Rep. Madison Cawthorn, R-N.C., became the youngest member of the House of Representatives when he was sworn in in 2021. He’d won his seat after toppling a primary opponent endorsed by then-President Donald Trump. Cawthorn was given a speaking slot at the 2020 Republican National Convention and positioned to be a rising star in the party, one who could defuse the “generational time bomb” that Republicans potentially face.
A lot can change in 15 months. Cawthorn is now on the outs with most of his colleagues in the House after suggesting that he’d been offered cocaine and invited to orgies since arriving in Washington. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, R-Calif., spoke with Cawthorn on Wednesday, later saying he’d told the 26-year-old that he had “lost my trust.”
McCarthy has been loath to rein in even his most incendiary members, like Reps. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia or Paul Gosar of Arizona — so why did this tale, which Cawthorn recanted, actually draw a rebuke? Unlike Greene and Gosar, Cawthorn hasn’t shown himself to be worth the aggravation that he’s caused the GOP’s leadership in his first — and possibly only — term.
There’s a common adage that politicians can be divided into two camps: workhorses and show horses. Workhorses focus on the grind, keeping their heads down and working in the committee rooms and caucus meetings to shape legislation. Show horses are more focused on the external, giving speeches and appearing on TV to push the party’s message — or, more often, improve their own brand.
Cawthorn definitely doesn’t qualify as a workhorse, despite offering himself up as one when campaigning. In multiple interviews as a candidate, he listed health care as one of the issues most important to him, citing the medical debt he accrued as a result of the car crash that necessitated his use of a wheelchair.
As a show horse, well, there’s a reason why his own party is considering putting him out to pasture.
Since joining Congress, Cawthorn has been the primary sponsor on 34 bills. Most of them are the legislative equivalent of trolling that lack any co-sponsors. (For example, H.R.2390, the “Donument Act,” which would make the completed portions of Trump’s border wall into a national monument.) Only three of the bills he’s submitted are related to health care — one, introduced last month, deals with telehealth services; the other two would limit vaccine mandates.
And as a show horse, well, there’s a reason his own party is considering putting him out to pasture. Even in an era in which Trump has shown that it’s possible to include a lie in basically every sentence with no consequences, Cawthorn’s habit of exaggeration, fabrication and outright damaging statements has become a headache.
Among the falsehoods he told in just his first congressional race: that his accident prevented him from attending the U.S. Naval Academy (he had already been rejected by then); that a friend who was driving had left him to die (his friend actually pulled him from the wreckage); that he’d worked full time as a staffer for Rep. Mark Meadows, R-N.C., whose seat he won (he’d only worked part time, one of his few jobs before being elected); that he’d been accepted to Princeton and Harvard (he later admit that he hadn’t).








