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Athens, Greece.

Here, 2,500 years ago,

a bold political
experiment took place.

For more than a century,

archaeologists and historians

have been investigating
this crucial period,

when for the first time
in recorded history,

elite rulers shared power

with humble citizens.

Inventing a new form
of government: democracy.

The ancient Greek word
"demokratia"

is two words put together:
"demos," "kratos."

Demos is the people.

Kratos meant power,
strength, force.

What led to it? How did it work?

And why did
those in power allow it?

Today, researchers are finding

new clues to answer these
questions and more.

That's a smoking gun.

Conducting hands-on experiments

to decode ancient texts,

understand evidence
from the ancient ruins...

...and learn how this
first democracy

protected itself from tyranny,
civil war and corruption.

It's a black one.

Piecing together the epic story
that laid the foundation

for today's democratic
societies.

"Athens: Birth of Democracy."

Right now, on "NOVA!"

In the heart of Athens,

the capital of Greece,
rises the Acropolis.

A rocky outcrop where
the Parthenon stands.

Built 2,500 years ago,

during a time of cultural
and political upheaval...

...that gave birth
to the first democracy

of western civilization.

For more than a century,

archaeologists
have been excavating

at the foot of the Acropolis.

Because this is where
many historians believe

the Athenians invented
a form of democracy

that would help inspire
the authors

of the American constitution.

And in this park

are the remains of the Agora:

an ancient open plaza,

where citizens gathered
to decide their own fates.

So it is essentially
the center of town

where democracy was first
practiced

and was in use for 200 years.

There's a legislative branch
for the people making the laws,

there's an executive branch
for the magistrates

running the city.

There were also courts
making major decisions about

the future of Athens.

And all these branches were
run mainly by ordinary citizens

who were not elected by popular
vote, but chosen at random,

by lottery, and held their posts
for just one year each.

This revolutionary
experiment happened at a time

when many other
societies were ruled by kings,

pharaohs or small groups
of rich and powerful people.

While commoners had no say
in public affairs.

What sparked this
revolutionary experiment?

One clue might be a recent,
disturbing discovery

in the southwest of the city
at a place called Phaleron.

Here, during excavation
at a construction site,

builders uncovered
a vast, ancient cemetery.

Dated between
the 8th and 5th centuries BCE,

the burial ground
contained the remains

of Athenian men and women
of all social classes.

And in 2016,

archaeologists
found something gruesome.

About 80 skeletons--

mostly young men in chains,

all violently killed,

placed side-by-side
in three trenches.

Director of excavations,
Stella Chryssoulaki,

led the investigation
into what looked like

an ancient mass execution.

It was something
we had never seen before.

Why were they handcuffed?

Why were there fractures at
this specific spot on the skull

on most of the individuals
in this mass grave?

The high salt content
of the sandy soil

destroyed any chemical traces
that would allow

the remains
to be precisely dated.

But the designs of two
small vases found next to them

made it possible to
determine when they were buried:

the second half
of the 7th century BCE.

The find was so unusual,

archaeologists and historians
immediately wanted to know,

what happened here?

For their research, they turned
to a vast body of texts

copied by hand
over the centuries.

At first by
the Greeks and Romans,

then later by Arab scholars
and Christian scribes.

By studying these ancient texts,

Stella made a connection
with accounts

of an attempted coup d'etat that
took place in that very period.

In the late 7th century BCE,

an Olympic champion,
named Cylon,

became intoxicated
by his own popularity.

He dreamed of becoming
the all-powerful ruler,

or tyrant, of Athens.

Encouraged by supporters,

he decided
to seize power by force.

At the time, the city
was ruled by an oligarchy:

a few wealthy families,
each represented by an archon,

a magistrate responsible
for managing political affairs.

These archons fought
back against Cylon

and his supporters,
driving the coup plotters

into the temple of Athena
at the top of the Acropolis,

where they sought refuge.

They went inside.

They shut the doors.

They remained trapped inside.

Greek religious practice
forbade violence

against anyone
who placed themselves

under the protection
of a god or goddess.

CHRYSSOULAKI
But they were held
for many days.

They began to suffer and
starve without food or water.

The archons promised to keep
them alive if they surrendered.

They did not want the men
to die within the temple walls;

a terrible sacrilege.

