In this passage, Aristotle suggests not only that freedom is essentially linked to democracy, but that democrats peculiarly define “freedom” as doing “whatever one wishes” (ὅ τι ἂν βούληται).Footnote ² Aristotle is not alone in his formulation. Phrases describing the ability to do “whatever one wishes” or to live “however one wishes” (ὡς βούλεται) in a democracy are widely used by ancient critics and sympathizers alike.Footnote ³ This understanding of freedom is central to Athenian democracy. This chapter explores the concept of freedom through the heuristic tools of philology and the model of positive and negative freedom. Employing Berlin’s distinction between negative freedom as “freedom from coercion” and positive freedom as “freedom to act,” many scholars have interpreted these phrases as representing negative freedom for the individual in the private sphere, in contrast to positive freedom in the public sphere as political participation.Footnote ⁴ Using a modification of Berlin’s model, I propose instead that these phrases indicate an ability to act on one’s volition, and thus that eleutheria was considered by Athenians to be positive freedom, or individual autonomy, across both spheres.

Democratic freedom aimed at each citizen achieving “whatever he wished” or, similarly, living “however he wished.” These phrases and their meanings appear in passages from the historians, tragedians, philosophers, and in laws and decrees. Both sympathetic and critical receptions of democratic freedom claim this feature as a central tenet of democracy. Rather than expressing negative freedom in the private sphere, where the government is not allowed to interfere, and positive freedom in the public sphere, where citizens have the ability to participate in politics, these discussions of doing “whatever one wishes” put forward an understanding of freedom as general autonomy. That is, each citizen is conceptualized as free, and therefore as an autonomous agent across the private-public divide. In this way, positive freedom is a central aspect of a citizen’s identity. Of course, Athenians also wished to be free from interference by others, but a distinctive feature of democratic freedom was the insistence on the self as master: as a citizen, one did what one wished.

This chapter reveals the ways in which Athenian democracy relied on a positive valuation of freedom in private and public life, offering a refined conception of democratic eleutheria that helps us more clearly understand not only Athenian values and ideology, but also policies and practices. This aspect of freedom developed over the course of changing historical conditions. The core, however, can be identified throughout the fifth and fourth centuries, including in how Athenians of those eras interpreted the reforms of their foundational lawgiver, Solon. To connect doing “whatever one wishes” to positive freedom, I turn first to the free-slave dichotomy and its role in defining freedom to show that slavery indicated a lack of both negative and positive freedom (Section 2.1). The relationship between free status and slavery plays a significant role in defining democratic freedom starting with pre-democratic Solonian Athens. Doing “whatever one wishes” has previously been interpreted as negative freedom in part because slaves have been defined as essentially bereft of negative freedom. Hansen, for example, claims that to live “however one wishes” was “a negative form of freedom by being opposed to slavery” (emphasis mine).Footnote ⁵ The contrast with slavery is meant to show that these standard phrases could only refer to negative freedom. Slaves, though, are understood as the complete antithesis of free men. Their subjugation is not limited to denying them negative freedom. The essence of the status distinction is that a slave has a master, whereas a free man does not. As we shall see, positive freedom completes the understanding of the qualities of a free man in contrast to the slave.

Next, through readings of several well-known passages concerning freedom, I demonstrate that Athenian eleutheria was not conceived of solely as freedom from constraints, but also as autonomy, or the ability to act according to one’s own desires, expressed by phrases similar to doing “whatever one wishes” (Section 2.2). This developing strain of freedom’s meaning was expressed in a variety of ways, eventually becoming linked to a more standardized phrase in the fourth century. Freedom as autonomy was a contested value. Its centrality was not only maintained by democrats, but also by critics who perceived it as one of democracy’s shortfalls.

