"No man's life, liberty, or property are safe while the legislature is in session." -- Mark Twain
Readers might recall that just before Christmas state legislators told the governor how to start cutting his new administration's budget. The advice itself was tough but not unfair. The letter seemed odd, however, coming from the Legislature, a government group whose own budget tells a different story.
Upon his departure earlier in December, Gov. Sean Parnell had recommended an eye-popping $79.5 million for the 60-member Legislature, a 5.4 percent increase. Those record-high dollars top a steady mushrooming of the Legislature's spending over the years, almost doubling from 10 years ago and at a rate three to four times faster than inflation. In fiscal year 2005, oil was at $40 a barrel, and the Legislature authorized about $42 million for itself. Now, all told our legislators get an average $1.3 million per year each for support staff, offices and compensation for several months of work. Like former ADN columnist Mike Doogan often said in these pages, many legislators are there because it's the best job they can get.
You can see a snapshot of the current bloated organization in reports put out by the state experts. They show that some 262 permanent full-time positions and another 298 part-time positions are now dedicated to the Legislature, accounting for most of its spending. For example, the budget and audit committee alone has 83 staff. The legislators' own salaries and benefits come to $5 million each year (averaging $82,000 per legislator), plus another couple million dollars for travel and other expenses. Various year-round committees, as well as an ombudsman, rely on about 50 full-time staff positions. That's not all. The legislative operating budget pays more than 200 aides and other costs. They do nice work, but I think we can't afford them anymore.
Lining the Legislature's own nest isn't just a habit of the people in charge at the moment. Regardless of political party, they nearly unanimously vote more money for themselves year after year. For example, 59 out of 60 legislators voted for the current state budget with more money for themselves. They're still looking for the one guy who voted no.
But what's a right level of funding for the Legislature if it were to swallow the same medicine it prescribes to others? One option may be found in its 1980s budgets, when oil throughput was highest, growth was rampant, and a lot of important decisions were underway. If the legislative budget of $28 million in 1988 (the year of peak Alaska oil production) is adjusted for inflation, it would be $55 million in today's dollars. To paraphrase Sen. Kevin Meyer's admonition on Jan. 15, if we got by with not having extras back then, why do we still need them today? After all, neither the size of the Legislature nor our need for its efforts has increased since oil peaked.
Or better yet, consider North Dakota as a benchmark. North Dakota's population size, as well as its annual oil production, rural character, and tough weather all resemble Alaska's. Nevertheless, North Dakota has a state budget of only about $7 billion per year and only 9,200 employees. In contrast, Alaska has a state budget of some $12 billion and about 24,000 state employees, although our state is responsible for funding public schools unlike North Dakota. More specifically, North Dakota's 144-member Legislature meets every other year and spends only about $15 million per year on itself, one-fifth of what the Alaska Legislature spends. Now that's fiscally conservative.
Over the last few elections, many if not most, ADN readers voted to return today's incumbents back to Juneau. Did you know they were spending $63 million per year more on themselves than a sister state finds necessary? For perspective, that amount could return our public schools' base student allocation to its 2011 level and keep your kids competitive.
By taking the same cure they prescribed to the governor, legislators would find themselves in a better position to insist the rest of the state government change its priorities. They would finally be leading from the front and by example. Until then, however, they can't show a fiscally conservative track record on the spending they control the most, their own.
Mike Bronson is a former building contractor living in Old Turnagain, a part of Spenard with pretensions, as Mike Doogan said.
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.