Politics

Living in America right now can feel like you and your dad are trying to fix a car, but you can’t even agree on where the engine is. And neither one of you can fathom how the other could’ve been so wrong this whole time and still drive a car. So you’re glaring at each other, white-knuckling a wrench — and the car’s still broken.

It’s not just you. The Pew Research Center says the political and ideological divide in the U.S. is wider now than it’s been in decades. And in a small town in Alaska — especially one you can’t drive away from — it can feel like there’s no escaping the conflict.

Ketchikan has seen a lot of demonstrations lately. There have been protests and rallies against and for the federal government, the mass firings, abortion, and just Donald Trump in general.

When I talked to people at the protests and rallies, though, one thing stood out. Lots of people talked about resenting people they love because of their politics. They talked about how much it sucks, and how exhausted they feel.

Believe it or not, reporters feel that tension too. So I fired off some emails to family therapists in town. “I need your expertise on navigating pressure points,” I wrote.

I told them I wasn’t comfortable with how reactive and angry I felt, and I didn’t think I was alone. I said I wanted to know if there was a way to not feel that way.

One therapist responded immediately.

“I believe there are a few of us who would appreciate talking about this topic,” she wrote. “It’s certainly at the forefront of my life currently, both with clients and personally.”

_______

Caitlin Andrews has tea and a noise machine in her waiting room. Her enormous therapy dog, Guinness, snoozed in a big armchair next to me while we talked.

Andrews’ practice is called Oilean Wellbeing – that’s Irish for “Island.” She says that in a small island town like Ketchikan, the cavernous political divide “just feels really heavy.” And she says alienation from others in the community is something her clients have been experiencing more and more.

“This is huge. I mean, the week of the elections, that was all my clients talked about. It was affecting everyone in one way or another – whether arguments with their family, not seeing eye to eye, or feeling like their household was going to be affected,” she said. “Those are all really, real things that I think therapists across the country are faced with right now.”

Andrews is a family therapist and works with people across the political spectrum. Many of her clients are teenagers and their families. She says when it comes to religion and politics, everyone needs supportive people to talk to.

“Find the people that you can have constructive, healthy discussions with,” she said. “It’s sad that it can’t be, like, the people you’ve always had in your life — but that’s just life.”

Andrews says it’s normal to feel anger towards the people closest to you, but we should ask ourselves what’s under the surface.

“Anger is not ever by itself. It’s a secondary emotion. There’s always something causing anger,” she said.

None of this is simple. Andrews says it’s important to stand up for what you believe in, but if you care about the other person, it matters how you do it.

“The important part is being able to circle back and talk about that,” she said. “If they’re emotionally mature enough and saying ‘Hey, I want to talk about what happened with our conversation.”

Still, it’s easy for both people in a political argument to take it as a personal attack.

“Especially with family, sometimes people have a hard time separating what they’re supporting versus it being about them,” Andrews said. “Sometimes, when we are upset with another person, it’s projecting something like rejection.”

And Andrews says that sometimes, protecting yourself can mean drawing a line and taking painful topics off the table.

“Go in prepared to say, ‘This is getting ugly, and I love you too much. We’re gonna have to stop talking about this topic,’” she said. “That’s a boundary.”

Some degree of pain is often built into the foundations of family relationships, but Andrews doesn’t advocate for her clients to tear it all down.

“It’s not all or nothing,” she said “I don’t think you have to cut someone off, but you have to really protect yourself.”

She says her clients often feel powerless, like no one is listening. But she told me that I’d already done step one: acknowledging I have a problem.

“That can sometimes be the hardest part,” she said. “A lot of people don’t take that responsibility. People come to me because they want to get better.”

And Andrews believes there’s one thing everyone can control: their reactions to the headlines and the people in their lives who may read them differently. And she says that’s a good place to start.

There have been more than a dozen political protests at the Alaska State Capitol since President Donald Trump took office in January.

But members of an anti-abortion group called Alaskans for Life who gathered on Thursday said they didn’t have specific demands for legislators. Instead, they took to the steps of the Capitol to spread awareness for their cause.

A group of 30 people prayed while huddling under a tent in the driving wind and rain.

