The reason is simple: With a political trifecta, you never have to say you are sorry. When one party controls the legislature, the governorship and all other statewide offices, accountability weakens. Oversight becomes optional, critics are dismissed and internal dissent is treated as disloyalty. In Minnesota, that culture eventually proved fatal to Walz’s political future.
Walz’s rise is, at first glance, an impressive political story. He won a rural Republican congressional district as a Democrat and built a reputation as a centrist who could speak across partisan divides. He then captured the governor’s office under the banner of “One Minnesota,” explicitly invoking unity at a moment of divided government. That rhetoric helped define his early appeal.
But Walz was never a hands-on executive. His administrative experience consisted largely of running a high school classroom, not managing a complex state bureaucracy. His lieutenant governor, Peggy Flanagan, frequently billed herself as a co-governor, and many major decisions were delegated to appointees. That diffusion of responsibility would later matter a great deal.
Everything changed after the 2022 election. Democrats secured full control of the state government and inherited a staggering $17.6 billion budget surplus. Just days after the election, a Walz official openly declared that Democrats had “won big,” were “going big” and intended to spend the surplus before going home. That moment captured the governing philosophy to come.
What followed was not merely policy ambition. It was classic patronage politics dressed up in progressive language. Money flowed quickly to favored groups, nonprofits and constituencies that promised political support or ideological alignment. The implicit message was clear: Organize, connect and you would be rewarded.
Yet even old-school political machines understood one basic rule: You have to deliver. Chicago’s Daley machine paved streets and picked up garbage — it made sure services worked, however corrupt the system might have been. In Minnesota, money went out the door with little attention to performance, oversight or accountability. Programs multiplied faster than the state’s ability to monitor them.
At the same time, Walz’s rhetoric changed. “One Minnesota” gradually gave way to triumphalism. State of the State speeches shifted from calls for bipartisanship to declarations of victory and demands for compliance. The message was no longer “join us” but “we won, and this is how it will be.”
Then the fraud stories began to surface. Funds intended to feed children during the pandemic were allegedly diverted, participation numbers inflated and basic safeguards ignored. These were not obscure technical violations but core failures of stewardship. Walz and legislative leaders largely shrugged, insisting that all large programs experience some fraud.
That dismissiveness proved disastrous. As indictments, plea deals and convictions mounted, the administration appeared defensive and indifferent. The Democrats resisted stronger legislative oversight and even clashed with courts. What might have been contained early became a rolling scandal.
Ironically, Walz’s national profile was rising just as the foundations were cracking. He was elevated within the Democratic Party, celebrated by progressives and eventually selected as Kamala Harris’ vice presidential running mate. Minnesota was touted as proof that progressive governance worked and Walz as the leader who delivered it. Media, party elites and activists bought into the narrative.
The bubble burst in 2024. Democrats lost the presidency, lost Minnesota’s trifecta, and Walz became a convenient symbol of failure. In post-election recriminations, he was blamed for strategic missteps and political overreach. The very image that had propelled him forward now worked against him.
Meanwhile, the questions at home only intensified. Where did the $17 billion surplus go, and who benefited from it? As investigations expanded and media scrutiny deepened, stories of questionable spending multiplied, culminating most recently in allegations of massive fraud in a state-administered, federally funded day-care program. By the time Walz contemplated a third term, the damage was already done.
His downfall carries two clear lessons: First, politicians should never believe their own rhetoric. Second, governing parties, especially Democrats who claim to believe in effective government, must deliver competent administration, not just ambitious promises. Voters may tolerate ideology, but they will not tolerate mismanagement of public money.
Walz’s collapse is not just a personal failure or a story only about Minnesota. It is a story about political arrogance and the problems that one-party government produces, whether in the North Star State or the Lone Star State.
Governing's opinion columns reflect the views of their authors and not necessarily those of Governing's editors or management.
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