Elections, often called the cornerstone of democracy, are tools that ensure a nation's citizens all have an equal political voice.
But these so-called great equalizers have long been plagued by corruption, partisan divides and uninformed voters.
Which is why some of democracy's first and most famous practitioners used a different approach.
From 508 to 322 BCE, Athens increasingly moved away from elected officials.
Outside specialized positions like military generals and senior finance officers, most legislative, executive and judicial roles were appointed via lottery.
Starting at age 30, citizens could place a token with their name into an allotment machine.
These machines appointed citizens to government positions through a process designed to ensure randomness and prevent fraud.
Before getting the job, chosen candidates underwent a public examination to investigate their character, and those that passed would typically serve for a single year.
When their term ended, they underwent another public review to investigate their conduct and financial dealings while in office.
This system was called sortition, and its goal was to promote political equality.
In fact, Athenians saw lotteries as more democratic than voting, since they believed elections favored the wealthy and well-connected.
Random appointees, on the other hand, were ordinary citizens stepping up to fulfill their civic duty.
And since most offices didn't allow repeat terms, sortition prevented people from gaining too much political influence.
Of course, this system was far from perfect.
Athenian sortition excluded women, foreign-born residents, and enslaved peoples.
And, as philosophers like Plato and Aristotle pointed out, political decision-making requires expertise, a quality that's difficult to develop in short appointments and can't be guaranteed by random selection.
But broadly, this lottery-based system had strong public support.
It was the dominant form of democracy during Athens' Golden Age, and it only truly ended when Athens' conquerors abolished democracy altogether.
So if sortition provided stability then, could it do so now?
Political philosopher Alex Guerrero thinks it could, and he's even proposed a modern American version of sortition that he calls lotocracy.
Here's how it works.
Rather than relying on one decision-making body for every issue, Guerrero proposes multiple assemblies, each dedicated to a specific policy area.
These single-issue lottery-selected legislatures, or SILs, are made up of hundreds of randomly chosen citizens who get trained in their assembly's topic area by experts and advocates.
Then, after consulting with the public to get their perspective, the members of a SIL draft and vote on topic-specific policies.
This system extends all the way to the top, distributing even the powers of the presidency across a network of lottery-filled executive assemblies and the administrative officials they appoint.
Advocates of lotocracy believe it could address three of the biggest problems facing modern democracies.
First, unequal representation.
Since successful election campaigns require money and influence, many elected officials are much wealthier than the average voter.
At various points from 2014 to 2025, half of U.S.
Congress members were millionaires.
Problem two most candidates rely on donations from individuals, corporations and special interest groups who may try to influence their policies.
Lotocracy makes influence harder to buy by avoiding elections, offering appointees generous compensation and enforcing shorter term limits.
The third problem is a lack of policymaking competence.
While career politicians juggle dozens of policy proposals on countless complicated issues, CILs let their members become experts in a single topic.
As you would expect, this radical proposal has critics.
Political theorists Christina Lafont and Nadia Urbinati argue that lawtocracy asks most citizens to defer to a randomly chosen few.
They believe that democracies should allow citizens to exercise political freedom as equals, and elections are central to that.
Elections let people set the political agenda and they bind officeholders to a continuing cycle of accountability, both at the polls and in the public eye.
In their view, voting is how citizens collectively shape and limit public power.
And without it, even the most competent, lotocratic government could feel like rule by experts.
Without elections, it can be hard to say what makes a system democratic.
But this debate highlights a shared goal.
We all want institutions that serve everyone and address real problems.
And just like every other element of democracy, it's up to us to keep experimenting until we find a system that achieves those ideals.
