With nearly a year until the Republican primary and more than a year before the general election, much of Alabama’s political establishment already seems to have made up its mind. The endorsements are rolling in like thunder on a summer afternoon. From the Alabama Forestry Association to Manufacture Alabama and the Petroleum and Convenience Marketers to ProgressPAC—the Business Council of Alabama’s political arm—it’s clear that some of the state’s most influential power brokers are throwing their weight behind U.S. Senator Tommy Tuberville’s run for governor. Even U.S. Senator Katie Britt, a rising star in the national GOP, has lent her name to his campaign.
But what’s the rush?
Are these endorsements a genuine vote of confidence—or just early attempts to curry favor with the man the establishment expects to win? In Alabama politics, as in life, timing is everything. And this timing feels more like orchestration than inspiration.
It’s not that Tuberville can’t win. He might. But to declare him inevitable nearly a year before a single vote is cast is to assume Alabama voters are merely spectators in a process already decided. That’s not how it works here—at least, not historically.
Alabama politics has never followed a straight line. It’s a history of late bloomers, unlikely victors, and upsets that embarrassed the experts. Fob James returned from the political wilderness to win the governor’s race in 1994. Guy Hunt, a virtually unknown Cullman County probate judge, rode a populist wave into the Governor’s Mansion in 1986. And even George Wallace, the most iconic figure in Alabama’s political history, had to claw his way into power and reinvent himself along the way.
Voters in this state have never responded well to being told who their leaders should be. They prefer to make that decision themselves, and they don’t mind bucking the party line to do it. That’s why Tuberville’s early consolidation of elite support may backfire. It raises the question: Is this a campaign or a coronation?
And what of the unresolved questions? Tuberville has faced scrutiny over his state residency, his tax filings, and the perception—shared by some in his own party—that he’s never truly understood the job he currently holds in the U.S. Senate. Those concerns haven’t disappeared. They’ve simply been ignored in the rush to build momentum. But a lot can happen in a year. One high-profile misstep, one major news story, one unexpected challenger—and the ground shifts.
Need proof? Just look at Harry Truman.
In 1948, the Chicago Tribune famously printed the headline “Dewey Defeats Truman”—a moment of premature certainty that history quickly corrected. Truman, dismissed by elites and underestimated by pollsters, stunned the country with a come-from-behind victory. It’s a lesson political operatives still ignore at their peril.
Or take Donald Trump’s 2016 win, which defied nearly every forecast and shattered conventional political wisdom. Even here in Alabama, Doug Jones shocked the system by flipping a U.S. Senate seat in 2017. Political dominance doesn’t make you immune to disruption—it makes you more vulnerable to it when you stop listening.
In 2017, President Donald Trump—then the most popular figure in Alabama politics—endorsed Luther Strange for the U.S. Senate. Strange was defeated by Roy Moore. Trump then endorsed Moore, who lost to Doug Jones. In 2022, Trump backed Mo Brooks, only to pull his endorsement when it became clear Katie Britt was wiping him out. Sometimes endorsements matter. And sometimes, they’re just words.
As the old proverb goes, “Man plans, and God laughs.” A year in politics is an eternity. A single turn around the sun can change the fortunes of any candidate. If history teaches us anything, it’s that only chance is inevitable.
The Republican Party has owned Alabama politics for years—numbers, money, machinery, all in its favor. But dominance has a way of calcifying into arrogance. And arrogance invites a reckoning.
If a dark horse candidate emerges—someone with deep Alabama roots and a message that resonates beyond the donor class—the “inevitable” nominee may find himself in unfamiliar territory: having to earn it.
Early endorsements may signal strength, but they can also stoke complacency. If history teaches us anything, it’s that Alabama voters don’t follow scripts written by lobbyists and political operatives. They write their own chapters—sometimes quietly, sometimes defiantly—but always with a mind of their own.
The once heir apparent, Lieutenant Governor Will Ainsworth, has cast his lot with Tuberville, stepping aside and signaling to the political class that the decision has already been made. But in politics, the winds are never still. That which feels certain today often seems farcical by tomorrow. Endorsements, after all, are promissory notes—like tomorrow itself, they are nothing more than a promise. And promises are fragile, easily broken by the hard weight of reality.
If Tuberville does win, the state should rally around him—because no one should root for a governor to fail. But elections are about earning trust, not inheriting it. Alabama deserves a contest, not a coronation. Let the people decide.
