House Republicans are exploring legal and constitutional strategies to block New York City mayoral front-runner Zohran Mamdani from being sworn into office if he wins Tuesday’s election, citing the Constitution’s post–Civil War “insurrection clause,” according to multiple sources familiar with the discussions.
The effort, first reported by the New York Post, is being led in part by the New York Young Republican Club, which argues that Mamdani’s past statements calling to “resist ICE” and his ties to left-wing organizations could qualify as “giving aid or comfort to the enemies” of the United States — language drawn directly from Section 3 of the 14th Amendment.
That provision, enacted in 1868, bars from public office any person who has “engaged in insurrection or rebellion” against the United States, or who has provided “aid or comfort” to its enemies.
The clause was originally intended to prevent former Confederate officials from holding office but has recently re-emerged in political debates over ballot eligibility.“There is a real and legitimate push to see the insurrectionist Zohran Mamdani either a) removed from the ballot or b) removed from office if he is to win on Tuesday,” said Stefano Forte, president of the New York Young Republican Club.
Several House Republicans are said to be reviewing whether the clause could be enforced through new legislation or congressional action following next week’s election. The idea mirrors the legal arguments used in Colorado last year to try to disqualify former President Donald Trump from the state’s ballot — a move the Supreme Court ultimately overturned, ruling that Congress, not individual states, has the constitutional authority to enforce Section 3.
The Court’s decision has emboldened some GOP lawmakers who believe the ruling effectively places responsibility for such enforcement in the hands of Congress, where Republicans currently hold a narrow 219–213 majority in the House.
According to two congressional aides, Republican leaders may consider holding a post-election vote to declare Mamdani ineligible for office under the clause. Such a measure would face significant procedural and legal hurdles, including a likely filibuster in the Democrat-controlled Senate and near-certain court challenges.
In addition to the potential 14th Amendment challenge, House Republicans are pressuring the Justice Department to review Mamdani’s path to U.S. citizenship, claiming he may have violated the terms of his naturalization oath.
Rep. Andy Ogles (R-TN) sent a letter Monday to Attorney General Pam Bondi, urging her to investigate what he described as “statements inconsistent with the oath of allegiance required of new citizens.” Ogles cited Mamdani’s 2018 naturalization and accused him of “refusal to disavow violent anti-American rhetoric.”He reiterated those allegations in a post on X, claiming Mamdani “came to the U.S. from Uganda to turn America into an Islamic theocracy.”
In his letter, Ogles argued that Mamdani’s past remarks and political affiliations amount to a “broader pattern of conduct inconsistent with the oath of allegiance.”
He urged the Justice Department to examine whether denaturalization proceedings are warranted, referencing existing immigration law that prohibits membership in communist or totalitarian organizations for new citizens.
Rep. Randy Fine (R-FL) also joined the campaign, accusing Mamdani of omitting material information from his citizenship application, including membership in the Democratic Socialists of America and comments defending the “Holy Land Five,” a group of Palestinian-American leaders convicted in 2008 for funneling money to Hamas.
“New York City falls to communism next week, and they will have nobody but themselves to blame,” Fine wrote on X, referencing the upcoming mayoral election.
Mamdani, currently a member of the New York State Assembly representing Astoria, Queens, denied the accusations and said Republican lawmakers are trying to weaponize the law against a political opponent.
“No matter how many times these Republican Congress members or the president of this country calls me a Communist, it doesn’t make it true,” Mamdani said in comments to The Post last weekend.
A Justice Department spokeswoman confirmed receipt of Ogles’ letter but said responses to congressional correspondence have been delayed due to the ongoing government shutdown.“The Department does not comment on the status of ongoing or potential investigations,” the spokeswoman said.
In a Senate hearing that will be dissected for decades, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton faced the most devastating political cross-examination of her career at the hands of Senator John Kennedy. By the end of 73 relentless minutes, Clinton’s reputation, her alliances, and the very foundations of Washington’s elite lay in ruins. The fallout, already being felt in the corridors of power, promises to reshape American politics for a generation.
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The morning began with Clinton arriving early, her confidence palpable. The Hart Senate Office Building’s Committee Room 216 was packed with reporters, protesters, and foreign observers sensing history in the making. Clinton’s plan was clear: humiliate Senator Kennedy, establish intellectual dominance, and breeze through the hearing. Her staff had prepared a dossier of Kennedy’s homespun quirks, aiming to expose him as a fraud.
But Kennedy was ready. Entering with a single, seemingly insignificant manila folder, he carried himself with the calm of a veteran prosecutor. Months of preparation—studying Clinton’s testimony, her psychological patterns, and defensive strategies—had led to this moment.
Clinton launched her attack with practiced contempt, mocking Kennedy’s “bayou lawyer” persona. The Democratic side of the room erupted in laughter. Kennedy absorbed the insult, showing no reaction except to jot a note and hold it up for the cameras: “Seven minutes to destroy you.”
His first question seemed almost naive:
“Did you have one email account or two?”
Clinton answered with condescension, dismissing the inquiry as beneath her. But Kennedy’s slow, deliberate follow-up—“So no private server?”—hit her like a splash of ice water. The simple question exposed a crack in Clinton’s armor. Her carefully prepared talking points began to unravel as Kennedy pressed on, methodically revealing inconsistencies in her story.
