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A Case for Sortition: What England May Learn from Athens



In any country that has both a government and any regard for the rights of the citizen, some democratic element is probably essential in the long term. It is possible to imagine a patriot king, who regards himself as the First Servant of the People, and who takes all decisions with the interests of the people in mind. However the nature of hereditary succession does not allow for the continual selection of intelligence and public spirit. Therefore, some popular element is at least advisable. In the most despotic governments, the right of the people to riot against unpopular laws and taxes, or unpopular ministers has always in practice been accepted. In free governments a formal participation is the general rule. In the development of the English Constitution, it was early accepted that taxes could be imposed only with the consent of the people as represented in the House of Commons. By the sixteenth century at the latest, it was accepted that changes in the law, as opposed to deciding how laws were to be applied, or which laws were to be applied, required the consent of Parliament, which represented the people at large, plus, in the House of Lords, the nobility and the Church. Therefore, while I may be that I am trapped in a set of assumptions drawn from the history and experience of my own country, I cannot easily imagine a free government that is wholly lacking in a popular element. In this degree, I count as a limited democrat.

The problem, as I see it, is how this popular element is brought into a constitution. Since the eighteenth century, the dominant view within liberalism is that the popular element is to be brought in by some system of election. The ideal is that men of proven character and ability offer themselves before the people at given intervals. The people examine their characters and consider their ability, and decide which of them is to be sent by them to a deliberative assembly, where they will decide laws and taxes in the interests of those who have sent them. It may be argued that elective representation is inferior to a system in which the people assemble as a whole and make decisions. But the objection to direct democracy is that, while it may have worked in Athens, which had a small population and a small territory to begin, and which then reduced the number of voters still further by excluding women and resident aliens, it cannot work in a large country like England, with its population of seventy or eighty million. That is a negative argument in favour of representation. The positive argument is that the men elected will, as said, be of proven character and ability, and will be better qualified than the people at large to make informed decisions affecting the welfare of the people.

That is the ideal of elective representation. The notorious truth is that the practice has not been encouraging. Again, because I am English, and because I know most about England, I can speak best about my own country. It seems to be that elective representation worked well when most of the men standing for election were from the higher classes, and in an age where position was largely united with the hereditary ownership of land. This did not always produce representatives of good character. But it did tend to produce representatives of intelligence and independence, which facts can often be substitutes for good character. Since the early twentieth century, though, that the men offering themselves for election have been decreasingly drawn from the old nobility. They have also been decreasingly independent in the financial sense.

We must add to this the expansion of the franchise. The argument for a universal franchise is that, when everyone in a country must pay taxes and obey the laws, taxes and laws are only acceptable when everyone has some right to decide what they are. This is a sensible argument, even it not wholly true – children and resident aliens, for example, must obey the laws and will often pay taxes, but there is no accepted case for letting them vote. The difficulty is that most people are more or less ignorant of any rational ideas of law and finance. Also, modern constituencies are large, and electors are less likely to know, and less practically able than in the less democratic past to discover, the value of the candidates who stand before them. This is not necessarily to say that most people are stupid – though many certainly are. It is to say only that they are ignorant, which is a reasonable thing to be for people whose main concern is to earn a living and look after their own affairs. A rational alternative to active scrutiny of candidates is to give the job to political parties.

We see this all the time with consumer goods. A man is too busy to think closely about what clothes to buy, and is not very interested in details of manufacture and quality control. So he will decide to buy all his clothes from Marks and Spencer. This chain has existed for a long time, and has a good reputation. It may be that socks from another shop are cheaper and of better quality, and shirts the same, and underclothes same. It might be better for his wardrobe if he were to shop around. But the costs of shopping round may be higher than the expected benefit. If this man wants clothes that are broadly fit for purpose, the easiest option will be to keep shopping at Marks and Spencer.

It is the same with choosing representatives. If an average voter believes in low taxes and modest government, he will not have time to look closely at all the candidates in an election – questioning them, searching out details of past utterances and doings. Instead, he will vote Conservative. This party spends a lot of money on claiming that is believes in low taxes and modest government. It may be best to avoid personal scrutiny, but instead to vote for whatever candidate the Conservative Party puts forward: it will surely have done the necessary job of checking whether this candidate is any good. Of course, it is the same if another average voter believes in a more active and caring state: he will vote Labour, because the Labour Party will surely choose candidates who can be trusted to share the stated goals of the Labour Party. Indeed, a voter who is not average – who does take a close interest in politics – will also tend to vote for one of the big parties. He may not be happy with the choice of candidates made. Even so, because almost everyone else votes for the big parties, supporting a candidate who may be excellent, but will get at most a few hundred votes, will be a wasted vote, or it may lead to the election of a party he thinks wholly bad.

