WASHINGTON — A year into President Donald Trump’s second term, the Republican Party is confronting an unsettling reality: the political advantage it once claimed on immigration and “law-and-order” is curdling into a liability, and some of the sharpest criticism is now coming from inside the G.O.P.

A string of televised rebukes by Republican senators — and a growing pile of polling showing Mr. Trump sliding further underwater — has ignited a familiar Washington ritual: the search for fall guys. This week, that scrutiny centered on two of the president’s most visible architects of hard-line enforcement, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem and the White House adviser Stephen Miller, after the fatal shooting of Alex Pretti in Minneapolis during a federal operation set off protests, investigations and national backlash.

But the emerging intraparty argument is larger than any one official. It is, in effect, a public debate over whether “Trumpism” can survive contact with its own consequences — and whether Republicans heading into 2026 can keep running on disruption when voters appear increasingly exhausted by it.

A polling slide that Republicans can’t easily spin

The raw numbers are bad by any recent benchmark. Pew Research Center, in a large survey conducted Jan. 20–26, found Mr. Trump at 37% approval, down from 40% in the fall, with Americans saying by more than two-to-one that the administration’s actions have been worse than expected.

Other trackers show the same direction of travel. Nate Silver’s Silver Bulletin reported a net approval average of -14.1 as of Jan. 29, with especially deep negatives on cost of living and the economy. A Reuters/Ipsos poll this week found Mr. Trump’s immigration approval at 39%, with a majority saying agents have gone “too far,” an unusually stark warning light for a president who has treated immigration as his core mandate.

To Republican incumbents staring down swing-state electorates — and to donors who prefer stability to spectacle — the trend line matters at least as much as any single scandal. Midterms are often referendums on the White House. And the party that controls the presidency typically pays a price when public confidence cracks.

Senate Republicans break ranks — and point fingers upward

The most notable development may be the tone of the critiques. Senator Thom Tillis of North Carolina, a Republican who has increasingly positioned himself as an internal dissenter, accused Noem and Miller of “incompetence,” warning that sloppy public statements and chaotic operations could make enforcement more dangerous and politically poisonous. His comments aired on CNN as the network reported administrative leave for agents involved in the Minneapolis shooting and a reshuffling of leadership in the federal operation there.

Senator Lisa Murkowski of Alaska went further, saying she had “lost confidence” in Noem and that it was “probably time for her to step down,” citing both the handling of Minneapolis and broader concerns.

The speed with which party figures moved from defending the administration to criticizing it reflects a deeper fear: that immigration — long the issue Republicans believed belonged to them — is now drifting into the kind of public-relations catastrophe that can swallow a governing majority.

A Reuters report underscored how quickly the dispute has escalated, noting that House Democratic leaders threatened impeachment proceedings against Noem while two Republican senators called for her removal, even as Mr. Trump publicly defended her.

The fallback strategy: blame the aides, protect the brand

The rhetorical structure of the Republican critique has been revealing. It has tended to isolate Noem and Miller as reckless or incompetent — while stopping short of directly challenging Mr. Trump’s role as commander in chief and the movement’s central political asset.

That is not accidental. For many Republicans, criticizing aides is the safest available form of dissent: a way to acknowledge public discomfort without breaking with a president who still dominates primaries. It also offers an implicit promise to voters: keep the policies, fix the “execution.”

Yet it is far from clear that voters will separate the “execution” from the president who ordered it — or from a political culture that rewards maximalist language and confrontation. The Washington Post reported that Mr. Trump has faced blowback from his own base even for briefly signaling “de-escalation” in Minnesota, illustrating how narrow his governing lane can be: pulled between a hardline faction demanding escalation and a broader electorate recoiling from the televised results.

Candidates test the post-Trump future — and the party’s patience

The internal clash is already shaping the 2026 landscape. In Ohio, Vivek Ramaswamy, a prominent MAGA-aligned figure running for governor, has leaned into a message that critics describe as dismissive of household pain — suggesting that cost pressures are more about perception than reality, a clip that has circulated widely on social platforms.

In California, by contrast, Democrat Tom Steyer — a billionaire activist turned candidate — has attempted to occupy the opposite rhetorical space, arguing that affordability and the cost of living should dominate state politics and signaling openness to higher taxes on wealth. His candidacy is part of a crowded gubernatorial field now taking shape as national politics bleeds into state-level arguments about housing, wages and economic security.

The contrast points to a broader reality: both parties are testing whether “culture war” intensity can still outrun the price of groceries, rent and insurance — and whether voters believe leaders who insist everything is fine.

A party watching the same videos as everyone else

What makes this moment politically dangerous for Republicans is not only the policy itself, but the medium through which it is being consumed. In the Trump era, the most consequential political evidence is often video — posted, reposted, clipped, captioned and debated in real time. That reality has made it harder for Washington to contain a story once it escapes into the algorithm.

Even some Republicans now concede that the administration’s approach has hit “political limits,” as one poll after another registers discomfort with aggressive tactics and confusion about aims. And the administration has shown signs of tactical retreat in at least some places: Axios reported that an ICE “surge” in Maine had ended after political pressure from Senator Susan Collins, a reminder that the White House is not immune to backlash when it threatens vulnerable incumbents.

The looming question for 2026

For Democrats, the opening is obvious: run a referendum on chaos, cast Republican governance as reckless, and argue that the country cannot afford a politics of constant emergency. For Republicans, the challenge is more existential: can they keep the movement’s energy without inheriting its most unpopular images?

The party’s current posture — scapegoat the tacticians, protect the strategist-in-chief — may buy time. But polls suggest time is exactly what Mr. Trump is running out of.

And as Republican senators begin to say out loud what many donors and operatives have been whispering privately — that the administration is “taking this … into the ground” — the real question is whether the party is preparing for a course correction, or simply bracing for impact.