“I constantly think: God bless Scott Kendall,” said electoral reform activist and political donor Katherine Gehl. “He took an idea and he made it real — he won.”
Kendall — a lawyer, consultant, and political staffer from Alaska whose client list reads like a who’s who of pragmatic Alaska Republicans –– played a critical role in the passage of Ballot Measure 2 in November 2020. Measure 2, which became law by just under 4,000 votes, transformed the way Alaska runs its elections. In addition to strengthening campaign finance laws, the referendum replaced the two-party primary system with a top-four blanket primary and the first-past-the-post system –– where the candidate receiving a plurality of votes emerged victorious –– with ranked choice voting. Under the new system, candidates of all parties run on the same ballot in an open primary. The top four names advance to the general election, where voters use ranked-choice voting to winnow the field down to a winner.
Measure 2 fundamentally changed the way Alaskan politicians interact with voters. Before Measure 2 was enacted, Republican State Senate Majority Leader Cathy Giessel explained, there was little incentive to speak to voters outside of one’s party during primary campaigns. “I would target voters who were Republicans who voted in primaries… I skipped a lot of doors,” she said.
After Measure 2 passed, Giessel’s strategy changed. “I did not waste any money buying a database. I didn’t care who was behind the door. I wanted to talk to every person.” Getting rid of the closed primary system drove Giessel to seek out constituents who would not have voted in a Republican primary. “As a result,” she noted, “I got some really great interactions with folks ––– some hard questions from people, but also the opportunity to talk to people I never would have before.”
With great pride, Giessel recounted a campaign-trail anecdote she believed demonstrated the benefits of Measure 2. Giessel got a confused response from a liberal constituent after knocking on his door, she explained. “He looked at me and he said, ‘Oh, you’ve knocked at the wrong door. I’m a Democrat. I’m a super-voter Democrat.’”
Under the old primary system, the man likely would have been correct. But Measure 2 had changed that. “I said, ‘Oh, sir, no, I actually want to talk to you.’ He was rather taken aback,” Giessel explained. The man’s initial confusion did not prevent him and Giessel from a meaningful interaction, though. “We had a great conversation –– identified areas where he disagreed with policies that I had, but we found so many more areas that we both agreed on.”
“Most people running for office would agree with me that going door to door is one of the hardest things to do in a campaign,” Giessel continued. “You don’t know these people. You’re out in rain and wind and sun and there are lots of dogs. But last year, I looked forward to it. It was so delightful to talk to this variety of people and hear so many great ideas.”
In Giessel’s view, it often takes a long time to drill into legislators’ minds that bipartisanship “is not a deadly practice.” Many state legislators come up through the world of partisan activism. Giessel herself did. They spend years as partisan crusaders, serving as party chairman in their towns, running or volunteering for local campaigns, joining partisan social clubs, and more. Then they arrive in the legislature, and are thrust into a working relationship with the other side. “I went to the legislature with very partisan ideas,” Giessel noted. She had served as a state party vice chair and a district chair and had been an active member of the Anchorage Republican Women’s Club. After being elected to the state legislature, though, it quickly became clear to her that a one-sided approach to policy and politics would not cut it. “Working with everyone is how you actually get something done in a legislative body,” Giessel explained.
Before the passage of Measure 2, Alaska’s electoral system often punished people like Senator Giessel for coming to the conclusion she did. Her complaint is not a new one. Many academics, public intellectuals, pundits, and donors have long argued that the American electoral system is fundamentally broken, that it disincentives compromise and bipartisanship. Yet for generations, efforts at comprehensive electoral reform have failed. Indeed, to call them “failed” almost gives them too much credit: few efforts at electoral reform as broad and inventive as Measure 2 have made it off the drawing board, let alone onto the ballot.
In large part, Alaska succeeded where others failed because of its distinct history and political environment. Advocates for Measure 2 also benefited from a healthy dose of luck. Understanding the unique combination of factors that led to Measure 2’s passage requires knowledge of the heterodox political coalitions created by Alaska’s unique geography, history, and demography.
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One issue at the heart of both Alaska’s cross-partisan political coalitions and the partisan wrangling that undermines them is the unceasing legislative battle over the Alaska Permanent Fund. The Fund places money from oil royalties into an investment vehicle that pays out an annual dividend to all Alaskans.