Now, here is the problem. The big parties are directed by political frauds of low moral character. Whatever they claim in public about their plans in office, the real constituents to whom they answer are various financial and bureaucratic interests that have objects entirely different from the welfare of the people. They will choose candidates who are as worthless as themselves – people also of low character, who would be unable to earn a comparable income from any other occupation, who are often sexually or financially compromised in ways that make them easy to control. The result is a largely invisible oligarchy, acting through rival teams of frontmen.

Therefore, the Conservatives claim to believe in secure borders and a government that is our servant, not our master. Between 2010 and 2024, we had a growing and increasingly intrusive state machine, plus effectively open borders – that, plus a system of formal and informal preference that gave those coming through the borders large advantages over the traditional population. Labour has been in office for less than a year. I have yet to see a more caring and better-managed welfare system, or even a renationalisation of the railways.

In short, representative government, as we know it, is a fraud. We have a radically bad government that cares nothing about our lives and property, and that is actively hostile to our liberty, but that claims legitimacy by calling itself democratic. We can tell ourselves that voting will bring change. The truth is that the real government of the country carries on regardless of how we vote, and with less accountability than a formally despotic government, which everyone knows to be despotic, and which can be pressured by rioting or the withdrawal of consent. And I do not believe that finding better parties will be an answer. What I know, for example, about the Reform Party is that is rapidly filling with refugees of shockingly low character from the Conservative Party. What these people have seen in the past year is the rejection of their accustomed means of collecting bribes and paying for underage prostitutes. Their response is now to race against each other into a new party that as yet has none of the taint they gave the Conservative Party, but will soon be just as corrupted.

In the short term, the best answer to where we are might be to give up on the idea of a popular government, and to hope for an enlightened dictatorship, or a dictatorship less unenlightened than our present rulers. Anything might be better than the Starmer regime and whatever is likely to come after it. But this will not be a long term answer. So long as we must have any government, there is a good case for demanding that it should be an accountable government that represents the broad will of those subject to it. This means some democratic element.

This being said, democracy is not the same as electing representatives. There are other options, and I suggest that we should give active consideration to these. In particular, I suggest that we should examine how democracy worked in Athens. I have had a personal obsession with the Ancient World since I was seven, and I earn most of my living from teaching the ancient languages. If this gives me an obvious bias in favour of ancient solutions, it also allows me to explain these solutions from a long professional experience. Therefore, you will forgive this long excursus on Athens, which, though much adapted, more closely resembles the lecture notes from which it is taken than the polemic that I have been writing. What I will describe is relevant, even so, to where we now are, and to how we may one day move to somewhere better.

It seems to be a general belief that Athenian democracy was entirely a matter of letting everyone turn up at intervals in the central market place of the city, and letting these decide everything. If this were the whole of the matter, it could never have lasted for the better part of four centuries, but would have been as disastrous as it would be introduced into modern England. In fact, this was a political experiment only partly about popular control of law and executive decision. Just as important, it also involved a system of random selection (sortition, κληρωτήριον, klērōtērion) for most public offices. Unlike modern representative democracies, Athens functioned without elected representatives, and almost entirely without elected or appointed officials, relying instead on mechanisms that ensured broad civic engagement.

The system emerged rapidly in the late sixth century BC, with the reforms of Cleisthenes (Κλεισθένης, Kleisthenēs). These reforms cluster about the years 508/507 BC, though were placed on a foundation of earlier practice that made them possible. The reforms, plus their foundation, produced a system of popular government that was highly efficient and that continued, sometimes more conservative, sometimes more radical, until it was brought to an end by the Romans after 146 BC. They ended it not because it produced bad government as reasonably defined, but because of their preference for giving local government in their provinces to closed oligarchies.

But, returning to Cleisthenes in the sixth century BC, the process of democratisation that began in 508 was a response to several generations of earlier political experience. This included periods of leadership by these men:

Cleisthenes became influential immediately after the revolution, and he set about a permanent transfer of power to ordinary citizens by dismantling the main structures of aristocratic power and creating new political institutions based on geography rather than birth. His key reforms included:

  1. Creation of the Ten Tribes (Φυλαί, Phylai): Athens was divided into ten new tribes, each composed of demes (δήμοι, dēmoi) each from different regions (city, coast, and inland), and intended overall to break aristocratic control.
  2. The Council of 500 (Boule, Βουλή, Boulē): A central governing body where 50 members from each tribe were selected by lot. The Boule prepared legislation for the Assembly and oversaw administration.
  3. Ostracism (ὀστρακισμός, ostrakismos): A mechanism allowing citizens to vote to exile an individual for ten years to prevent tyranny.
  4. Isonomia (ἰσονομία, isonomia): The principle of equality before the law, ensuring that all citizens had the same legal rights.

These reforms effectively transferred power from aristocrats to the citizenry, creating a democracy in which political positions were accessible to all eligible men – not, I will grant, to women or to resident aliens, nor to slaves. Within these limits, however, Athens became a democracy.

