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In Duluth, the issue of ranked choice voting (RCV) has popped up from time to time over the years. The latest push came from City Council President Linda Krug and Councilor Emily Larson, who invited members of Fair Vote Minnesota, a Minneapolis group that supports RCV, to speak at the council’s agenda session of June 5, 2014.
Ranked choice voting is a different way of conducting elections. Instead of voting for just one candidate, citizens vote for their top three candidates, with the #1 pick getting three points, #2 getting two points, and #3 getting one point. The top point-getter wins. Or something like that. Minneapolis and St. Paul, as well as some smaller cities in the state, have adopted ranked choice voting in recent years. Proponents of RCV can wax almost evangelical in their praise of the system—it leads, so they say, to greater civility in elections, a more accurate reflection of the voters’ desires, financial savings for cities, and much more.
Critics of RCV are often mathematicians, who claim that the algorithms behind RCV don’t deliver on the rosy promises.
During the agenda session, Councilor Howie Hanson remarked on the “experts” who were advising the council on the issue. “I think it’s important to note that the two speakers [from Fair Vote Minnesota] are advocates of one particular position. It’d be good to hear about the other side of it also.”
Agenda sessions are when the council gathers information on issues and decides which legislation to tackle at their regular meeting. Agenda sessions are not supposed to be places where councilors deliver opinions or grandstand, but—councilors being human—this often happens. Indeed, almost every councilor who spoke on RCV prior to Councilor Hanson delivered opinions on the issue, while President Krug smiled and nodded along. But Hanson’s comments, for some reason, kicked the president into hard-line authoritarian mode.
 “You’re asking a question?” she cut in.
“I am asking a question,” said Hanson.
“Okay,” said Krug. “Just so you understand—“

Hanson: I don’t have an answer to the question why this [issue] is even before us, but I’ll make a couple opinions. Council president, I’ve heard a lot of opinions shared here tonight, and to be censored from my opinion, I think, is unfair, as a councilor. I would ask, respectfully, that my opinions can also be shared.
Krug: I think it’s because you always set it up that you’re going to opine. That’s why [I cut you off].
Hanson: So what you’re telling me, then, is that certain councilors tonight have been able to opine, and Councilor Hanson has not.
Krug: I think so.
Hanson: You’re overruling me.
Krug: I think I’m overruling you.  
Hanson: Well, I’m frustrated by that. And concerned about process, and I think it’s very disrespectful for one side [of] this issue.
Krug: Thank you, Councilor Hanson. I respect the opinion that you have, and look forward to you sharing that on Monday night.

When a city council president is doing his or her job well, you hardly notice them. The president keeps track of ordinances and resolutions on the agenda, calls on councilors who wish to speak, calls votes, and keeps his or her own comments to a minimum. Robert’s Rules of Order, the 1876 book of parliamentary procedure that most official bodies follow today, takes a dim view of presidents who can’t keep themselves in check:
“There is nothing to justify the unfortunate habit some chairmen have of constantly speaking on questions before the assembly, even interrupting the member who has the floor. One who expects to take an active part in debate should never accept the chair.”
At the council’s regular Monday night meeting of June 9, 2014, councilors were preoccupied with several resolutions and ordinances relating to the city’s new streets plan. Members of the public had turned out in some numbers to speak against the plan. The administration was pushing for it. Councilors had amendments to talk about. The meeting went on and on.
By the time the council reached the issue of ranked choice voting, two and a half hours had gone by. Members of Fair Vote Minnesota spoke in favor of RCV.  Actual, professional mathematicians showed up to diss the algorithm. After 30 minutes of public input, councilors took up the discussion among themselves.
At regular meetings, councilors are free to say whatever they like—opinions, questions, criticisms, comments—and they do. Tonight, it was clear they had thought long and hard about ranked choice voting. They explained their decisions. They reviewed their thought processes. They introduced amendments. By the time President Krug called on Councilor Hanson, another 23 minutes had elapsed. When Hanson asked that a member of Fair Vote Minnesota return to the podium so he could ask her a question, President Krug flipped into hard-line crackdown mode.

Hanson: I guess my question is of Miss Massey, if we could bring her back to the podium.
Krug: You know, I think…I think…you know, the, the, the time is late, and so...
Hanson: I heard that on Thursday.
Krug: Yes, you…yes, you did, and she was not here, she was not here to speak on that. [Is your question] Specific to the resolution, specific to moving it forward to the Charter Commission?
Hanson: Yes. In terms of wanting more information, yes. As a councilor, I’d like more information.

If you’re like me, at this point in the exchange you were saying (in your head): WHAT IS SHE DOING?
Unbelievably, President Krug didn’t seem to be aware that she wasn’t allowed to cut councilors off at will. Instead of calling up the speaker as Councilor Hanson had requested, she appealed the decision to the city attorney.


Krug: Mr. Johnson?

