I’ll admit, the headline in the Idaho Statesman stung a little: “Idaho lawmaker spends thousands on election ads — against his colleagues.” It sounds so dramatic, doesn’t it? Like I’m some kind of political heel, lurking in the shadows and plotting legislative mayhem against my fellow good citizens. But here’s what the headline conveniently omitted: I put my name on it. That’s the part nobody wants to talk about. The truth is, legislators and members of the executive branch have been supporting and campaigning against their “colleagues” for decades. It is nothing new. What is new — and apparently scandalous — is that a conservative is doing it openly. Most of the folks clutching their pearls right now have done the exact same thing, or know people who have, but they did it through anonymous LLCs and nameless PACs designed specifically to hide their fingerprints. Idaho elections have long been influenced by out-of-state money and carefully laundered political maneuvering. I’m simply doing what others do quietly — except I’m willing to sign my name to it. If that makes me the villain here, I’ll accept the label. The faux outrage from historically moderate Republicans and Democrats isn’t really about campaign ethics. It’s about the fact that this time, conservative candidates are the ones being supported. That changes everything, apparently. Now, to the colleagues I am so regrettably “against.” Let me be clear: many of them are genuinely nice people. The kind of folks you’d happily invite to a backyard BBQ. They remember your birthday. I’m sure their kids are delightful. They are pillars of their communities and good neighbors. I work hard to maintain genuine relationships across the aisle, regardless of political disagreement. But here is where the story gets complicated: being a nice guy is not a vote. And being a good neighbor doesn’t translate into conservative policy. When the time comes to vote on property tax relief, parental choice in education, or cutting unnecessary bureaucratic red tape, the niceties evaporate faster than a puddle in the Idaho desert. These colleagues — bless their hearts — frequently cast votes that make you ask, “Wait, what letter comes after the ‘R’ on their name tag?” They are, for lack of a better term, Republicans-in-name-only. They run on a conservative platform, then arrive at the Capitol with a curious affliction I call “Big Government Amnesia.” Suddenly, the principles they campaigned on are replaced by an overwhelming urge to find common ground with people who hold fundamentally different views on the proper role of government. This is why I’m supporting primary challengers. If the legislators I’m targeting simply voted according to the conservative values they claim to champion — limited government, fiscal responsibility, individual liberty — I could sit back and let the season ride. It’s truly that simple. I should also be clear about who I’m backing: these are candidates I have personally worked with. People of strong character who do a great job for their constituents. None of them vote the same as me on every issue, nor would I ever expect them to. That’s not the standard. The standard is whether you govern the way you campaigned — whether your votes reflect the conservative values the people of Idaho sent you to uphold. To my colleagues who are feeling unsettled: the power is entirely in your hands. Cast the votes that reflect the Republican platform, and my checkbook stays closed. I’d love nothing more than to put this behind us and return to a legislative session focused on actual conservative governance. Until then, I’ll keep signing my name to it. Because while hiding behind a nameless LLC might be more comfortable, Idaho deserves to know exactly who is fighting for conservative principles — and who is just pretending to. Rep. Jordan Redman is an Idaho lawmaker, small business owner, and father of six who believes there are far superior ways to spend money than on political ads — but hasn’t found a better way to hold Republicans accountable to the voters who elected them.