At the scale of the polis, the institutional application of this configuration of freedom is evident both in the concept of voluntarism that motivated the various processes of government and in the elaborate system of accountability to the dēmos (Section 2.3). The Athenians did not require participation in government and even preferred to tolerate vacancies in some cases rather than initiate a forced “draft” of citizens to fill positions.Footnote ⁶ From executing the law to filling an archonship, citizens self-selected for various tasks and positions. Voluntarism has been considered both peculiar and inefficient in a system dedicated to rule by the people, since compulsory participation would seem to be a more effective means of securing that goal. But voluntarism was valued as a robust expression of positive freedom: as a citizen, one did what one wished, even if that was rejecting political participation. The counterpart to voluntarism was political accountability through the various scrutinies (δοκιμασίαι) and examinations (εὔθυναι), which provided those who either did not self-select or were not selected the opportunity to exert control over governmental offices. While other city-states also had systems of accountability, Athens’ deployment and justification of the processes were framed as protective of their citizens’ positive freedom. Accountability preserved the citizen’s ability to do what he wanted within the law and safeguarded his power as a member of the dēmos.Footnote ⁷ While other democratic values, such as equality, have been identified as both justifying and being reinforced by these institutions, the extent to which positive freedom plays a role has not been recognized.Footnote ⁸ Finally, I show that the conception of external freedom attributed to Sparta and Persia provided a foil for democracy’s idiosyncratic definition of freedom (Section 2.4).

2.1 Slavery: Lack of Positive or Negative Freedom?

The basic statutory meaning of the term “freedom” (ἐλευθερία), whence the others ultimately derive, is in contrast to slavery (δουλοσύνη). The abstract noun is predated by the adjective “free” (ἐλεύθερος), the only form found in Homer. In his epics, notably, the word is not used for persons directly, but only in the stock phrases “taking away the day of freedom” and “krater of freedom,” in contrast with “to ward off the day of slavery.”Footnote ⁹ As Raaflaub has shown, in Homeric society freedom was an issue only in times of war, wherein one’s status could change quite suddenly.Footnote ¹⁰ In this context, personal status was linked with the external freedom of the city. Otherwise, being free was not sufficient to elevate one’s status, since the lowest rung of the free was not substantially superior to the enslaved. While at the personal level freedom was important, free status was not the key to social or political standing as opposed to proximity to nobility, and a sense of internal freedom for citizens was not the main focus of eleutheria.Footnote ¹¹ Likewise, Hesiod’s lack of engagement with freedom indicates he had little concern for the concept as it regarded the daily life of the citizen-farmer.Footnote ¹² The conception of freedom changed in post-Solonian Athens, although its contrast with slavery remained one of its key features. In pre-democratic Athens, land shortages combined with the practice of debt-bondage resulted in forced downward mobility for the free poor. Solon set into motion the firm separation of slave and citizen by forbidding the enslavement (or debt-bondage) of free Athenians.Footnote ¹³ The city thus dramatically changed the sociopolitical landscape by linking political status and power to civic status with ramifications extending to social standing. The reform created a normative, in addition to a legal, distinction: free Athenians are not slaves and further ought not to be. The division was transformed into a difference of kind.

By the fourth century, this was anachronistically considered one of Solon’s “most democratic” reforms, despite his lack of democratic intentions ([Arist.] Ath. Pol. 9.1). The position of slaves, as opposed to the position of the free, was directly and frequently employed in the definition of democratic freedom. What, then, is it to be enslaved? How should we understand Athenian “freedom” in contrast with “slavery”? In some ways, the slave represents the person with the most restrictions placed upon him by another. As such, he completely lacks negative freedom. The slave master represents the ultimate interference or domination, since he has a say in whatever aspect of the slave’s life he desires.Footnote ¹⁴ The slave is also, quite literally, not his own master. Not only is there potential maximum restriction on his action, but he also has no say in the creation of those restrictions. O. Patterson, in his seminal work Slavery and Social Death, emphasizes how the power dynamic in the master–slave relationship differs from other forms of domination. Slavery is indeed the extreme domination of another, and so the complete negation of negative freedom, to be sure, but the slave is also powerless and “in his powerlessness the slave became an extension of his master’s power. He was a human surrogate.”Footnote ¹⁵ The slave, in other words, cannot bring his own desires to fruition but instead fulfills the will of another. In this way, a slave also lacks positive freedom.Footnote ¹⁶ Thus, while slavery is often used as an example of complete lack of negative freedom, it also paradigmatic of a lack of positive freedom.