To maintain
the goddess's protection,

Cylon's supporters attached
a rope to the statue of Athena

and to each other.

What happened
as they emerged is debated,

but Stella thinks...

One of the archons cut the rope.

And then they were killed.

It was an early form
of civil war.

Some archaeologists
think these skeletons

could be the remains
of those insurrectionists.

Evidence of potential
for violence

in Athenian society
during a time

when tyranny was always a threat
to the existing oligarchy.

No matter how secure
the oligarchs' hold on power,

the archons always feared that
one of their own,

or another charismatic
leader from the elite,

would rise up as a tyrant
and depose them,

seizing power for himself.

Which eventually did happen--
about 70 years later,

in 560 BCE.

When a tyrant
named Pisistratus seized power.

He ruled absolutely.

Eventually passing power
to his sons,

Hipparchus and Hippias,
in a family reign that lasted

for decades
and ended in violence.

It's a story that's been
brought to light

thanks to some
recent discoveries.

A few hundred
yards from the Acropolis,

the clearing of some
old buildings has given

archaeologists expanded access
to an important historical site.

John Camp was the director
of excavations

here in the ancient Agora,
for almost three decades.

In the most recently
cleared area,

he thinks he found traces
of a place

described in ancient texts...

...where a bloody murder changed

the destiny of Athens.

So you think you really find
the sanctuary of Leos?

We'll see, but I'm interested
in your opinion.

He is eager
to share this discovery

with historian Vincent Azoulay.

It's quite emotional for me.

You know,
I'm glad you're here.

Vincent studies
Athenian democracy.

How it emerged,

and how it managed
to control the elites,

who never fully accepted
a political system

that gave so much power
to commoners.

These are original walls,
and those are original walls.

According to John,
they're close to the place

where one of the tyrants
of Athens was assassinated.

On this day in 514 BCE,

Athens' largest festival
was in full swing.

The entire city celebrated

the goddess Athena

and marched
in a grand procession

to the top of the Acropolis.

Horsemen and infantrymen,

musicians and water carriers,

priestesses and young girls
with offerings,

paraded behind several hundred
heads of cattle

destined to be sacrificed

and shared in honor of the
goddess.

But during the excitement,

the tyrant Hipparchus
was attacked by two armed men

and stabbed to death.

Ancient historians
reported that the murder

took place next to a small
sanctuary called the Leokorion.

John thinks they've discovered

the remains
of this historic building.

And this is the best one here
because it's got every letter.

It's clear as a bell.

And so, here you can
see the epimeletai

to Leos.

Dedicated this.

That's quite convincing.

That's a smoking gun.

The Leokorion was
a sanctuary dedicated

to the legendary hero
Leos and his three daughters,

who agreed to be sacrificed
to save Athens

from a plague.

Around the side here

is another inscription.

I am really convinced.

Really, for me,

it's an emotional moment

after working so
many years on the subject.

It seems that John
has found where it all started.

Because this assassination
triggered a series of events

that led to the first democracy.

But what was
that first experiment like?

In search of clues,
another team of researchers

is investigating
some mysterious stone fragments.

They're arranged like this.

For a long time,

archaeologists have wondered

what these ancient pieces
of marble were.

But French archaeologist

Liliane Lopez-Rabatel

and architect Nicolas Bresch
have an idea.

These fragments
have remained a mystery

for almost a century.

The first archaeologist
who found it in 1830

made a replica, with a small

caption indicating that
he did not know

what it was used for, that it
might be a clock.

A century later,

an American researcher spotted
the word "kleroterion"

engraved on one side.

In Greek,

"kleroterion" means
"lottery machine."

This is what it looks like.

No intact example of this
kind of "lottery machine"

has ever been found,

only broken fragments.

So they have enlisted

the help of sculptor

Panayotis Zestanakis
to recreate

the original object
and test their theory.

What we are going to do
is experimental archaeology,

actually, we are going to
use only ancient techniques.

So, this might lead
to interesting conclusions.

So, I'll take another
photo of it.

According to ancient texts,

lottery machines played
an essential role

in Athenian democracy.

LOPEZ-RABATEL
1,200 annual positions
were drawn by lottery.

In fact, a considerable number
of people

were drawn by lot every day,
every month, every year.

