help?

I believe we can—and must—help in three ways.

First, we should completely flip the prevailing cultural script and begin practicing deliberate expressions of goodwill toward our political opponents. This does not mean surrendering our convictions or soft-pedaling our arguments. Rather, as Arthur Brooks says, we simply need to recognize that the progressive down the street wants our city and country to thrive just as we do, that we can disagree without being disagreeable, and that warmth is not a weakness but a strength.

To put this into practice, those of us who are religious can make a point of praying for our political opponents—thanking God for their presence as fellow citizens in our communities and for their love for our country. At Central Committee meetings, we can reserve a brief period to recognize and appreciate Democrats who are making our cities and region better. When prominent national Republicans engage in particularly unhelpful demonization, we can respond with a short tweet from our accounts: “Nah, we’re not into that.”

Beyond these initial steps, as we operate in public, we can choose curiosity over caricature, ask what problem our opponents are trying to solve, affirm what is true before contesting what is not, and refuse to feed the outrage machine with our clicks and applause. In a culture fueled by contempt, this will feel countercultural—even naïve. But if we want to lower the temperature and preserve the Republic, someone has to model a better way. Why not us?

Second, we should model pursuit of the common good by not only proposing solutions, but challenging our Democratic colleagues to work with us to come up with compromise solutions to problems we all agree on. Take housing, for example. A broad majority of Bay Area voters—Democrats and Republicans alike—want housing to be more affordable so middle-class families can remain here. In 2024, Democrats proposed a $20B Bay Area Housing Bond, claiming it would help build and preserve more than 70,000 affordable homes in the Bay Area. We Republicans made a compelling argument that the proponents’ projections were unrealistic and that the benefits were not worth the cost.

But what is our housing proposal? We have some local scholars beating the drum for permit reform, zoning deregulation and relaxation of rules around the use of union labor, but we don’t have a well-developed alternative plan that we can sell to Bay Area voters. Once we do, we could negotiate with Democrats to see if we can find common ground for more effective approaches. While our registration numbers are lower than the Democrats, we’d have leverage in this kind of negotiation: it’s hard to pass bond measures that require ⅔ voter approval.

The same principle applies to transportation: the vast majority of Republicans will oppose the proposed new regionwide transit taxes—and for good reason—but what is our solution to saving BART and regional services like Muni and VTA? If Bay Area Republicans become known as the adults in the room—serious about results, open to partnership, and focused on outcomes rather than outrage—we will not only help save important institutions, we will also earn the credibility required to compete and win again.

Third and finally, we should defend the constitutional order, no matter who is challenging it. Of course, we should object when Democrats disrespect or weaponize the rule of law, fail to respect the separation of powers, or abuse the powers of the presidency to quell free speech and silence dissent. We should do the same when a Republican President threatens to shut down speech he disagrees with, seeks to leverage the power of the Department of Justice to prosecute political enemies, and abuses the power of the pardon. We can do this with brief statements on social media. “Nah, we’re not into that” when we see these kinds of transgressions.

This may strike some of you as overreach. Should county central committees really be speaking up on national issues like this? My answer: ordinarily, no. Today, yes. When the basic guardrails of our constitutional system are under strain, silence from local leaders looks like consent. If we want voters to trust us with local power, we have to show that our commitment to the rule of law and constitutional norms is consistent—regardless of which party happens to be testing them.

Finally, I want to emphasize: We can do all of these things while continuing to pursue the substantive priorities we care about. We should continue to focus primarily on local priorities like public safety, homelessness, and education. We should continue to advocate for smaller and more efficient government. We should continue to push for voter ID, an issue where 75% of Americans (including 61% of Democrats) agree with us. We should continue to advocate for strong border enforcement and for immigration policy that respects both the rule of law and that treats people and communities with dignity.

The path I’m describing is not easy, and it won’t produce instant victories. But it is a path that could restore credibility, rebuild trust, and help steady the Republic at a moment when it badly needs steady hands. If you believe Bay Area Republicans can model something better—more competent, more ethical, and more committed to ordered liberty—I invite you to learn more about the Bay Area Republican Reset Project. Please reach out to me at bill@republicanreset.org to challenge these ideas, help refine them, sign up to attend an upcoming gathering, or offer your time or resources.

These days, politics is primarily defined by opposition. Republicans are against illegal immigration; progressives are against ICE; Democrats are against Trump. Here in San Francisco, NIMBYs are against YIMBYs, bike people are against car people—and everywhere, Democrats are against Republicans and Republicans are against Democrats.

Moreover, most political organizing energy comes from stoking exaggerated fear and resentment about what “they” want to do to “you.”

For example, here is MSNBC commentator Malcolm Nance discussing the Trump Administration: “They are radicalizing, arming, and planning to kill Americans to install a dictatorship. They must be stopped, hopefully before blood flows in earnest.”

For a similar example on the right, here is Elon Musk soon after Charlie Kirk was murdered: “The Left is the party of murder, and celebrating murder. I mean, let that sink in for a minute. That’s who we’re dealing with…Violence is coming to you. You either fight back or you die.”

