No state debt shall be contracted unless authorized by law for capital improvements and ratified by a majority of the voters of the state who vote on the question.
— The Alaska State Constitution
Today (Sept. 15, 2013) I read in Sheila Toomey's weekly "Alaska Ear" column - consistently the most interesting feature in the Anchorage Daily News - of the death of former longtime Juneau legislator Bill (not William) Ray. He served several terms in the House of Representatives before winning election to Juneau's only Senate seat.
Though virtually unknown to most Alaskans outside Juneau today, Ray was the power to be reckoned with during his heyday in the upper chamber where he ruled with an iron fist, usually as a ranking member or chair of the Finance Committee. He's a sure candidate for Alaska's mythical Legislative Hall of Fame. He was best known for his fierce defense against repeated efforts to move Alaska's capital from Juneau to anywhere else, .
At the opening of the Tenth Alaska Legislature in Juneau in January 1978, Senator Ray unexpectedly raised an issue not in concert with his strictly southeast Alaska constituency. It was a remarkable moment in a remarkable career, one which had far-reaching and profound implications for the state’s financial condition. .
Senator Ray’s query centered on the oil and gas reserves tax passed by the legislature in 1975, which had poured nearly half a billion dollars into the state treasury in 1975 and 1976, at the same time plunging the state that far into debt.
Senator Ray’s query centered on the oil and gas reserves tax passed by the legislature in 1975, which had poured nearly half a billion dollars into the state treasury in 1975 and 1976, at the same time plunging the state that far into debt.
In 1975, the state treasury’s balance was shrinking alarmingly, with completion of the trans Alaska oil pipeline—and the massive revenues its operation would bring to the state—still at least two years away. The oil and gas reserves tax was devised as a means of covering the enormous budget deficits that would occur in 1976 and 1977 as a result of both the governor’s and the legislature’s spending excesses and the two-year delay in the pipeline’s completion. It simply imposed a 20-mill tax on the value of oil and gas deposits still in the ground for the two-year period, and was calculated to bring in approximately a quarter of a billion dollars each year, mainly from oil and gas reserves in the Prudhoe Bay field.
But there its simplicity ended. A further provision, in effect, required the state to repay the revenues it received, once oil production began at Prudhoe Bay and oil began to flow through the pipeline. But rather than require the state to repay the reserves tax receipts in hard cash, the act gave to the companies producing the oil a tax credit against future oil production, which is subject to the state’s severance tax and royalty interest.
In effect, the state received during 1976 and 1977 the revenues from the reserves tax that it needed to balance its budget those two years. Then after the pipeline went into operation in mid-1977, the oil companies were able to deduct from the severance tax they would normally pay to the state a credit equal to the reserves taxes they paid during 1976 and 1977, or roughly half a billion dollars. Based on a beginning flow of 1.2 million barrels of oil per day, it was expected that the half billion dollars received by the state in advance reserves tax payments would be fully repaid to the companies owning and producing the oil over the next five years.
But then fate intervened. When first enacted in 1975, the reserves tax assumed that production from Prudhoe Bay would begin in 1977 at the rate of 1.2 million bpd. It also assumed that the tariff which the owners of the pipeline would charge, or be allowed to charge, for transporting oil through their pipeline would not exceed $4 per barrel.
But both those assumptions were knocked in the head, first by the explosion which put Pump Station No. 8 out of commission in the summer of 1977, thus limiting oil production to six hundred thousand barrels per day until spring of 1978. Then, both the federal government and courts granted the pipeline owners authority to charge much higher tariffs than the state anticipated, thus further reducing future state revenues significantly, unless the state were to win a reversal on appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court.
But both those assumptions were knocked in the head, first by the explosion which put Pump Station No. 8 out of commission in the summer of 1977, thus limiting oil production to six hundred thousand barrels per day until spring of 1978. Then, both the federal government and courts granted the pipeline owners authority to charge much higher tariffs than the state anticipated, thus further reducing future state revenues significantly, unless the state were to win a reversal on appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court.
Together, these two setbacks—coupled with an impending glut of North Slope oil on the U.S. West Coast which would require up to one million bpd to be shipped through the Panama Canal to more distant markets at a much higher cost—reduced the state’s revenue expectations by several hundred million dollars over the next few years.
In order to make up the impending deficits, it seemed likely that the governor and the legislature would move to extend the reserves tax for at least another year, possibly longer. Which brought to the fore Senator Ray’s rude but relevant question, and one which state as well as industry officials—for their own reasons—had nervously ignored for two years. Was the reserves tax legal under the state constitution, which forbids the state to go into debt beyond the end of current fiscal year without the express consent of the voters, and then only for capital improvements?
Clearly, the state was into its future earnings (and the oil companies’ pockets) for nearly half a billion dollars, which had to be repaid by one means or another. If that wasn’t a debt, I don’t know what constitutes a debt. Yet, it was neither “ratified by a majority of voters,” nor was its expenditure limited to “capital improvements.” While he admittedly voted for the reserves tax when it was enacted in 1975, Senator Ray acknowledged in 1977 that he did so because the state was in an otherwise unsolvable financial bind. He had felt the tax could be justified then on a one-time basis, particularly since rosy predictions of optimum oil flow and minimal tariff charges promised an early end to what even many of its supporters suspected may have been an end-run around the state constitution. And, as noted below, the oil industry in Alaska didn’t oppose it.
But in the aftermath, Ray said, he was no longer prepared to suffer the prospect of extending what was, at worse, an unconstitutional practice and, at best, an unwise one, which would put the state even further into hock to the oil companies. And while I suspect that at least one of Ray’s unspoken motives for raising this question belatedly might have had something to do with the financial issues surrounding proposals to move the state capital from Juneau to Willow, near Anchorage, he should be applauded for asking it nonetheless. For there was not, and never has been, any doubt in my view that the oil reserves tax was as flagrant a violation of Alaska’s state constitution as one can find.
Curiously, the oil companies subject to the reserves tax didn’t vigorously oppose it, as they normally would any other new oil tax proposal. While that may seem out of character, consider their options. They could either accede to the reserves tax, a temporary measure which was really a loan to the state which the state was committed to repay. Or they could suffer a stiff and permanent increase in the state oil severance tax, the cost of which would be irretrievable. Which would you choose?
Needless to say, the proposed extension, briskly promoted by then-Gov. Jay Hammond, was enacted. But it was Bill Ray's first vote against an oil tax increase.