This is the second of four parts in an exclusive weekly series of articles in The Fulcrum by J.H. Snider on Alaska’s 2022 periodic constitutional convention referendum. Part I describes the spending spree over the referendum. Part II proposes a deterrence theory to help explain the extraordinary amount the no side spent. Part III describes the failure of the referendum’s marketplace for campaign finance disclosures. Part IV provides recommended reforms to fix this broken marketplace.
What was the purpose of the spending spree by Defend Our Constitution? Surprisingly, it may not have been merely to win this election. If so, it could have done that by spending much less, as reflected in the final vote on the convention referendum: 29.6% for and 70.4% against.
Defend Our Constitution hired one of Alaska’s top pollsters, Dittman Research, which told it on Oct. 25 that it had a 65% to 28% lead with only 7% undecided. Nevertheless, after Oct. 25, Defend Our Constitution spent $1.45 million, excluding refundable media buys for that period made before Oct. 25. Throughout the fall, the no campaign was ahead in the polls, although undecideds, if they had overwhelmingly shifted to support, could have made up the difference until the Oct. 25 poll. As of the “Thirty Day Report” (the campaign finance report due thirty days before an election), Defend Our Constitution reported that through Oct. 7 it had only raised $2.76 million and spent only $1.82 million, the latter only 39% of its final tally and including future scheduled media. Since conventional wisdom for ballot measures dictates not “to pile money on a measure already headed for victory,” much of the money spent after Oct 7 may have functioned to deter future yes campaigns in not only Alaska but the other thirteen states with the periodic constitutional convention referendum. If so, the message to future potential yes supporters was: “You will never beat a no campaign, so don’t even try.”
While this type of deterrence reasoning has been common in the campaign finance literature on candidate elections, where incumbent candidates build up war chests to deter challengers, it has been rare in the campaign finance literature dealing with referendums. One reason might be that periodic constitutional convention referendums are unique in that they reoccur with constitutionally specified predictability and across more than a dozen states. For example, from 2017 through 2034, at least one such referendum is on a state ballot every two years. Thus, a successful campaign to deter a referendum in one state can pay predictable dividends in the future not only for that state but many other states. Although not the main deterrence effect of interest here, Defend Our Constitution's shock and awe spending spree discouraged some ConventionYes! leaders during the final month before the election, leading them to shift their focus to candidate campaigns where they felt they could make a difference.
Having the same national organizations behind no campaigns across states and election cycles supports the future election deterrence hypothesis. In states with no campaigns in recent decades, government unions affiliated with either the National Education Association or American Federation of Teachers (depending on which teachers union has the most members in a particular state) have been their primary early organizers and financiers. While much of the organizing and financing has been done by local affiliates, the affiliates consult with their parent organizations who have developed time-tested winning strategies for conducting such campaigns. The affiliates also know that if they’re worried about losing in the weeks before a referendum, the NEA has a special fund for ballot measures with tens of millions of dollars of cash on hand to help them out. In Alaska, the largest declared contributor to the no campaign was the NEA. The largest dark money group behind the no campaign, the Sixteen Thirty Fund, which contributed seven times as much as the NEA, was run by a former NEA operative who had conducted similar ballot referendum campaigns for the NEA.
A consistent track record of big wins for these groups is highly valuable because it is rare for an activist or politician to seek to expend effort and political capital on a doomed cause. This includes democratic reform groups, who will generally avoid taking on losing issues like the plague. Even if they think a constitutional convention might be the only viable democratic reform mechanism in a state without the constitutional initiative (for example, to implement a genuinely independent redistricting commission, statewide ranked-choice voting, or legislative term limits), they still won’t lift a finger to call one if it means taking on and angering powerful political actors while being certain of losing.
For national organizations that are long-term, no campaign players, establishing deterrence in a small state such as Alaska is a bargain because doing so in states with a population more than ten times as large, such as Illinois, Michigan, New York, or Ohio, would be vastly more expensive. It’s like a superpower attempting to deter a much costlier war with another superpower by showing it can and will do whatever is necessary to win in a battle with a minor power. According to the 2020 U.S. Census, Alaska’s population is 733,391, making it the third smallest U.S. state by population and the smallest with the periodic constitutional convention referendum.
Alaska promised to break the national no players’ reputation for invincibility because the yes side had an issue, the Permanent Fund dividend, capable of mobilizing popular support without a large bankroll. An Alaskan statute requires that every citizen every year receive a “dividend” from the government from the Permanent Fund, which is funded by taxes on Alaskan oil revenue. In recent years, the legislature had diverted that dividend to paying for government services. Consequently, Republican lawmakers sought to mandate the dividend as an amendment to Alaska’s Constitution. Despite the popularity of the dividend, lawmakers couldn’t get the two-thirds vote in the legislature to propose a constitutional amendment, so some influential political figures backed calling a convention to bypass the legislature. Alaska’s government unions strenuously opposed both constitutional efforts to protect the Permanent Fund dividend because oil revenues paid for state services, including their members’ compensation.
Thus, Defend Our Constitution initially had good reason to fear losing the convention referendum. But after pulling ahead by double-digit percentages in October, it kept its foot on the money pedal rather than coasting to victory, thus teaching future potential yes campaigners a lesson. In its deterrence effect, it was like the Roman general who famously defeated a slave rebellion and then crucified thousands of the defeated slaves alongside a high-traffic road to advertise the power of Rome and thus deter future would-be slave rebellions.
Snider, the president of iSolon.org, is the editor of The State Constitutional Convention Clearinghouse, which provides summary information about the 14 U.S. states with a periodic constitutional convention referendum. He also edits separate websites, such as The Alaska State Constitutional Convention Clearinghouse, for each state that has a convention referendum on its ballot. Snider has a PhD in American Government from Northwestern University and been a fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government, the American Political Science Association, and New America.




















A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.