Now I’m not saying that these claims are entirely meritless. Some post-liberal MAGA types would like to see a kind of dictatorship. As Charlie Kirk discovered, some people on the left do want to kill the leading lights of the right. Here in San Francisco, some YIMBYs would like to build a 25-story building in front of charming single-family Victorians. Vigilance is appropriate.

But too much of this negative energy is a one-way ticket to national political disintegration. We need to demand better from our leaders and ourselves. Bay Area Republicans, let’s take it upon ourselves to reverse this downward spiral right here, right now.

Let’s consider how we could do this with immigration. Americans did not like what they saw during the Biden Administration: thousands of illegal immigrants streaming in daily as the country failed to protect the border. To his credit, President Trump fixed that problem within days of his inauguration. What some observers described as impossible was accomplished in short order.

Now, however, the Trump Administration has moved much further. Federal officials say the Minneapolis enforcement surge is aimed primarily at undocumented immigrants with criminal records, and that it is larger and more disruptive than it would otherwise have to be because local officials won’t cooperate with ICE. This explanation is not without merit. When it comes to immigration enforcement, the lack of local cooperation in Democratic “sanctuary” cities—including refusing to honor ICE detainers for undocumented immigrants already in local custody—is a stain on this country’s commitment to the rule of law.

However, it is also fair to say that this operation has had a “show of force” quality to it, designed to demonstrate to the people of a Democratic-led city that the Trump-led federal government is in charge. Asylum seekers, lawful permanent residents, and even U.S. citizens have been detained during the operation. Heavily armed agents—projecting the posture of a paramilitary force—have been knocking down doors in residential neighborhoods and federal immigration agents have fatally shot at least two U.S. citizens, sparking protests. At the peak of the operation, there were five times more ICE and CBP officers in Minneapolis than members of the Minneapolis Police Department.

Regardless of where you may come down on this issue—who is at fault for the killings and whether the Trump Administration has pursued a wise path or not—the fact is that all of this enforcement and reaction is occurring in the context of a sustained failure on the part of the nation to establish a rational and defensible immigration policy.

Key question: how many of the roughly 14 million illegal immigrants in the country today should we attempt to remove?

If your answer is “all,” I have more questions for you. Are you prepared to see scenes of doors being busted down and families being separated all over the country, including here in the Bay Area? Are you OK with the labor shortages that are going to become more acute in service and agriculture industries? And are you prepared for the political party that pursues this policy to lose big time in the next election, as the population—including large numbers of Republicans—recoils from the police-state vibe that must inevitably accompany such a large-scale operation?

If your answer is “the criminals and recent arrivals,” then the path forward is easier to imagine.

Regardless of your answer, consider the dynamic that is ascendant in our country today. “Conflict entrepreneurs” on the left and right are stoking fear and anger for their own benefit. On the right, leaders demonize immigrants and cheer on heavy-handed enforcement operations designed in part to stoke fear in Democratic cities. On the left, leaders fail to acknowledge that countries need borders and disrespect the rule of law by interfering in legitimate law enforcement operations.

Bay Area Republicans, let’s help change this dynamic, starting right here in our own backyard. Let’s learn about efforts to enact comprehensive immigration reform, educate voters in the Bay Area, and develop a Bay Area Republican Immigration Proposal that articulates our aspirations for future legislation.

Our ideas can borrow from recent congressional work, including the Dignity Act of 2025, a bipartisan bill reintroduced in July 2025 by Reps. Veronica Escobar (D-TX) and Maria Elvira Salazar (R-FL). The bill starts from a premise many Americans share: the country needs secure borders and a realistic way to deal with the millions of undocumented immigrants already here. It pairs tougher border and asylum enforcement with an “earned dignity” program that allows long-term, non-criminal undocumented residents to register, work legally, pay taxes, and remain in the country under strict conditions—without an automatic path to citizenship.

Participants would have to pass background checks, pay restitution, and stay out of trouble, while criminals and recent arrivals would be prioritized for removal. In short, the Dignity Act tries to replace today’s performative extremes—mass-deportation fantasies on the right and enforcement denial on the left—with a framework that restores the rule of law, stabilizes the labor force, and lowers the political temperature by aligning policy with reality.

Imagine, Bay Area Republicans, if we had the organization and resources to develop a high-level consensus on this idea. What if we held public events in each of our counties, sought out public speaking opportunities, and reached out to members of Congress to push them to implement a plan like this? Now we’d be turning heads, building a positive agenda for immigration that can actually attract voters.

This would be a major shift in how our party operates in the Bay Area. Not everyone will agree on the details of immigration reform. But if we put a dozen central committee members and appointees into a working group and gave them clear principles to follow—such as seeking solutions that can attract independents while remaining acceptable to a majority of Bay Area Republicans—we are likely to produce something most of us can be proud of, and that serves both our party and our country in this time of deep division.