Unlike modern
representative democracies,

where citizens
elect officials to govern,

Athens was a more direct
democracy,

where representatives were
chosen from the citizenry

by drawing lots.

Liliane and her team
want to recreate this early

lottery machine and test it
with 150 participants,

to see how it worked
in Athens

2,500 years ago.

When citizens needed
a way to guarantee

randomized selection
to prevent fraud and corruption.

And allow any
citizen to participate

in public affairs
and decision making.

But the road to this form
of democracy was not smooth.

A tyrant had been killed.

But what happened next?

What became
of the two tyrant-slayers?

One was
killed just after

assassinating Hipparchus,

and the other was tortured
and then executed.

So tyranny didn't collapse,
quite the contrary,

it became even stronger,
because the brother of the man

who had been assassinated,
Hippias, had survived.

As a result,
this second tyrant, Hippias,

became completely paranoid
and ruled Athens through terror.

Opponents of his regime

were tortured,
or executed without warning.

Thrown from a cliff.

To finally end the tyranny
and change the destiny of Athens

would take
a foreign intervention

and the arrival
of a charismatic reformer.

In 510 BCE,

the warrior city of Sparta,
Athens' great rival,

invaded and caused the tyrant
Hippias to flee to Persia,

a vast empire stretching
from Turkey to Egypt

and as far as Afghanistan.

And a major threat
to the Greek World.

So when the deposed
tyrant Hippias

entered the service of the
Persian king, Darius I,

he became one
of Greece's greatest traitors,

and is still remembered
that way today.

Meanwhile, in Athens,

the king of Sparta
sought to install a new tyrant,

but the Athenians revolted.

And instead,
they demanded the return

of a respected aristocrat
who had been exiled by Hippias.

A visionary named Cleisthenes.

AZOULAY
Cleisthenes was the great
reformer of classical Athens.

With the support of the people,
and the people leaning on him,

he truly laid the foundations
of the democratic system.

Some of the most crucial
evidence of Cleisthenes'

profound influence
comes from a papyrus

found at the end of
the 19th century, in Egypt.

It features a copy of a text
written by the philosopher

Aristotle and his students

at the end
of the 4th century BCE:

the Athenian constitution.

This precious ancient document

is now at The British Library
in London.

Historian Paul Cartledge

has come here to examine

this one surviving copy
of Aristotle's survey

of the constitutions of dozens

of Greek
and Mediterranean cities.

Only one survives.

This is the one.

We don't have it all.

There are bits missing
at the beginning and at the end.

Paul studies the different
forms of democracy

that have existed
throughout history,

from Athens to the present day.

For him, this document reveals

Cleisthenes as one of the main
founders of Athenian democracy.

He had the authority
of having always resisted

the tyrants, and therefore,
he comes back

and he's allowed back
and he has the aura.

But he comes back, apparently,
with a plan.

Right away,

Cleisthenes dramatically expands
political participation,

giving power

to the majority of citizens.

Though the idea of citizenship
was limited to adult males

with Athenian parents,
it was a major shift

to expand power beyond
those who were born rich.

The majority are poor,
and the majority are farmers.

It's a revolutionary situation.

And opponents of Cleisthenes,

oligarchs and people
who don't like democracy,

thought he was
much too permissive.

So the notion that

the demos-- the people--
is the power holder,

that's new, completely new.

So how did this Athenian
democratic experiment work?

On the site of the Agora,

archaeologists have found traces
of Cleisthenes' major reforms,

including the remains
of a very special monument.

Here, ten statues
of legendary Athenian heroes

served as a gathering place
for citizens

who wanted to learn about
the laws being proposed.

All important
information concerning

the life of the city
was posted here.

And you, as an Athenian
citizen, could stand out here

and you could
read these notices,

but you couldn't
quite touch them.

In the days before radio

and television,
telephones and newspapers,

this is where
public information

started dissemination.

Were they being
prescribed for the army,

and how many days rations
were they supposed to bring?

Were they involved
in upcoming lawsuits?

Were they the subject
of public honors?

The ten statues
represented ten tribes,

and their makeup was a key part
of Cleisthenes' plan

to ensure fair
and effective representation.

Cleisthenes understood
that democracy would only work

if he could bring
citizens together in new ways.

First, he divided
the Athenian territory

into three zones: the city,
the countryside, and the coast.

Each zone was divided
into ten districts.

