The quiet lobbying phase is over. Derik Kaufmann, founder of AI startup RunRL, is organizing a public 'March for Billionaires' this Saturday in San Francisco—a visible escalation of founder opposition to California's proposed wealth tax. Though Governor Gavin Newsom has already committed to vetoing the Billionaire Tax Act, the march signals something more significant: founder policy activism is moving from behind-closed-door resistance to organized public action. For the startup ecosystem, this represents a turning point in how founders are engaging with state policy.

The war over California's proposed wealth tax just entered a new phase, and it looks more like street theater than serious economic policy. Derik Kaufmann, the 28-year-old founder of AI startup RunRL, isn't joking about organizing a 'March for Billionaires' in San Francisco this Saturday. The website popped up this week with a tagline most people assumed was satire: 'Vilifying billionaires is popular. Losing them is expensive.' It wasn't.

Kaufmann told TechCrunch that the march is entirely his own initiative—no corporate backing, no organized front group, just a founder convinced that the Billionaire Tax Act would be 'quite damaging to the tech economy.' This is the inflection point that matters: founder opposition to California policy is visibly escalating from private resistance and lobbying to coordinated public action.

The policy itself is straightforward. California's proposed tax would hit residents worth over $1 billion with a one-time 5% wealth tax. It's backed by the healthcare union SEIU and designed to offset federal funding cuts. On paper, it sounds like exactly the kind of progressive taxation Silicon Valley claims to support. In practice, it's triggered what amounts to a war among the state's tech elite.

Kaufmann's framing cuts to the real concern. 'It hits startup founders whose wealth is only on paper,' he said. 'They would be forced to liquidate shares on potentially unfavorable terms, incurring capital gains taxes and giving up control. Not to mention the difficulty of valuing private companies.' He points to Sweden's elimination of its wealth tax two decades ago—a move he credits with attracting capital and boosting the billionaire-per-capita ratio by 50% versus the US. This isn't bluster; it's a calculated argument about capital formation and founder liquidity.

Here's where the story gets interesting: Governor Newsom has already signaled he would veto the bill if it reaches his desk. The legislation faces near-impossible odds in the legislature. Yet Kaufmann is organizing a march anyway. Why now? Why publicly? The answer reveals something important about founder sentiment. This isn't about stopping a bill that's already losing. It's about making founder opposition visible. It's about signaling to California policymakers that this constituency will organize, that it will show up, that it takes the issue seriously enough to move beyond private channels.

Kaufmann, who is no longer involved with RunRL at the time of organizing the march, stressed that actual billionaire participation remains unclear. He expects 'a few dozen attendees,' which makes the whole thing feel more symbolic than strategic. And yet, symbolism matters in policy cycles. A march—even a small one—in San Francisco by a Y Combinator-backed founder gets covered by TechCrunch, gets debated on social media, gets into the consciousness of other founders considering whether they should organize, fund, or migrate.

The context here is crucial. Over the past six weeks, the startup world has watched Larry Page loosen business ties to California, seen prominent tech figures threaten exodus, and watched a monsoon of corporate lobbying hit the legislature. The march is part of that escalation, but it's different because it's founder-led rather than board-directed. It's the person actually building the company saying publicly: this is unacceptable.

The irony is sharp. Social media users assumed the march was a joke because the idea of billionaires literally marching for billionaire rights feels absurd. And yet here we are. The online reaction alternated between incredulity and ridicule—'I can't imagine billionaires marching in the street,' one user responded. Kaufmann essentially confirmed that prediction: no actual billionaires are expected. What we're seeing instead is a founder-led protest that borrows the billionaire framing to make a point about founder economics and capital formation.

For the startup ecosystem, this represents a visible inflection. Founder-policy activism has historically happened through formal channels: lobby groups, think tanks, private meetings with legislators. What Kaufmann is demonstrating is that some founders are now willing to organize in public. That's a shift. Whether it spreads—whether we see similar actions from other founders, whether other tech companies get pulled into public advocacy—will determine whether this is an isolated protest or the beginning of organized founder opposition to California policy.

The 'March for Billionaires' is simultaneously trivial and significant. As a political event, it's likely to be small, symbolic, and easily ignored by policymakers already committed to blocking the bill. But as a signal of founder sentiment, it matters. It shows that opposition to California's wealth tax has moved from private resistance to public organizing. For founders building in California, this is a visible reminder that others are questioning the policy environment. For investors evaluating where to allocate capital, it signals policy uncertainty and founder mobility concerns. For policymakers, it demonstrates that this constituency will organize. Watch whether the march catalyzes additional founder activism or remains an isolated gesture.