The Ekklesia was the sovereign legislative body of Athens, open to all male citizens over the age of 18. It met regularly on the Pnyx hill and had the power:

While the Ekklesia had ultimate authority, the Boule of 500 – itself filled by sortition, and ensuring a broad representation of the people – had a crucial preparatory role:

The Boule itself was filled by sortition, ensuring a broad representation of the population.

I will emphasise that Athenian democracy differed from modern systems in that most officials were not elected, but were chosen by lot (κληρωτήριον, klērōtērion). This method was considered the purest form of democracy because it prevented political elites from monopolising power. The Athenians believed that election would lead, as it has for us, to an oligarchy with rival teams of frontmen, or at best to competing factions of an oligarchy. Sortition was intended to ensure that all qualified candidates had an equal chance of office, and that offices were held by men drawn from every division of the people. It worked in this way:

  1. Self-Nomination: While no elections were held, candidates had to put themselves forward for sortition. This ensured that only willing and able citizens participated.
  2. Selection by Lot: Offices were filled randomly using an allotment machine (klērōtērion), ensuring fairness and broad representation.
  3. Dokimasia (Δοκιμασία, Dokimasia): Selected individuals underwent a review to confirm they met the basic qualifications (citizenship, legal standing, and public conduct).
  4. Short Tenures and Rotation: Most positions lasted one year and could not be held consecutively to prevent accumulation of power.

These were the offices filled by sortition:

There were multiple safeguards to maintain a competent government despite random selection for the filling of offices. These included:

  1. The Dokimasia: Ensured candidates were eligible to hold office – see above for what this meant.
  2. Supervision During Office: Magistrates and council members were monitored.
  3. Euthynai (Εὔθυναι, Euthynai): At the end of their term, officials had to undergo an audit to review their actions.
  4. Impeachment and Ostracism: Corrupt officials could be removed from office or exiled.

These measures ensured that while any citizen could serve, incompetence and misconduct were kept in check.

Now to the Assembly. The authority of this was reinforced by the experience of its members. As nearly all served in public office at some point, most citizens who attended meetings had some knowledge of governance. This contributed to a more informed electorate and prevented an elite political class from emerging. Pericles (Περικλῆς, Periklēs), in his Funeral Oration, praised the participatory nature of the Athenian system:

We alone regard a man who takes no interest in public affairs not as quiet, but as a useless character.

No one was expected to take a continual interest in politics. No one was expected to attend all meetings of the Assembly. No one was expected to put himself continually forward for sortition – some people were actively deterred. Certainly, not everyone had the long education and practical training to give speeches that could sway the Assembly and be studied for the next few thousand years as masterpieces of persuasion. But a good citizen was one who took a reasonable interest in affairs of state, and who could be expected to make an active contribution as and when required.

As said, introduced into modern England as it is, any system of direct democracy would collapse in three weeks. The country is too big for rule by a single Assembly. Instead, the system would need to be tried with local government. This too would be a failure. Early meetings would involve turbulent mobs of the uninformed. Very soon, rival factions of the variously unsuitable would emerge to guide business. Anyone who was at an English university in the 1980s will remember how the Socialist Workers used to take over meetings of the Student Union: begin by challenging the minutes of the last meeting; once that is exhausted, introduce endless and deliberately meaningless points of order; after this, provoke long debates over whether particular motions as yet not discussed should be moved forward or backward on the agenda; once nearly everyone else has gone off in disgust to the bars or to watch television, take over and pass motions to support the IRA. On a larger scale, that is what would happen if local government were given to popular assemblies. There would be more certain rule by the insane and generally unfit than we already have.

But what gave effectiveness and legitimacy to the Assembly in Athens was the presence there of a decisive bloc of men already experienced in government. These were men who could see through clever but ill-intentioned speeches, who could shout down timewasters and lunatics, who had a natural authority that was respected by the younger and less-experienced. It is the principle and practice of sortition that allowed Athens to have one of the most radical democracies in history, and for many centuries, during which it was at nearly all times one of the richest and most powerful states in the world of the East Mediterranean.

And Athens is not the only example of government by sortition. The Venetian Republic used sortition. In England and America, we fill juries by sortition, and juries are about the only part of our systems that still has any legitimacy. I will ask Mr Wang to write about sortition in China, where it seems to have produced an efficient and generally honest administration until the nineteenth century.

How to move from where we are to where I suggest we should be is a difficult question. There is also the question of how to keep the rich under control – how to ensure that those who have more money than the rest of us do not also have more power than the rest of us. I will give this to Mr Mercadente, who has a few interesting ideas. But the purpose of this essay has been to argue not only that our present system of representative democracy has failed as a safeguard of individual and popular rights, and that it is not the only model of a popular element in the government of a country. For the moment, I will leave matters here.

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