City Attorney Gunnar Johnson is the go-to guy on Robert’s Rules. He’s been getting a good, strenuous Robert’s Rules workout lately, what with all the questions coming in from city councilors. Attorney Johnson looked very uncomfortable at President Krug’s question. I could almost see him thinking, What kind of power-mad lunatic is she? Or maybe that was me thinking that. In any case, I felt bad for the guy.

Krug: Mr. Johnson?
City Attorney Gunnar Johnson: Councilors, the, ah…the council can suspend the rules to allow for questioning of Ms. Massey.

Whew. That was a relief. With the situation restored to normalcy, Councilor Hanson said, “Motion to suspend the rules to hear from the speaker.”
To which President Krug replied, “ You don’t need to make a motion to do that. I can do it. We will do it very, very briefly, because we have had much conversation on this. So, Ms. Massey, if you would come to the podium?”
So…did you get that? I certainly did. President Krug knew all along that she could have allowed Hanson to ask his question. She was just stonewalling him to be evil.
(Before anybody gets too excited over my word choices, here or elsewhere, let me say that I am not talking about a bad kind of evil. I’m talking about fun, entertaining evil. Evil ha ha.)
The craziness didn’t end there.

Hanson: How much time am I allowed?
Krug: One question.
Hanson: One question.
Krug: One question.
Hanson: Okay. One question. I cannot opine?
Krug: You cannot opine. You can opine, but you can’t ask a question and opine.

It was hard to believe, but it was true: President Krug was making rules up as she went along.  
Unbelievably, Councilor Hanson accepted his fate at the hands of his totalitarian president, and gracefully kept his mouth closed—for a few minutes. A little later, he pressed his button again.

Krug: Councilor Hanson.
Hanson: Well, I’m just frustrated again. I’m frustrated, council president, that whenever anybody has an opposing viewpoint than you, you censor the conversation. It’s quite apparent, and I’m calling you out on that. I think Councilor Fosle is perfectly correct that what we have here is a bunch of people from Minneapolis trying to tell Duluth how to conduct its ---
Krug: Councilor Hanson, do you have a question about the resolution?
Hanson: I was told on Thursday that there were only certain times that I could ask---
Krug: Councilor Hanson, we are talking about Resolution 280.
Hanson: Okay. Well, I think you just validated my point. Thank you, council president.
Krug: Thank you very much.

After spending an hour and six minutes discussing the issue of ranked choice voting, the council prepared to vote. President Krug, it turned out, had been paying very close attention to the discussion, and she hadn’t liked what she heard. Before calling the vote, she took a few moments to address the council.

Krug:  I will make a comment. Very disappointing! You can see how this vote is going to go. VERY disappointing! Shame on you, councilors! That you would deny the citizens of Duluth, and the Charter Commission, the opportunity to study this issue because you don’t like it! You have to sleep with that, not me.

If you’re like me, at this point in the meeting you were saying (in your head): WHAT THE—?
Councilor Hanson pressed his button.
President Krug, poised to call the vote, paused. “Councilor Hanson.”
Hanson leaned back comfortably in his chair. He placed a finger on his temple in an interested way. “Thank you, President Krug. Question. Ah…why do I feel tonight that I’m being scolded by a teacher?”
 No one cracked a smile. Not one person. The RCV measure failed, 4-5. So that’s how things are going with the city council these days.

A nice wedding present

It’s not all wackiness and drama. The city council always has plenty of mundane city business to attend to. At the June 5 agenda session, they considered a request from the Arrowhead Bowhunters Alliance (ABA) to redraw the boundaries of various hunting zones for the city’s annual bow hunt.
Philip Lockett, president of the ABA, explained to the council that they wanted to add various “hot spots” to existing hunting zones. Hot spots are places where private property owners who live adjacent to existing hunting zones request that the ABA come in to hunt deer on their property.
Lockett stressed that all the neighbors had to be in agreement before the ABA would consider coming in. “We’ve been very conservative with these areas in the past. There’s been a few areas that we’ve been asked to come into, that we just said no. It’s not worth the potential headaches that it could cause for us. You know, we try and be as invisible as we can, and not be on the nightly news with a deer running into someone’s  yard and dying.” He gave an example to illustrate the point. “We’ve had requests of the neighbor down next to Glensheen [Mansion], that wanted us to come hunt in his area on London Road. I denied that, because the potential downfall was much larger than the gains that we’re going to have there, because that’s all I can see, is someone having a wedding or an event at Glensheen, and here comes a deer running across.” Everybody could see it.

A ripple of involuntary, slightly horrified giggling went around the room.
At their June 9 meeting, councilors unanimously approved the new boundaries.

John Ramos has observed and written on Duluth politics since he moved to Duluth in 1998, with a special focus on tourism and tourism taxes. He has been snarled at by mayors, lawyers, and CEOs for his articles, which he considers to be a form of applause.