By Jeff Moore, Deputy Editor of The Carolina Journal

As legislative activity blossoms with the arrival of spring, the current legislative minority in the North Carolina General Assembly find themselves in a familiar spot: outnumbered in both the House and Senate by a Republican majority that holds the reins. 

While the majority launches into the biennial budget session, balancing feasible policy pushes with budget realities, you might think the minority is left in the lurch. Paradoxically, though, the firm control of the legislature by one party can often act as a convenient shield for the minority. True to form, under this cover, the minority has been busy filing bills — bold, provocative proposals that shimmer with progressive ambition but stand little chance of seeing daylight.

Before this session’s filing deadline, members of the minority in the NC House filed bills to: reverse the prohibition on gender-change surgeries of minors; offer in-state tuition to illegal aliens; throw out widely supported legal protections for the unborn and instead open up no-limit abortion; and, to establish the “Menstrual Equity for All Act.”

These aren’t serious attempts to legislate; they’re provocative pipe dreams, crafted not to pass but to perform. 

Yet, it’s the performance that gives such actions what limited utility they have. These bills are signals to constituents, activists, and donors that the party’s still fighting the good fight, even if the outcome is preordained. And therein lies the rub: opposition is easy. 

When you’re not expected to deliver — when the majority’s control offers cover — tossing out red-meat legislation becomes less about governing and more about grandstanding. It’s a low-stakes game where attention, not achievement, is the prize. That’s why there’s a press conference with every proposal, however ill-fated the legislation may be.

Of course, it helps when the media is sympathetic to a legislative minority’s plight.

To be sure, this practice is not without some merit, nor exclusive to Democrats or Republicans. When voters elect someone to the state legislature, even if their minority status is assured, those voters reasonably expect some form of active representation. That means loudly opposing policies, despite their inevitable passage, and filing bills that face worse odds than a snowball’s chance in hell.

But while the eye rolls are well deserved for some (most, all?) of these opposition filings, they also offer some insight into the kind of policies the minority prefer when shielded from the consequences of pragmatic governance. It’s not a completely accurate picture, however; for the same reasons minority opposition is easy, governing is hard.

In all honesty, some performative proposals leak out of the majority at times, too. But the policies clamored for by a principled political base may lack the support of the wider caucus. Leadership may not have the gumption to stand up for others. Nevertheless, such bills still get filed. 

Though, with an election always lurking around the corner and legislative margins hardly assured — not to mention the pressure cooker of constructing a state budget to collect and spend tens of billions of North Carolina taxpayers’ dollars — getting such bills across the finish line is difficult, and sometimes viewed as more trouble than they’re worth (to them).

In the end, the ease of opposition boils down to this: it’s always simpler to tear something down than to build it up. 

The minority on Jones Street can lob their provocative bills like Molotov cocktails, knowing they’ll fizzle out under Republican control — no blueprints required, no compromises negotiated, no budgets balanced. It’s a luxury the majority doesn’t have; they’re stuck wrestling with the messy reality of governing, where every decision carries weight and a price tag. 

Opposition thrives on noise — press conferences, headlines, applause from their activist base and media friends — without the burden of results. But that’s the catch: anyone can criticize from the sidelines or wave a flag for a lost cause. Crafting something durable, something that works, takes grit the grandstanders rarely possess. In Raleigh, as elsewhere, the contrast is clear: opposing is a breeze; building is the burden.

Here’s to hoping majorities will build upon solid foundations.

The preceding article originally appeared on April 3, 2025 at The Carolina Journal’s website and is made available here for educational purposes only. This constitutes a ‘fair use’ of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Title 17 U.S.C. section 106A-117 of the U.S. Copyright Law. Any views or opinions expressed here are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Carolina Leadership Coalition. Picture above: the Legislative Building in Raleigh by Makiya Seminera for the Associated Press.