“Do you think this is impeachable?” Chuck Todd, host of “Meet the Press,” asked Rep. Jerrold Nadler about the findings in the report by special counsel Robert S. Mueller III.
The congressman from New York took a dramatic pause before replying, “Yeah, I do. I do think this, if proven, if proven, …. some of this would be impeachable, yes. Obstruction of justice, if proven, would be impeachable.”
Within NBC’s studio and outside it, this was greeted as news. Maybe in one sense, it was. Nadler chairs the House Judiciary Committee, where impeachment proceedings originate. Like the Democratic leadership generally, he has been very circumspect on the issue. (House Speaker Nancy Pelosi says there are other ways to hold President Trump accountable.) Nadler, however, nudged the Democratic position slightly forward toward impeachment.
But in another sense this was just another no-duh moment. Of course, obstruction of justice — if proved — is impeachable. Not even Rudolph W. Giuliani would dispute that.
Obstruction of justice was at the heart of the impeachment case that caused President Nixon to resign. Obstruction of justice was one of the two charges against President Clinton in his impeachment (the other was perjury).
Even if it’s not proved, obstruction of justice is impeachable. What I mean is: If a sufficient majority in the House thinks the president obstructed justice, they can vote to impeach him, even if the charge would never fly in a court of law. That’s because Congress isn’t a judicial body and impeachment isn’t a criminal proceeding but a political one.
The frustrating thing about impeachment debates — under every president, not just Trump — is how lawyers are granted almost priestly authority over the subject, in part to save politicians from making tough calls. That is not what the founders intended. In Federalist No. 65, Alexander Hamilton — the dude from the musical — explained that impeachable offenses “are of a nature which may with peculiar propriety be denominated POLITICAL” (the all-capitals are Hamilton’s). They “proceed from the misconduct of public men, or, in other words, from the abuse or violation of some public trust” that does injury “immediately to the society itself.”
Among the 11 articles of impeachment against Andrew Johnson, Article 10 remains my favorite. It charged the president with attempting “to bring into disgrace, ridicule, hatred, contempt and reproach, the Congress of the United States … to impair and destroy the regard and respect of all the good people of the United States for the Congress and the legislative power thereof….”
That’s great stuff.
Because impeachment is a political process the key consideration isn’t what criminal law says, but what the American people say. Yet they too have abdicated their responsibilities to call out leaders who have violated the Constitution or simply the public trust. When President George W. Bush signed the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act of 2002 (a.k.a. McCain-Feingold Act, restricting certain spending on political campaigns), he said the law presented “serious constitutional concerns.” He signed it anyway, saying he’d leave it for the courts to deal with them. (They did, in Citizens United vs. Federal Election Commission.)
The president takes an oath to uphold the Constitution. In Bush’s own words, he violated the spirit of that oath. Congress, of course, won’t impeach a president for signing a law it passed. But I wish I lived in a country where voters saw that as an impeachable act.
Worse, Americans now seem to believe presidents from their “side” can take whatever steps the Supreme Court will let them get away with. President Obama unilaterally overhauled U.S. immigration policy, even as he knew (and said) it was Congress’ job to change those laws. Republicans were outraged at this abuse of executive power — and they shouldn’t have been alone. But they were, so now they’re not inclined to share in Democrats’ outrage over Trump’s excesses.