They were up against more than the weather. Throughout the rally, individuals walking and driving past yelled their dissent with boos and chants of “my body my choice.”

Attendees like Jane Villant said they want to lead the conversation around abortion with care.

“Well, it’s all about saving the babies,” she said. “You know that young women that find themselves – or older women that find themselves – pregnant, that there’s options out there.”

The rally came as access to abortion has been limited nationally and locally – though the Alaska Supreme Court has ruled repeatedly that the state constitution’s privacy clause protects abortion rights. Still, lawmakers have attempted annually to limit abortion access, most recently during the current legislative session.

Abortion rights dissolved nationally in 2022 when the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade — a 1973 Supreme Court ruling that established abortion rights federally.

Juneau’s Planned Parenthood clinic closed last year, limiting access to abortion care locally, though patients can still receive abortion care remotely. The Trump administration continues to target federal funding for reproductive care.

In a speech at the rally, Priscilla Hurley said she was protesting against abortions because she felt pressure from partners and her parents to have the procedure when she was a young woman.

“So I go into the hospital pregnant. I come out not pregnant. And I went back to college,” she said. “I was just like, ‘Yes, I’ll comply.’ But there was nobody that talked about it.”

Hurley pointed to the right to choose, and said she didn’t get that choice. It’s a line of argument also used by abortion rights advocates.

Many protesters said that abortion clinics don’t give pregnant women the complete picture of their options, or the potential for trauma from abortions.

Rose O’Hara-Holley, the Alaska state director for Planned Parenthood Alliance Advocates, said in an email, “We trust Alaskans to make the best decisions for themselves and their families, based on facts, science, and compassion, not fear or misinformation.”

In a study of 1,000 women who sought abortions, more than 95% of those who chose to have abortions reported that it was the right decision for them when interviewed over the next five years.

For the most part, speakers and attendees avoided talking about politics. Tiffany Bean said she didn’t have any requests for legislators in the Capitol building they were gathered in front of.

“I don’t think I am familiar enough with any bills or anything like that that they have on the table right now,” Bean said. “I appreciate them. I would like them to know that I pray for them on a regular basis.”

Bean said she just wants people to approach this issue with more openness and less divisiveness.

Correction: An earlier version of this story misrepresented the timeline of a study of women who sought abortions.

U.S. Sen. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, is calling on the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to allow Ukrainians with temporary protected status to remain in the country, following reports people had received an email that their status was revoked and they had seven days to leave the U.S.

The agency has said the April 3 notice was issued by mistake, and the Ukrainians’ designation under what’s known as “humanitarian parole status” has not been terminated. They had been granted the status under the “Uniting for Ukraine” program.

But Murkowski penned a strongly worded letter on Sunday, with U.S. Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, D-New Hampshire, ranking Democrat on the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem condemning the move, even if it was “apparently an error.”

“Even if this message was sent in error, threatening the abrupt termination of humanitarian parole for Ukrainians is alarming and adverse to the U.S. national interest,” they wrote.

Humanitarian parole is a temporary immigration status granted to those fleeing humanitarian crises, and can be revoked at any time. There were 651,000 Ukrainians granted humanitarian parole in the United States last year. An estimated 6.9 million Ukrainians have been displaced since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022.

“Ukrainians who have participated in the Uniting for Ukraine program have entered the U.S. lawfully, passed rigorous screening and vetting requirements,” the senators wrote. “These are individuals, including children, who have fled a war zone and followed a lawful process. Many are working in our states, paying taxes and contributing to local communities.”

Murkowski and Shaheen also requested a briefing on any future plans regarding the Ukrainians’ status.

“We urge the agency to provide immediate clarification to Ukrainians in the United States that their humanitarian parole has not been terminated, and that there are no plans to terminate the program while Ukraine is still under active attack by Russia,” they said.

The agency’s notice to those with humanitarian parole began: “It is time for you to leave the United States,” and the recipient’s parole would be terminated in seven days. “If you do not depart the United States immediately you will be subject to potential law enforcement actions that will result in your removal from the United States — unless you have otherwise obtained a lawful basis to remain here.”