In conclusion, if Bay Area Republicans want to be taken seriously again—by voters, by the media, and by ourselves—we have to stop defining ourselves primarily by what we oppose and start showing that we have credible ideas for governing in a complex, pluralistic society. That means trading outrage for policy work, identity signaling for persuasion, and tribal loyalty for a positive vision. Immigration won’t be solved by the people who shout the loudest or demand the most extreme solutions. It will be solved by balancing borders with humanity, enforcement with realism, and law with legitimacy. If we can do that here—publicly and constructively—we’ll be modeling the kind of Republican politics that can earn trust again in the Bay Area and beyond.

Dear Fellow Bay Area Republicans,

Are you like me in that you love our region, but you wish we had better governance?

If you’re like me, you see the same problems getting worse despite years of promises and steadily growing public spending. Thousands of people remain unsheltered on our streets, many struggling with addiction or serious mental illness. Housing remains unaffordable for middle-class families, with no realistic plan to bring costs down. Government agencies—from Muni in San Francisco to VTA in the South Bay—struggle to deliver reliable service, even as budgets are ballooning. In many Bay Area communities, schools are failing to consistently teach the knowledge and skills our children need to succeed in college and the workforce. Finally, despite notable progress, public safety remains a concern, with too much property crime and too little effective preparation for major fires and other looming disasters.

We Republicans have insights and instincts that could help move the Bay Area to a better place. For example, we understand that compassion must be paired with accountability when dealing with the homelessness problem. It’s not OK to be using drugs on our streets. That has to stop.

We recognize the basic laws of economics: the housing crisis is not going to get better until there is a lot more housing available. We need policies that encourage construction, along with a robust regional transportation system.

When it comes to government services, we naturally ask tough fiscal questions about what works and what doesn’t. Unlike many of our Democratic friends, we are willing to challenge systems that reward spending without results and to confront the outsized influence of public employee unions when they drive costs up and performance down.

We know that identity politics is no way to run a country. We Republicans, more diverse than ever, understand that we need to come together in our love and care for our country, and that everyone who follows the law and brings an attitude of “how can I contribute?” is welcome.

But we also have to be honest with ourselves. Right now, Bay Area Republicans aren’t being heard. We don’t yet have sufficiently developed, credible plans for the problems voters care about. We don’t yet have a strong bench of candidates who are deeply enmeshed in their communities and able to appeal to the typical Bay Area voter. Critically, we are weighed down by elements of the national Republican brand that make it harder—sometimes impossible—to earn a fair hearing here.

For our sake and the sake of everyone in the Bay Area, let’s fix this.

First, let’s do the work of developing serious, credible plans for the Bay Area’s biggest challenges—public safety, homelessness, housing affordability, education, and the basic competence of local government. Not talking points. Not outrage. We need plans that show we understand the problems and are prepared to govern responsibly, for the benefit of everyone in the Bay Area. This requires us to recognize that we live in a place where people like their government services. We need less emphasis on “let’s make government smaller” and more emphasis on “let’s make government work.”

Second, let’s clearly differentiate ourselves from parts of the national Republican brand that simply do not translate in the Bay Area.

I know this is controversial, fellow Republicans. Many of us admire President Trump. He took border enforcement seriously after years of drift and governed with a clear instinct to let innovation flourish rather than smother the economy with regulation. He pushed back forcefully against Iran while standing firmly with Israel. He challenged institutions that have grown complacent and unaccountable. For many of us, his combination of strength, clarity, and disruption has been—and remains—deeply appealing.

But I ask you this: even if you strongly support President Trump, do you see worrisome flaws? Are you concerned that, in moments of intensity, the line between strength and overreach can blur? Are you uneasy about an immigration crackdown that risks sweeping too broadly—or about enforcement tactics that could undermine due process and public trust? Are you concerned when political pressure appears to spill into the legal system in ways that feel more punitive than principled?

If you’re like many Bay Area Republicans I know, your answer might be: “yes, but…” You have concerns like these, but you’re more worried about Democratic abuses and overreach. Trump isn’t perfect, but Karen Bass is far worse. You might wish he’d keep his mouth shut more often, but at least he says what he means instead of defaulting to meaningless pablum.

Fellow Bay Area Republicans, let me invite you to consider this from another angle: regardless of how you feel about President Trump, his time at the center of national politics is finite. The question before us isn’t loyalty—it’s what kind of Republican leadership we want to model here in the Bay Area.

We have an opportunity to show that strength can coexist with restraint, and disruption with integrity. Let’s make it clear—to Bay Area voters and to Republicans around the country—that we’re not comfortable with corruption, performative cruelty, or the misuse of power. We don’t need to personalize this or relitigate the past. We simply need to be clear about what we stand for—and what we won’t defend.

If we do this, fellow Republicans, we win twice. We defend values that are indeed important to most of us! Most of us don’t want Presidents cashing in on the office, regardless of their political party. Most of us don’t want masked federal agents detaining people without clear accountability. Most of us believe in the rule of law, for everyone, all the time. Most of us believe that US foreign policy needs at least a touch of concern for the basic rights of all human beings.