When Alaska achieved statehood in 1959, its economy was heavily reliant on fishing and mineral extraction. The discovery of oil on the state’s North Slope in the late 1960s and the subsequent construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline transformed the state. Leases for access to the North Slope sold for 900 million dollars, at the time the most expensive lease sale in American history. Many Alaskan leaders, including then-Governor Jay Hammond, worried oil revenue would either not stay in Alaska or would become concentrated in the hands of relatively few of the state’s citizens, leaving most Alaskans with none of the benefits of their states’ natural largesse. There was also widespread acknowledgement that oil was not an infinite resource: at some point, wells would be exhausted, and Alaskans would be hung out to dry.
Thus emerged the idea for a fund to preserve and distribute Alaska’s oil wealth for public benefit. In 1976, Governor Hammond and his political allies supported a ballot referendum that would amend the state constitution to create the Alaska Permanent Fund. The referendum passed with overwhelming support. Since then, 25% of state revenue from fossil fuel production each year has been deposited in a sovereign wealth fund, which finances some government services and pays out an annual dividend (the amount of which varies annually, but often falls around $1000) to every Alaskan, making it one of the only large-scale examples of universal basic income in the world.
How to use the Permanent Fund is a contentious, recurring issue in Alaska. It is larger than the state’s annual GDP, and its annual dividend makes a tangible difference in many Alaskans’ quality of life. The per capita income in Alaska in 2020 was $39,000. The dividend, distributed to every resident of Alaska regardless of age, was over $3,200 in 2022, or 8.2% of the state’s per capita income. The Fund’s existence has created a perennial battle between those who argue its revenue should be used for larger, direct payments to Alaskans and those who argue it should be treated more cautiously or used more to fund public works and other government services.
Alaska is by far the largest state by land mass; it is well over twice the size of Texas. Yet Alaska only has about 2.5% of Texas’ population. Much of rural Alaska is not accessible by road, and many villages lose sea access in the winter. The best way to provide these rural areas with services, food, medicine, and access to the outside world is by air, which is rarely a profitable endeavor when villages sometimes have fewer than 100 residents. The difficulties of traveling, communicating, and integrating government services across such a huge and sparsely populated land mass requires more comprehensive planning and infrastructure than in many other states.
Accordingly, the size of the Permanent Fund’s annual dividend and the quality of public services are both acutely important issues to Alaskans. The politics of the Alaska Permanent Fund provide a good introduction to Alaska’s tradition of cross-partisan coalitions. Related policy debates do not neatly fit into party lines. Supporters and opponents of big dividends exist in both parties. “It has broken across party lines, there’s no single party that sits solely on one side of that issue or the other,” Giessel explained. “It has promoted, I think, more bipartisanship.”
In addition to the cross-partisan nature of debates surrounding the Permanent Fund, Alaska’s small population encourages less partisan politics. With roughly the same number of people as the New Haven metropolitan area, Alaskans have a relationship with their politicians more akin to the one residents of a small city might have with their alderman. Politics are intimate; politicians are familiar.
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Despite the favorable environment for cross-partisan governance, Alaska still struggles with partisan gridlock that impedes policymaking, especially when it comes to the use of Permanent Fund revenue.
Kendall experienced these partisan stumbling blocks first hand when he served as Chief of Staff to Governor Bill Walker, who was elected as a moderate independent with bipartisan support after withdrawing from the Republican primary for governor in 2014. Walker sought to shore up state finances and advocated for fiscal discipline with respect to the Permanent Fund to ensure it was sustainable for generations of Alaskans to come. It was Kendall who inherited the thankless task of negotiating with the state legislature in order to pass Walker’s agenda, including his proposed Permanent Fund reforms.
It was those two years of legislative wrangling that convinced Kendall of the need for electoral reform. “I had just spent two years being fed up with legislative dysfunction, which I attributed largely to the way [politicians are] elected,” Kendall said.
Kendall argued that the political gridlock he faced stemmed, in part, from politicians’ fear of being challenged in a primary if they appeared overly willing to work with their party’s opponents. “There are definitely people on both sides who want members of the other party to fail, even if they agree with their legislation,” he said.
