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With North Carolina Republicans and Democrats, there’s more overlap than you think | Opinion

The North Carolina House in session on Tuesday, Feb. 25, 2025 at the North Carolina General Assembly.
The North Carolina House in session on Tuesday, Feb. 25, 2025 at the North Carolina General Assembly. tlong@newsobserver.com

Healthy politics isn’t about agreement. It’s about having the discipline to argue vigorously over ideas without deciding your neighbor must be evil. That’s felt harder to do in North Carolina lately.

In these situations, it’s become cliché to say there’s more that unites us than divides us. Of course, that’s true at some level. But papering over real disagreements doesn’t help.

Andrew Dunn
Andrew Dunn

Moving forward doesn’t mean holding hands and singing kumbaya. Maybe what we need is a reset: step back, name where we truly differ, and see where common ground still lives.

This week, I dug into the latest platforms from North Carolina’s Democratic and Republican parties. These documents aren’t meant to spark outrage or raise money. They’re the fine print where each side lays out what it actually believes.

The disagreements are real — on priorities, prescriptions and worldview. But there’s also more overlap than you’d expect. In many areas, we’re talking about different routes to solving the same problems.

Read that way, there’s room for honest, healthy debate.

The worldview split

As soon as you open up the platforms, it’s immediately clear that the parties start from fundamentally different places.

Republicans begin with families, churches and local institutions. Their instinct is to protect what’s worked and keep the government in its lane. Democrats begin with the individual and call for more government action to ensure equal access and outcomes. One side defaults to preserving order; the other to accelerating change.

That shapes every major issue.

On schools, Republicans want parents to choose and dollars to follow students. Democrats want to invest in traditional public schools and guard against fragmentation.

On energy, Republicans focus on keeping power reliable and affordable, while Democrats push for faster adoption of wind, solar and other renewables.

In the justice system, Republicans emphasize clear rules, equal consequences, and strong victims’ rights. Democrats emphasize second chances, alternatives to prison and reforming cash bail.

On elections, Republicans want more verification: voter ID, audits and tighter guardrails. Democrats want easier access: same-day registration, expanded voting windows and fewer restrictions.

The core agreements

These are real divides. But here’s what’s often missed: Both parties still want many of the same results.

They both agree our courts are too slow. That too many kids can’t read by third grade. That energy bills are climbing and the grid is aging. That the economy isn’t lifting enough people. That addiction, mental illness and hopelessness are rising. And that confidence in the system is eroding.

That’s where serious politics begins, not in agreement, but in shared concern. We’re still trying, most of us, to solve the same problems. We just believe different things about what’s causing them and who should fix them.

That’s not a reason to fear debate. It’s a reason to have one. The job of politics isn’t to end disagreement. It’s to give us a way to argue, fiercely and honestly, and still live together afterward.

The danger isn’t that we don’t agree. The danger is forgetting that the other side means what they say. When we assume they’re not just wrong but evil, things fall apart.

Why this can work

Factions are nothing new. The founders assumed they’d develop. In the Federalist Papers, James Madison warned that we shouldn’t try to eliminate factions — only manage them within a system built for disagreement. That’s why the Constitution assumes conflict. It gives us structure, not to avoid tension, but to channel it without collapse.

Parties are tools, not gods. When we worship them, they break us.

So let’s bring that ethic to North Carolina. Govern where goals align, and debate cleanly where convictions clash. And on the moral questions — life, identity, school funding, election rules — make the case in public and let the majority rule, knowing voters can revisit it. That’s how a confident state fights, and wins, without burning down the room.

The killing of Charlie Kirk wasn’t just an attack on a man. It was an attack on the American square, the promise that we can argue fiercely, win or lose, and still go home to our families.

In the aftermath, North Carolina’s Young Republicans and Young Democrats issued a joint statement rejecting violence and affirming our shared humanity. That instinct is exactly right.

I disagree with most of the Democratic platform. But I recognize the problems they’re trying to solve — and, often, the goals they’re trying to reach.

That’s the hopeful sign. Even in these platforms, documents meant to draw hard lines, you can still hear echoes of shared goals. Safer communities. Better schools. A resilient economy. Families with confidence about the future.

That’s not the end of the debate. It’s the place to start it.

Contributing columnist Andrew Dunn is the publisher of the Longleaf Politics newsletter, which offers thoughtful analysis of North Carolina politics and policy from a conservative perspective. He can be reached at andrew@longleafpol.com.

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