Each tribe included
members from all three zones,

with the different
districts chosen by lot.

As a result,
each tribe would include

a mix of citizens
who were geographically,

or socially,
distant from each other.

It was an absolutely
extraordinary mixing of people,

which had the effect of breaking
up the aristocratic block.

Before, members of the elite
could influence political life

by relying on a whole
clique of people who were

dependent on them,
especially economically.

But that was no longer possible,

because people
were now distributed,

and distributed randomly.

How did Cleisthenes manage

to enact such
revolutionary reform?

The answer lies 75 miles
from Athens,

in a legendary sanctuary
built on the side of a mountain.

A place the ancient Greeks
considered

to be the center of the world:

the sanctuary of Delphi,

dedicated to the god Apollo.

Rich and poor, all recognized
the authority of Apollo

and came to consult his
oracle...

...the Pythia of Delphi.

This woman was the intermediary
for the god...

...and so Cleisthenes came
to visit her, asking her

to randomly choose ten names
among a hundred

of Athens' founding heroes.

It was the
Pythia of Delphi who,

in a certain way,

gave her endorsement to
this distribution

of citizens into ten new tribes,

which legitimized what was

a true revolution.

For more than two centuries,

the ten tribes of Cleisthenes
were at the heart

of Greek democracy...

...as was the use
of random selection,

which became one of the main
political tools in Athens.

In this direct democracy,
there were almost no elections,

no career politicians running
to represent the people.

Most of the civic offices
and positions,

more than 1,200 in total,

were chosen at random each year
from a large pool of citizens.

Only a few positions
were elected,

such as military officers,
treasurers,

and water supply managers.

And each was elected
for a limited term.

Democracy for the ancients

was not defined by election.

The ancients would laugh at us

if we said that's
a democratic society.

Election, according
to the ideas of democrats,

was oligarchy, because
it favored the well-known,

who would therefore be wealthy,
well-born, politically active.

Whereas the lottery
randomizes the process,

and it doesn't advantage anybody
on grounds of their birth,

or their wealth.

The drawing of lots
was an obsession,

and became a kind
of "democratic technology."

But how did they do it?

At first,
beans of different colors

were used for drawing lots.

But that system could be rigged,

and limited the number of people
who could be selected.

In an effort

to make the process
as transparent as possible,

they developed
wooden and marble machines,

like the one archaeologists
are trying to reconstruct,

called the "kleroterion."

So how did these machines work?

Liliane Lopez-Rabatel
and Nicolas Bresch

worked for years to research
and design a prototype,

starting with clues
contained in the papyrus.

According to this text,
the names of citizens

who were participating
in a selection

were inscribed on small strips
of bronze or wood.

And these were inserted
into the grooves.

Then, black and white cubes
were mixed up

and thrown into a funnel
at the top of the machine,

where they fell into a tube.

Based
on our studies of

the remains and
cross-referencing

information
from the texts,

we did some tests.

The papyrus says

the cubes
were removed one by one.

If a black cube came out,

the top row of citizen
nametags were eliminated.

If the cube was white,

then the name tags on that row
were selected.

The process was repeated

as many times
as there were rows.

When the process was complete,

the selected citizens
became the decision makers

for whatever matters
were at hand.

What remains a bit mysterious

is precisely how the cubes
were extracted from the tube.

So we really want to work
with the sculptor,

Panayotis,

to see how we can
continue these tests.

On the island of Tinos,

90 miles from Athens,

the kleroterion
begins to take shape.

This is where the sculptor
Panayotis lives,

far from the hustle
and bustle of the city.

One of the most difficult parts

of making of the kleroterion
is this hole,

because it is against
the grain of the marble.

It is easy to split
the marble in this direction.

You can tell that everything
is all right,

judging with the ear.

If the sound changes,

I have to be careful.

But as long as this bell noise

is the same
all over the place, I'm okay.

There are no cracks inside.

If the sound was different

from one side to the other...

there, that would be a problem.

It's very dramatic.

In ancient Athens,

these machines
could vary in size

depending on how many people
had to be selected.

One of the biggest groups
they were used for

was a council
of 500 citizens--

50 from each
of the ten tribes.

This council, made of
citizens over the age of 30,

was tasked with drafting
new laws

in preparation for a vote.

They met at the bouleuterion,
located in the Agora.