After he left the Governor’s office, Kendall searched for a resolution to these frustrations. He talked to friends in the state legislature and tried to devise a system that reformed not only the electoral system, but also the political pressures that pushed legislators in what he saw as unproductive directions.
“In Alaska, 60% of people don’t affiliate with either party,” Kendall explained. Senator Giessel concurred with Kendall’s analysis, noting that in Alaska, “the political parties actually have pretty low affiliations.” As of 2020, less than 40% of Alaskan voters were registered Democrats or Republicans. Yet the minority of Alaskans who are fervent partisans had an outsize influence over the state’s politics under the closed primary system. In a broadly conservative-leaning state, winning the Republican primary nearly guaranteed a candidate’s success in the general election in many legislative districts. In effect, a small, non-representative cohort of Alaskans, those who were registered members of one of the major political parties and turned out to vote in primaries, played a huge role in shaping the ideological makeup of the state legislature.
At first, Kendall thought getting rid of the partisan primary would effectively curtail the influence of voters at the political extremes. Yet as he dove deeper into the literature on electoral reform and studied the effects of top-two primary systems implemented in Washington and California, he came to the conclusion that top-two systems would not fundamentally change the incentives pushing politicians to pander to the edges of the political spectrum.
“It didn’t seem from the California Washington experience that it was really the vast improvement I was hoping for,” Kendall explained. A study of the top-two primary system in Washington State commissioned by the electoral reform advocacy group FairVote concluded that top-two voting systems largely fail to increase the political fortunes of moderate candidates. After delving into the data, FairVote found that top-two primaries seem to have little effect on partisanship or electoral competitiveness.
It seemed crystal clear to Kendall that the current electoral system was not serving voters’ interests. “Everything is focused on getting through that closed primary, not on actually legislating and solving problems,” he said.
It was not just Kendall who believed the system had failed. Giessel, the Republican State Senate Majority Leader, described the poor state of government services in Alaska in great detail. “When school started in August, as usual, many schools did not have enough teachers for their classrooms,” she said. In Anchorage, Giessel continued, “there were not enough bus drivers, so . . . parents would have to transport their children themselves.” Last fall, Anchorage instituted a system of rotating “cohorts” to cope with a severe driver shortage. With only enough drivers for 35% of the city’s students, the school district opted to provide students with transportation for only three out of every nine weeks.
The poor state of government services did not stop with education; Giessel noted that the state was understaffed and unprepared for early snow storms last fall as well–––the state did not have enough snow-plows or road-graters to keep cities open. These problems reminded many Alaskans how important government services are to their quality of life, Giessel contended. “People are realizing state services serve everyone,” she claimed.
As Kendall searched for a solution—talking to friends, legislators, and others in Alaska—he slowly came upon a system he thought might work. It was not until he dove into the academic literature on electoral reform, though, that all the pieces clicked into place.
“I read a report in the Harvard Business School by Katherine Gehl and Michael Porter,” said Kendall. Gehl is a political donor, former corporate executive, and philanthropist from Wisconsin and Porter is a Harvard Business School professor who specializes in the study of competition and strategy. In their 2017 paper, the pair argue that politics is an industry like any other, whose participants often look after their own interests before the public good. Gehl and Porter emphasize they do not blame parties and politicians themselves for this, arguing instead that our political system incentivises and encourages this kind of behavior. In Gehl and Porter’s view, the core of this failure is a lack of true competition.
Gehl and Porter’s critique of the American political system rang true for Kendall; it sounded a lot like the critique he had been building in Alaska for months. To his delight, Kendall found that their paper had proposed many of the same reforms he envisioned, including replacing partisan primaries with a top-four blanket primary and implementing ranked-choice voting in the general election. “It sort of validated, okay, I’m on the right track, this isn’t crazy,” Kendall said. “Like, there are other people who have thought these thoughts, it’s just never been operationalized.”
With his goal in mind, Kendall crafted a ballot measure that paired high-minded political reform with pragmatism. During the drafting process, Kendall explained, “We polled what’s viable, what is too much for people to think about. Because if we’re going to fix [things], let’s try to fix as many things as we can.”
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Kendall knew what it would take for the ballot measure to pass: cross-party appeal, discipline, and money. He wanted to have a co-chair from each major party as well as a prominent political independent. He got Democrat Bruce Botelho, a former Alaska Attorney General and long-time mayor of the state capitol, Juneau; former State Representative Jason Grenn, an independent politician he had worked with while Governor Walker’s chief of staff; and Bonnie Jack, a well-connected Republican activist. All three agreed to serve as campaign co-chairs.
