Do Democrats Have a Crowded Primary Problem?

Republicans finally learned their lesson. Democrats may be repeating it — or will these messy public fights help sort things out by 2028?

How important is party unity to success in the midterms?

We’re about to find out.

For the first time in the Trump era, it’s the Republican Party — not the Democrats — that appears to be learning from its mistakes. The GOP is showing new discipline in avoiding messy primaries (minus Texas), coalescing early around favored candidates, and smoothing out the rough edges that once handed Democrats easy wins. Democrats, meanwhile, are heading into 2026 with the same sort of internal friction that used to plague Republicans: too many candidates, too few referees, and no clear sense of hierarchy or purpose.

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The Reversal of Fortunes

For years, Democrats prided themselves on finding a “Goldilocks” candidate early — someone who was just moderate enough, just local enough, and just likable enough to compete in tough states or districts. In 2026, the only race where that’s happened so far is in North Carolina, where Roy Cooper’s entry into the Senate race instantly cleared the field. Cooper is the archetype of a party-unifying nominee — the kind Democrats once routinely rallied around. He’s won statewide, governed pragmatically, and fits the temperament of a swing state that still leans red in presidential years.

Everywhere else, though, Democrats look divided.

In Maine, Michigan, Minnesota, and even Texas, primaries are crowding up with establishment veterans, ambitious progressives, and regional personalities who all think it’s their moment. The party’s national committees certainly want to clear primary fields, but are struggling to clear the lanes. The once-ruthless Democratic establishment that told candidates to “wait their turn” has lost both its credibility and its clout.

It’s not that primaries are inherently bad. A healthy primary can sharpen a candidate and give a campaign an early test run. But these races aren’t shaping up as healthy contests about ideas; they’re becoming ideological turf wars and personality clashes that risk leaving the eventual nominee bruised and broke by the time voters tune in next fall.

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How the Roles Reversed

A decade ago, it was Republicans who couldn’t get out of their own way. From Todd Akin in Missouri to Christine O’Donnell in Delaware to Roy Moore in Alabama and Doug Mastriano in Pennsylvania, GOP primaries were cautionary tales of self-inflicted wounds. Trump’s takeover of the party intensified that dynamic for a while, culminating in a slew of missed opportunities in 2022.

But Trump has now consolidated so much power that it’s changed the equation. Few Republicans dare challenge his endorsements anymore. And he’s bent the decision of the mainstream GOP in his MAGA vision.

In Florida, his early blessing of Byron Donalds for governor has effectively frozen the field and turned Donalds into a fundraising juggernaut with more than $30 million in the bank — eighteen months before Election Day. It’s not democracy in its purest form, but it’s efficient politics. The Republican base may grumble privately about coronations, but they’ve learned that open warfare in primaries is how you lose winnable races.

Democrats are now where Republicans were a decade ago — caught between their ideals and their instincts. The establishment wants electability; the grassroots wants authenticity. The result is fragmentation. The same anti-institutional energy that fueled Trump’s insurgency in 2016 is now simmering inside the Democratic Party, especially among younger and more progressive activists who believe the Washington hierarchy has outlived its usefulness.

After all, the last three Democratic nominees — Hillary Clinton, Joe Biden, and Kamala Harris — were creatures of the establishment. They were the “safe choices,” carefully orchestrated by party elites who wanted stability over risk. But stability hasn’t produced durable victories. Democrats have won the popular vote twice since 2016, but just once in the Electoral College — and the party hasn’t built lasting down-ballot strength. That record has many Democrats wondering why they should keep waiting for their turn when the old guard keeps serving up narrow wins or painful losses.

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The Real Divide: Pragmatism vs. Passion

The real argument inside the Democratic Party isn’t “left versus center.” It’s pragmatism versus passion— the age-old debate about whether to win by compromise or by conviction.

Should Democrats keep coloring inside the lines, appealing to swing voters with incrementalism and caution? Or should they lean into bolder progressive populism, even if it alienates moderates, on the theory that authenticity and energy can bring new voters off the sidelines?

Republicans asked themselves the same question after losing two straight presidential races with John McCain and Mitt Romney. They chose confrontation and intensity. The result was Trump — a man who colored in neon, not pastel. Whatever else you think of him, he taught conservatives that politics rewards conviction, not calculation.

Progressives see that and wonder why their party still clings to the opposite lesson. They point to Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign, when Democrats last truly inspired voters with a candidate who seemed both pragmatic and visionary. Obama’s brilliance was that he was a political Rorschach test — everyone saw what they wanted to see. Pragmatists saw a realist; progressives saw a revolutionary. That balance hasn’t been replicated since.