Spatrisano said she has received several reports of people in Alaska receiving the DHS termination notice, and the news spread secondhand very quickly. She said the effect was chilling.

“The email was very scary for Ukrainians living in Alaska and across the country,” she said. “Because they really are at the whims of at any point an announcement coming from DHS, and when that announcement is made, they’ll have to respond accordingly to what the announcement is.”

An estimated 1,500 Ukrainians have arrived since 2022, about 500 people per year, Spatrisano said. Many joined family members, communities, and the workforce, “really much needed jobs throughout the state,” she said. But the uncertainty takes a toll.

“A mental health toll,” she said. “It takes a serious toll on people’s well being, and that impacts on our state. There are Ukrainian families who are in the process of buying homes here in Alaska, you know, in the process of laying down roots, in the process of getting job training programs to advance in jobs that the state frankly needs really badly. And those are all investments in time and in energy and in resources that families are now wondering if they should do.”

Murkowski and Shaheen have asked for “an immediate explanation as to how these emails were sent in error” and “that there are no plans to terminate the program while Ukraine is still under active attack by Russia.”

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More than 1,300 people in Juneau joined nationwide protests through the Hands-off rally at the Alaska State Capitol on Saturday.

It was Juneau’s largest demonstration opposing the Trump administration’s actions so far this year, and many protestors used music as a way to voice their frustration.

Two days before artists were set to perform on the mainstage at the Alaska Folk Festival, hundreds of demonstrators of all ages took to the street in front of the capitol in opposition to the deluge of executive orders President Donald Trump has issued in his first two months in office.

Toddlers in rainsuits and young children on tricycles waved miniature American flags as an organized list of singers and speakers took turns at the microphone.

Claire Richardson, a volunteer with the group, ReSisters, that organized Juneau’s version of the nationwide rally, led the crowd in a chant.

“We are here to tell Donald Trump and Elon Musk, hands off our democracy,” she said, as the crowd shouted back. “Hands off our children’s education. Hands off our jobs. Hands off our veterans. Hands off our bodies and gender choice. Hands off our elections. Hands off Medicaid. Hands off our libraries and museums. Hands off Social Security. Hands off Greenland and hands off Canada.”

People carried signs with slogans like “No Kings,” “Fight Fascism,” “Save our democracy,” and “The only immigrant taking away American jobs is Elon Musk.”

Heidi Drygas, executive director of the Alaska State Employees Association, called for protestors to stand up against Trump’s executive order stripping the collective bargaining rights of federal workers.

“We say this in organized labor a lot: an injury to one is an injury to all,” Drygas said. “We have to stand in solidarity with our federal workers, and that means holding our congressional delegation to account.”

Odin Brudie sang a rendition of “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King, and early childhood educator Supanika Ordóñez encouraged the crowd to take three actions in their everyday lives.

“Number one: shop local. Do not support large companies who have shown they don’t support our democracy,” Ordóñez said. “Two: share your stories. Continue those letters and calls.”

And third, she said, is practicing self-care and finding joy amid the political turmoil.

The rally ended with local musician Colette Costa leading the crowd in a spirited rendition of “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes.

Organizers with ReSisters say they plan to hold another rally on Saturday, April 19.

Correction: This story has been updated to correct the spelling of Supanika Ordóñez’s name and the headline has been updated to more accurately reflect Saturday’s turnout. 

 

U.S. Sen. Dan Sullivan veered into criticizing a federal judge when he spoke to reporters at the state Capitol on March 20.

“I don’t want to get specific, but we have a couple district judges that rule with the far-left radical environmental groups every single time,” Sullivan said. “And that judge, in my view, has done more damage to our state than almost anyone imaginable.”

It was obvious whom he was talking about, because Sharon Gleason is now Alaska’s only fully active U.S. District Court judge. He went on to assail her impartiality again a moment later, when discussing his intentions for selecting the next federal judge to serve with Gleason.

“My red line is, we’re not going to have another judge like the one that we were talking about,” Sullivan said. “I’m going to make sure Alaska does not get a federal judge who sides with the far-left radical enviros on every case.”

Sullivan’s remarks caused a stir in Alaska’s legal community. Lawyers familiar with Gleason’s record say Sullivan is mischaracterizing her.