Kennedy’s questioning was relentless. He produced Clinton’s own memoir, quoting passages about her “convenient private system.” Each revelation was another blow, culminating in Kennedy’s infamous question:
“Ever hear of a program called BleachBit?”
Clinton’s composure faltered. Her denial sounded hollow. Kennedy, with theatrical precision, produced documents tying Clinton’s actions to the deletion of potentially incriminating emails. The gallery buzzed as reporters realized they were witnessing a historic unraveling.
Kennedy shifted gears, producing bank statements and wire transfers linking foreign donations to the Clinton Foundation.
“How much did Saudi Arabia donate to your foundation while you were Secretary of State?” Kennedy pressed.
When Clinton faltered, Kennedy supplied the answer:
“$25 million. Does that refresh your memory?”
The evidence was overwhelming. Saudi wire transfers, Chinese donations, Russian speaking fees, Uranium One payments—each detail meticulously laid out. Clinton’s staff began to panic, and her lawyer, David Kendall, whispered for her to keep answers short. But Kennedy was already three moves ahead.
As Kennedy revealed the extent of foreign money flowing into the Clinton Foundation, the tension in the room became palpable. A young staffer fainted. Security rushed in. The hearing teetered between drama and disaster. Yet Kennedy remained focused, his questions cutting through the chaos.
Then, in a shocking twist, Prince Khaled bin Sultan, a Saudi royal seated in the gallery, stood and confirmed his signature on a $25 million check. The room froze. Clinton’s face went ashen. Democratic senators began fleeing the chamber, realizing the gravity of the confessions unfolding before them.
The hearing took an even darker turn as video footage appeared on the main display—scenes from Haiti after the earthquake, juxtaposed with luxury hotels built with relief funds. A grieving Haitian mother stood in the gallery, accusing Clinton of broken promises and lost lives.
“You killed my daughter,” she cried. “She died waiting for the hospital you promised.”
Clinton tried to respond, but her microphone failed. The symbolism was unmistakable: her voice silenced as the evidence of misused aid played for all to see.
Kennedy turned to Benghazi, asking Clinton when she learned of the attack. A Marine officer in the gallery contradicted her timeline, revealing that help had been ready but never deployed. Clinton’s infamous defense—“What difference at this point does it make?”—echoed through the chamber, sealing her fate.
Kennedy produced emails showing Clinton had privately acknowledged the truth to her daughter, even as she told grieving families a different story. The gallery included a Gold Star widow who quietly demanded answers. Clinton’s defenses crumbled as Kennedy laid bare the human cost of political calculations.
With her lawyer abandoning her on live television, Clinton’s psychological defenses shattered. In a desperate bid for self-preservation, she began naming names—Obama, Biden, Pelosi, Schumer, McConnell—implicating half of Washington in a web of corruption. Her confessions spilled out in a torrent, each revelation more damning than the last.
Her lawyer’s final words—“I hereby withdraw as your counsel. Effective immediately.”—marked the end of her defense. Clinton stood alone, mascara streaked, surrounded by security, screaming about conspiracies and shadow governments.
As Clinton was escorted from the hearing room, her final words—“You don’t know what you’ve unleashed”—hung in the air. Reporters scrambled to file stories. Senators huddled, calculating damage. The gallery buzzed with disbelief.
Within hours, the FBI raided the Clinton Foundation and DNC headquarters. Indictments followed. The scope of the investigation ballooned:
183 officials under scrutiny
2.3 billion in suspicious transactions
Connections to seven foreign intelligence services
Major news networks purged archives, but internet sleuths preserved everything. The reckoning had begun.
Hillary Clinton, now inmate 77416, taught literacy classes in federal prison. The designer suits were gone, replaced by khaki. Her daughter Chelsea visited, and for the first time in decades, they spoke honestly.
“I became something I never meant to be,” Hillary confessed.
“You became what you thought you had to be,” Chelsea replied. “But maybe now you can just be my mom.”
Kennedy turned down book deals and speaking engagements, returning to Louisiana to fish and teach. His seminars on “the art of simple questions” became legendary.
“I didn’t destroy her,” Kennedy told his granddaughter. “I just asked questions. She destroyed herself with the answers.”
The Department of Justice launched Operation American Reckoning, the largest anti-corruption investigation in U.S. history. The fallout claimed careers, fortunes, and reputations. The political landscape was forever altered.
Clinton wrote a memoir from prison, dedicating it to Kennedy and the American people.
“I confused power with purpose, wealth with worth, control with strength. It took a senator from Louisiana to show me I wasn’t above anything.”
The hearing that began as a routine inquiry ended as a national reckoning. Kennedy’s precision, patience, and relentless pursuit of truth exposed the rot at the heart of American politics. Clinton’s collapse was both a tragedy and a warning—a lesson in the dangers of unchecked power and the redemptive power of truth.
As the sun set over Louisiana, Kennedy sat by the bayou, reflecting on the hardest truths.
“Sometimes we need to be completely broken before we can start to heal,” he said.
And somewhere in a federal prison, an elderly woman helped another inmate sound out words, finding purpose in service she’d never known in power.
The timer had stopped at 73 minutes, but the consequences would echo for years to com