Impeachment

What happens when the most powerful person in the country breaks trust with those he serves? In Impeachment: An American History, historian Jeffrey A. Engel and his colleagues ask a question that echoes in every democracy: how do you hold a president accountable without destroying the republic itself? Their answer, drawn from three presidential crises—Andrew Johnson’s bitter clash with Congress, Richard Nixon’s downfall amid Watergate, and Bill Clinton’s scandalous survival—reveals the tension at the heart of America’s constitutional design.

Engel, with contributions from Jon Meacham, Timothy Naftali, and Peter Baker, argues that impeachment has always been a moral test as much as a legal one. The framers of the Constitution, he shows, didn’t design impeachment to punish honest mistakes; they crafted it to remove leaders who betrayed public trust or subordinated the common good to private gain. As readers, you’re invited to think not just about the presidents who faced impeachment—but about what those episodes reveal regarding civic virtue, partisanship, and the fragility of democratic institutions.

The Birth of a Safeguard

The story begins in 1787, when the founders debated in Philadelphia how much power a president should have. They were haunted by past tyrants—from Britain’s George III to the Caesars of Rome—and were determined not to hand America’s new executive a crown in disguise. Engel unpacks how George Washington’s moral character shaped those debates. Delegates trusted him personally but distrusted power itself. Hence they added impeachment—a mechanism to remove anyone who might betray Washington’s level of integrity in the future. The phrase they settled on, “treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors,” didn’t mean ordinary criminal acts but violations of public duty so grave they tore at the fabric of constitutional order.

Through deft storytelling, Engel reminds you that the founders’ greatest fear wasn’t incompetence; it was corruption. They believed, as Virginia’s George Mason declared, that “no man is above justice.” Impeachment would thus become democracy’s emergency brake—a way to preserve liberty without risking revolution. Understanding this eighteenth-century logic, Engel emphasizes, is the key to grasping every impeachment since.

Three Tests of the Constitution

Each of the three presidents profiled faced uniquely American versions of this test. Jon Meacham explores Andrew Johnson’s defiance after the Civil War, when Reconstruction divided the nation more deeply than the battlefields had. Johnson wasn’t ousted for a single crime so much as for moral blindness—a belief in white supremacy that opposed the liberating spirit of the Union’s victory. Timothy Naftali’s narrative of Richard Nixon reveals how executive secrecy metastasized into criminal conspiracy. Nixon’s “Saturday Night Massacre,” firing the Watergate prosecutor, convinced Americans he had become what he condemned: a monarch indifferent to law. Peter Baker’s account of Bill Clinton turns the lens toward how personal indiscretion collided with partisan polarization, showing how public morality and private behavior became entangled in American politics.

Across these stories, Engel threads a central insight: impeachment exposes not only the character of presidents but also the character of citizens. When leaders abuse power, Congress must decide if the nation’s principles outweigh party loyalty. That decision, Engel suggests, defines the health of the republic far more than any individual scandal does.

Why It Matters Now

Engel’s closing reflections circle back to the present. He points out that after 2016, talk of impeachment reentered political conversation before a president even took office—a sign of accelerating partisanship. Yet history warns that frequent impeachment debates erode public faith, turning the Constitution’s “nuclear option” into just another campaign weapon. Engel invites you to see impeachment not as destruction but as preservation: a reminder that integrity is the true foundation of leadership. When power tempts those in authority, the Constitution’s greatest safeguard rests not on procedure but on the moral courage of those willing to enforce it.

Core Message

Impeachment isn’t just an act against presidents—it’s a reaffirmation of the nation’s ideals. From Washington’s precedent to modern political storms, Engel and his coauthors show that democracy survives only when those entrusted with power are reminded that the people, not the office, are sovereign.

Jeffrey Engel anchors the history of impeachment in a paradox that shaped the American presidency from its birth: the people trusted George Washington but feared every future president. This contradiction drove them to design a system that could grant authority yet restrain ambition. They saw in Washington’s conduct—the decision to relinquish military power after the Revolution—the model of self-restraint essential to a republic. But they knew it was rare. The pivotal question, Engel explains, was how to safeguard liberty once Washington was gone.

The Failure of the Articles of Confederation

The book recounts the chaos of the 1780s under the Articles of Confederation, when America’s weak federal government nearly collapsed. Figures like James Madison and Washington saw debt spiraling, commerce in ruins, and rebellion spreading from Massachusetts to the frontier. “We have probably had too good an opinion of human nature,” Washington lamented, realizing that states would not cooperate without coercive power. As the founders debated in Philadelphia, they knew they needed a stronger executive—but one who could still be held accountable to the law.

Designing a Limited Presidency

The convention’s delegates looked to history for cautionary tales. Franklin warned them that power “poisons any who wield it”; Patrick Henry accused them of “winking toward monarchy.” Amid these fears, Washington’s reputation became their guiding light. He embodied honor—the eighteenth-century ideal of moral reputation earned through public virtue. Engel shows how that idea of honor established the expectation that presidents would weigh every decision against the public good. To ensure accountability, they created impeachment as a fail-safe for those who failed this moral test.