“She does not always rule in favor of environmental groups,” said former Anchorage attorney Jeff Feldman. “And I can say that both by looking at her history as well as from personal experience, because she has ruled against me in environmental cases, or against my clients.”

To cite a few prominent examples:

In 2021, Glease ruled against environmental groups trying to block oil leasing in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

In 2023, Gleason dismissed lawsuits aimed at stopping Willow, ConocoPhillips’s oil and gas project in the National Petroleum Reserve.

And then, on March 25 she issued her decision favoring a state-owned investment bank that won leases in the Arctic Refuge.

Feldman, now a law professor at the University of Washington, said 81% of Gleason’s decisions are upheld on appeal, a slightly higher rate than other federal judges who have served in Alaska. Feldman considers Sullivan a friend. He said that while it’s fair to criticize specific judicial decisions, it’s inappropriate to “throw rocks at a judge” by alleging a bias that doesn’t exist.

“When a leader makes that kind of allegation, that suggests that a judge’s rulings are both wrong and politically motivated, that undermines faith and confidence in the judiciary,” Feldman said.

Federal judges are nominated by the president and confirmed by the Senate. By tradition, the senators from the state with the judicial vacancy play a big role. They usually select a candidate and send the name to the White House. For several decades, Alaska’s U.S. senators have made their selection with the help of the Alaska Bar Association. The Bar Association collects names of applicants and then polls its members about them.

Sen. Lisa Murkowski likes the process. Sullivan doesn’t.

“One bar poll is not a reflective of what’s out there, in my view, and I feel very strongly about that,” Sullivan said.

Case in point, Sullivan said, is Joshua Kindred’s selection. Kindred was the District Court Judge who resigned last July amid findings of improper conduct. Sullivan praised Kindred at his 2019 Senate confirmation hearing but speaks of him with disgust now and is quick to point out he wanted someone else.

To Sullivan, the Kindred fiasco shows the need for more pre-nomination screening. So Sullivan is using a method he devised: He’s appointed a committee of Alaskans to collect and review applications.

Sullivan has been keeping most of his process under wraps, including who the potential nominees are. Sullivan said confidentiality attracts more applicants.

Retired state court judge Elaine Andrews said the Bar poll works well if senators choose from the top end of the list. Kindred finished near the bottom. Andrews says she wonders about applicants who will only step up for Sullivan’s secret process.

“If they’re afraid of a terrible bar poll,” she said, “because they’re either inexperienced, intellectually unqualified, or an ideologue that they know people do not believe will be fair — well, then we’ve got a problem.”

Andrews said nominees should represent the best and the brightest, and that the Bar poll helps with that because attorneys are the ones who know the work habits and professionalism of their colleagues.

“The goal should be to find a person who is willing to work, who’s capable of understanding the complex matters that comes before the federal court, and who has the courage to apply the law to the facts and decide the case,” she said.

Alaska has two vacant positions on the U.S. District Court bench. Sullivan said he and Murkowski could not agree on judicial nominations last fall but are working to find candidates they both like.

An Alaska Native corporation’s shareholders are questioning its subsidiary’s lucrative government contracts for migrant detention, while the Trump administration’s immigration crackdown continues.

Akima, a subsidiary of northwest Alaska’s NANA Regional Corp., has faced accusations in national news stories about the poor treatment of migrants at detention facilities it runs. Now, a small but vocal group among NANA’s 15,000 Iñupiaq shareholders want the company to get out of the migrant detention business.

One recent story in the Guardian included a federal inspector’s report of excessive force used on a man detained at an Akima-run center in Texas and poor living conditions at the facility. Another story by USA Today detailed how detained women on buses in Florida were forced to urinate on the floor on their way to an Akima facility, where they were packed into cells and did not have easy access to drinking water. One woman held there told USA Today she wasn’t fed anything for 36 hours.

Akima’s contract to run an Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention center at the U.S. base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba has also drawn scrutiny.

Jackie Qataliña Schaeffer is a former NANA board member who helped craft a recent survey of her fellow shareholders. She said there had been a lack of transparency from NANA leadership about the ICE contracts, and the survey was meant to gauge how the shareholders felt about the contracts after the recent news about Akima-run facilities.