In addition, we’ll turn heads here in the Bay Area and beyond in ways that will redound to our benefit. American politics is so polarized; in recent times, it’s been nearly impossible for members of either tribe to criticize their own. Bay Area independents will take note if we choose to stand for principles rather than partisan interests. Closed hearts and minds will begin to open a bit. Party registration will tick up—because people see something worth joining.

Finally, as more people notice and appreciate us, we’ll get the opportunity to recruit stronger candidates who, working with our well-developed ideas, will be able to get a fairer hearing. I’m not suggesting that we’re going to quickly win lots of races, but I do believe that, if we run well-prepared candidates in down-ballot races like school boards, we have the opportunity to break through and reverse the tide of Republican decline we’ve seen for the past 60 years.

Early small wins will beget more wins. As we attract more moderates and independents, we’ll have the intellectual and financial horsepower we need to lead on some of the most important issues facing the Bay Area and California. How should we revise our immigration policies so we can continue to attract the best and brightest from around the world? How should our economic and political systems evolve in the face of the rapid rise of AI? How can we protect against catastrophic wildfires and respond intelligently to the challenge of climate change?

To realize this vision, we’re also going to need resources. We need money to develop and communicate our ideas, build membership organizations of Republicans and independents committed to a Bay Area Republican agenda, and to recruit and support strong candidates. Investors have two ways to win: they’ll be improving the governance prospects of the Bay Area while simultaneously supporting the development of a forward-looking California Republican brand.

Fellow Republicans and Bay Area moderates, if any of this resonates with you, let’s talk! Please reach out to me at: bill@republicanreset.org. These ideas are just a starting point. Together, we can strengthen them further and maybe, just maybe, launch a significant new effort to improve governance around the Bay and reinvigorate the Republican Party here and across California.

Let’s talk about Prop 50 for a minute, shall we? We’ve all got our ballots — Republicans, Democrats, and No Party Preference (NPP) voters. As a Democrat, you are probably inclined to mark YES — to stand up to Donald Trump.

I’d like to try to convince you to do the opposite — to vote NO — with a perspective that you might not have heard before.

You’re supposed to vote YES and I’m supposed to vote NO because this is a referendum on Gavin Newsom vs Donald Trump. You stand on Gavin’s side — at least when it comes to standing up to Trump. I get it.

After all, it’s true that Texas Republicans pushed through redistricting at Trump’s behest, in order to try to pick up five more Republican seats in Congress — part of Trump’s ‘maximum warfare, everywhere, all the time’ approach.

The typical Democratic rationale for Prop 50 is that you’ve gotta “fight fire with fire,” as the Yes on 50 posters say. Trump isn’t going to back down, so California Democrats need to stand up and hold the line. California needs to be redistricted to eliminate five Republican districts, to counter the advantage that the Texas legislature is giving to Republicans there.

The Republican argument that Prop 50 tears down independent citizen-led redistricting may be true on the surface, but there’s a deeper truth, you might say: someone needs to stand up to Trump and his determination to rig the election in his favor.

The problem with this line of reasoning, my Democratic friends, is that the cost of pursuing this act of defiance against Trump is trashing a thoughtfully designed system that works reasonably well for California.

When Paul Mitchell drew up the new congressional lines for California just a few months ago, he did so expressly for the purpose of eliminating five Republican seats. He wasn’t prioritizing issues like which community should go with which community, or how far representatives would have to drive to stay connected to their constituents, or whether voters in parts of the state that have historically felt overlooked might feel even more overlooked.

Thus, you get districts like the new CD02, running from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Oregon state line and then inland to Siskiyou, Shasta, and Modoc Counties. Its northeastern boundary is the intersection of the California, Oregon, and Nevada state lines northeast of Alturas, the county seat of Modoc County — very very far from the Golden Gate Bridge.

Driving the proposed district from end to end — from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Oregon and Nevada borders — would take nearly 13 hours. That’s not a community; that’s a road trip. And it’s a perfect example of what happens when partisan goals outweigh the needs of real people.

While CD02 is one of the most egregious cases, there are plenty of others. The fundamental problem with Prop 50 is that it is not appropriate to trash the integrity of California’s congressional maps in service of “fighting” Donald Trump. Voters in both Marin and Modoc Counties deserve a representative who understands their communities and can truly speak for them. Prop 50 harms that prospect in CD02 and many other districts around the state.

Here’s a thought, Democrats: Instead of fighting Trump by gerrymandering the bejesus out of our great state — laying waste to maps painstakingly created by an independent citizen’s commission — how about you show him up by managing California better than Trump is managing the country? Prove that a Democratic-led California can reduce crime and homelessness, protect communities from wildfires, improve schools, and tackle the cost pressures families face.

That’s the “retribution” Californians deserve — and the standard you should demand of yourselves.

Sincerely,

Bill Jackson
Chair, SFGOP

First principles thinking

A first principle is a basic, foundational truth that does not depend on other assumptions. When you engage in first principles thinking, you go back to fundamental truths and build up to your solution or decision from there. No shortcuts allowed. You’re not following other people’s advice just because they’re “experts” or because “things have always been done that way.”

