
As Alaska looks ahead to its next gubernatorial election, we will again be awash in big, flashy policy proposals: new energy systems, infrastructure investments, economic diversification, housing solutions and promises to fix what has long frustrated residents across the state.
But Alaska’s challenge is not a lack of imagination. It is a failure of execution and follow-through. And we’re not alone.
In recent months, national attention has turned toward the idea of an “abundance economy,” popularized in “Abundance” by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson. The argument is simple: Many of our hardest challenges are not about ideology, but about our inability to build enough of what we need. That conversation matters. But for Alaska, the more urgent question is not what we want to build. It is whether we know how to deliver.
That distinction is at the heart of “How Big Things Get Done,” a book by Danish professor and megaprojects expert Bent Flyvbjerg and journalist Dan Gardner, which draws on decades of global evidence to explain why large public projects so often fall short. It should be required reading for anyone seeking to lead Alaska over the next decade.
Flyvbjerg has spent decades studying more than 16,000 large infrastructure and public-sector projects around the world. His conclusion is stark: Only 8.5% of major projects are delivered on time and on budget. Most fail not because of bad intentions, but because of predictable human errors: optimism bias, political pressure, sunk-cost thinking and a chronic tendency to underestimate complexity.
If that sounds familiar to Alaskans, it should.
We have watched major initiatives stumble or stall due to cost overruns, shifting scopes, workforce constraints, supply-chain surprises and governance failures. We announce bold plans, rush to break ground and then spend years managing disappointment. Too often, success is measured by press releases rather than outcomes.
Flyvbjerg’s work is valuable precisely because it is not ideological. It does not argue for bigger government or smaller government, for urban or rural priorities. Instead, it asks a more uncomfortable question: Are we actually good at building the things we say we want?
That question matters because Alaska is again debating a megaproject that promises transformational impact: the Alaska gas line.
The gas line may or may not ultimately make sense. Reasonable people disagree. But Flyvbjerg’s research tells us something important regardless of where you land. Megaprojects like this are among the most failure-prone category of investments, especially when they are complex, capital-intensive and dependent on uncertain future markets.
That does not mean Alaska should stop planning for the long term. It does mean we should be honest about risk, timelines and opportunity cost. The gas line’s widely cited $44 billion to $70 billion cost estimates, viewed through the lens of Flyvbjerg’s research, should be treated cautiously.
While megaprojects dominate headlines, Alaska already has energy solutions that are ready for prime time. Modular technologies, systems that can be built in smaller pieces, deployed quickly and expanded over time, are exactly the kinds of approaches Flyvbjerg shows are most likely to succeed. Examples include distributed power systems, energy efficiency tools, grid optimization software, energy storage and industrial innovations that reduce fuel use.
These approaches are smaller in scale, faster to install and far easier to adapt when conditions change. They also align closely with what Flyvbjerg finds works best globally: projects that are modular, repeatable and grounded in learning before scaling. Many Alaskans might simply call it learning from mistakes as you go.
The question Alaska should be asking is not whether big projects are bad and small projects are good. It is whether we are sequencing and prioritizing our investments wisely. Are we testing solutions before committing billions? Are we building resilience step by step while larger bets remain uncertain? Are we creating flexibility or locking ourselves into a single path that leaves little room for adjustment if assumptions prove wrong?
One of the book’s most important insights is counterintuitive. The most successful projects are rarely the most novel or the most ambitious. They are often boring. They rely on proven designs, realistic timelines and extensive front-end planning. In other words, they value competence over charisma.
Flyvbjerg urges leaders to “think slow so you can act fast.” Rushed planning may satisfy political timelines, but it almost always leads to delays and overruns later. Alaska, with its short construction seasons, high logistics costs and limited workforce capacity, can least afford this mistake.
Another lesson is the danger of sunk-cost thinking. When projects start to falter, leaders often double down rather than reassess because admitting error feels politically risky. But money and time already spent are gone. The only rational question is whether continued investment still makes sense today. Alaska’s next governor will need the discipline to pause, recalibrate and sometimes walk away.
Perhaps most relevant for Alaska is Flyvbjerg’s emphasis on starting small. Test projects. Pilot solutions. Learn what works in real communities before scaling statewide. This approach is common in successful private-sector innovation, but still surprisingly rare in public policy. It is also essential in a state as geographically vast and diverse as ours.
Alaska does not need more moonshots. It needs leaders who understand delivery.
As voters, we should be asking different questions of gubernatorial candidates. Not just what they want to build, but how. Not just their vision, but their track record of execution. Do they understand risk? Do they listen to engineers, operators and communities early? Are they willing to plan patiently and govern pragmatically?
Big things can get done in Alaska. But only if our leaders are willing to prioritize delivery over drama, learning over grandiosity and solutions that work now alongside visions for what might work someday.
Penny Gage is an Anchorage resident, parent and community leader focused on economic development, public policy, and civic engagement in Alaska.
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