We find this same idea in Greek thought. Aristotle, in taking the relationship between slave and master as a basic building block of the household and polis, divides enslaved and free by the fact that a slave is entirely of another:Footnote ¹⁷

This passage is part of Aristotle’s explication of the slave’s role as a possession and tool for the master, albeit a living one (1253b31–2). Although, unlike O. Patterson, Aristotle begins with a definition of slavery based on ownership, the slave’s condition is further defined by complete powerlessness. Insofar as he is property, the slave is entirely defined by his relationship with his master, expressed through the objective and possessive uses of the genitive.Footnote ¹⁹ Aristotle, moreover, does not define the relationship through the amount of control the master enforces. For example, he does not claim that the essential nature of a slave is that one is prohibited from doing x or forced to do y. In explaining the nature of slavery, Aristotle emphasizes the slave’s possession by another, which renders him an object without autonomy in his own right. Like O. Patterson’s “human surrogate,” a tool does not have its own ends. Just as tools are used to accomplish crafts, the slave is used to achieve the desires of the master. Thus, a slave, as far as Aristotle is concerned, is defined by serving another’s ends. Since the slave is entirely the possession of another, he is at the most basic level not in possession of himself and cannot take part in a purposive life.Footnote ²⁰ A person desires positive freedom because he wishes “to be the instrument of [his] own, not of other men’s, acts of will.”Footnote ²¹ In Aristotle’s theoretical model, a slave cannot act on his own will. Even if owned by a benevolent master, who restricted his action little if at all, a slave would still not be in charge of himself in an important sense.

The slave’s lack of autonomy appears in nonphilosophical texts as well. We find a comic representation of this idea at the beginning of Aristophanes’ Plutus. The play opens with Karion, the slave of the protagonist Khremylos, lamenting that he has a foolish master. In his capacity as slave, he must suffer along with Khremylos since:

Free adult men are empowered, or kurios, over themselves, their dependents, and their possessions.Footnote ²³ Thus, Karion here is complaining not simply that he has no freedom from restriction, but that he is not the one “in charge.” That is, while a free person is his own kurios and so the author of his own actions, a slave does not have the autonomy necessary to bring his desires to fruition. His “natural” position as kurios is undermined. The distinction between agent (τὸν κύριον), that is, the one who acts, and autonomy (τοῦ σώματος κράτειν), that is, authority over that action, is remarkable. As in Aristotle’s reckoning, the slave acts in the service of another. The issue is not how much restriction is placed on the slave, but rather who is in power. In the hyperbolic claims of comedy, he does not even control his own body. The joke here is that a kurios is not able to rule, since that autonomy should be the natural state of a kurios, as well as the tongue-in-cheek claim by the slave to be kurios at all, since slaves have masters, and so are not kurioi.Footnote ²⁴ Compare also the expression describing an emancipated Phormion in Demosthenes’ For Phormion, “being of himself” (καθ’ ἑαυτὸν ὄντι, 36.4).Footnote ²⁵ This difficult phrase seems to get at that same tricky idea of separating personal agency from autonomy.Footnote ²⁶ Until he is freed, a slave is not by or of himself. Both of these instances outside of Aristotle’s theorizing exemplify a general conception of slavery as undermining not simply negative freedom but also the ability to self-govern. Domination weighs heavily on the slave, but we should not ignore the other side of the coin, namely the inability of the slave to act for himself.

Discussions of slavery, then, do not necessarily imply only the absence of negative freedom but also of positive freedom. Insofar as slavery is the foil for freedom, self-mastery as the ability to formulate and achieve desires is an intelligible layer of meaning. This element of freedom is connected to autonomy. In contrast to modern philosophical perspectives on autonomy, the ancient democratic view advanced here does not hold reason or another arbiter of the true self as key to self-mastery.Footnote ²⁷ The “self” is not a disconnected higher agent but rather a free person acting under his own will, oriented toward action in the world instead of entirely inwardly. Thus, acting on one’s desires is autonomy simpliciter, before the concept becomes tangled up with “higher” senses of self.Footnote ²⁸ By “autonomy,” then, I mean the thinnest version thereof before its ratiocination. Recognizing oneself (the agent) as the author of one’s own actions was sufficient for authenticity.Footnote ²⁹ This view does not create a continuous thread from Athens to Kant and the Enlightenment concept of a person, nor does the use of “autonomy” here need to imply a Kantian “neutral reason” or Rawlsian “original position.” Instead, it is meant to convey that the concept “free” included laboring for one’s own cause, whatever that might be.Footnote ³⁰

Democratic autonomy is rooted in the contrast with slavery, where one must complete the orders of another whether one wants to or not. While freedom can be separated from autonomy by distinguishing the authenticity of desires versus the conditions for acting on those desires, the nontechnical use of “autonomy” employed here is instead the very ability to bring forth desires, to act in accordance with one’s judgments, which are made authentic by being from the agent himself. The repercussions of such a formulation are manifold in the citizen’s private and public identities. Focusing solely on the lack of negative freedom in slavery obscures the role of autonomy in developing those identities.

