How Jones-Jackson clash has engulfed governor’s race — and Georgia politics
Georgia has had plenty of bruising intraparty brawls — but nothing quite like the big-money slugfest between Lt. Gov. Burt Jones and billionaire Rick Jackson.
Their feud has transformed Georgia’s GOP race for governor into a bare-knuckled fight awash in record spending and relentless attacks.
In the six weeks since Jackson jolted the field with his surprise campaign launch, the two have clashed everywhere: in courtrooms, under the Gold Dome, on the campaign trail, in the White House orbit and, most of all, spending nearly $52 million across Georgia’s airwaves.
The fight has squeezed the rest of the GOP field, pushing Attorney General Chris Carr and Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger to the margins and leaving down-ballot candidates struggling for attention in a landscape dominated by two heavyweights with seemingly bottomless resources.
And it has turned vicious, with both trading deeply personal shots at each other. Longtime politicos say the ferocity of the attacks is unmatched. Jones has cast Jackson, the founder of Jackson Healthcare, as an out-of-touch billionaire and closet Never Trumper. Jackson has portrayed Jones as a corrupt politician being bankrolled by his father’s business.
A recent Jackson attack distilled the race to a taunt: “Daddy’s baby needs his bottle and nap.”
“It’s just everywhere. It’s all encompassing,” said former Democratic state Rep. Calvin Smyre, who witnessed countless political spats over his nearly half-century in the Legislature. “Any way you can describe it probably understates it.”
Even the bitter 1986 Democratic primary for a U.S. House seat between John Lewis and Julian Bond, one of the state’s most acrimonious contests, can’t match the money and relentless media barrage shaping the Jones-Jackson feud, said University of Georgia political scientist Charles Bullock, a fixture on campus since 1968.
“This is a whole new level,” Bullock said. “We’ve never seen anything like it.”
Follow the breadcrumbs
The rivalry is fueled by a deeply personal rift.
Before Jackson’s stunning decision to enter the race — along with a pledge to spend at least $50 million of his own fortune — he had donated to Jones and publicly backed his campaign.
“But by the end of the year, I basically said, ‘This guy is too lazy,’” Jackson said in an interview. “I can’t imagine what he’d be like as governor if he’s this lazy now.”
Jones has deployed his family fortune aggressively, too, including a $10 million personal loan once aimed at padding his lead in a sleepy primary. Now he’s neck and neck with Jackson in some polls — and trailing him in others.
“Every race I’ve run politically, I’ve always been against some established opponent, and I’ve always come out on top. So, me being in a role where we’re going to be outspent — that doesn’t bother me a bit,” Jones said.
Although the intensity of their fight has surprised many, the outlines were there all along.
A $1 million December donation from Jackson to Trump is now central to his rebuttal against Jones’ attacks branding him a Never Trumper over his past support for Jeb Bush, Nikki Haley and other former rivals to the president.
A $19 million ad blitz from a shadowy group called Georgians for Integrity torched Jones for months, triggering an intense sleuthing quest from his camp. Jackson has repeatedly denied any connection to the ads, but the barrage helped soften the ground for his campaign.
And perhaps most telling, an email chain revealed that Jackson’s team repeatedly pressed Jones last year to record a friendly message promoting a foster care initiative, even supplying a script written by a Jackson aide.
Now that recording is being turned against him. A clip of Jones calling Jackson a “good friend” in December anchors a new spot with a blunt message: “When you see Burt’s new attack ads, remember he doesn’t believe them either.”
The feud has even reached the White House orbit. Jackson and his allies have worked to make their case directly to Trump, hoping to loosen the president’s firm embrace of Jones.
So far, it hasn’t worked. Trump reaffirmed his support for Jones at a February rally in Rome. But Jackson’s camp is still angling for a co-endorsement — or at least more muted support for Jones — and has enlisted MAGA stalwarts Nick Ayers, Austin Chambers and others to help.
Jackson made his pitch in person at a Mar-a-Lago event Feb. 28, just hours after Trump authorized U.S. strikes on Iran. The two spoke privately, with Jackson repeating a familiar line: “I’m going to be your favorite governor.”
New fronts
The fight has also spilled into the courts, where both sides have deployed teams of lawyers and political operatives.
One major battle is still unfolding. Jackson joined a growing list of candidates challenging a state law that lets Jones and a handful of others raise unlimited campaign cash. A federal case that could cut a key stream of funding for the lieutenant governor is now pending.
Another legal salvo looks as much like a campaign attack as a courtroom maneuver. Jackson filed a defamation suit over Jones’ claims on the trail, accusing him of “resorting to what he knows best: cheap and dirty politics.”
Then there’s the legislative front. Jones’ allies pushed a bill that would complicate Jackson’s candidacy by restricting Georgians with state contracts from seeking statewide office.
The bill, which has stalled in the House, looked like an attempt to highlight that Jackson’s health care staffing firm has received more than $1 billion in payments from state agencies since 2020.
Jones took the rare step this week of addressing the issue directly from the Senate floor, accusing Jackson’s company of being the “culprit” in rising health care costs and of “monopolizing” the industry. Jackson’s camp called Jones’ comments a “meltdown.”
By Friday, the clash had turned theatrical. Jackson’s campaign dispatched characters dressed as Bert and Ernie to the Gold Dome, outfitted in “BribeBurt.com” T-shirts directing passersby to an online trove of anti-Jones attacks. Fliers urged people to call a hotline to report “unethical and suspicious activity” tied to Jones.
Democrats see an opening if they can break through the noise. Strategist Jake Orvis is pushing the party to see the brawl as an “opportunity to talk about why they’re running and how they’re going to make people’s lives better — or risk missing the moment entirely.”
All the while, the ad war is only escalating. Jackson has spent nearly $39 million on airtime ahead of the primary — far more than any other candidate for governor in Georgia history at this stage of the race — while Jones has poured in $13 million.
With nearly two months until the May 19 primary, there’s little reason to think the barrage will slow.
“Who knows how they can escalate it beyond this,” Bullock said. “But I’m sure we’ll find out.”
Clarification
This story has been edited to add context to the 1986 Democratic House primary between Julian Bond and John Lewis.
About the Author
Greg Bluestein is the Atlanta Journal Constitution's chief political reporter. He is also an author, TV analyst and co-host of the Politically Georgia podcast.
