“The fastest way to control people isn’t to convince them you’re right. It’s to convince them the other side is evil.” I don’t know who to attribute that quote to, but it gave me pause.
Having worked in and around politics for decades, I’ve seen my share of hardball tactics and less-than-honest arguments. But what feels different today is how quickly disagreement turns into something deeper and more destructive.
It’s no longer just about being right, but making sure the other side is seen as wrong in the worst possible way.
In Idaho, this doesn’t play out primarily as Republicans versus Democrats. In a state where Republicans dominate, the tension has shifted inward. It’s Republican versus Republican. People who agree on most issues drawing hard lines over the rest and treating each other like enemies because of it.
We’ve all heard it. Labels thrown around like weapons: RINO, extremist, sellout. The goal isn’t making the case. It’s dismissal and that’s a problem.
Because when we stop trying to understand each other, we stop being effective. And when we assume bad intent instead of asking questions, we guarantee the divide gets wider.
What if, instead of leading with accusation, we led with curiosity?
“I see things differently—how did you come to that conclusion?”
That simple shift doesn’t mean you abandon your principles or stop advocating for what you believe. It means respecting the process of getting there. Most people didn’t arrive at their views out of malice, but from experience, information, and priorities that may differ from your own.
Disagreement is not the problem. It’s necessary. It sharpens ideas and reveals blind spots we might otherwise miss. None of us gets everything we want—and we shouldn’t. Give and take is what keeps a society healthy. It’s how better outcomes are shaped and sustained.
But contempt is different. Contempt shuts the door before the conversation even begins. And once that door is closed, it’s hard to reopen.
The irony is the more we lean into this us-versus-them mindset, the more we weaken the very communities and causes we say we’re trying to protect. It’s like a campfire where instead of tending it, we keep feeding it until it burns so hot that people step back—or walk away. We lose good people who don’t want to wade into the hostility. It discourages participation. In the end, nobody really wins.
I’m convinced we can do better. It starts small. In conversations at events. On social media. In how we talk about people who aren’t in the room. We can choose words that invite discussion instead of ending it while keeping in mind that disagreement doesn’t equal disloyalty.
But it requires humility and willingness to admit we might not have all the answers. And maybe, just maybe, someone else has a perspective worth hearing. It doesn’t mean you’ll change your mind. But it might change how you see each other. And that matters.
The strength of a community isn’t measured by how often everyone agrees. It’s measured by how well people handle it when they don’t.
If we want a healthier political environment that moves ideas forward instead of just scoring points, we need to relearn the skill civil engagement.
We can disagree better. Stand firm when it matters. And do so with respect and dignity.
It’s the Idaho Way.
About the Author
Becky Funk is a member of North Idaho Republicans and former Legislative District 4 Republican Chair.
Join North Idaho Republicans as we celebrate America 250–Keep the Republic on April 9th with special guests including Gov. Brad Little.
For tickets and information visit: https://northidahorepublicans.com
Becky, I understand the intention behind your call to “disagree better,” but the message feels tone deaf because it doesn’t address the actual forces driving the division we’re living with today. The polarization we see in Idaho...and across the country...didn’t arise because ordinary citizens suddenly became less civil. It arose because Traditional Republicans have steadily ceded the GOP to an extremist faction empowered by "Trumpism," and they have rarely confronted it publicly.
Trumpism didn't appear out of nowhere. It filled a vacuum created by silence. For years, Traditional Republicans recognized the dangers of Trump’s rhetoric and conduct but chose not to confront it. Some hoped it would fade. Others feared political retaliation. Many convinced themselves that staying quiet was the only way to preserve influence. But silence has consequences. It allowed Trumpism to redefine the party’s norms, expectations, and boundaries of acceptable behavior. The result is a movement that rewards outrage, punishes moderation, and treats basic institutional respect as optional.
A recent example makes this painfully clear. When news broke of Robert Mueller’s passing, Trump's immediate social media response was widely viewed as inappropriate for someone holding the highest office in the land. In a healthier political era, Republican leaders...especially those who claim to uphold dignity, restraint, and institutional respect...would have spoken out. Immediately and vehemently. They would have modeled the very civic responsibility your article calls for.
But in Idaho?
Nothing. Dead silence.
No press releases.
No statements from the state GOP on the local newscasts, radio stations, or social media sites.
No public reassurance that our leaders still recognize the difference between principled disagreement and personal disparagement.
This isn’t a minor oversight. It’s part of a decade-long pattern in which Idaho's Traditional Republicans avoid calling out behavior that violates their own stated values. That silence doesn’t calm the waters, but instead normalizes the very conduct that fuels division.
And the normalization goes even deeper. GOP leaders continue to refer to Trump as “President Trump,” granting him the full symbolic weight and deference of the office even when discussing conduct that would have once been considered beneath it. Titles matter. They signal legitimacy, seriousness, and respect for institutions. When party leaders use that title reflexively...regardless of context...they reveal how compromised their judgment has become. It shows that loyalty to a figure has overtaken loyalty to the standards the title represents.
We see the effects of this dynamic here at home. In Idaho, moderates aren’t losing to Democrats; they’re being targeted by their own party’s far‑right "Trumpian" faction. Outside groups pour money into primaries. Legislators are censured for basic governance. Public servants are attacked for doing their jobs. Through all of this, Traditional Republicans rarely speak up (if ever), even when the behavior contradicts the values they once championed.
Calling for “better disagreement” without acknowledging this reality is like asking people to be polite while ignoring the structural forces that made our politics toxic in the first place. If Traditional Republicans want to restore civility...real civility, not just tone...they have to reclaim their own party. That means publicly...and aggressively...rejecting extremism, defending institutional norms, and modeling the behavior they expect from citizens. It means recognizing that silence is not neutrality; it is complicity. And it means reserving the respect of titles like “President” for conduct that actually honors the office.
The call to “disagree better” rings hollow when one side refuses to police its own extremes. Idahoans deserve leaders who don’t just talk about disagreeing better; they demonstrate and model it. And they do it publicly and aggressively. Every. Single. Day. Until that happens, appeals to civility will remain disconnected from the lived reality of Idaho politics.
Very nicely put. It USED to be the Idaho way; we need to aspire to it once again.