If you’re like me, your knowledge of Yemen has increased by orders of magnitude over the past week or so.

Thanks to the would’ve-been Christmas Bomber on that Delta/Northwest Airlines plane headed into Detroit, the punditocracy has fodder for weeks to come (if the not-to-be-sealed Palin-Johnston custody battle doesn’t trump it, of course), and among the things we heard early on was the would-be terrorist, Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab, had the backing of an al-Qaeda affiliate in Yemen. Then the U.S. Embassy there closed for a few days in the face of a threat.

Suddenly the small desert nation on the southwest corner of the Arabian Peninsula was catapulted into the news, and we learned about things like a past embassy attack, and a history of conflict between north and south there. But it was this stat, in Slate’s Explainer column, that grabbed my attention: “Yemen's oil output has shrunk from 450,000 barrels per day to just 180,000 barrels per day in the past six years—a trend that, until recently, had been masked by elevated oil prices—yet it continues to account for 80 percent of government income.”

Does that have a familiar ring to it?

If not, it should. Alaska’s state government relies on a petroleum tax to fund 82 percent of the state’s budget, according to early 2009 estimates. And while our output hasn’t slipped as dramatically (or as low) as Yemen’s, it’s also on a steady decline. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, Alaska’s output dropped from 974,000 barrels a day in 2003 to 683,000 in 2008.

The Slate column was trying to explain Yemen’s poverty. Alaska is not poor. In fact, depending on the measures used, we’re among the wealthiest states in one of the wealthiest nations on the planet. And two other factors cited by Slate—armed conflict and the prevalence of the mild narcotic qat—have no counterparts here.

But a third one does: corruption.

To be clear, Alaska is hardly a third-world nation, nor are we on the verge of becoming one.

What’s most intriguing—and most disturbing—about Yemen is less its absolute level of poverty than the fact they’ve done that poorly with what they have: “Some of Yemen's neighbors in the Middle East bring in more money with less oil, “ the Slate column says. “Lebanon, for example, generates six times as much wealth with no oil at all.”

This is why it might be worth paying the country a second glance. With a state budget that relies as heavily on oil as Yemen and a statewide economy for which the oil and gas industry provides a third of total output, it’s clear we have some maturing to do as a state if we hope not to squander our valuable resources.

Maia Nolan, at Alaska Dispatch, made a similar point in a recent think piece that took our 50th anniversary celebrations as a starting point:

“I've been struck by the contrast between how Alaska has celebrated statehood and how Alaska has practiced statehood. After the drafting of our constitution (which is a pretty magnificent document despite its notable failure to deal with the issue of Native land claims) and the admirably organized effort to lobby for admission to the union, it seems as though we barreled right into statehood as though it were a late-season homebuilding project: Get the roof on before it snows and worry about the wiring when you have time.”

Nolan doesn’t outright say it, but what Alaska seems to be lacking—or at least to not yet have fully developed yet—is an underlying culture that supports the development of democratic institutions.

Which is why I worry a little bit about news from state Senator Hollis French and Representative Harry Crawford that they plan to introduce legislation to enshrine annual Permanent Fund dividend checks in the state constitution.

Don’t get me wrong: I’ve accepted that dividend check, and will do so again, so long as the state’s offering it. But as long as the state’s offering handouts—and not asking for any sacrifice, in the form of taxes or something else—I’m not sure we’ll ever develop a collective sense of responsibility for our own destiny.

Consider, as many have pointed out, our generous subsidy from the federal government (nearly two dollars flow north from Washington for every one we pay in taxes). “If the U.S. is a family, we're the 40-year-old still living in Mom and Dad's basement,” writes Nolan.

Let’s extend her metaphor for a minute; if the federal government is the parents whose basement we collectively squat in, what does that make the state with its handouts and its persistent message that nothing is required of us? Perhaps an older sibling who fronts us cash, and eases our anxieties about never having grown up, got a job, got a place of our own. This is what professionals would call an enabler.

A USAID report on corruption in Yemen includes this observation: “Economic growth, not compatible with grand corruption, is needed for basic needs and services to be met and for the state to be sustainable in the near term. Failing that, significant political instability may be on the horizon.”

We’re a step or two beyond that, thankfully. Our corruption doesn’t run so deep (we hope), and if the oil ran out tomorrow, our economy would halve—a nightmare to be sure, but one we’d survive. The state would also probably be able to afford to meet “basic needs and services.”

There’s another option, though.

On top of saving in the fat years for the lean years ahead (which is what we’re doing already with the Permanent Fund) we can start trying to develop a culture that fosters democratic attitudes and civic responsibility. Conservatives call this an “ownership society.” As Nolan points out, this would likely lead to discussions about “two little words that constitute political hemlock in this state: income tax.”

I hope we have those discussions, and I hope we have them before our situation forces us to. Meanwhile, that debate that should accompany this PFD proposal could make for a good starting place to talk about what Alaskans owe each other, rather than just what the state owes us.

Perhaps instead of simply institutionalizing PFDs in the state’s constitution, French and Crawford and their peers can tie that change to something that asks Alaska’s citizens to participate in their own government. Maybe link it to some form of civic participation, or incentivize some form of public service.

Because until the state asks something of us—until it requires us to give back—it seems unlikely we’ll take it seriously enough to care to make it better. And the words “failed state” have a scary ring to them.

krestia.degeorge@anchoragepress.com