Alabama’s next governor should rise from the people, not the elites, proving that leadership is earned through service, courage, and conviction.
By Bill Britt
Columnist
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The 2026 governor’s race should have been a contest of ideas—an open seat, a fair fight, a true test of vision and character. This moment should belong to Alabamians, not to the political insiders who decide things behind closed doors. It should be about who has the courage, the vision, and the heart to lead this state forward.
There should be a contest—an honest fight—to determine who will be the next governor of this state. Yet at this moment, it appears that U.S. Senator Tommy Tuberville is the only option being offered.
That’s not how it’s supposed to be.
In Alabama, we don’t crown our leaders. You have to win our trust. Public service isn’t inherited, purchased or preordained. It’s earned in the dust and grit of hard work, in the quiet strength of listening, and in the conviction to stand firm when others bend.
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This state was built by people who prize independence and plainspoken truth—men and women who value character and courage over comfort and convenience. They built our communities with their hands, defended them with their faith, and sustained them with their hope. They didn’t wait for permission, and they never bowed to privilege.
Alabamians want a fighter—not a figurehead. We don’t need another self-satisfied politician who treats the people’s trust like a trophy. We need a servant of the public who remembers that power is borrowed, not owned, and that every title in government carries a duty, not a crown.
Yet here we are, months away from the primary, and it appears there is only one contender—not determined by ideas, not by vision, not by the will of voters, but by the silence of those too cautious or too comfortable to stand up.
Who will answer the call? Who will stand and say, “Here I am — for the people.”
True service doesn’t come from being chosen by elites. It begins by walking beside Alabamians—listening to their stories, sharing their burdens and earning their trust. This state deserves a governor who remembers that public office is not a coronation, but a calling.
What’s happening now says more about the state of our politics than it does about any one person. Too often, those with money, connections and influence decide the outcome before the people ever cast a vote. The insiders pick their favorite, the donors fall in line, and the rest of us are told it’s already settled—that this is how it’s done.
But, that’s not democracy, that’s manipulation dressed up as inevitability.
For generations, Alabamians have made their own choices. We’ve never taken kindly to being told what’s best for us by those who think they know better. Yet somewhere along the way, too many in the political class stopped trusting the wisdom of the public.
We know better.
We know that trust must be earned—through honesty, humility and hard work. We should never accept princely figures who believe their fame or fortune entitles them to rule over us. That’s not who we are, and it’s not what this state stands for. Our motto is We dare defend our rights. Defending those rights begins at the ballot box.
Alabama has never been the favorite in the eyes of the powerful. But we’ve never needed to be. This state was forged in hardship, strengthened by faith, and lifted by the stubborn belief that ordinary people can do extraordinary things when given the chance.
History doesn’t remember those who played it safe. It remembers those who stepped into the arena when the odds were against them and refused to yield. Power never gives itself up willingly; it must be challenged, again and again, by those who still believe that the people matter more than the powerful.
Elections are supposed to test a person’s vision, integrity and endurance. They show who can stand when the wind turns rough, and who can’t. When we allow coronations to replace contests, we lose more than an election; we lose a piece of our self-government itself.
What Alabama needs now is not another prepackaged campaign of slogans and staged smiles. We need someone who knows whom they serve—a leader who will fight for teachers, nurses, small-business owners, and working families long before chasing headlines or donors.
Where is the one who isn’t waiting for permission or polling data? This moment demands someone willing to step forward even when it’s inconvenient, even when the odds are long. Because that is who we are—people who dig deep, who endure, who believe in tomorrow because we’ve worked for it with our own hands.
Triumph for Alabama won’t be measured by campaign victories or insider praise. It will be seen in stronger schools, safer neighborhoods, better jobs, and the chance for every child to build a future without leaving home to find it. Real triumph comes when government serves the public—not the powerful.
We don’t need a Republican leader or a Democrat leader. We need an Alabama leader—one who fights for everyone, not just for a party.
We don’t need someone who invents problems and crises that don’t exist to stir the base, but one who sees the real struggles of real Alabamians—and has the courage and wisdom to know that no single person holds all the answers. Together, we can begin to solve them.
The heart of Alabama beats in its towns and churches, in its farms and factory floors, in the men and women who rise before dawn and labor until dusk. They deserve someone who fights as hard for them as they fight to make ends meet.
Until that happens, we’re not choosing our future—we’re merely accepting someone else’s version of it.
Alabama has always been a place where faith and fortitude meet. Our people have endured hardship, rebuilt from loss, and stood tall when others counted us out. We know what resilience looks like. And we know when we’re being asked to settle for less.
Every generation reaches a crossroads where courage must speak louder than comfort. This is ours. And when that moment comes—when Alabama looks for someone to lead—let it not be the one chosen by privilege, but the one who rises from the people themselves.
Someone who says, Here I am, Lord, send me.