Elon Musk is famous for first principles thinking. When Musk started Tesla, people told him he’d never be able to make batteries cheaply enough to mass-produce electric cars. To prove them wrong, Musk went back to first principles.

“First principles is kind of a physics way of looking at the world,” he told Kevin Rose in a 2014 interview. “You boil things down to the most fundamental truths and say, ‘What are we sure is true?’ … and then reason up from there.… Somebody could say, ‘Battery packs $600 per kilowatt hour. It’s not going to be much better than that in the future.’

“With first principles, you say, ‘What are the material constituents of the batteries?’ … It’s got cobalt, nickel, aluminum, carbon, some polymers for separation, and a seal can.… If we bought that on the London Metal Exchange, what would each of those things cost? It’s like $80 per kilowatt hour. So clearly you just need to think of clever ways to take those materials and combine them into the shape of a battery cell, and you can have batteries that are much, much cheaper than anyone realizes.”

Now, of course, public policy isn’t battery manufacturing. CEOs can hire and fire at will; public agencies can’t. Private companies are led by CEOs with expansive powers who answer to elected boards of directors; public agencies are led by administrators with circumscribed powers who answer to publicly elected politicians. We wouldn’t want public officials to act entirely like private‑sector CEOs—but we should want more first‑principles thinking in government.

As an experiment, let’s apply first‑principles thinking to two San Francisco agencies. Think of this as a tasting menu—just enough to show what’s possible when we interrogate tough problems at their roots.

San Francisco Muni

The San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency (SFMTA) manages transit, parking, and street operations. Its Muni division runs buses, trolleybuses, light rail, historic streetcars, and cable cars. Most of SFMTA’s ~$1.5B annual budget supports transit operations.

Muni’s costs have risen for years. Ridership plunged during the pandemic and has only recovered to roughly four‑fifths of 2019 levels (as of Oct 2025). Federal relief temporarily propped up the system, masking underlying structural gaps. The agency now projects a $300M+ shortfall in FY 2026–27 (agency estimate, Oct 2025).

Before floating a new tax, let’s start from first principles:

• Unit cost: What does it cost Muni to move one passenger today? How does that compare—after inflation—to ten years ago and to peer agencies?

• Cost drivers: Which inputs (labor, maintenance, pensions/benefits, procurement, overhead) account for most of the growth? Which can be managed in the near term, and which require structural change?

• Route economics: Which routes are the lowest‑ and highest‑cost per boarding and per passenger‑mile? Are there lower‑cost ways to provide equivalent mobility on the weakest corridors (e.g., frequency adjustments, microtransit, or TNC partnerships for first/last mile)?

• Fare performance: How does fare revenue today compare with a decade ago and with peers? Which policy levers (all‑door boarding enforcement, pass design, means‑tested discounts) move the needle most per dollar of cost?

The answers to these questions would likely leave most San Franciscans skeptical of a new Muni tax in 2026.

Let’s briefly consider one other San Francisco public agency, and how first principles thinking could help it find better solutions to its major problems.

San Francisco Unified School District

San Francisco public schools educate about 50,000 students. Persistent structural deficits have triggered deep reductions (on the order of $100M+ this year), with more likely ahead—a painful process that leaves many families and educators worried about district decline.

This is a perfect moment for first‑principles analysis. According to the San Francisco Unified School District (SFUSD), its mission is to “provide each and every student the quality instruction and equitable support required to thrive in the 21st century.” Start with questions that clarify value for students and taxpayers:

• Per‑pupil spending: District revenue of roughly $1.3B divided by ~50,000 students implies about $26,000 per student. How does that compare—after inflation—to ten years ago, when enrollment was higher? What explains the change?

• Comparative performance: How do high‑performing charter networks or microschools deliver results at different spending levels? What practices could SFUSD adapt (staffing models, scheduling, curriculum, procurement, technology use)?

• Redesign: How could SFUSD offer better education for less? Where can technology reduce teacher burden without diluting human connection? Which community partners (libraries, nonprofits, City College) could expand learning time or career exposure at modest cost?

Conclusion

This isn’t rocket science. Citizens and leaders make better choices when they return to first principles—stating the mission, measuring what matters, and redesigning around value. The habit of asking fundamental questions doesn’t solve every problem, but it reliably exposes assumptions, surfaces trade‑offs, and points the way to better ways of achieving common goals.

I was in the midst of writing my thoughts on the assassination of Charlie Kirk, and then I heard Utah Governor Spencer Cox speak on Friday, September 12. I thought to myself: let’s just share his words and encourage reflection on them.

Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you'll permit me a moment just to share a few thoughts about where we are and how we got here, and maybe a little bit of where we go from here.

I don't want to get too preachy, but I think it's important that we, with eyes wide open, understand what's happening in our country today. I've heard people say, "Well, why are we so invested in this? There's violence happening all across our country.” And violence is tragic everywhere, and every life taken is a child of God, who deserves our love and respect and dignity.

