During his first governorship a half-century ago, Jerry Brown acquired a reputation for making abrupt changes of position, sometimes contradicting himself.

The starkest example occurred in 1978 when Proposition 13, a landmark tax limit measure, was on the ballot. Brown denounced the measure as a “ripoff” before the election, but soon after its overwhelming approval, declared himself a “born-again tax cutter” and sponsored a state income tax cut.

Brown’s chameleon-like tendencies drew much criticism, of course. But he rationalized them by citing what he called a “canoe theory” of politics.

“The way you have to approach the political process is something like piloting a canoe,” Brown once said. “If you stand up on one side you’ll fall in. If you stand up on the other side you’ll fall in. But if you paddle a little bit on the left side, then paddle a little bit on the right side, you keep going right down the middle.”

Despite his rationale, Brown’s frequent repositioning fed suspicions that he was less interested in governing California than in planning a presidential campaign. In fact, he ran for president twice during his eight-year governorship, basing his second bid in 1980 on cutting taxes and balancing the federal budget.

Ultimately, Brown’s evident lack of interest in his day job and his dipsy-doodles of positioning backfired. His 1982 run for the U.S. Senate failed miserably. When he returned to the governorship in 2011, having learned his lesson, he was a model of consistency and engaged governance.

That bit of political history is relevant to what Gavin Newsom is doing as his governorship winds down and he increasingly evinces hopes to succeed where his quasi-uncle — the Brown and Newsom families have been intertwined for decades — failed.

Ever since he won a second term in 2022, Newsom has been very obviously building a national image for himself with headline-grabbing political maneuvers and cultivating attention from national political media — all the while insisting that he had “sub-zero interest” in seeking the White House.

After Donald Trump trounced Kamala Harris last fall, Newsom shifted his image-building into higher gear, positioning himself as a leader of the resistance to Trump’s many changes of policy while, inexplicably, endorsing some Trumpian positions, most notably opposition to allowing transgender females to compete in girls’ sports.

The Trump administration’s sweeping roundups of undocumented immigrants in Southern California, including the use of National Guard troops and Marines — aimed, at last partially, at depicting California as a rogue sanctuary state — have given Newsom a new platform to claim the title of resister-in-chief.

Last week, he generated even more media attention by suing Fox news for defamation, claiming that Fox News anchor Jesse Watters edited out key information from a clip of Trump talking about calling Newsom about the immigration crackdown, then used the edited video to assert that Newsom had lied about them speaking.

The recent events have bolstered assumptions that Newsom is running for president. A few weeks ago, in an interview with the Wall Street Journal, he said “I’m not thinking about running, but it’s a path that I could see unfold.”

Political oddsmakers took it as a quasi-declaration of candidacy and early polling has put Newsom in the upper tier of potential 2028 Democratic candidates, albeit with scarcely double-digit support.

As Newsom’s time in office declines, we’ll likely see a steady escalation of statements and actions drawing national attention to himself, just as Jerry Brown did during his first governorship.

However, as Brown learned the hard way, if Newsom’s stunts become too blatant, he risks becoming a laughingstock who won’t be taken seriously.