So, this is their meeting place.

It held 500 people,

and they were here
almost every single day,

arguing, discussing, debating

any proposed legislation
that came up.

We have to assume
that it was fairly noisy

and they presumably sat
in tribal contingents.

Right next door was the Tholos,

a circular building
that housed

the executive government
of Athens.

This branch of government
was made up of 50 councilors

from one tribe.

A rotating group of 17 of them

lived here day and night
for a month,

addressing any
urgent matters that came up.

Then, they handed
responsibility over

to 50 citizens from
another tribe,

and so on.

This ensured that
all ten tribes took part

in the most important
public affairs.

And it is here that
the democracy flourished.

This was the center
of government.

But when it came to
making policy decisions

and passing new laws,

how did this system
actually work?

That process took place
just a few minutes' walk

from the Agora, on the other
side of the Acropolis.

Called the Pnyx,

this is where all the citizens
of Athens gathered

about four times a month

to vote on laws proposed
by the Athenian council.

DIMITRIS PLANTZOS
They were always afraid

of tyranny,
they were always afraid

of a new oligarchic regime;

they tried very hard
to avoid it.

Archaeologist Dimitris Plantzos

takes his students
into the field

so they can get a feeling

for what it was like
to participate

in Athenian democracy.

Here,
at the crack of dawn,

thousands of citizens
would gather.

The chairman of the day,
chosen by lottery,

would announce the agenda,
opening the floor to speakers.

Next came the time
for discussion.

According to ancient sources,

the debates were
often intense.

But eventually,

it was time to vote

by a simple show of hands.

PLANTZOS
The Pnyx signifies

the power of the people,

the power given
to the people,

the power exercised
by the people.

To ensure that
the poorest citizens

and those who worked
or lived far from the city

could participate,

the city paid them
a small salary to attend.

An old historian
called this moment

the invention of politics.

Because this is when people

have to come together
and decide to work together

to make life better
for everybody.

But it wasn't always
a friendly gathering.

These fragments tell the story

of how the Athenians
treated citizens

who were seen to be working
against the democratic system.

These pottery shards

bear the names of major
political figures of the time.

But they were not
objects of celebration.

These were "ostraka."

They were used

by the Athenians
to control their politicians.

"Ostracon" just means

a piece of pottery,
and the process

is called ostracism
because of that.

One of Cleisthenes' innovations

made it possible for citizens

to vote against someone.

Once a year,
the citizens' assembly

voted by a show of hands

on whether they thought
their democracy

was being threatened
by someone.

If a majority voted yes,

then the citizens
were summoned to the Agora

about two months later.

Each citizen
brought a piece of pottery,

an ostrakon,

with the name of the person
they thought was responsible

and should be banished
for ten years.

What's fascinating

about ostracism

is that 11,000 ostraka

have been found to date,
which is absolutely staggering.

And some of the ostraka
contain insults.

We have Themistocles,

who is called,
if you'll pardon the expression,

a "sodomite"--
katapugon.

For this great
unpopularity contest,

at least 6,000 voters

out of 20,000
to 40,000 citizens

had to agree.

An ostracized individual

would then be banished
from Athens' borders

for ten years.

The ostracized person

didn't lose their citizenship

or the income
from their property.

So there was a whole series
of guarantees

that limited arbitrariness

and explained
why the ostracized

never turned against
the Athenian city.

And that was absolutely crucial,

because ostracism ensured
that the elites conformed

to the expectations
of the people.

The Athenians were determined
to find ways

to keep the citizens united

and protect democracy.

But external threats also
brought the people together.

In the early fifth century BCE,

a Persian invasion
led Athens to build a fleet

of 200 warships
called triremes.

The effort to build
and crew the ships

united its citizens.

It's a lesson
that still resonates today.

This replica
of an ancient warship

belongs to the Greek navy.

It is only used
on special occasions.

Inside, rowers sit on
three different levels,

the source of the name
"trireme."

This one was reconstructed

by British archaeologists
in the 1980s

based on ancient texts
and carvings.

The creation of the fleet

changed the society.

Up until now,

Athens had been
a land power

and had fought with perhaps

10,000 heavily armed
foot soldiers.

Now they suddenly had 200 ships,

each one needing 170 rowers.

So, we're talking about
tens of thousands of Athenians

who had to participate
to be a success.

