Ken Blackwell, the former Cincinnati mayor, former ambassador, and president of the Council for National Policy, is taking aim at Alaska’s method of selecting judges, a system embedded in the state constitution and modeled after what is commonly known as the Missouri Plan.
In a new TownHall column, he warns that the Left’s “relentless campaign of woke lawfare” is being carried out not only through aggressive litigation but also through judicial nominating commissions that lock voters and governors out of meaningful influence.
Blackwell opens the column by arguing that America is already “in the midst of a wave of lawfare” targeting anyone who refuses to bend to progressive ideology, from industries resisting climate activism to individuals tied to the Trump administration.
He recounts recent examples, from left-wing trial lawyers forcing a $300 million DEI settlement from Google, efforts to bankrupt Donald Trump over Jan. 6, and new climate-litigation assaults designed to impose a courtroom version of the Green New Deal.
He then pivots to what he describes as the overlooked fulcrum of this lawfare era: judicial selection committees designed, in his view, to neutralize conservative governors and ensure that only candidates aligned with progressive standards advance to the bench.
He writes that these commissions “tie the hands of governors” and restrict judicial vacancies to applicants vetted through ideological filters that “would seem quite foreign to most conservatives.” Ideological filters would include The Alaska Bar Association’s role in judicial selection.
Blackwell uses Alaska as his prime example, noting the ongoing litigation over the composition of the Alaska Judicial Council, which screens judicial applicants and sends a short list to the governor. The judicial council is dominated by lawyers picked by the Alaska Bar Association.
He highlights how the council defines “legal and life experience” to include “exposure to persons of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds,” and how “public and community service” includes a “demonstrated commitment to equal justice, and to the legal needs of the diverse communities of Alaska.” Blackwell, who is himself a racial minority, characterizes these definitions as DEI-infused standards that shift the focus away from legal competence and judicial temperament.
He points readers to the council’s official selection procedures, which emphasize “the diversity of the applicant’s personal and educational history” and “exposure to persons of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds,” language he says places clear priority on identity considerations.
And he flags a particularly troubling provision, where the council states that political or religious beliefs are not evaluated, except when those beliefs indicate “substantial bias.” Blackwell paraphrases the consequence this way: if an applicant’s faith “doesn’t match the progressive standard,” the commission may brand that person biased and therefore unfit.
That provision raises another little-known issue in Alaska that he does not mention: The Judicial Council’s permanent gag order on its members. Once a selection process concludes, members are barred, in perpetuity, from disclosing what occurred in deliberations, how applicants were discussed, or how decisions were reached.
“Council members may not disclose the views of other Council members about the qualifications of applicants and the performance of judicial officers. Communications and deliberations among Council members that occur in executive session, including discussion about the qualifications of an applicant or the performance of a judicial officer shall be kept confidential in accordance with the law and Council bylaws. In no circumstance shall a Council member make any representation regarding an applicant’s future chances of nomination, an individual Council member’s intentions regarding future votes, or any other topics held confidential by these bylaws,” the gag order states.
“Neither Council members nor Council staff shall discuss or disclose, except among themselves, any matters or materials classified as confidential under these bylaws, or information discussed in executive session. This mandate of confidentiality survives Council terms of office and must be observed in perpetuity,” it says in another section.
Combined with language allowing examination of an applicant’s political, personal, and religious beliefs for signs of bias, the rule ensures that no one outside the room will ever know if those evaluations crossed legal or constitutional lines.
Blackwell invokes Chief Justice John Roberts’ famous reminder that “the way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to stop discriminating on the basis of race,” arguing that judicial selection bodies should be held to the same standard as any public employer. He notes that federal law prohibits using race, sex, religion, or national origin in conferring public opportunities.
He concludes that when state judicial commissions “embed diversity, equity, and inclusion mandates directly into their hiring criteria” or cite religion as a potential basis to deem someone biased, they merit scrutiny from the Civil Rights Division and other authorities capable of enforcing anti-discrimination laws.
“The Left is engaging in woke lawfare and using its favorite litmus tests to try to capture our state judiciaries,” he writes, adding that the least the public can do is recognize what these judicial councils are doing and “subject them to basic scrutiny for their discriminatory ways.”
Blackwell’s warning lands squarely in Alaska, where the Judicial Council’s DEI-based standards and lifetime gag rules continues to raise questions about transparency, neutrality, and whether judicial applicants are judged on merit, or on ideological conformity.