Now the party is stuck trying to reconcile those two wings — one that wants to govern competently and another that wants to fight passionately. It’s a healthy debate in theory, but in practice, it’s producing a pile-up of candidates who split resources, muddle messages, and risk nominating someone who can’t win statewide.

The Risk of a Messy Map

The 2026 Senate map already tilts red. Democrats will be defending a half-dozen seats in Trump-friendly states and chasing uphill opportunities in places like Florida, Texas, and Iowa. They can’t afford to spend the spring and summer of 2026 punching each other instead of the opposition.

History offers plenty of warning signs. Republican primaries from 2012 through 2022 were graveyards of good intentions — races where ideological purity tests produced nominees who scared off swing voters. In Alabama, Roy Moore turned a safe GOP seat into a Democratic upset. In Pennsylvania, Doug Mastriano’s candidacy helped elect a potential future president as a Democratic governor. Democrats could soon find themselves in the same trap: winning the argument and losing the election.

Primaries also drain resources. In states like Michigan and Minnesota, the cost of winning a competitive primary could approach $20 million before the real campaign even begins. That leaves the eventual nominees cash-strapped heading into the fall, while Republicans — flush with Trump-aligned super PACs — can spend those same months attacking uncontested Democrats on TV.

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The Virginia Cautionary Tale

And then there’s Virginia, where Democrats are learning a different lesson about paralysis.

The scandal surrounding their attorney general nominee for this November election, Jay Jones — a nominee who, if he held any other job, would have been fired immediately — has become a slow-motion crisis. The evidence is clear, the conduct indefensible. Yet Democrats are frozen, trapped by the calendar and afraid to act. Ballot deadlines have passed. Early voting looms. They’re hoping it just goes away.

It won’t.

If those text messages had surfaced two months earlier, there’d be no hesitation. The nominee would be gone, and the party would have time to regroup. But now Democrats are caught in what one person cleverly called a “ballot-access chokehold.” They’re paralyzed by process and optics — fearful that pushing him out would look disloyal or undemocratic (“Trump never surrenders!”) and fearful that keeping him will look like moral cowardice.

This is where leadership matters. Politics sometimes requires civil-war surgery. You amputate the limb to save the body. It’s ugly, but it’s necessary. The longer Democrats hesitate, the more the infection spreads across the ticket. Voters don’t reward indecision; they punish it.

If Democrats were to persuade Jones to announce he’ll resign if elected, the state constitution allows the General Assembly to select a replacement. That’s not ideal, but it’s cleaner than pretending the problem doesn’t exist. It would send a clear message that some behavior is disqualifying, full stop. The party that claims to be the adult in the room has to prove it when it’s hardest.

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The “Adult in the Room” Brand at Risk

That’s the bigger story here. For several election cycles, Democrats have benefited from being perceived as the adults — the party that values competence, stability, and respect for institutions. It’s not always inspiring, but it’s reassuring. That brand brought in millions of swing voters who might not love Democratic policies but couldn’t stomach Trump’s chaos.

But that brand only works if Democrats live up to it. The Virginia mess — and the broader indecision in the party’s primary season — threatens to erode that advantage. Trump may have turned “never surrender” into a political ethos, but Democrats don’t have to imitate it. They’ve built their recent success on being the opposite: the party that takes responsibility, that still believes in norms, that knows when to admit a mistake.

If they lose that identity — if they become just another cynical political tribe — they risk alienating the very voters who gave them their narrow governing majorities just a few years ago.

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The Unity Test Ahead

Party unity isn’t about silencing debate; it’s about knowing when debate ends. That’s what the Republican Party, for all its dysfunction, seems to understand right now. Trump calls the tune, and the rank and file follow. Democrats, by contrast, are a cacophony of competing ambitions, each convinced their voice deserves to be the solo.

Maybe that’s healthy in the long run. Maybe the Democratic Party is going through the same identity crisis the GOP endured a decade ago, and something stronger will emerge on the other side. However, in the short term, primaries can be damaging. And in an election cycle where every seat matters and every dollar counts, the costs of self-inflicted damage are steep.

2026 will test not just whether Democrats can win races, but whether they can still function as a coherent party. Can they choose pragmatism without suffocating passion? Can they enforce standards without appearing hypocritical? Can they govern as adults without losing the energy of their youth movement?

Republicans, ironically, are unified not by agreement but by fear — fear of Trump, fear of losing his voters. Democrats are divided not by hatred but by hope — hope that maybe this time, the outsider or the progressive or the first-time candidate can catch fire.

But hope without discipline is chaos.

And chaos is usually a long-term loser.