Grenn and Botelho described the campaign as a concerted effort to build coalitions across traditional lines, of finding others who were fed-up with legislative paralysis and partisan extremism. “We had Fishermen for Better Elections, we had Alaska Natives for Better Elections, we had Chamber of Commerce directors, all sorts of people from around the state,” Grenn explained. He highlighted the Measure 2 campaign’s success at engaging with different communities and constituencies across the state as key to its passage.
But winning this fight required more than cross partisan support: Kendall also needed money. “Without a strong financial base, most initiatives do not have a chance,” Botelho, a veteran of many prominent Alaska ballot measure campaigns, said.
That Kendall’s Ballot Measure 2 did not suffer for lack of funding is, in large part, due to Wisconsin philanthropist Katherine Gehl, whose paper on electoral reform Kendall stumbled upon in the run-up to the Measure 2 campaign.
Gehl had long been involved in the electoral reform community. A one-time Obama donor who became disillusioned with partisan politics after the 2010s’ fruitless fights over the deficit, she underwent her own political odyssey, which she termed her “five stages of political grief.” She came to believe that what she perceived as a lack of progress in American politics could be traced to the two-party system’s stranglehold over elections. Without reforming the way politicians are elected and transforming the political incentive structure, she believed the reforms she desired would be unattainable. In 2015, she sold her family food-processing business for hundreds of millions of dollars, and devoted herself to electoral reform.
Kendall reached out to Gehl after reading her paper, and she enthusiastically backed the campaign. The connection between Gehl, other wealthy donors, and Kendall was a key factor in Measure 2’s success. “I certainly didn’t have $7 million to run a campaign,” Kendall said.
That Measure 2 passed, even by the narrowest of margins, is a testament to the political skills of all involved. Kendall, Botelho, Jack, Grenn, and Gehl managed to achieve major change while avoiding hyper-partisanship and toxicity.
The inaugural use of this new electoral system in the 2022 midterm elections has vindicated Kendall, Gehl, and Measure 2’s supporters. State Senator Cathy Giessel, who had lost her primary to a right-wing challenger during the Trump administration, won back her seat, and the number of independents serving in the state legislature expanded significantly. At the statewide level, too, election results reflected a mix of partisan preferences: a moderate Democrat was elected to the House of Representatives statewide on the same ballot as moderate Republican Senator Lisa Murkowski and the state’s conservative governor, Mike Dunleavy.
After the 2022 elections, a bipartisan coalition of lawmakers formed a majority in the state senate. One of the coalition’s members — a Democrat — vowed to “put our partisan differences aside” in the name of responsible and effective legislation.
Bipartisan coalitions are not unprecedented in Alaska –––the most recent one in the state senate lasted from 2007 to 2012, and another ruled the state house from 2019 to 2023. But some legislators who worked across the aisle, like Senator Cathy Giessel, went on to lose primaries before Measure 2 was instituted. Measure 2 was set up to encourage and protect this sort of bipartisan collaboration, and realign political incentives away from the traditionally more extreme primary electorate.
Already, the impact of Measure 2 on government productivity and public policy is becoming clear. The State Senate, which has a bipartisan coalition led by Majority Leader Giessel, is talking about investing in education, ensuring government departments have enough funding to function, and pension reform, issues that have proven thorny and difficult to tackle in the past.
But Measure 2 has not created complete cross-partisan alignment. In the state house, a new Republican-led governing coalition has formed, but it is divided on issues including the Permanent Fund dividend, education funding, and pensions. Some members are also attempting to get rid of the new electoral system. Still, the disagreements in the House are not along strict party lines. The governing coalition includes 19 Republicans, two Democrats, and two Independents and the minority includes 16 Democrats, four Independents, and one Republican.
In an era in which so many Americans feel legislators have lost the ability to talk to each other, it might be that Alaska has found a way to incentivize conversation and cooperation. Its experiment may yet prove to be the future of American democracy. Or it may serve to further distinguish an idiosyncratic state from the rest of the country. One thing is certain: Alaska’s politics will never be the same again.