Last Thursday, I and the other public employees in my office stood uncomfortably in a semicircle facing our supervisors as they made the type of announcement being echoed around the state: all nonunion employees must take mandatory unpaid furlough days. Most of us already knew something like this was coming. At the very end of the last special session, the Alaska Legislature withdrew money from the budgets of many state offices – money it had already approved – to pay for the raises union employees were guaranteed under their contracts. The cuts were severe enough, we were told, that furlough days were the only way to avoid layoffs.
Everyone in my office agreed that giving up some of our pay was better than seeing any of our colleagues laid off – a sentiment I've seen expressed in many other offices. Alaskans are good at pulling together in hard times, at making personal sacrifices for the benefit of friends and neighbors. I left our meeting still worried about the state's financial future, but gratified I worked with people who exemplify the best qualities of our community.
Then at lunch, over my turkey sandwich, I picked up a copy of the Alaska Dispatch News and read the following headline: "Alaska Legislature OKs spending 450K to sue Gov. Walker over Medicaid expansion." I nearly choked on a pickle. The article explained that 10 legislators had decided to give almost half a million dollars to private law firms to initiate this lawsuit. Of course, that figure doesn't account for the that the governor will then have to use state resources to defend against this suit. Walker estimates this will bring the price tag of the lawsuit up to $1 million.
Sadly, this isn't the first instance of costly political gamesmanship in this time of budget crisis. Still fresh in my mind are the layoff notices I and 10,000 other public employees received last June when the Legislature ended its regular session without passing a funded budget. Of course, to those of us receiving these notices, it was anything but a game: It played with our means to pay our mortgages and feed our families. In addition to the stress and anxiety this caused, state agencies also had to waste time and money drawing up contingency plans for operating with no staff while the Legislature drug its feet through two additional months and several special sessions.
In the end, the only people who benefited financially were the legislators themselves. This frivolous political theater cost the state an extra quarter of a million dollars in extra per diem it had to pay out to the legislators for the special session. According to a June article in Alaska Dispatch News, the average pay boost to each legislator was $4,600. Some were paid quite a bit more. Rep. Mark Neuman, R-Big Lake, one of the 10 who authorized the Medicaid lawsuit, netted himself an extra $10,000, the second highest payout in the Legislature.
There have been thousands of words printed in this paper debating the wisdom of the Medicaid expansion. Rather than entering that fray, I'd simply like to point out the real costs of this kind of political grandstanding. In the days when our state was flush with cash, our Legislature could spend millions of dollars to make a political point without it impacting the overall state budget. But those days are over.
Political theatrics may be consequence-free -- even profitable -- for our legislators, but for the rest of us, it's money that could have gone to restore essential public services. These are being cut all over the state. Let's look at just one area: law enforcement. The Alaska State Troopers have shuttered their Talkeetna post and are scheduled to do the same to their Girdwood post by the end of the year. The Talkeetna post was staffed by a sergeant, four troopers and an office assistant. Closing it saved $90,000 a year, or less than a quarter of what the Legislature is spending on its Medicaid lawsuit. But the price paid by residents may turn out to be substantially higher. With the Talkeetna post gone, the area has no regular law enforcement presence. Residents will have to rely on the Mat-Su West Post in Meadow Lakes, at least an hour's drive away.
The Department of Public Safety has also disbanded the Alaska Bureau of Investigation's four-person Cold Case Investigation Unit. With over 70 cases under investigation for new leads, the Cold Case Unit has brought charges in high-profile cases such as the murder of Bonnie Craig in Anchorage. Closing the unit saved the Department of Public Safety $383,000 per year -- still less than the $450,000 the Legislature authorized for its Medicaid lawsuit.
It's hard to justify a partisan political lawsuit when just a fraction of that money could have kept trooper posts open so that Talkeetna, Trapper Creek, Petersville and Girdwood wouldn't have to be added to the already long list of rural communities without adequate law enforcement protection. Is political gamesmanship really more important than basic public safety? Our legislators need to take a cue from the rest of us public employees and remember that first and foremost -- before they are Democrats or Republicans -- they are Alaskans.
Marcelle McDannel has worked in criminal law for almost two decades, both as a prosecutor and as a criminal defense attorney. She currently practices criminal defense statewide. Contact her at marcelle@alaskadispatch.com.
The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com