by Annie Scott
November 16, 2008

The Terminator’s voice on the bedside radio was the most jarring alarm I’d ever heard. Was I dreaming? Was it a nightmare? And why was the Terminator talking politics? Shaking off the morning brain fog, I realized it was my first morning in San Diego listening to my new governor. I mean, Governator.

In all the chaos of leaving Washington, D.C. and driving cross-country for a new start in sunny Southern California, I had failed to process the fact that I was moving to a state run by Ahnold. Somehow, this bodybuilding action hero had been decisively elected (and re-elected) by millions of people to the highest political office in a state with the seventh largest economy in the world.

That’s Ahnold, the well-connected recall election candidate who, according to Newsweek, “waved a broom from the steps of the Capitol and vowed to ‘sweep out the special interests.’” Ahnold, the governor who called legislators who didn’t support his spending plans “economic girlie men.” Ahnold, the self-proclaimed environmentalist who proudly owns three Hummers. And Ahnold, the celebrity politician who appeared alongside a souped-up biodiesel Chevy Impala on an Earth Day episode of MTV’s Pimp My Ride, later explaining his motivation: “To show people that biofuel is not like some wimpy feminine car, like a hybrid.” That Ahnold.

Who were these people who voted him into office? They sure didn’t sound like the stereotypical Californians I had heard about all my life.

Growing up in Michigan and working in Washington had provided some background on what to expect regarding California politics and residents. The Golden State’s “notoriously” progressive policies led me to presume that many people I would meet would be of the far-left-leaning, granola-eating, Birkenstock-wearing, politically engaged variety who spoke often of peace, love and yoga as well as the brilliance of Ralph Nader and Dennis Kucinich. I figured most of the state’s Republicans (with a few notable exceptions on Capitol Hill and some local holdovers from the Reagan era) would be more moderate centrists than anything else. It all seemed a fair enough expectation. After all, California was supposed to be the land of “fruits” and “nuts,” right?

So how did this state twice elect the Republican Ahnold, who had held no previous office? I had been baffled by those outcomes. Though I knew the political landscape was a bit more nuanced than the stereotypes offered, it was beginning to seem more complex than I could have imagined. Maybe the hardcore liberals I had heard so much about were not the majority of the voting public after all. Or perhaps they were easily swayed by over-the-top Hollywood celebrity. Still, I figured I was missing something.

I knew that any election has plenty to do with name recognition and, clearly, no one would top Schwarzenegger there. But that aside, something else had to explain what was behind his two landslide victories. I needed to do some sort of small-scale, very unscientific personal research of California’s real political dynamics if I was going to be a resident of this wild state.

Soon after arriving on the west coast, I met with a good friend from Michigan who had relocated to Orange County months earlier. Both political geeks, we had many observations to discuss.

“Have you noticed how many people out here admit they don’t vote?” she asked. “As in, have never voted, ever? Especially people our age, even the really smart ones. Most of them could care less about politics. It’s such a weird little bubble out here! Even my own boyfriend, who is in law school, has never voted and has no clue why that outrages me.”

Of course, this was before grand-scale Obamania swept the state. But at the time, I had noticed a similar pattern of total disinterest. With a few reassuring exceptions, the Californians I had met generally reported feeling so cut off from the workings of Washington that they didn’t see why they should care. Another prevalent pattern we’d observed: many people who did have opinions on political issues were extremely hesitant to openly discuss such topics — as though the subject material would be plainly offensive to anyone who might overhear. Especially in the workplace, this was just not done. Coming from DC, where people wear their political leanings on their sleeve and are prone to launch into impassioned debates about nearly any issue, this was extremely difficult for me to understand. I had left the land of bluntly bumper-stickered cars for the land of ubiquitous vanity plates. It was a jarring transition.

My fellow Michigander and I also had noticed that many of the folks who were quieter with their opinions were “closet” conservatives. When properly prodded, several people who grew up in absurdly affluent Los Angeles communities would speak about taxes and social issues like any other Republican I had met in Michigan or D.C.

I had known there were political differences between northern California and southern California, but I was learning about the widely divergent politics of coastal versus inland communities (Orange County being an exception). Sacramento seemed a world unto itself. I’d heard it referred to as “Excremento” by more than one former resident, but inarguably it was a city of considerable power.

Everyone I met did share one core belief: California is the single greatest place to live in the entire nation, and possibly the world. Debating this was utterly futile.

The more I learned, the more I realized there was so much to find out. Politically and otherwise, things in California weren’t quite what I had expected. But one thing was for sure: I was enjoying this “research” (while walking the beach, learning to surf, getting used to perma-sunshine and a perfect, no-heat-or-A/C-required climate). California may be a bizarre little bubble, but it was proving a worthwhile and welcome adventure. Despite missing DC’s political mania, I was happily settling into the laidback, enjoy-life mindset of my new home.

And despite countless frustrations with the Governator, even I found myself singing his praises only a month ago. I cheered while watching — from a safe distance — the numerous firefighting planes and helicopters he’d reportedly helped San Diego procure as they soared over my evacuated house and neighborhood, snuffing out the horrendous wildfires 100 feet from my backyard fence.

Hey, there are times when we all can appreciate an action hero come to the rescue…and whoever actually elected him.

Annie Scott lives and works in San Diego, where she tries to make a difference every day and is curious whether the Obama turnout has suddenly made DC politics more interesting to California’s young people.