Welcome to this deep dive today. We have a mission
that feels particularly timely. Yeah, it really
is. We are looking at a mechanism of government
that just absolutely dominates headlines. It
generates endless debate yet. the actual fundamental
mechanics of it are rarely understood. Right.
The details get completely lost in the noise.
Exactly. We are talking about impeachment. And
the promise to you, the listener, is that by
the end of our time together today, you are going
to understand exactly how this process works.
Completely bypassing all the political theater.
Yes. Bypassing all of that. We've gathered some
truly fascinating historical records, rules,
and case studies to pull out the most important
insights for you. And trust me, there are some
major aha moments ahead. Oh, absolutely. We'll
explore how this isn't just a tool for presidents,
the bizarre paradox of what happens to a convicted
president's Secret Service detail. That one is
always a surprise. Right. And how the underlying
concept for the U .S. system was actually predated
by a powerful Native American confederacy. It's
one of those topics that always feels intensely
modern, you know, because it's so tied to the
current news cycle. But its roots run incredibly
deep. They really do. To start us off, we need
to establish a foundational reality that completely
shifts how you view the entire process. When
we talk about impeachment, we have to recognize
that it is a purely remedial process. It is,
it's not punitive. Which almost sounds like a
semantic legal technicality, but it's really
the core of the whole concept, isn't it? Precisely.
The goal of impeachment is not to punish an individual
for a crime. The remedy is strictly limited to
removing them from their position of power. So
it's not about putting someone in handcuffs?
No, not at all. If you want to think about it
in everyday terms, it is essentially a high -level
civil service termination. It's a firing. Just
a really complicated firing. Exactly. It is not
a criminal trial. You aren't going to go to federal
prison just because you were convicted in the
Senate impeachment trial. The entire architecture
of the process is designed to protect the public
from an official whose conduct has rendered them
unfit for office. Rather than to exact criminal
justice upon that official. Right. It's about
protecting the office, not punishing the person.
Okay, let's unpack this. Starting with the foundational
rules of the federal process. Because the federal
playbook is a very specific three -step dance.
A very deliberate dance, yeah. Step one is often
an optional House inquiry. This is where the
House of Representatives essentially investigates
to see if there is even enough smoke. to look
for fire. Right. Gathering the initial evidence.
Then step two is the actual impeachment vote.
And this is a crucial distinction for you to
keep in mind. Just being impeached does not mean
you are removed from office. Not at all. It simply
means the House of Representatives has passed
articles of impeachment by a simple majority
vote. Right. If we use the criminal justice system
as a loose analogy. Even though we just established
this isn't a criminal process. Right. Heavy emphasis
on loose analogy there. Exactly. Being impeached
by the House is essentially the equivalent of
being indicted by a grand jury. It just means
the formal charges have been brought forward
to answer for. Exactly. And once those charges
are brought, the House selects House managers.
Who basically step into the role of prosecutors.
Yes. They take the case across the Capitol building
over to the Senate for step three, which is the
trial. The Senate acts as the jury. But the mass
change is completely here. It does. Unlike the
House, which only needs a simple majority to
impeach, the Senate requires a two -thirds supermajority
of the members present to actually convict. It
is a massive hurdle to clear by design. And that
naturally leads to the question of who exactly
is subject to this entire ordeal. The U .S. Constitution
is specific, but it also leaves some glaring
gray areas. As it often does. Right. It states
that the president, the vice president, and all
civil officers of the United States shall be
removed from office on impeachment for and conviction
of treason, bribery, or other high crimes and
misdemeanors. But that phrase, civil officer,
isn't strictly defined in the text, is it? No,
it's not. Historically, though, it has been interpreted
to include federal judges and any presidentially
appointed principal officer, so like a cabinet
secretary or the head of a major agency. What
about regular government workers? On the flip
side, your everyday federal civil service employees,
the career staff who don't exercise significant
independent policy authority, they are not subject
to impeachment. But there is a massive exception
to that civil officer role that genuinely surprised
me when we were researching this. The lawmakers
themselves. Yes. You would logically think that
senators and representatives, the people literally
writing the laws, would be at the top of the
list for impeachment if they engage in misconduct.
But members of Congress cannot be impeached.
They are entirely exempt from this specific constitutional
process. Which is wild to think about. It's a
fascinating historical precedent, and it was
set very early on. Back in 1797, the House of
Representatives impeached Senator William Plout
of Tennessee for allegedly conspiring with the
British. OK, so they actually tried to do it.
They did. But when the trial reached the Senate,
his defense argued that a senator is not a civil
officer of the United States. And the Senate
bought that argument. They did. The Senate ultimately
agreed and dismissed the proceedings for lack
of jurisdiction. Instead. Congress relies on
a completely different constitutional mechanism
to handle its own rogue members. Which is expulsion.
