This year’s switch to ranked-choice voting in Alaska is something new, maybe even surprisingly new for those who missed or forgot about the 2020 statewide ballot initiative that put forth the change.
But new, while exciting for some people, can be scary and disconcerting and disruptive for others. This coming from a 70-year-old who is stuck so deep in his own comfort zone that I wear the same button-down cotton shirts (never white), same two-tone saddle shoes, use the same hair shampoo and same original flavor Crest toothpaste. Hey, nothing wrong with the 1950s.
But change happens, even for those of us who resist.
There is good new, like the new way your partner discovered to turn 2-year-old frozen halibut into something almost as great tasting as the fresh fillets you can’t afford.
And there’s bad new, like discovering your old phone no longer works with new apps and your only choice is to buy a new phone you don’t want at a price you can’t afford.
Ranked-choice voting is fresher than that old halibut, and much better for your life than a new phone.
Alaskans in 2020 approved the new voting system which will get its first test this year — twice. It will be used for the special election to fill the unexpired term of the late Congressman Don Young. And then it will be used to elect a governor, the Legislature, a U.S. senator, and to fill Alaska’s lone seat in the U.S. House for a full two-year term.
Think of ranked-choice voting as picking the menu for a holiday dinner and it will be a lot easier.
First, everyone coming to dinner is asked to nominate a main dish and then everyone gets to vote on the available choices, which might include prime rib, roast pork, fried chicken, lemon chicken, baked salmon, sauteed prawns, liver and onions or steamed tofu. The host counts the ballots and the top four choices make it to the finals.
The host next asks all the dinner guests to rank their final choices from the top four. Let’s assume prime rib, fried chicken, baked salmon and liver and onions are the top four. No, not my top choices, but some people like liver and onions.
Anyway, the host tells you to rank your four choices in order of preference, No. 1 through No. 4. He will tally the votes, tossing out the lowest vote-getters until one dish is left on the menu that was named on more than half the ballots.
That’s ranked-choice voting, only now think of it for political candidates. All the candidates for each office get tossed into the salad bowl of the primary election, regardless of political party, and the top four vote-getters will emerge from the salad course and advance to the main course in the general election.
Alaskans will mark their ballots, ranking those top four in order of which they like best. The ballot-counting machines will whir and spin and figure out which candidate has the support of a majority of voters. That person will become the main course for the next two years, or four years or six years, depending on the term of office.
The intent is that the winner will be more reasonable, more willing to work with elected officials of all parties to get something done, rather than claim victory by being the loudest, spiciest voice for a single political slice of the voter pie.
The key to this is to mark all four choices in the general election, not just your No. 1 pick. Leaving Nos. 2, 3 and 4 blank would mean you could end up with liver and onions for dinner.
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