This is certainly about the tragic death, political assassination, of Charlie Kirk. But it is also much bigger than an attack on an individual. It is an attack on all of us. It is an attack on the American experiment. It is an attack on our ideals. This cuts to the very foundation of who we are, of who we have been, and who we could be in better times.

Political violence is different than any other type of violence, for lots of different reasons. One, because the very act that Charlie championed, freedom of expression, that is enshrined in our founding documents. Having his life taken in that very act makes it more difficult for people to feel like they can share their ideas—that they can speak freely. We will never be able to solve all the other problems, including the violence problems that people are worried about, if we can't have a clash of ideas safely and securely, especially with those with whom you disagree. That's why this matters so much.

Over the last 48 hours, I have been as angry as I have ever been, as sad as I have ever been. And it was, as anger pushed me to the brink, it was actually Charlie's words that pulled me back. I'd like to share some of those, and specifically right now, if I could, I need to talk to the young people in my state and all across the country.

As President Trump reminded me, he said: You know who really loved Charlie? The youths.” And he's right. Young people loved Charlie. And young people hated Charlie. And Charlie went into those places anyway.

And these are the words that have helped me. Charlie said: “When people stop talking, that's when you get violence.” He said: “The weak can never forgive; forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”

“The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive. Welcome without judgment, love without condition, forgive without limit.” He said: “Always forgive your enemies. Nothing annoys them so much.”

A few months ago, Charlie posted on social media: “When things are moving very fast and people are losing their minds, it's important to stay grounded. Turn off your phone, read scripture, spend time with friends, and remember, Internet fury is not real life. It's going to be okay.“

He again said: "When you stop having a human connection with someone you disagree with, it becomes a lot easier to commit violence." He said, "What we as a culture have to get back to is being able to have reasonable agreement where violence is not an option.”

Now, again, to my young friends out there, you are inheriting a country where politics feels like rage. It feels like rage is the only option. But through those words, we have a reminder that we can choose a different path. Your generation has an opportunity to build a culture that is very different than what we are suffering through right now. Not by pretending differences don't matter, but by embracing our differences and having those hard conversations.

I think we need more moral clarity right now. I hear all the time that words are violence. Words are not violence, violence is violence. And there is one person responsible for what happened here, and that person is now in custody and will be charged soon and will be held accountable.

And yet, all of us have an opportunity right now to do something different. I want to thank my fellow Utahans. You know, this bad stuff happens, and for 33 hours, I was praying that if this had to happen here, that it wouldn't be one of us, that somebody drove from another state, somebody came from another country. Sadly, that prayer was not answered the way I hoped for. Just because I thought it would make it easier on us if we could just say: "Hey, we don't do that here."

Indeed, Utah is a special place. We leave the nation in charitable giving and we lead the nation in service every year. But it did happen here and it was one of us. But I want you to look at how Utahns reacted the last two nights. There was no rioting. There was no looting. There were no cars set on fire. There was no violence. There were vigils and prayers and people coming together to share the humanity.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, I believe is the answer to this. We can return violence with violence, we can return hate with hate. And that's the problem with political violence: it metastasizes. Because, we can always point the finger at the other side. And at some point, we have to find an off ramp or it's going to get much, much worse.

But see, these are choices that we can make. History will dictate if this is a turning point for our country. But every single one of us gets to choose right now if this is a turning point for us. We get to make decisions. We have our agency. And I desperately call on every American: Republican, Democrat, liberal, progressive, conservative, MAGA, all of us to please, please, please: follow what Charlie taught me.

I'll just conclude with words I share often from a friend and author Yuval Levin, who was asked if he was optimistic about our country. He said, "I'm not optimistic." He said, "I hate optimism." That sounds bad." But he said, "Optimism is a vice. It's this idea that good things are just going to happen.” And he said: “In the history of the world, good things have never just happened.”

He said, "I'm not optimistic, but I am hopeful.” And hope is the virtue that sits between the vices of optimism and pessimism. Hope is the idea that good things are going to happen because we can make them so. I still believe in our country, and I know Charlie Kirk believed in our country. I still believe that there is more good among us than evil. And I still believe that we can change the course of history. I'm hopeful because Americans can make it so.

We at the Briones Society playfully call our members “Brionies” (pronounced bree-oh-nees). Though the 100+ Brionies hold a wide range of views on politics and policy, one thing is certain: a Brionie is a citizen of San Francisco who works to develop and advance conservative ideas in our city.

First, before we are activists or partisans, we are citizens. We recognize that we are the owners and stewards of our country, state, and city. That means our first duty is to show up, make friends, and connect with our neighbors.

We owe it to our fellow citizens—even those with whom we disagree—to listen, to seek common ground, and to extend respect. We owe it to our forbearers, and to our future, to learn our history; only then can we make wise choices in the present. And we owe it to ourselves to practice humility. Each of us is limited in knowledge and wisdom, and we often grow in surprising ways when we meet our neighbors with curiosity and openness.