Impeachment as a Mirror of Virtue

Engel distills the founders’ logic into a memorable test: “What would George Washington not have done?” A president who acted opposite Washington—placing personal gain above duty—would be impeachable. This standard, not a checklist of legal offenses, defined presidential conduct. The first clause of Article II, Section 4 ensured removal for “treason, bribery, or other high crimes and misdemeanors,” a phrase meant to capture corruption in spirit as well as deed. Engel’s detailed retelling of the debates reveals how James Madison narrowed vague terms like “maladministration” to ensure impeachment targeted betrayal, not mere incompetence.

Through Washington’s example, Engel teaches that the Constitution’s durability stems from moral expectations as much as legal design. Impeachment, then, is democracy’s moral compass—a way to correct leadership that strays from the founding ideal of disinterested service. As historian Gordon Wood observes elsewhere, the Republic relied on virtue because it lacked monarchy’s authority. Engel helps you see how the presidency was shaped by this delicate balance of power and restraint—a pattern that continues to test the nation’s conscience.

Jon Meacham’s portrait of Andrew Johnson’s impeachment captures a moment when the nation was reborn and nearly died again. Johnson inherited Lincoln’s mantle after assassination, but lacked both his empathy and his vision. Meacham invites you to imagine a country exhausted by war, desperate for healing yet divided by race. In that volatile mix, Johnson’s stubborn defense of white supremacy made reconciliation impossible. His impeachment was not simply about a law—the Tenure of Office Act—but about the meaning of freedom itself.

A President Against Reconstruction

Johnson, born poor and self-taught, carried a lifelong resentment of elites. That populism turned toxic when he resisted policies granting civil rights to freed slaves. Meacham shows him vetoing the Civil Rights Act of 1866 and obstructing federal Reconstruction. To many in Congress, his actions threatened the moral victory of the Union. The newly reunited nation needed leadership that could make equality real. Instead, Johnson defended states’ rights and racial hierarchy, proclaiming that “white men alone must manage the South.” As journalist Robert Penn Warren later wrote, Johnson’s presidency revealed how easily victory could sour into betrayal.

Impeachment as Political Warfare

Meacham traces four attempts to impeach Johnson, culminating in 1868. Congress accused him of violating the Tenure of Office Act by firing Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, but behind the legal charge lay moral outrage. Radical Republicans saw Johnson’s defiance as proof that executive power could sabotage liberty. “If Congress should pass an act which is unconstitutional,” Johnson said, “I must save the nation at all hazards”—a phrase that terrified his opponents. His trial became a test of whether America could preserve constitutional balance amid fury. In the Senate, conviction failed by a single vote. Seven Republicans—including Edmund Ross, whose story John F. Kennedy later celebrated in Profiles in Courage—chose the Constitution over party revenge.

What the Johnson Trial Reveals

According to Meacham, Johnson’s impeachment proved the danger of using constitutional tools for partisan aims. He reminds you that impeachment is inherently political, but its legitimacy depends on principle. The Senate’s restraint preserved the office’s independence and set a precedent: presidents could not be removed merely for political differences. Yet Meacham also suggests that moral clarity suffered. Johnson’s survival left Reconstruction unfinished, allowing racial inequality to fester for generations. His case teaches that accountability in democracy demands both constitutional fidelity and moral courage—a blend rarely achieved but always necessary.

Meacham’s insight resonates today: impeachment, like Reconstruction, tests whether a nation can progress without vengeance. Johnson’s defiance showed that sometimes legality and justice collide—and when they do, the survival of democracy depends on those willing to choose justice within law, not outside it.

Timothy Naftali transforms the Watergate narrative into a study of how secrecy corrodes democracy. If Johnson tested the Constitution with arrogance, Nixon tested it with manipulation. Naftali recounts how Nixon’s obsession with control—over information, enemies, and truth—led him to weaponize the presidency. The microphones he installed in the Oval Office became witnesses against him. Through meticulous detail, Naftali shows that Nixon’s downfall wasn’t just about burglary or espionage—it was about the corrosion of public trust.

From the Break-In to the Cover-Up

Naftali walks you step by step from the 1972 Watergate break-in to the unraveling of Nixon’s cover-up. When the burglars were caught, Nixon chose denial over disclosure, ordering aides to involve the CIA in misleading the FBI. John Dean, his counsel, later warned him the scheme was “a cancer on the presidency.” Nixon’s reaction—calculating payments to silence witnesses—exposed his belief that politics was a battle without rules. Naftali lets the evidence speak: tapes of Nixon plotting obstruction, memos of hush money, and the “Saturday Night Massacre,” when he fired the special prosecutor Archibald Cox, triggering public outrage.

The Machinery of Impeachment

Behind the scenes, Naftali paints a vivid picture of congressional awakening. It took the firing of Cox for the House of Representatives to grasp the scale of Nixon’s abuses. Under Peter Rodino’s calm leadership, the Judiciary Committee forged an unprecedented bipartisan investigation. Figures like Republican Caldwell Butler and Democrat Barbara Jordan set aside party loyalty to defend constitutional integrity. Their decision to impeach transcended ideology: Nixon had used the presidency for personal revenge, directing wiretaps, tax audits, and lies against his opponents. In political terms, Naftali notes, Nixon’s fall restored the moral power of Congress as a coequal branch—a rare triumph of conscience over calculation.

