Equality by lot

One of the more sensitive questions around sortition-based democracy is who should get to participate in political decision-making. Should assemblies be drawn only from citizens? Or should everyone who lives in a country be included? I have encountered this debate many times, and just now I am in a discussion whether a political party by lottocrats should aim for a lottocracy-for-citizens or a lottocracy-for-all-residents.

Here is my take: There are good arguments for extending political power, but if we want sortition to succeed and gain broad legitimacy, it should begin with citizens.

Here is the argument:

One of the greatest selling points of sortition is that it is "process-only": It exclusively is concerned with how the demos governs itself, not what its decisions should be. This outcome-neutrality has the potential to appeal to a broad spectrum of people across political tribes. However, if the adoption of sortition becomes tied to highly polarized debates over citizenship and borders, this broad appeal is diminished. Even if a political party should succeed in establishing a lottocracy for all inhabitants, chances are that it will do so at a steep price: Many people might view that lottocracy as illegitimate, which is especially dangerous for a nascent political system whose institutions will not yet be firmly established.

There’s also a psychological lens to consider: People tend to be loss-averse. When they feel that something they value—such as the privileges attached to citizenship—is being taken away, they will resist, even if the overall outcome could benefit them. And of course, there are plenty of (wanna-be) aristocrats and monarchs out there who would be more than happy to whip up such fears to gain political advantage.

Democracy is commonly understood as “government of the people, by the people, for the people,” and both institutionally and in everyday speech, there is no doubt about what “the people” refers to in this context: citizens. Citizenship is a deeply entrenched institution—politically, legally, and psychologically. Going against it invites significant problems. But here’s the good news: The flip-side of the coin is that building on this institution offers key advantages.

In fact, sortition aligns beautifully with the narrative of strong citizenship: In a lottocracy, the people actually govern themselves, fulfilling a promise electoral “democracy” has never kept. We are also fortunate that, today, citizenship is more inclusive and widespread than at almost any other point in history (at least for now). It is generally accepted that every citizen should carry equal political weight. Gone are the days when only men, property owners, or people of a particular skin color had a voice. Yes, the situation is not perfect, but it’s decent enough that we need not fear launching a lottocracy so exclusive that its view of the world would be overly narrow, as it was, for instance, in ancient Athens.

Thus, if we want to maximize our chances of establishing a broadly legitimate lottocracy, we should carefully protect sortition’s “process-only” neutrality, also to be able to fully lean into the “power to the people” narrative.

This isn’t to say that the question of who should be in the lottery pool is unimportant—quite the opposite. It is too important and too contentious to settle under electoral aristocracy. Starting with citizens only is, in an important sense, not settling the question—it simply follows the deeply entrenched social and legal norms that already define who “the people” are today. This makes it the safest path for establishing legitimacy without prejudging the outcome of future debates. And it’s safe to assume there will be such debates.

It’s not as though discussions about political membership would be suppressed in a lottocracy. Quite the opposite: a functioning lottocracy actually creates better conditions for these debates. Alongside the assemblies themselves, there would still be a vibrant public discourse where advocates of broader or narrower inclusion could make their case. The crucial difference is that decisions would emerge from deliberative processes among equals rather than from the power games of electoral elites.

By contrast, starting with a very broad lottery pool is far less flexible. If such a system were seen as illegitimate by parts of the population, debates over whether participation should be restricted to citizens—or whether citizens’ voices should carry extra weight—would become inevitable. And if there’s any discussion we can imagine going sideways within a lottocracy, it’s probably this one. Starting with an overly inclusive setup therefore risks lasting instability and resentment. Meanwhile, starting with citizenship keeps all doors open: a trusted lottocracy can comfortably choose to extend participation later.

To be clear: this doesn’t mean we can’t discuss the “who” and the “how” in the same context even today. But at least the political leaders of the sortition movement should probably err firmly on the side of “process-only” neutrality, avoiding associations with existing political camps that risk dragging sortition into their ongoing battles. Things also look different when we’re talking about consultative or local assemblies: The less political power is at stake, the less risky it becomes to open the process to all residents.

Finally, I want to end on a positive note: my “process-only puritanism” comes from an optimistic view of human capacity, not a pessimistic one. I believe that once citizens are given the tools and institutions to govern themselves on equal footing, they will find ways to make balanced, informed, and even wise decisions—including, in time, on the boundaries of political participation.

Filed under: Elections, Sortition |