Unlike Roman galleys,

which were mainly
manned by slaves,

Athenian triremes
were operated by citizens.

The citizen rowers
were organized into teams

corresponding to the ten tribes
created by Cleisthenes.

This was one of those places

of political and social mixing

that democracy brought about.

People who lived together

and risked their lives together.

We could therefore say
that essentially,

the Athenian democracy
is a rowing democracy.

But of course,

there was a dark side
to Athenian society.

The rights of citizenry
were not universal.

40 miles southeast of Athens
lies a maze

of more than 100 miles
of underground tunnels.

These are the silver mines
of Lavrion.

Over the centuries,
countless enslaved people,

including children,
worked in these mines.

ALBERIC NEGRO
Look at this.

Look here.

If you crawl forward,

you can rest your elbows
and knees.

And these are the traces
left by the elbows and knees

of people who came
to dig these tunnels.

Now we can really see it,
it's extraordinary.

It's visible there.

To investigate these tunnels,

archaeologists
rely on specialists

who understand
the dangers here.

Jacky Klosset is a speleologist
and also a former miner.

The most difficult thing
in these tunnels:

we're on all fours
the whole time.

We move around like lizards
with bellies to the ground.

It's hard to advance,

so how did they manage?

In my opinion,
there must have been

many, many deaths
in these galleries.

It's a grueling job.

Imagine,
in a gallery like this,

for six, seven, eight hours,

half-naked.

An ancient painting

shows that child slaves

like the ones in Lavrion,

worked in mines.

Often a young worker
accompanied an older one.

Outside, archaeologists
have discovered

outlines of their
undersized footprints.

It could be that

these two people,
these co-workers,

would rest
after a very harsh day,

and make the outlines
of their feet

with the tools
they had in hand.

And this is for eternity.

Archaeology allows us to

approach these people
of the past

who are silent in
written sources.

But the questions,
such as how many slaves

were active in Lavrion

is very, very difficult
to be answered.

But there is
one answer to that,

which is,
"too many."

And by too many,

is tens of thousands.

The landscape of Lavrion

was completely transformed
by ancient mining.

The ruins of
industrial facilities

that were set up
to wash and clean the ore

are still visible today.

There are 2,500 hectares

of dense archaeological
buildings like this

in Lavrion.

That's why Lavrion is unique.

The slaves of the Lavrion mines

powered the development
of the Athenian economy.

Most were prisoners of war
who had been bought in markets,

or were the children of slaves.

It is estimated
that slaves in Athens

outnumbered citizens
by about two to three times.

In antiquity,
many societies in this region,

regardless of
their political structure,

relied on slavery
to some extent.

But in Athens,

a specific group of slaves

was at the very heart
of the democratic system.

The
Athenians called them

the "demosioi",

the public slaves,

the slaves who were property
of the "demos,"

the people of Athens.

They were not very numerous,

perhaps between
1,000 and 2,000,

not much more.

They had different functions.

Among them, were archers,
who were scythians,

who performed
policing duties in the city.

Even the policemen were slaves.

Many positions
in the bureaucracy

were filled by these demosioi.

Archivists, clerks,

accountants, coin inspectors,

as well as assistants
to the council,

the citizens at the Pnyx,
and the courts.

These public slaves
were treated better

than the slaves
in the Lavrion mines.

They ensured
the continuity of the state,

while the citizens who served
in government were temporary,

usually with
only a one-year term.

Those were the citizens selected
with a lottery machine.

Super.

Wonderful.

It's very nice.

I'm glad...
I'm very happy.

Panayotis has almost
completed his project.

Liliane is testing
the kleroterion,

the dice,
and the funnel...

...as well as the mechanism
designed by Panayotis

to remove the dice

one by one,
using two bronze pins.

Very nice.

We could be doing this
all day.

It seems to work well.

He is fine-tuning
the last details.

In a few days, the machine
will be transported to Athens

for its inauguration.

It's time for the first
full-scale test

in the Agora of Athens.

A unique archaeological
experiment

to test how these
randomizing selection machines

might have worked.

Liliane and Panayotis' team

have brought together
dozens of high school students.

So, we are pleased now
to reveal

the result of this work.

So now, imagine
you are in Athens

in the fourth century BC.

You are the citizens
of this democratic city.

