How Dan Crenshaw Rose Higher And Higher — And Then Collapsed

When Dan Crenshaw joined Congress in 2019, he was instantly a star.

The then-34-year-old GOP lawmaker was young, had combat experience, and was great on TV; the eyepatch from an injury in the Afghanistan War only made him more memorable. And he was social media savvy. He tweeted. He made videos. He hosted a podcast. It would seem he had all the talents to thrive in the Donald Trump era of politics, where online ubiquity and compelling personality can quickly power politicians to new heights.

But the relentless visibility and his willingness to break with party orthodoxy also made him a target for his enemies. On Tuesday, his once promising career was derailed when he was handily defeated in his Texas primary by a more conservative Trump acolyte and became the first House incumbent to lose a primary in the 2026 midterm cycle.

Brendan Steinhauser, a Republican strategist who worked on Crenshaw’s 2018 campaign, says Crenshaw is someone who is eager to speak his mind — but that in today’s media environment, it can backfire.

“When he did more and more of the podcast and conversations with the influencers,” Steinhauser says, “it just created more opportunities to say those things that might rub people the wrong way or to make mistakes. But he was being open and honest about it. It’s a double-edged sword.”

Indeed, Crenshaw clashed with prominent MAGA members online and denounced “grifters” in the conservative movement. He was vocal about his support for Ukraine aid, despite significant skepticism among many Republican voters about involvement in Russia’s war. He even spoke out against Trump’s effort to deny the results of the 2020 election. And the more he spoke, the more it became clear that Crenshaw wasn’t the kind of Republican that could fit into a rapidly transforming GOP that demanded absolute loyalty to Trump.

“True, my name is clickbait,” Crenshaw said in a statement in which he criticized the kind of “petty keyboard warrior” in the party who he said sought to win attention, engagement and dollars by attacking him. “Representation is not about telling people what they want to hear, it’s about telling them the truth,” he added. “I can sleep easy with my record of service.”

And so, despite the many qualities that should have positioned Crenshaw well in the current moment, he fizzled out. Crenshaw’s downfall is in part a cautionary tale for the politicians looking to rise quickly in today’s political-media ecosystem, as well as a counterpoint to the idea that all press might be good press. There is an art to conquering the internet, and even then, the formula is constantly changing. Particularly in the GOP, it’s an increasingly insular media economy where MAGA loyalists speak to each other and their base, and someone like Crenshaw is out of step. Of course, the other factor in Crenshaw’s defeat is more familiar: Breaking with Trump is a dangerous bet in today’s Republican Party.

Crenshaw’s rise to fame seems like a story of a bygone past: When Saturday Night Live made fun of Crenshaw and his eyepatch, outrage erupted on the internet that the show would mock a wounded veteran. Crenshaw sent out a level-headed response on Twitter that displayed his disappointment, and then showed up on the show the following week to show there were no hard feelings: “Americans can forgive one another. We can remember what brings us together as a country,” he said. It’s the kind of civility that is rarely seen in today’s politics. It’s particularly hard now to imagine a prominent conservative going on SNL or similar media outlet to ease tensions after such a scrap.

But perhaps the clearest sign that Crenshaw wasn’t going to last long in the GOP was his criticism of election deniers. Crenshaw voted to certify Joe Biden’s 2020 victory and was one of four Republicans who signed a letter condemning Trump for contributing to the Jan. 6 violence while also stating opposition to impeaching the president. Crenshaw was branded a traitor, even though he’d always been a fairly loyal Republican, as his voting record made clear.

Rather than let the issue fade away after its initial controversy, however, Crenshaw brought it up again on his podcast, just days before the 2022 midterm elections. His words rekindled the flames: “The whole thing was always a lie. And it was a lie meant to rile people up,” Crenshaw said, accusing election deniers of deception. “So we have a lot of people in the political world that are just willing to say things they know aren’t true, they know aren't true. It’s a huge manipulation.” He made headlines again, and Trump surely did not forget. Crenshaw was the only Texas Republican not to secure Trump’s endorsement in this year’s primary.

“Dan had the audacity to dip his toe in the waters of common sense, and learned that reason is treason in two-party politics,” says former Democratic Rep. Dean Phillips, who got to know Crenshaw when they were freshman lawmakers entering Congress together in 2019.

Meanwhile, Crenshaw seemed to further embrace his role as party truth-teller and brawler, using his social media accounts to launch attacks not just on Democrats but fellow Republicans. He said Candace Owens has “lost it” and ripped the “grift” from her and her allies. He told Marjorie Taylor Greene she might be “a Democrat – or just an idiot.” The most hard-line wing of MAGA were “toddlers screaming at a brick wall in the corner.” 

Of all his feuds, perhaps none was as fierce as with the anti-interventionist Tucker Carlson. The two exchanged blows with each other online for years, stemming from a disagreement over aid to Ukraine. What began as a policy disagreement, however, quickly escalated into personal attacks: Crenshaw called Carlson a “court jester” and “click-chaser,” while Carlson called Crenshaw an “unbalanced warmonger” and one of the “dumbest” Republicans.

Crenshaw might have seen these social media moments as essential to building his brand as a Republican willing to confront what he saw as the excesses and unseriousness of the GOP’s loudest MAGA voices. Or perhaps he just thought he was doing what was right. But in a party increasingly defined by those very figures, the strategy may have fueled a backlash, turning influential media personalities and grassroots activists into adversaries who were eager to take him down.

“He sort of seeks out fights, and there's a point where principle and righteousness can go too far,” said one Texas GOP strategist, who was granted anonymity to speak freely about internal politics within the state. “You have to kind of pick your fights. And I think with Dan … my sense, is that I don't think he felt the need to pick his fights. He charged towards every fight. And so eventually you're accumulating opposition and enemies as you do that.”

The persona Crenshaw ultimately built off his media presence — both on and offline — created a perfect storm that put him in jeopardy. He was already deemed not MAGA enough by many on the right, and he didn’t have the support of the president. He faced a difficult primary opponent in state Rep. Steve Toth, a well-known figure in the area who received Sen. Ted Cruz’s endorsement and who framed himself as the true warrior for Trump’s agenda. On top of that, the redistricting process had reshaped Crenshaw’s district and brought in new voters from Toth’s turf. It’s not hard to see how Crenshaw became so vulnerable.

“It used to be enough in a Republican primary to say you’re the most conservative candidate, or you're a strong and loyal conservative,” Republican pollster and strategist Patrick Ruffini said. “That has entirely been replaced by loyalty to Trump.”