Exactly. Each chamber has the power to expel
its own members with a two -thirds vote. Which
makes a lot of practical sense when you really
think about it. If the House could impeach senators,
the two chambers would constantly be weaponizing
the process against each other to settle partisan
scores. There'd be endless chaos. Oh. So they
keep their houses separate. Now let's look at
the why. You mentioned treason, bribery or other
high crimes and misdemeanors. Treason and bribery
are very clearly defined legal concepts. Very
clear. But the Constitution leaves high crimes
and misdemeanors entirely undefined. It is a
constitutional blank check. It really is. Because
there is no strict statutory definition written
into the Constitution, a high crime or misdemeanor
is fundamentally whatever a majority of the House
of Representatives considers it to be. At a given
moment in history. Provided they can convince
two thirds of the Senate to agree with them,
of course. Exactly. It relies entirely on the
interpretation of the legislature. And we actually
have a very recent example of how the Senate
acts as a filter for that undefined standard.
Right. The Mayorkas case. Yes. In April 2024,
the House drafted articles of impeachment against
Alejandro Mayorkas, the secretary of Homeland
Security. And just to impartially lay out. The
facts from the source material here. Right. We're
just looking at the mechanics. The articles accused
Secretary Mayorkas of willfully and systematically
refusing to comply with federal immigration laws
and breaching the public trust. But when the
case reached the Senate, they didn't even hold
a full evidentiary trial. No, they didn't. The
Senate agreed to a point of order, basically
a procedural motion, to dismiss the articles
right out of the gate. The majority ruled that
the accusations regarding immigration policy
simply did not allege conduct that rises to the
level of a high crime or misdemeanor under the
Constitution. So the case was dismissed without
a conviction? Which perfectly illustrates the
Senate's role as the ultimate constitutional
backstop. They alone decide if the charges, even
if entirely true, actually meet that vague threshold
of a high crime. The ultimate filter. Exactly.
Now, the ambiguity of the rules doesn't just
stop at the definition of the offenses. It also
extends to the timeline, specifically regarding
when an official can actually be put on trial.
This might be my favorite part of the history.
The loopholes. As you're listening to this, imagine
you're a corrupt official from the 1800s. You
see the writing on the wall. You know it's coming.
You know the House is voting to impeach you at
noon. Can you just sprint to the White House,
hand in your resignation at 11 .59 and cancel
the whole process? Like trying to beat the H
.R. clock before you get officially fired. Exactly.
History says absolutely not. In 1876, William
W. Belknap, the Secretary of War, was caught
in a massive kickback scandal. He literally rushed
to President Ulysses S. Grant in tears to resign
his office just hours before the House voted
to impeach him. He really thought resigning would
strip them of jurisdiction. He did. But the House
impeached him anyway. And the Senate held a specific
vote, deciding that they still had full jurisdiction
to try a former official. Even though they ultimately
acquitted him of the charges in the end. Right.
But the precedent was set. That underlying constitutional
question, whether the legislature can try someone
who is already a private citizen, is a tension
that has surfaced repeatedly. The text of the
Constitution is silent on whether an officer
can be tried after they resign. or their term
naturally ends. But historically, the legislature
has firmly asserted that they retain that power.
They have. And that exact tension flared up again
very recently. Again, looking strictly at the
constitutional mechanics here. The second impeachment
trial of Donald Trump commenced 20 days after
his presidential term had expired. Right. The
House had voted to impeach him while he was still
in office, but the Senate trial itself didn't
begin until he was a private citizen. Just like
with Belknap. The Senate had to hold a preliminary
vote on whether trying a former president was
constitutional. And by a 55 to 45 vote, they
rejected a motion to dismiss, establishing that
the trial could proceed. Donald Trump, by the
way, is also the only federal officer to have
been impeached more than once as of 2025. But
focusing purely on the mechanics here, the precedent
holds firm. The expiration of a term or a sudden
resignation does not automatically short -circuit
a Senate trial. What's fascinating here is why
the Senate would bother tying up the legislative
branch to try someone who has already left the
building. Right. If the primary remedy of impeachment
is removal from office and the person is already
gone, what is the point of the trial? It comes
down to two critical factors. First, establishing
a formal, permanent historical record of the
misconduct. Then a second. The potential to trigger
a secondary penalty, which is permanently barring
that individual from holding federal office ever
again. If a resignation canceled the trial, any
corrupt official could just pull the ripcord
right before conviction, preserve their political
viability, and run for office again a few years
later. You can't use a trap door to escape the
consequences and then walk right back through
the front door. Exactly. But speaking of tying
up the legislative branch, let's talk about the
logistics of a trial. A full Senate trial takes
days, sometimes weeks. You have 100 senators
acting as a jury, which means the entire upper
chamber grinds to a halt. They aren't passing