Back in those days,

every morning,

citizens gathered at dawn
to be chosen by lot

to serve as jurors
for the day's trials.

The random lotteries

helped prevent
corruption of the jury,

since no one could know
in advance

who'd sit in court that day.

The procedure
was visible to all,

guaranteeing that
there would be no cheating.

This is a very important
aspect of the machine.

No cheating is possible.

To start, each participant

hands over their name tag.

The boxes are shaken

to thoroughly mix them.

Then they are inserted
into the kleroterion.

And the lottery begins.

We need four light

and 26 dark.

In this trial,

they want to choose
20 people,

which means
picking four rows.

So, Panayotis inserts
the four shiny light dice

and 26 black dice
into the machine.

Then, he removes them
one by one.

It's a black one.

If a black die comes out,

the top row of nametags
is eliminated.

The first row is black,

the names are not selected.

The second one
is a white one.

If it is a shiny die,

the line is selected.

"Kallikydis Aigilieus."

Kallikydis?

And five people are then called

to serve as jurors.

Come, come, come.

Kallikydis.

Right in here.

So, she is
the first selected.

Vita Pausanias Leukonoes.

Where are you?

Pyxikratis Prospaltios.

We have completed the draw,

all the lots have been drawn.

We have selected 20 jurors

for the people's court

of the democratic city
of Athens.

Congratulations.

I'm really very pleased

with the outcome
of this experiment.

I feel relieved, tired,
but truly satisfied.

For the ancient Greeks,

true democracy only worked
through the extensive use

of random selection.

Citizens voted on the laws
that would govern them.

The absolute grip of
the powerful was broken.

But are we really sure
that democracy originated

in Athens at that time?

Were there other precedents?

People
gathering together,

people legislating
together,

we have known this

for a long time,

certainly since
the Assyrian world.

We also find this
in other communities.

For example,

cuneiform tablets have
been found that mention

that 3,800 years ago
in what is now Iraq,

there were assemblies
of notables

who designated
one of their members by lot

as mayor of the city,
every year.

But for the Greeks,

democracy was not just that.

It was also about
controlling the elites.

In other words,

it was about how to
prevent these elites

from seizing real power.

This first Greek democracy

was very different from ours,

but in a way,
Athenians had to deal

with some of the same
challenges:

who is in charge?

How do you select and
hold people accountable?

Back in that time,
this experiment involved

only a few hundred
thousand inhabitants.

But does size really matter

when it comes to implementing
democratic ideas and concepts?

Controlling the elites

is not dependent
on the size of the society.

It is something that
can be experimented with

on a large scale.

And from that point of view,

the Athenian
democratic experiment

still has a lot to teach us.

Athenian democracy
was a bold innovation.

But it wasn't
without challenges.

After a century of existence,

democracy almost
disappeared in Athens.

At the end
of the fifth century BCE,

after three decades of war
against Sparta,

the defeated
Athenian government

was overthrown
by 30 oligarchs.

They ruled through terror
for a year,

killing more than 1,500
opponents,

often with lethal poison,

sparking a full-scale civil war.

Eventually,
after eight months of chaos

and armed confrontation,

the citizens succeeded
in restoring democracy.

One of the steles
discovered in the Agora

describes
what happened after that.

This inscription here

talks about a violent death.

Here is the Greek word
for death, "thanatos."

And then right after that,
it mentions democracy.

And what this inscription
is doing--

it is telling us that

anybody who
died a violent death

fighting to restore
the democracy,

their orphans are going to be
supported by the state

until they grow up.

And along the side here

are the names of
all the Athenian democrats

who died fighting
to restore the democracy,

and the names
of their children,

who will now
be taken care of

by the new government
until they grow up.

So, it's a very powerful message

about how hard it was
to restore the democracy

and what the cost was.

Democracy held strong
for almost another century

until Athens was defeated by
the Macedonians from the north,

led by Alexander the Great

and his father,
King Philip II.

Self-rule was
finally swept away

when the Roman Empire
took over Greece

around the middle
of the second century BCE.

Athenian democracy
was an early experiment.

Today, there are many forms
of democracy around the world.

But they all have the same
powerful ideas in common--

that a healthy democracy

needs to heed
the voice of the people

while enshrining robust
checks and balances

in order to defend against
tyranny in all its forms.