Second, we love San Francisco. Only here can you feel the uplift of morning light on Market Street, the thrill of a cable car rattling down California Street, or the mingling of East and West along Clement Street.

San Francisco is not one city but many towns. North Beach, with its jazzy evening bustle, is not Noe Valley, with its cozy town square. The Sunset, with its Asian-flavored family friendliness, is not the Excelsior, with its working-class charm, nor the Castro, with its distinctive gay-family vibe.

Our natural setting shapes us as well. The wide-open vistas expand our imagination; the green, then golden, hills call us to climb higher. But then the fog rolls in—chilling, humbling, and obscuring our view. It reminds us that clarity is always fleeting.

Since the Gold Rush, San Francisco has drawn both misfits looking for a fresh start and strivers intent on changing the world. Ideas move quickly here: they flourish or fail in plain sight, and we rise with the good ones and stumble with the bad. We love that sense of adventure and freedom. Unlike in a city such as Boston, there is little of the “stay in your lane” mentality.

Third, San Francisco would be even better if conservative ideas took deeper root.

Conservatism begins with convictions about human nature and the purpose of life. We conservatives see life as an adventure. We want to live in a free society—free to find our own way—so we can set out on and enjoy that adventure, as free from coercion as possible.

From this starting point, we prize equality of opportunity over equality of outcomes. In a free society, results will vary. We therefore reject the progressive claim that government must continually adjust resources and opportunities to engineer equal outcomes across racial or socioeconomic groups.

We also resist reducing human beings to their identities. Race or class is not the most interesting thing about us. Far more important are our convictions and commitments: our faiths (Catholic or atheist), our outlooks (optimistic or pessimistic), our vocations (how we use our skills to create value for others), and our habits of service (how we care for our neighbors).

Moreover, the equity agenda—rebalancing outcomes by group—is morally suspect. Racism still exists, yes, but the surest path forward is to focus on what we can control: the skills we cultivate, the loves we dedicate ourselves to, and the friendships that carry us through turbulence.

We want a society that celebrates and builds good character. Pointing ourselves in the right direction—toward God, family, and community—is the first and most important victory. We are weary of the therapeutic culture that dominates San Francisco and California, which too often substitutes self-absorption for service, and self-care for responsibility.

Of course, some people truly need mental health care, including therapy and medication. But for most of us, the antidote to unhappiness is to seek meaning outside ourselves. The better question is not, “How can I feel better?” but, “How can I serve the people and institutions that matter most to me?” Or, more sharply: “To whom, or to what, am I willing to dedicate my life?”

Fourth, we develop and work for conservative ideas in San Francisco.

As noted, Brionies hold a wide range of policy views. But given our shared philosophical orientation, we tend to advocate for priorities such as:

• Law and order on the streets. A free society requires both order and safety. Brionies support policies that promote security while respecting due process. More police, equipped with better training and technology, remain the surest way to reduce both crime and incarceration.

• A hand up for the homeless. Alongside enforcing laws against public intoxication, drug use, and urban camping, San Francisco should invest in compulsory treatment programs with wraparound services and clear behavioral standards.

• Excellent schools. Young people need a high level of knowledge and skills to thrive in a free society. Beyond expanding school choice, Brionies seek dramatic improvements in district public schools, especially to provide social mobility for disadvantaged students.

• Lowering the cost of living. San Francisco is expensive in part because progressives impose excessive regulations and taxes. We champion fiscal discipline and regulatory rollback as ways to ease costs and expand freedom.

To advance these and other priorities, we develop compelling content, build community among conservatives and moderates, identify and train competitive conservative candidates, and mobilize voters to act on their interests. As conservatives in San Francisco, we have no choice but to think like entrepreneurs. We look for ways to communicate our ideas to historically hostile audiences, build coalitions with moderates who share many of our values, and foster goodwill among people who may have once seen each other as enemies.

Of course, we Brionies don’t agree on everything. Housing, for example, is a contentious issue. Some of us—seeing supply as the key driver of costs—favor lifting zoning restrictions that limit construction, while others emphasize protecting San Francisco’s distinctive neighborhoods. We are working to develop greater consensus by discussing the proper balance between these interests.

To be a Brionie, you don’t need to identify as “conservative” or “Republican.” You need only be curious about how conservative ideas might sharpen your own thinking or improve the well-being of our city. Nor must you have any particular view about Donald Trump. The Briones Society is focused on San Francisco local issues.

So if any of this piques your interest, I invite you to learn more and join us at a Briones gathering. After all, in San Francisco, nothing is more radical than showing curiosity about conservative ideas. Spend some time with us, and you may rediscover what so many have forgotten: conservative ideas are the bedrock of a free and liberal society.

Imagine a family with a solid income but no budget discipline. Every paycheck disappears into overpriced groceries, spur-of-the-moment splurges, and contractors who never face a second bid. The result is that little is left for what matters in the long term—better housing, opportunities for the kids, or a comfortable retirement.

San Francisco is just like that family. The city consumes its more-than-ample $15.9 billion budget on high operating costs, leaving residents with heavy taxes and few of the long-term investments that could make life more affordable and the city more competitive.

