Steve Hilton, the controversial British political operative who once pitched cloud-busting schemes to make his homeland sunnier, is now a genuine contender in California's governor's primary. The man who designed David Cameron's "hug a hoodie" campaign is pitching voters on making California "Califordable" - and some polls show him tied for the lead.
The gamble is striking: a British strategist with zero executive experience, known in Westminster for padding Downing Street halls in socks while demanding instant action on harebrained ideas, is competing to run the nation's most populous state. His trajectory from the shadows of British politics to the bright lights of American electoral competition has left former colleagues unsure whether to admire his audacity or cringe at his presumption.
Hilton made his name in the 2000s and 2010s as David Cameron's director of strategy, modernizing the Conservative Party through unconventional methods and increasingly theatrical policy proposals. He was spoofed in the BBC political satire "The Thick Of It" for his unorthodox style. He pushed to eliminate maternity leave and wielded influence far beyond typical advising roles, ordering civil servants to implement whatever notion he'd conjured that day.
Now he wants to hold office himself, not orchestrate from behind the scenes. The shift has created a curious split among those who knew him best.
Vince Cable, the former Liberal Democrat leader who served alongside Hilton in Cameron's coalition government, dismissed the ambition outright. "I think of him as ideologue rather than doer, gadfly not a serious politician," Cable said. "His big idea, the 'big society', was a disappointment." He suggested Hilton could win only "by freak accident."
A government adviser who shared Downing Street with Hilton was blunt: "He would be terrible! He is someone who was very quickly insanely frustrated with how government works in reality. He comes in with these incredibly wild ideas, wants them all to happen instantly, isn't interested in compromise, and when it doesn't happen he throws his toys out the pram."
A former cabinet minister expressed bewilderment at his gubernatorial ambitions, noting that Hilton had chafed under the constraints of British governance during its smoother periods. California's notoriously fractious legislature would likely test his patience even more severely.
Andy Coulson, Cameron's former communications chief, highlighted what he saw as Hilton's casual disregard for mechanics and detail. Writing in the Telegraph about their collaboration, Coulson recalled asking how specific proposals would actually work. "If I got an answer at all, it was along the lines of: 'It'll be fine - just you see.'" Coulson wrote. "That was mildly irritating, as it was my team who would have to get out and sell the latest product from Steve's dream factory."
Yet a different cadre of allies views Hilton's disruptive bent as precisely what modern politics requires. Giles Kenningham, former head of press at No 10, argued that in an era of technological upheaval and institutional stagnation, challengers to the status quo who can move fast and bend institutions to their will offer genuine value.
Some who know Hilton well reject the criticism as tone-deaf to his actual appeal. They note that his ability to generate attention, take risks, and operate outside conventional boundaries have served him well in unpredictable moments. One friend observed that Hilton had accurately predicted Trump's 2016 victory when others mocked the notion, and that his modernization of the Conservative Party, however controversial at the time, ultimately delivered electoral success.
The question of Hilton's political evolution has also drawn scrutiny. Critics have noted the transformation from the relatively centrist modernizer who championed progressive social messaging to what they describe as a "hardcore Maga" supporter claiming to have Trump "on speed-dial." But allies argue this misreads the continuity: Hilton has always been a disruptor at heart, and his embrace of populist insurgency flows from the same impulse that animated his earlier campaign work.
Hilton has lived in California since 2012, and friends say his gubernatorial ambition is genuine and longstanding. He still identifies as an environmentalist and claims Democrats have borrowed his ideas. He views the United Kingdom as a "complete mess" and shows no interest in returning to British politics.
Whether California voters will embrace an eccentric British operative untested in actual governance remains unclear. Unseating Democrats in one of their safest states through a candidate unknown to most Americans would require a political earthquake. Yet Hilton's allies warn against dismissal. A friend reflected on visiting him in California a decade ago when he announced his governor ambitions. "I laughed at him," the friend said. "But now look! He's doing well."
Author James Rodriguez: "A British political operator who couldn't master compromise in a functioning government now wants to navigate one of America's most dysfunctional state legislatures. The hubris is either breathtaking or brilliant."
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