Lessons of Watergate

Naftali’s retelling highlights the fragility of truth in polarized times. He describes how Nixon’s defenders dismissed incriminating evidence as “political theater,” much like accusations of bias in later eras. Only when the Supreme Court ordered release of the tapes did irrefutable proof force resignation. Naftali diagnoses a lasting wound: public faith in government never fully recovered, and “Watergate” became shorthand for scandal itself. Still, Nixon’s resignation demonstrated the Constitution’s resilience. The system held—but just barely. Naftali concludes that impeachment works only when facts overcome faction, and when the nation’s leaders value honesty above survival.

Peter Baker’s narrative on Bill Clinton’s impeachment contrasts moral outrage with political calculation. If Johnson’s impeachment was about race and Nixon’s about authority, Clinton’s was about morality in a media-saturated age. Baker guides you through a story that feels both Shakespearean and tabloid: a brilliant president undone by personal failure, yet saved by public skepticism of his accusers. The result, Baker argues, was an impeachment more about cultural conflict than constitutional danger.

Scandal in the Information Age

The Clinton affair, which began with whispers on the early Internet, became America’s first digital-era political drama. When independent counsel Kenneth Starr obtained recordings of Monica Lewinsky confiding to a friend, the private became public overnight. Clinton’s denials—“I did not have sexual relations with that woman”—turned the presidency itself into a televised morality play. Baker shows how media frenzy blurred legal boundaries. Perjury and obstruction were serious charges, but for many Americans they felt inseparable from voyeurism and moral policing. Clinton’s approval ratings soared even as trust in his character plummeted, proving how deeply partisanship had supplanted shared ethical standards.

The Politics of Impeachment as Campaign

Baker reveals how leaders like House Whip Tom DeLay framed impeachment as “The Campaign.” For them, Clinton’s removal was not justice but strategy. Their partisan zeal backfired when Republican scandals surfaced, exposing hypocrisy and fueling voter backlash. Meanwhile, Clinton portrayed himself as victim of persecution. When Starr sent his explicit report to Congress, Democrats unified behind Clinton, arguing that his sins were personal, not political. In the Senate, voting strictly along party lines, they acquitted him. Baker interprets this as a defining moment: impeachment transformed from a constitutional safeguard into a partisan weapon—a change that reshaped twenty-first-century politics.

Legacy and Reassessment

In hindsight, Baker argues, Clinton’s impeachment revealed two truths. First, popularity can shield a president from accountability; second, moral hypocrisy corrodes both parties. He ends with irony: decades later, the #MeToo movement reframed the scandal, forcing even Clinton’s defenders to acknowledge exploitation hidden beneath consent. As senators and journalists reexamined their roles, the episode emerged not as a national farce but a mirror of cultural change. Baker encourages you to see it as a warning—the Constitution cannot defend dignity when citizens reduce politics to tribal loyalty or entertainment.

In his conclusion, Engel returns to present concerns: impeachment’s frequency, polarization, and uncertain future. He notes how conversation around presidential accountability has intensified—sometimes before wrongdoing occurs. From Jefferson’s caution about “a dominant faction” to Ronald Reagan’s reminder that freedom is never assured, Engel traces a lineage of vigilance. He argues that the Constitution intended impeachment to be rare precisely because it is sacred. Its misuse—by any party—cheapens that sanctity.

The Founders’ Warning and Modern Reality

Engel revisits the founders’ debates, showing how they anticipated presidents who might betray their trust to foreign powers or profit from office. George Mason’s challenge—“Shall any man be above justice?”—echoes through centuries. Comparing this ideal with modern cynicism, Engel warns that citizens must protect not only the rule of law but belief in it. When truth itself becomes partisan, as seen in Nixon’s and Trump’s eras, impeachment risks becoming meaningless theater. Yet Engel insists its power endures when courage and conscience overtake politics.

Patterns from Past Impeachments

Engel distills lessons from each case: Johnson’s trial showed constitutional restraint; Nixon’s, moral clarity; Clinton’s, partisan fracture. Taken together, they illustrate that impeachment only succeeds—legally and morally—when evidence is undeniable and when senators transcend tribal pressures. The process fails when impeachment serves revenge instead of republic. He cautions that future impeachments, if driven by emotion instead of proof, could normalize removing presidents for politics alone—a profound threat to stability and faith in democracy.

Guardrails for the Future

Engel ends with a conviction: impeachment must remain difficult. Its challenge reminds America that the next election—not vengeance—is the ultimate recourse. “So long as there are doubts,” he concludes, “there is always another election.” The true test is whether citizens trust that election will occur and be fair. In that sense, impeachment reflects the nation’s moral temperature. When truth falters and outrage reigns, even the best safeguard fails. But when principle guides judgment, impeachment proves what the framers hoped—that self-government can correct itself without ceasing to be free.