Downey is a graduate student at Northwestern's Medill School of Journalism
For 211 years, only one president had been impeached. But three of the last five presidents have been impeached or faced impeachment inquiries, and just this month a Cabinet secretary was impeached for the first time since 1876. While a powerful constitutional weapon when wielded correctly, the impeachment blade is becoming dull thanks to overuse, according to some political experts.
“We adjust to these things and something seems less serious if it happens on a regular basis,” said Lee Drutman, senior fellow in the political reform program at the nonpartisan think tank New America.
And the past few months have been a whirlwind of impeachment activity.
In a 214-213 vote, the House on Feb. 13 impeached Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas over his handling of the border. This vote came one week after House Republicans’ initial effort to impeach Mayorkas failed. President Joe Biden condemned Republicans
after the vote while Senate Democrats called the impeachment a “ sham,” and have considered not even holding a trial, which would be required to remove Mayorkas from office.
Biden has also faced impeachment threats from House Republicans. In December 2023, the House approved a formal impeachment inquiry into the president’s connection to his son Hunter Biden’s business dealings. Biden dismissed the investigation as a “baseless political stunt.”
The Founding Fathers intended impeachment to be a tool to prevent the abuse of power. Yet, as differences between the two major political parties have grown, impeachment has played a starring role in Washington’s political theater. Now, some say the very tool created to check the abuse and misuse of power has been abused itself.
The framers intentionally designed impeachment to deter Congress from even pursuing the process, according to Brian Kalt, a constitutional law scholar at Michigan State University. The process itself enforced the seriousness of the charge and members of Congress recognized its weight, too. “For the first 200 years or so, they wouldn't pursue impeachment unless they knew that they had at least a good shot at a conviction,” Kalt told Medill News Service.
But a Senate conviction is harder to achieve than a successful impeachment vote in the House.
“The key to the design of impeachment is that the Constitution requires only a simple majority in the House of Representatives to impeach, while the bar is considerably higher – a two-thirds supermajority in the Senate – to convict,” Kalt wrote in Lawfare.
At the time of President Andrew Johnson’s impeachment in 1868, the opposition party made up two-thirds of the Senate, meaning the likelihood of a conviction was particularly high. Even though the Senate was not successful in convicting Johnson, the impeachment in the House “definitely succeeded in tamping down on the conduct that he was engaged in that made [Congress] want to impeach him,” Kalt said.
Impeachment’s accountability effect held true when President Richard Nixon resigned to avoid impeachment. Unlike today’s partisan-driven impeachments, Nixon’s behavior was recognized by members of both parties as wrong, said Barbara Perry, director of presidential studies at the University of Virginia’s Miller Center.
“Republicans in the House and the Senate were in the minority, but they went to Nixon and said: ‘You don't have our support, what you have done is so wrong we can't support you,’” Perry said.
The Republicans’ willingness to convict their own president during the Watergate era symbolized a time in Washington when partisanship did not outweigh justice, according to Perry.
“You had people who cared about our country and knew that Nixon had done unconstitutional and illegal things and was bordering on the kind of behavior of a dictator, or at least an authoritarian,” Perry said.
By 1998 the era of“politicized and partisan” impeachments had taken off, according to Perry, leading to the impeachment of President Bill Clinton – which Perry said was justified.
“Clinton committed perjury about his womanizing and about his relationship with Monica Lewinsky. So the fact of the matter is that there was every reason to impeach him and convict him,” Perry said.
According to Maria Echaveste, policy and program development director at the University of California, Berkeley School of Law and deputy chief of staff in the Clinton administration, the impeachment was not as obvious to members of the president’s staff.
“I think it’s a close call, but one could argue that the Republicans’ decision to impeach Clinton [was] on what I would consider to be a private matter,” Echaveste said. “The reason it's a close question is because he lied.”
Republicans had swept the 1994 midterm election, setting the stage for a successful impeachment. But 17 Democratic senators would have needed to cross party lines to convict the president, and that did not happen.
Clinton’s impeachment kicked off what Kalt coined the “Age of Futile Impeachments” – party-line votes in the House that were doomed to failure in the Senate. In 1998 and again in the most recent impeachments, the House brought up impeachment charges even when “it was clear before the final vote was taken in the Senate that the president would be acquitted,” Kalt said.
During former President Donald Trump’s first impeachment in 2019, Sen. Mitt Romney (R-Utah) voted with Democrats to convict the president. He was the lone Republican to do so. In 2021, when Trump was impeached a second time for trying to overturn the 2020 presidential election results, seven Republicans voted with Democrats to convict him.
Acquitted by the Senate both times, Trump remained undeterred by the threat of impeachment.
When “you’re not even close to getting convicted, you don’t have to make any concessions to avoid getting convicted,” Kalt said. “Trump, after the first impeachment, was not chastened by that, he was emboldened by that. And same with the second one. I mean he’s still the leader of the party, and likely nominee.”
As impeachment has become “increasingly weaponized for narrow political reasons,” it has produced a “doom loop dynamic” over the last few years where impeaching presidents has become ordinary or expected, Drutman said.
“A lot of Republicans feel like Democrats unfairly tried to impeach Trump so now they’re trying to retaliate for that and it’s just become seen as something that you are supposed to do,” Drutman said. “When one side does something you think, ‘Well, our side should do it too.’”
And now Republicans control the House and may follow up the Mayorkas impeachment with a Biden impeachment. Both would face certain failure in a Senate trial.
Many top constitutional scholars have denounced the Mayorkas impeachment efforts as nothing more than a policy dispute, labeling the impeachment “utterly unjustified as a matter of constitutional law.”
This month’s revelations that an FBI informant had been charged with fabricating information about the Bidens’ involvement in a bribery scheme may complicate House Republicans’ effort to win an impeachment vote.
While House Republicans may not see either of their impeachment efforts result in a conviction, they will not be dissuaded from pursuing more impeachments in the future. As Kalt described it, “It's kind of like the dog barking at the squirrel. As long as the squirrel’s on the other side of the door, it's just barking, nothing is going to happen.”




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
____
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.