laws. They aren't confirming judges. Right. So
in the 1980s, the Senate invented a procedural
shortcut. Impeachment trial committees. A very
bureaucratic solution. Oh, totally. Instead of
the whole Senate sitting through endless days
of witness testimony and cross examinations,
they delegate the heavy lifting to a smaller
committee of senators. That committee compiles
the evidentiary record and then presents a neat,
tidy report to the full Senate to review before
the final vote. It was a measure designed purely
for efficiency. But defendants, as you might
expect, were fiercely opposed to it. I would
be, too. They argued that the Constitution explicitly
says they have a right to be tried by the Senate,
implying the entire Senate, not a handpicked
subcommittee. Right. This friction culminated
in a major 1993 Supreme Court case involving
an impeached federal district court judge named
Walter Nixon. And what did he argue? Nixon challenged
the committee process, arguing it was inherently
unfair and unconstitutional to convict him without
the full jury present for the testimony. Wait,
so he takes this all the way to the Supreme Court
and the court's response was essentially. Not
our problem. The rematch. They ruled that the
federal judiciary could not review these proceedings
because matters related to impeachment trials
are a political question. They decided the Constitution
gives the Senate the sole power to try impeachments,
meaning the Senate gets to make up its own internal
rules and the courts will not intervene. That's
right. Doesn't that mean the Senate operates
with zero outside oversight during a trial? It
does. And it represents a profound moment of
separation of powers. The judicial branch explicitly
stepped back and acknowledged that impeachment
is a uniquely legislative function. The oversight
doesn't come from the courts. It comes from the
voters who elect the senators. So what does this
all mean when a trial actually concludes and
a verdict is reached? We mentioned earlier that
conviction requires a massive two -thirds supermajority.
If they hit that number, removal from office
is automatic and immediate. Yes. But that secondary
penalty you mentioned earlier, preventing the
person from ever holding office again, that requires
an entirely separate vote. And the math on that
second vote is a critical detail to understand.
While conviction takes that grueling two -thirds
supermajority, the disqualification vote only
requires a simple majority of senators present.
That is a huge difference. It is. But despite
that significantly lower threshold, The Senate
has used this disqualification power incredibly
scaringly. In the entire history of the United
States, only three individuals have ever been
permanently disqualified from holding future
office. Only three? Yes. Humphreys, Archibald,
and Porteus. And all three of them were federal
judges. Only three people in U .S. history. That
really puts into perspective how incredibly rare
that secondary penalty actually is. It's the
ultimate nuclear option. Now, let's talk about
the perks of the job, specifically for the highest
office. If a president is removed via impeachment,
what happens to their post -presidency benefits?
The golden parachute, so to speak. Right. Drawing
from the source material, under the Former Presidents
Act of 1958, a president usually gets a pension,
staff funding, and office space after leaving
office. But the law specifically states that
those benefits do not extend to a president whose
tenure ends via an impeachment conviction. So
the pension is instantly gone. Instantly gone.
However, a 2013 amendment to that law created
a really weird paradox. A former president who
is removed from office is still guaranteed lifetime
Secret Service protection. Wow. So you lose the
pension, but you keep the taxpayer funded bodyguards.
If we connect this to the bigger picture, that
paradox makes perfect sense. When you remember
our very first rule, impeachment is not a criminal
punishment. Right. Because of that, a removed
official doesn't just ride off into the sunset
with their bodyguards. The Constitution explicitly
states that the convicted party shall nevertheless
be liable and subject to indictment. trial, judgment,
and punishment, according to law. So the legal
trouble doesn't end with the Senate. Not at all.
You can be fired by the Senate on a Tuesday and
immediately indicted by a grand jury and face
prison time in a regular criminal court on Wednesday.
That is intense. Furthermore, the president's
constitutional power to grant pardons explicitly
states it applies to offenses against the United
States, except in cases of impeachment. A president
cannot use a pardon to save themselves or anyone
else from an impeachment conviction. It is the
ultimate check and balance. It simply cannot
be overridden. Exactly. Now, we've spent a lot
of time analyzing Washington, D .C., but we need
to pivot and look outside the federal government
because impeachment isn't just a federal tool.
No, it is everywhere. Every single state has
a process for this, but some of them feature
some truly bizarre structural quirks. Most states
follow the federal model. The lower legislative
house impeaches. The upper house holds the trial.
But in Alaska, the script is totally flipped.
The upper chamber of the state legislature votes
to impeach, and the lower chamber acts as the
jury for the trial. Nebraska also operates entirely
differently, primarily because they have a unicameral
legislature. Right. Just one house. Since they
only have one legislative chamber, they can't
split the duties between two houses. So if the
Nebraska legislature votes to impeach an official,
the trial itself actually takes place before
the Nebraska Supreme Court. That makes sense.
