Days before Alaskans get to vote, the federal government is already trying to overturn the result.
Last week, at Donald Trump’s behest, the justice department sued to block the certification of Alaska’s US Senate race, if the Republican incumbent narrowly loses; a judge dismissed that suit on Sunday, though the administration said it planned to appeal. On Wednesday, Trump demanded that Mary Peltola, the Alaska Native Democrat whom polls favor to win, be removed from the ballot and prosecuted. Piling on, Alaska’s Republican governor has since ordered an investigation into Peltola’s campaign.
A New York Times investigation reported that operatives working with Peltola’s campaign helped recruit the other Sullivan, a retired teacher from Petersburg, to split the incumbent’s vote. Peltola and her campaign have denied this.
Whatever your reaction to the tactic, it’s generally legal in Alaska, where the state supreme court refused to remove the other Sullivan from the ballot.
In 2020, Trump’s allies pushed Kanye West on to ballots in states including Vermont, Arkansas and Wisconsin to take away votes from Democrats. Again, in 2024, Trump allies worked to get Jill Stein and Cornel West on ballots in swing states, and Trump praised both from a rally stage because each “takes 100%” from Democrats.
Not one federal lawyer intervened. What’s different in Alaska is not the tactic. It’s that the federal government has decided to police it in one race, before a single vote is counted.
The pretext falls flat. In Ohio, the Libertarian candidate Bill Redpath is being promoted by Democrat-affiliated groups, as Republicans have spent more than $1.58m boosting Gregory Levy, a progressive candidate. At the same time in Iowa, Democratic-aligned Pacs have deployed hundreds of thousands of dollars to promote a Libertarian candidate, Thomas Raymond Laehn, whose presence on the ballot could eat into the Republican candidate Ashley Hinson’s already slim polling lead.
That last example is the very same tactic, used by the same party, against the same kind of target: a Republican in a tight race. The justice department hasn’t touched this. It has sued in only one state, the one where an Alaska Native woman is favored to win.
The Democratic candidate Peggy Flanagan in Minnesota, a member of the White Earth Band of Ojibwe, is experiencing similarly heightened scrutiny in her US Senate campaign.
On 21 October, the Wall Street Journal reported that Flanagan had inflated her credentials by claiming Phi Beta Kappa membership. WSJ’s perusal didn’t hold up. Phi Beta Kappa’s associate secretary and chief operating officer, Amber Fox, confirmed to CBS News that Flanagan was inducted in 2002. WSJ eventually corrected the story.
Political scientists have shown how doubts about electability follow women of color. Primary voters may personally agree with their positions, yet withhold support because they fear other voters, especially general-election swing voters, won’t back the candidates. Local party chairs share these doubts too.
Researchers at Rutgers’ Center for American Women and Politics have also found that Native American women in politics, among other women of color, carry heightened stress and perform additional emotional labor because of their intersecting identities, though Native women remain among the least studied groups in the field.
Peltola and Flanagan are testing these entrenched doubts in majority-white statewide races, and the scrutiny lands right as they do.
Peltola has also weathered two major New York Times investigations in five weeks, one into her treatment of staff and one into the ballot scheme, and her lead has held.
No Native American woman has ever served in the US Senate. This year, two are within reach of it, and both have spent the final weeks of their campaigns fending off scrutiny, one from a major newspaper that appears to have gotten the story wrong, the other from a federal government that has singled out her race alone.
Why Alaska? The simplest answer is arithmetic. Republicans hold the Senate 53-47, and Alaska is one of only a small handful of toss-ups that will decide if Trump can keep his majority for the last two years of his presidency. It’s a state he has carried three times, but a majority of likely voters now disapprove of him.
Alaska Native voters complicate the picture even more deeply. In 2024, the North Slope and North-west Arctic district, where Alaska Native voters are a majority, gave Trump half its vote in the presidential race and Peltola 55% in that year’s House race. Many of the voters Washington now claims to be protecting chose both.
But the method matters more than the motive. A justice department that will sue to pre-empt a state’s certification, on behalf of one candidate, before a single ballot is counted, is testing the limits of a power the constitution leaves to states.
If it works in Alaska, what stops it from working in 2028, in any state that is close enough to matter? That it is being tried first on an Alaska Native woman, in a state far from Washington’s attention, should ring alarm bells for far more people than the Native voters it targets first.
I’m an enrolled member of the Fort Peck Assiniboine and Sioux Tribes, and on Tuesday I will vote in New York, not Alaska.
But I’ve watched this race the way many Native people have: as a test of whether Washington will truly let us win on the same terms as everyone else. My great-great-great-great-grandfather, Mahpiya Maza, also known as Chief Iron Cloud, signed the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie, which guaranteed Black Hills to the Sioux, a promise the federal government broke within a decade.
It was a harbinger Native people know well, and it’s one we recall when the government tries to rewrite the rules after the fact. What is now happening in Alaska looks familiar.
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Petala Ironcloud is a Lakota-Dakota investigative journalist and writer based in New York City