While a minority of the survey respondents said they supported the contracts or weren’t sure how they felt about them, Schaeffer was unequivocal in her opposition.

“We are Iñupiaq, from the northwest Arctic, that are founded on Iñupiat illitqusait, which is our foundation of who we are,” she said. “And those values do not align with any of this type of work.”

‘Not all money is good money’

The survey circulated on Facebook, and Schaeffer said all of those who responded were verified to be NANA shareholders. More than three-quarters of the roughly 100 respondents said their corporation should not allow its subsidiaries to provide detention services for ICE.

“There must (be) and are other ways to make money in a more positive way for humanity’s sake,” wrote one survey respondent.

“If we want to continue to say we treat people with dignity and respect we must immediately end all relations with ICE and detention centers,” wrote another.

“Not all money is good money,” someone else wrote.

NANA’s communications staff and executive leadership team did not respond to multiple requests for comment this week. The chair of its board of directors declined to comment.

At a recent shareholder meeting, NANA’s leaders disagreed with the notion that Akima should get out of the migrant detention business.

Schaeffer and two other shareholders crafted and distributed the survey, and another shareholder presented the results at the meeting.

Two shareholders who wanted to remain anonymous, because they feared retribution from the corporation, said the chair of NANA’s board of directors, Piquk Linda Lee, defended Akima at the meeting and said staff at the detention centers had NANA’s Iñupiaq values in mind.

The shareholders said Lee also invoked Iñupiat illitqusait – which means “those things that make us who we are” in Iñupiaq – and said NANA and Akima would never treat anyone badly.

“Our employees are trained to recognize the difficulties individuals face and treat them as they would want their family members treated,” reads a slide NANA leadership shared at the meeting.

Led by chief executive Bill Monet, who is also NANA’s chief operating officer, Akima and its subsidiaries comprise NANA’s federal contracting branch. They generate a majority of the Alaska Native corporation’s overall profits, according to information presented at the shareholder meeting. Charts showed that Akima’s revenue each year is often higher than that of NANA’s Red Dog Mine, one of the world’s largest zinc mines, located in northwest Alaska.

Akima brought in about $2.2 billion last year, NANA executives told shareholders at the meeting.

‘Let’s support them as they support us’

Government contracting rules consider Alaska Native corporations to be small businesses, so they have an easier path to getting the contracts. NANA is not the only Alaska Native corporation that has subsidiaries with ICE contracts, but the scope of each corporation’s involvement is difficult to understand because of the many subsidiaries nested within each other. For example, within Akima itself are more than 40 companies, each aimed at getting contracts to provide different government services.

But some of NANA’s shareholders, who are technically the corporation’s owners, were not aware of Akima’s ICE contracts. A little more than half of those who responded to the survey said they did not know the NANA subsidiary was involved in migrant detention.

Still, others who responded to the survey were aware of the contracts and unbothered by the recent news reports, which some called “fake news.” One respondent said the survey questions were based on a prejudiced view of ICE, law enforcement, contracting and the current presidential administration.

“As a NANA shareholder, I am impressed and proud of the work Akima does and trust that Akima employees do their best,” the survey respondent wrote. “Let’s support them as they support us.”

Along with issuing dividends twice a year, NANA helps its shareholders with things like supporting their travel for healthcare, providing scholarships for post-secondary education and awarding grants for economic development in villages.

But Schaeffer, the former NANA board member who helped create and distribute the survey, said she couldn’t understand the viewpoint that shareholders should be proud of what Akima is doing or that the company shared NANA’s Iñupiaq values.

“I honestly can’t be in the skin of those people who say those things,” she said.

There’s a certain grim irony to the detentions and deportations, Schaeffer said, noting that Indigenous people were the original occupants of what became the United States.

“All the rest of America was founded on immigration. Every single person who’s not Indigenous to this land is an immigrant, or they come from immigrants,” she said. “How do you decipher who you choose to send away? The whole concern here is that these are inhumane behaviors coming from our contractors. Regardless, you’re choosing money over humane situations, so money over people.”