The signs of budget bloat are everywhere:

• The highest per-capita budget in America. San Francisco spends more than $19,000 per resident each year—roughly what the federal government spends per American, and more than any other combined city-county in the U.S. Adjusted for inflation, the budget has grown by 54% since 2012, even as the population has remained flat.

• A growing public workforce with rising costs. Since 2011, the number of city employees has grown by about 7,000, even without population growth. That works out to nearly four city workers for every 100 residents—well above Los Angeles, San Jose, or New York. Meanwhile, average compensation per employee has risen 56% in real terms, far outpacing inflation.

• Expanding contracts and grants. Each year San Francisco directs billions to outside contracts and nonprofit grants, often with limited accountability. Even after Mayor Lurie’s recent reductions, grant spending—much of it for social services—remains more than $600 million above pre-pandemic levels.

• Deficits looming on the horizon. Although the latest budget closed an $800 million shortfall, structural gaps remain. Independent projections show annual deficits approaching $1 billion by 2027–28 and nearly $1.5 billion by 2029–30 unless deeper reforms take hold.

The consequence of this budget bloat can be best understood not in abstract dollars but in opportunities lost. A leaner budget would free resources to address the issues San Franciscans feel most directly: the cost of living, the pace of downtown recovery, and the city’s neglected infrastructure. With better fiscal discipline, we could have:

• A more affordable city. San Franciscans already shoulder some of the highest locally controlled taxes in the nation—sales taxes, business levies, property transfer fees, and more. A disciplined city government that reduced its operating budget by even 20% could lower these burdens, leaving families with more disposable income for rent, childcare, savings, or simply a buffer against the high cost of living.

• A faster downtown business recovery. Among the most distortionary of San Francisco’s locally controlled taxes are those on employers—gross receipts, commercial rents, and payroll. These not only deter new investment but also slow the return of jobs downtown. Cutting rates, while simultaneously streamlining regulations and approvals, would restore the city’s comparative advantage as a hub for commerce and innovation.

• Better infrastructure. A leaner operating budget would also unlock the capacity to pursue long-deferred capital projects. A subway under Geary Boulevard, connecting the Richmond to downtown in minutes, or an extension of the T-line into North Beach would reshape mobility and knit neighborhoods together. Perhaps we could even invest a few billion in a new hyperloop train to Los Angeles!

In short, the choice is between dissipating wealth on present consumption or channeling it into affordability and long-term assets that expand opportunity.

Describing the problem is the easy part. The harder challenge is to finally break through longstanding barriers to reform.

Political scientists have long noted that concentrated benefits and diffuse costs create powerful obstacles to reform. In San Francisco, the beneficiaries of city spending—public employee unions, contractors, and nonprofit service providers—are highly organized and motivated to defend their revenue streams. Ordinary residents, by contrast, face only modest individual savings from budget restraint, even though the collective gains would be substantial. This imbalance makes it difficult to mobilize a constituency for fiscal discipline. As a result, the city’s budget politics are skewed toward protecting the status quo, even when it leaves San Franciscans poorer and the city less competitive.

The answer is to build a new kind of civic coalition—one that connects fiscal discipline to everyday affordability concerns. When residents see that controlling government spending directly affects their rent, their taxes, and their utility bills, they have a stronger reason to engage. This Affordability Coalition could bring together homeowners worried about rising utility costs, renters squeezed by the cost of living, small-business owners burdened by fees, and civic leaders concerned about competitiveness. It would appeal not only to voters across the ideological spectrum, but also to the broad majority who care most about making daily life more manageable.

As San Francisco approaches the 2026 budget season and midterm elections, the Coalition could start by fighting for budget reductions to make San Francisco more affordable and business-friendly. That means electing Supervisors committed to controlling payroll costs, reining in grant spending, and prioritizing long-term investments. It also means backing candidates for BART Board and School Board who are committed to reducing budget bloat in their respective institutions. By linking fiscal responsibility to tangible benefits—lower taxes, more efficient services, stronger economic recovery—the Coalition can give voters a new kind of choice in 2026.

Utilities are where the abstract problem of government cost growth becomes painfully concrete. PG&E electricity rates have increased 56% in just three years, and more than doubled over the past decade. The SFPUC projects that water and sewer bills will rise over 100% in the next decade, with a 28% hike in the next three years alone. These increases hit every household and business directly, often more painfully than rising taxes. By targeting rapid utility cost escalation alongside government overspending, the Affordability Coalition can broaden its appeal and strengthen its impact.

In the end, San Francisco faces the same dilemma as the family we began with. A household that spends too freely on day-to-day indulgences sacrifices the chance to invest in a better home, better opportunities, and a better future. So too with our city: unless we control operating costs, we will forfeit the chance to lower burdens on families, invest in world-class infrastructure, and strengthen our business competitiveness. With discipline, San Francisco can choose the better path—a city that is more affordable, more livable, and more prosperous for ourselves and our children.