When a member of the military pulls rank on a ranking member of Congress, when he politicizes his service by admonishing a public servant, when he acts as if the ribbons pinned to his jacket are more legitimate than the pin every congressman wears, when he uses his uniform to command attention—and attempts to commandeer authority—he indicts no one but himself.
When the man in question is Alexander Vindman, his opening statement is a closing argument for the opposition.
When the women in question are Fiona Hill and Marie Yovanovitch, their statements are nothing more than dross in a diplomatic pouch.
All three statements read like dispatches from the administrative state.
With the arrogance of the unelected and the power of the unaccountable, these witnesses to nothing—neither present at the creation of presidential policy nor privy to the president’s conversations about policy—revel in their veto over foreign policy. They testify to their Americanness by condemning the chief executive of the American people.
To Vindman, Hill, and Yovanovitch the personal is political.
What matters most to them is their influence over all matters, foreign and domestic.
What matters least to them is what matters most to the friends of freedom: strength through peace.
A just peace, secured not by the submission of nations, but by the independence of those nations who request and receive assistance from the United States, who help themselves to what they can buy from America, who buy what only America has the wealth to sell them: weapons.
To acknowledge the truth about America is to abandon the lie about President Trump.
His decision to arm Ukraine refutes the notion that he is a tool of Russia. His decision replaces the rhetoric of hope with the force of realism. His decision restores the balance of power, lifting the defenders of Kyiv so as to compel the allies of Moscow to lay down their guns.
His decision is not an impeachable offense.