House Speaker Nancy Pelosi reacts after signing the Bipartisan Budget Act of 2019 on Capitol in Washington, U.S., August 1, 2019. (Yuri Gripas/Reuters)

Imagine you’re not from the United States. Rather, you’ve come from some quieter place — accidentally, perhaps, and through a rabbit hole. Imagine watching the presidential election of an ill-mannered oaf; political and media talking-heads endlessly spitting over foreign interference; a national kangaroo court — in Congress and the media — about the alleged teenage-nonsense, gang rape, and penial misdirection by one of the most senior justices in the land. Then imagine — after all that — an impeachment inquiry being launched into the man sat in the oval office.


Would you not be tempted to think, as I am on a dark day, What a profoundly unserious place.

Nevertheless, at National Review, I am grateful for colleagues who help me analyze it all. Writers who help me to discover what America was and is all about. And also, those who help make sense of this current nonsense. In his recent column “What’s Behind the Democrats’ Impeachment Gambit?” Kevin Williamson includes a reference to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. “This is Red Queen politics,” Kevin writes. “Sentence first, trial later.”

For those unfamiliar with the novel, in Alice, the Queen of Hearts yells “Off with his head!” at every whim. Nevertheless, she does allow the accused Knave to have at least ostensibly due process. The charges against him are simple enough:

The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts

All on a summer day:

The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts,

And took them quite away!

In “Chapter 12: Alice’s Evidence,” our protagonist becomes an unlikely key witness in this trial:

“What do you know about this business?” the King said to Alice.

“Nothing,” said Alice.

“Nothing whatever?” persisted the King.

“Nothing whatever,” said Alice.

“That’s very important,” the King said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the White Rabbit interrupted: “Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course,” he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at him as he spoke.

“Unimportant, of course, I meant,” the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, “important – unimportant – unimportant – important –” as if he were trying which word sounded best.

Some of the jury wrote it down “important,” and some “unimportant.” Alice could see this, as she was near enough to look over their slates; “but it doesn’t matter a bit,” she thought to herself.

Alice — you see — strikes at the root of their confusion. She is able to detect what’s troubling them because she is logical. (A logical person can always recognize an illogical person; while the reverse is not true.) Later, the Knave is brought forward to defend himself against some supposedly incriminating evidence: A set of verses addressed “to somebody,” which he denies having written.

“Are they in the prisoner’s handwriting?” asked another of the jurymen.

“No, they’re not,” said the White Rabbit, “and that’s the queerest thing about it.” (The jury all looked puzzled.)

“He must have imitated somebody else’s hand,” said the King. (The jury all brightened up again.)

“Please your Majesty,” said the Knave, “I didn’t write it, and they can’t prove I did: There’s no name signed at the end.”

“If you didn’t sign it,” said the King, “that only makes the matter worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you’d have signed your name like an honest man.”

There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the King had said that day.

“That proves his guilt,” said the Queen.

“It proves nothing of the sort!” said Alice.

It proves nothing of the sort . . . Here, the author’s (Lewis Caroll) point is this: That the logic and language of Wonderland is that of absurdity. And absurdity cannot be explained. It can only be exposed. But Alice’s effort to expose it comes at a high political cost, of course. This is the part Kevin was quoting:

“No, no!” said the Queen. “Sentence first – verdict afterwards.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Alice loudly. “The idea of having the sentence first!”

“Hold your tongue!” said the Queen, turning purple.

“I won’t!” said Alice.

“Off with her head!” the Queen shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved.

“Who cares for you?” said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time). “You’re nothing but a pack of cards!”

Truly, I feel a great affinity with Alice at present. For what do I know of Russian interference in the 2016 election? Nothing whatever. What do I know about what Brett Kavanaugh was up to one summer before I was born? Nothing whatever. What do I know of the president’s current dealings with Ukraine? Nothing whatever.

But do the Democrats know either? Not likely. These days, they’re nothing but a pack of cards.