Missouri has a somewhat similar setup where the
state Supreme Court or a special panel of judges
handles the trial rather than the state senators.
Here's where it gets really interesting. The
setup in New York. In New York, the state assembly
impeaches and the state Senate tries the case,
which sounds just like the federal model. But
they also bring in the state's highest constitutional
court, the New York Court of Appeals. The seven
judges of that court literally sit alongside
the state senators and act as jurors. All in
the same room? Yes. It creates this massive hybrid
jury of elected lawmakers and appointed judges
sitting in the same room voting on the same verdict.
It's a fascinating blend of judicial and legislative
power. And these state -level powers are not
just hypothetical artifacts. They get used. They
really do. Historically, at least 11 U .S. state
governors have faced an impeachment trial. A
notable modern example was the 2009 impeachment
of Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich on corruption
charges. I remember that making huge headlines.
The Illinois House voted 117 to 1 to impeach
him, and he was subsequently removed and barred
from future office by the state Senate. And it's
not just individuals who can be targeted. Entire
governing bodies can face the mechanism. Really?
An entire body? Yes. In 2018, the state of West
Virginia managed to impeach its entire Supreme
Court of Appeals over administrative corruption
and extreme overspending on office renovations.
Which creates a massive constitutional crisis
of its own. If you impeach the entire highest
court in the state, who is left to hear the appeals?
Exactly. It's a logistical nightmare. But looking
even further back, the most profound origin story
for this mechanism doesn't come from a state
house and it doesn't come from the founding fathers
in Philadelphia. It comes from the Iroquois.
or Hananasani Confederacy. Yes. The Iroquois
Confederacy's great law of peace actually predates
the United States Constitution by centuries,
and it includes a mechanism that is fundamentally
an impeachment process. That is so cool. Under
this law, a sachem, which is a chief or leader,
can be removed and replaced for misdeeds or failing
the people. But what is truly brilliant about
this historical system is the division of power.
How does it work? You have the male chiefs executing
the day -to -day leadership, but the ultimate
accountability, the power to initiate the removal
process, is held exclusively by the women of
the tribe, specifically the clan mothers. It's
a beautifully engineered matriarchal check on
patriarchal power. The men hold the title, but
the women hold the accountability. It is incredibly
balanced. If a leader strays, the women give
warnings, and ultimately they can strip him of
his title. It is incredible to see the deep native
roots of holding leaders accountable on this
continent long before European Enlightenment
philosophers were writing about separation of
powers. And this mechanism is still highly active
in modern tribal governments today. Yes, it is.
Many tribes use a bifurcated process very similar
to the federal government. There are some intense
modern examples, too. Like what? Well, there
was the 1975 attempt to impeach Dick Wilson,
the chairman of the Oglala of the Pine Ridge
Indian Reservation, which was an event that immediately
preceded the famous Wounded Knee Occupation.
Wow, so high stakes. Very. Or Cecilia Firethunder,
the president of the Oglala Sioux, who was impeached
three separate times in 2005 and 2006 before
finally being removed on the third attempt. We
even see this power utilized at the most local
levels of governance. Municipal governments,
like city councils, often have the charter power
to impeach mayors. It really goes all the way
down. A classic historical example is Philip
Tompert, who was removed as the mayor of Louisville,
Kentucky, by the city's board of aldermen way
back in 1865. It even filters all the way down
to university student councils. It's not uncommon
for student body presidents at major universities
to face impeachment proceedings from their student
senates over budget disputes or conduct violations.
It really is a universal concept. So taking a
step back to synthesize everything we've covered
today, impeachment is a It serves as the ultimate
emergency brake on runaway power. Exactly. This
raises an important question. And it's a thought
I think you should mull over as you... leave
this deep dive. We've seen that the US Constitution
completely leaves the definition of high crimes
and misdemeanors up to the interpretation of
the legislature. A total blank check. Right.
And we've seen that the Supreme Court explicitly
refuses to intervene. Calling the trial process
a purely political question. Yeah. Given how
incredibly rare it is for this process to actually
result in a conviction and permanent disqualification
at the highest levels, does the true power of
impeachment actually lie in the physical removal
of a politician? Or does it lie somewhere else?
Exactly. Or does its true power lie in the constant
looming threat of the process itself? Perhaps
the mere existence of this mechanism, hanging
over the heads of civil officers every single
day, serves to keep leaders in check far more
effectively than the rare highly publicized trial
ever could. That is a phenomenal point to reflect
on. Is the emergency brake more useful because
you occasionally pull it or just because everyone
in the car knows it's there? Thank you so much
for joining us on this deep dive. We hope you
walk away with a much clearer understanding of
the constitutional mechanics that drive the headlines.
Keep questioning the structures of the world
around you. Keep looking for the history behind
the noise. And we will catch you on the next
deep dive.