The Etiquette of Disagreement (Or: How Not to Lose Everyone)

I have about three conservative friends left on Facebook.

That’s not an exaggeration. It’s also not something I ever set out to do.

If anything, I’ve resisted it.

I don’t like cutting people off. I don’t like curating my life down to only the people who agree with me. That feels brittle. Unreal. Like building a version of the world that can’t actually hold up under pressure.

And yet—here we are.

I live in Greenville, which is not exactly a liberal stronghold. I’m not the “norm” here, politically or otherwise. That means if I want to live honestly in this place, I have to be able to exist around people who see the world differently than I do.

Or at least—I used to think I could.

What Changed?

It’s not disagreement.

I can handle disagreement. I actually want it. A world without disagreement isn’t peaceful—it’s either fake or controlled.

What’s changed is the way we disagree.

We don’t argue ideas anymore—we assign identities.

You’re not wrong—you’re immoral.
You’re not mistaken—you’re dangerous.
You’re not someone I disagree with—you’re someone I need to defeat.

And once you cross that line, etiquette disappears.

Because why would you treat someone with respect if you believe they’re fundamentally bad?

Trying to Do It Differently

Lately, I’ve been trying to step outside of that cycle.

Not just online—but in real conversations.

I’ve been following and engaging with the South Carolina Forum, which is built around bringing people from across the political spectrum into actual dialogue. Not comment sections. Not dunk contests. Real conversations.

And I’ll be honest—it’s uncomfortable.

Not because people are hostile, but because they’re not.

They’re thoughtful. Measured. Willing to listen.

Which sounds like a good thing—and it is—but it also removes all the easy excuses.

You can’t write someone off as a caricature when they’re sitting across from you, explaining their perspective calmly, intelligently, and in good faith.

You actually have to engage.

What I’m Learning

What I’m realizing is that online etiquette hasn’t just broken down—it’s been replaced.

We’ve developed a new, unspoken rule:

Disagreement is a threat, not an opportunity.

And once you accept that rule, everything else follows.

You respond faster.
You assume the worst.
You argue to win, not to understand.

But spaces like the South Carolina Forum operate on a different assumption:

That disagreement, handled correctly, is actually the point.

Not something to eliminate—but something to work through.

The Gap Between Online and Real Life

Here’s the strange part.

Most of us are capable of this in real life.

We do it at work. With family. With neighbors.

But online—especially on platforms like Facebook—something shifts.

The distance makes it easier to dehumanize, exaggerate, escalate.

And before long, we’re not talking to people anymore—we’re reacting to symbols.

The Unfollow Line

I’ve still unfollowed people. I’ve still removed people.

But I’m trying—imperfectly—to draw a different line now.

Not at disagreement.

But at dehumanization.

There’s a difference between:

“I think you’re wrong”
and
“People like you are the problem.”

One leaves the door open.

The other slams it shut.

The Hard Part

Here’s the part I don’t love:

This isn’t just about “them.”

I’ve done this too.

I’ve posted things for reaction.
I’ve dismissed people too quickly.
I’ve chosen the easy win over the harder conversation.

And that’s the uncomfortable truth—this isn’t something happening to us.

It’s something we’re all participating in.

So What Does Better Look Like?

I don’t think the answer is “just be nicer.”

That’s too shallow for what’s actually happening.

But I do think it looks something like this:

Assume complexity before assuming intent.
Ask one real question before making one real argument.
Know when a conversation is productive—and when it’s not.
Stop performing for the invisible audience.

And maybe most importantly:

Find spaces where real conversation is still possible—and actually show up.

That last part is the hardest.

It’s easier to post than to participate.
Easier to react than to listen.

Final Thought

I still only have about three conservative friends left on Facebook.

But I’m starting to think the goal isn’t to fix Facebook.

It’s to stop expecting it to do something it was never built to do.

And instead, put more energy into the places—and the conversations—that still can..