The 'Seinfeld' of Government: The California Lieutenant Governor's Race and the Crisis of Meaningful Office

The Facts: A Race for a Role in Search of a Purpose

The upcoming primary for California’s Lieutenant Governor features a crowded field of five major candidates: State Treasurer Fiona Ma, former Stockton Mayor Michael Tubbs, Governor’s Office official Josh Fryday, former Sausalito Mayor Janelle Kellman, and former Democratic-turned-Republican state senator Gloria Romero. They are all competing for a position that, by nearly universal acknowledgment, holds remarkably little inherent power. The article from CalMatters plainly states the reality: the role is “notoriously disappointing,” “largely symbolic and often ignored,” and “practically unknown among voters.”

The constitutional duties are sparse. The Lieutenant Governor is first in the line of succession should the Governor be absent, incapacitated, or deceased, chairs the State Senate with a tie-breaking vote, and sits on the three state boards for higher education. The latter responsibility—oversight of the University of California, California State University, and community college systems—has become the central policy plank for every candidate, as it represents the office’s most tangible area of potential influence. Consequently, the campaign trail is filled with promises to freeze tuition, reduce remedial coursework, and build more student housing.

The role’s history is one of ambition over achievement. It has famously been used as a stepping stone, most notably by Governor Gavin Newsom, who occupied the office for eight years before his election to the state’s top job. The current Lieutenant Governor, Eleni Kounalakis, is termed out this year. The candidates, aware of the position’s nebulous nature, are attempting to craft a compelling narrative around it. Republican candidate Gloria Romero provided the most evocative description, calling it “a kind of Seinfeld of state government” because nobody knows who it is and they think it’s an unimportant job.

The Context: A Platform Built on Higher Education

Given the constrained purview, the candidates have naturally focused their platforms on the higher education boards they would join.

• Josh Fryday, the state’s Chief Service Officer, emphasizes certifying more skilled trades workers for clean energy projects and expanding volunteer programs. He is backed by the California Teachers Association.
• Janelle Kellman, an environmental lawyer, advocates for free community college and using the office to collaborate with the Insurance Commissioner on wildfire mitigation, despite the role having no formal insurance regulatory power.
• Fiona Ma, the termed-out State Treasurer, points to her experience issuing housing bonds for universities and proposes generating more revenue for Cal State through private partnerships. She carries the endorsement of construction and hospitality unions but also the baggage of a 2021 sexual harassment lawsuit, settled by the state for $350,000, which she has denied as frivolous.
• Gloria Romero, running on a joint ticket with GOP gubernatorial candidate Steve Hilton, supports school vouchers—a direct challenge to powerful teachers’ unions—and reducing remedial classes.
• Michael Tubbs, the former Stockton Mayor who gained national prominence for his guaranteed income pilot programs, aims to return to public office to cut higher education costs by reducing administrative bureaucracy and streamlining high-demand degree paths. He is supported by the powerful Service Employees International Union (SEIU).

Opinion: The Ceremonial Candidacy and the Erosion of Democratic Clarity

This race, while procedurally democratic, exposes a troubling fissure in our political architecture. We are witnessing individuals of considerable experience—a state treasurer, a groundbreaking mayor, a former senate leader—expend immense energy, resources, and political capital to win an office whose primary qualification seems to be its utility as a waiting room for higher office. This is not a criticism of the candidates’ individual merits or their policy ideas, which on education are often worthy. It is a condemnation of a system that creates and perpetuates roles devoid of clear, executive responsibility.

The Framers of both the U.S. and California constitutions designed offices with checks, balances, and defined powers to prevent ambiguity and ensure accountability. A “ceremonial” executive position is an oxymoron in a system built on the separation of powers. When an office’s main function is to “be there in case,” it undermines the very principle of a government of active, accountable agents. It creates a platform for influence-peddling and symbolic politics rather than direct governance. Candidates are forced to invent a mandate for a job that doesn’t inherently have one, promising to leverage “soft power” and “board influence” in ways that are difficult for voters to track or hold them accountable for.

This dynamic is dangerously anti-democratic. It asks voters to make an informed choice about who should hold an office that most cannot define. It privileges political insiders who understand how to use the title as a fundraising and profile-building tool over those who might seek it for genuine administrative purpose. The focus on higher education, while important, feels less like a organic policy drive and more like a collective grasping for the one substantive anchor a floundering office provides.

Furthermore, the situation invites a cynicism that corrodes public trust. When a candidate like Gloria Romero can openly joke about the job’s irrelevance during the campaign, it signals to voters that even the participants view the process as somewhat absurd. When Fiona Ma must campaign while a cloud of a state-settled harassment allegation hangs over her—regardless of denial—it underscores how the race becomes about personal narrative over official capacity. When Michael Tubbs, who pioneered substantive municipal policy, must frame his comeback through the lens of cutting university bureaucracy, it feels like a diminishment of his proven talents.

A Call for Constitutional Courage and Clarity

As a firm supporter of the Constitution and robust democratic institutions, I believe this race should serve as a wake-up call for California. The solution is not to elect a more energetic Lieutenant Governor. The solution is to have a serious, non-partisan debate about whether the office should exist in its current form.

There are clear alternatives that would strengthen democracy and accountability. The role could be abolished, with the line of succession falling to the elected Attorney General or another senior official, as is the case in many states. Its few substantive duties, like chairing the Senate, could be reassigned. Alternatively, the office could be dramatically reformed and empowered with a specific, standalone portfolio—perhaps a consolidated “Secretary of Education and Workforce” role with actual authority over the state’s sprawling higher education and vocational systems. This would give the office a clear purpose, a measurable mandate, and make the holder directly answerable to voters for outcomes in a critical area.

The current system does a disservice to the candidates, to the voters, and to the principles of effective government. It turns a statewide election into a puzzle where the prize is unclear. The passionate policy discussions on tuition, housing, and college access deserve a real forum with real power, not a consolation prize in a ceremonial office.

Democracy thrives on clarity, accountability, and purpose. The race for Lieutenant Governor, in its current incarnation, offers none of these. It is a political anachronism, and the vigorous campaigns of these five individuals only highlight the urgent need to either empower the office with true purpose or consign it to the history books. Our institutions must be designed for governance, not for ambition. It is time for California to decide if this office is a vital part of its constitutional framework or merely a starring role in its own version of a show about nothing.