There’s something most people don’t know about Roy Cooper, North Carolina’s former governor and, in all likelihood, the best chance Democrats have for taking a key Senate seat in 2026.
I’ve covered North Carolina politics for 20 years. For a good chunk of that, Cooper, a moderate progressive, has been winning elections in this politically purple state, first as a state lawmaker, then as attorney general and governor. That is probably why Cooper was briefly considered as a running mate for Kamala Harris.
Though I’ve written about Cooper plenty of times, like most journalists who write about politicians, I don’t know him personally. It’s a good idea to keep some distance in this line of work.
What I heard from the Coopers was two parents who were trying to understand what a loss like this must be like.
But in 2023, my 6-year-old son died unexpectedly. Word got out on social media. A few days later, I received a handwritten note in the mail from then-Gov. Cooper and his wife, North Carolina’s first lady, Kristin Cooper. I won’t repeat what they said, but these condolences weren’t written by a press staffer or copied off a form letter. Nor did the Coopers share their gesture publicly.
What I heard from the Coopers was two parents who were trying to understand what a loss like this must be like. It was, to me, decent and kind.
I’ve thought about that note a lot since Cooper officially announced for the Senate in 2026. These are auspicious times to be a decent and kind politician. Whatever you think about President Trump and the brand of Republicanism he represents, ”decent” and “kind” are rarely the words used to describe him.
He is the classic bully. Do what he wants or he’ll punch you in the face. But even if that is the style of leadership you prefer, and many Americans do, our country has been dredging the bottom of the lake with the scandal around Jeffrey Epstein and Trump’s connection to the late financier and convicted sex offender.
Too often media coverage of this resurgent story has been about Democrats versus Republicans, but the story’s essence isn’t about partisan differences of opinion; it’s about basic humanity. At its heart are the many women, some of whom were girls at the time of the allegations, who had much more to lose by speaking out than to gain. They tell stories of terrible, sometimes monstrous, behavior. You don’t have to be the father of young girls, as I am, to see that. If the allegations don’t move you, check your pulse.
Which brings us back to Roy Cooper, who appears to be everything that Trump is not.
For Democrats to have any chance of retaking the Senate next year, they have to win in North Carolina.
Cooper’s eight years as governor weren’t perfect, but they were good. He led during a period of rapid growth in North Carolina’s economy and its population. While there are still pockets of extraordinary hardship in the state, poverty has declined. Although the state office that oversaw hurricane recovery in eastern North Carolina was a mess, the executive branch under Cooper was mostly quiet and scandal-averse.
Even when he didn’t have the veto power to block the state Legislature — which, thanks to extreme gerrymandering, has been one of the most far-right in the United States — Cooper was a strong foil. He spoke for the other side, loudly and often.
Some people criticized Cooper and the Legislature for their rancor toward each other. Indeed, they faced each other in court too many times to count.
But most of these confrontations were initiated by aggressive GOP state legislators, who gerrymandered with impunity, rewrote voting laws to make it harder for Black and brown people to vote, dramatically underfunded public education, and took every chance to attack LGBTQ+ people.
Blaming Cooper for the divisiveness in North Carolina politics is like blaming the kid in the schoolyard who stands up to a bully — which makes his experience as governor an apt training ground for the Senate.
Amid these clashes, Cooper has won election after election. For Democrats to have any chance of retaking the Senate next year, they have to win in North Carolina. With Cooper in the race, that’s a much easier lift. Regardless of other Democrats’ fortunes in the 2026 election, Cooper would be a foil to a president with more power than any president ever, thanks to a compliant GOP Congress and a conciliatory Supreme Court. His likely opponent, Republican National Committee Chairman Michael Whatley, is the president’s handpicked candidate who has mostly distinguished himself by doing and saying whatever Trump wants. But Cooper’s strongest selling point in 2026 won’t be his willingness to stand up to a president. Back in 2020, as the COVID-19 pandemic escalated, Cooper held daily briefings with reporters. Through them, he spoke directly to North Carolinians, who were afraid, angry, stubborn, desperate, and most of all, isolated. Kindness and decency are due for a comeback. During those briefings, he was calm, authoritative and thoughtful. He avoided the appearance of partisanship. And he exuded kindness and decency to a frightened public that really needed it, the same qualities he showed to me and my family when he and the first lady wrote me that note. That’s what makes his candidacy for the Senate so striking, so well-timed. If the Trump era has been defined by anything, it’s cynicism — the idea that American ideals of fairness and right and wrong are corny and dumb. But those ideals, even during America’s worst moments — the “Jim Crow” era and the slavery era, to name but two — are meaningful. They are ambitious, a calling to be something better. Today, people haven’t stopped wanting to believe in something better. They’re just wondering if it’s possible. I don’t know what comes next. No one does. But I do know that kindness and decency are due for a comeback, and if Cooper can help make those qualities what the midterm election is about, then 2026 will be a very good year for Democrats.
Billy Ball, a journalist from North Carolina, has covered the South for almost two decades. He’s a senior editor at Cardinal & Pine, an online newsroom in North Carolina, and founder of The Living South, a journalism project focused on changemakers in the American South. 
