Demokratia

Voting in Ancient Athens

By Dr. Sue Fisher, Luminous Classical Lit. Doyen at The LukeionProject

The first Tuesday after the first Monday of November is Election Day in the United States. Many people, if they have not already voted, will be heading to the polls to vote for important leaders and issues in our republic. In The United States, this right is afforded to all citizens age eighteen or older, which means that some of our Lukeion Project students will be voting for the first time. Given our current situation, this will be an election to tell the grandkids about someday. But have you ever thought about what voting might look like if you lived in ancient Athens? Let’s have a look.

It’s a beautiful morning. The sun is rising, a gentle breeze is rustling the silver-green leaves of the olive tree outside your window. A rooster is crowing to signal the start of the day. Today is the day of a big vote to finance the navy for the war with Sparta. The tax will be a burden felt by all Athenians, but Pericles has made it clear that the Oracle at Delphi confirmed that Athens’ hope is in its “wooden walls” (ships), and so a majority on this issue is clearly needed. Too bad for you though, Mirope! You’re female and will not get to vote. Neither will your household slaves, nor Sargon the Persian spice seller currently living in Athens as a metoikos (resident alien), nor any of your children under the age of eighteen. You sigh and go draw some water from the well and get ready to prod your husband into waking up.

It’s morning, apparently. You know this by the fact that Mirope is poking you in the stomach and telling you that it’s time to get up. You can’t blame her, honestly. The last time you were late you got red dye all over your best chiton from the ochre-dyed rope those Scythian slaves use to herd people from the Agora to the Pynx, where votes are held. It took her a long time of washing to get that stain out. Even if it weren’t mandatory for you, a citizen, to vote, you would still go. You enjoy the forty or more elections held every year on all matters from taxes, public buildings, laws, and military commanders to the annual exile (ostracisms) of persons deemed dangerous to the democracy. You give a mental shout-out to those who fought the Persians and kept you from being subject to a monarch and to Clesithenes too, whose reforms gave you, a non-wealthy citizen, a voice in the ekklesia (assembly).

Once dressed, you eat some bread and goat cheese and answer Mirope’s questions about the day. Will you vote today by hand as you usually do, or will you use the voting pebbles? It is not an ostracism so no potsherds for voting this time. How many votes will be taken? Ten, twenty? There are so many issues to decide each week. You know that Mirope is genuinely interested, but that she is also trying to figure out how much food to pack for you. She knows that with the debates, the session could be a few hours or more, and all of that on the unshaded hill of the Pnyx. You are hoping you can find your uncle Spyro in the throng of 6,000 or more citizens. He owes you 2 obols.

Climbing the hill of the Pnyx, you recognize your fellow citizens, and this fills you with pride. You love how you vote directly on every issue that faces your city, with no representatives, cumbersome bureaucracy, government departments, or civil service to distort your wishes. With war on the horizon, you know that today’s vote is important, and you are glad you backed Pericles as strategos (military leader) previously. You also have faith in the boule (council) and the jurors, all men elected by lot rather than by vote, and therefore shielded from the possibility of corruption. Speaking of the boule, your ears perk up and the crowd’s murmurings die down as the boule’s agenda for this meeting of the ekklesia is read. It will be a long morning, but an important one. The debates have begun, and you see the best speaker of your deme (tribe) rise to discuss his position. There was little debate on this first point and nearly all hands were raised in support. One vote down, fourteen more to go.

Speakers from other demes come forth, more debate ensues, and more votes are taken. After six hours you are done and returning home for a big meal and an afternoon nap. As you are nodding off to sleep you once again think about the isonomia of the Athenian constitution – being equal under the law. You think too about the kratos (power) of the demes…demos kratos…demokratia…something new to the world thanks to you and your fellow Athenians. You wonder if it will catch on.