2.2 I Do What I Want: Positive Freedom

Slavery provides the comparandum for one of our most explicit, if critical, definitions of democratic freedom. In his Politics, Aristotle pinpoints freedom as an underived principle of democracy:

He elaborates on the two signs (σημεῖα) of this freedom which he also calls markers (ὅροι) of democracy itself. One sign is the practice of rotation of offices (1317b9–11). This depends on the idea of democratic justice which is based on equality. Since free men are equal insofar as they are free, it is only right to share offices equally through rotation. Aristotle further claims that alternate rule is entailed by the second sign of freedom:

The very function (ἔργον) of freedom for democrats is to live “however one wishes,” which is diametrically opposed to the plight of slaves. Democrats, Aristotle claims, have taken a juridical status and expanded the meaning to define who can and cannot live as they wish.

Defining freedom, thus, is “the most controversial form of democratic liberty” for the ancients;Footnote ³¹ in fact, Aristotle goes so far as to interpret this as a desire not to be ruled at all. The presumption of anarchy, although not representative of actual democratic goals, reflects a fear concerning the democratic definition of freedom.Footnote ³² For scholars wishing to see negative freedom as the predominant conception at Athens, this passage shows that eleutheria is primarily freedom from interference, in this case, by a ruler. But if we attend to the choice of language, there is a more prominent aspect. We must note that the purpose of not being ruled is to live according to one’s own lights, whatever they may be. Wishing to be the master of one’s actions is the most basic sense of autonomy. The elimination of a literal ruler is a secondary means of securing this state, since a free Athenian must be in control of himself. Positive freedom is about being one’s own master, and living “however one wishes” expresses that desire. Aristotle intertwines this freedom with another foundational democratic element, equality of citizens. As for the political ramifications, since Athenian democrats are not literal anarchists, they settle on ruling in turn. This is a practical matter, an institutional solution. The underlying ideology, or underived principle, is absolute citizen self-governance, an idea considered preposterous to nondemocrats.

In addition to interpreting democratic freedom as anarchy, Aristotle connects this view of freedom with democracy’s self-destruction (Pol. 1310a27–8). Although he is clearly criticizing positive freedom, this is no reason to dismiss his views as unrepresentative. As Hansen has shown, Aristotle purports to be representing a democratic viewpoint, and corroboration from other texts can connect his observations to Athens in particular.Footnote ³³ While interspersed with critical comments, this passage nonetheless provides us with a clear statement of democratic freedom as doing “whatever one wishes.”

The origin of Aristotle’s specific formulation may be found in Plato.Footnote ³⁴ Book 8 of the Republic is dedicated to the cycle of constitutional degeneration, during which Socrates and his interlocutors analyze the characters of various polities and people like them. In regard to democrats and democracies, Socrates asks,

The similarity between Aristotle’s and Plato’s phrases suggests a calcification of a general phrase designating positive freedom in technical discourse. Socrates also links the ability to do “whatever one wishes” to each citizen arranging his private affairs as he would like (557b8–10). Living freely is not confined to the private sphere, however:

Socrates goes on to elaborate all the ways citizens do not submit to anything unless they wish to, including the laws. Putting aside the exaggerated fear of anarchy, one can see that the essential critique is that the actions of citizens in both the private and public realms are subject to their own wishes. A man described as “believing in legal equality” (ἰσονομικοῦ, 561e1) and “democratic” (δημοκρατικός, 562a2) likewise does what he wants by fulfilling his desires in an undisciplined fashion. He satisfies desires that come up “as if by lot” (ὥσπερ λαχούσῃ, 561b4–5). While Plato’s particular concerns give such language negative connotations, we should, once again, not dismiss the critique out of hand as disconnected from democratic values. The democratic city and man are seen as entirely out of control precisely because each citizen is the author of his own actions without qualification.Footnote ³⁶

The various phrases denoting doing “whatever one wishes” are not restricted to philosophical texts. The historians, too, associate democracy with the same idea. In the postclassical period, Polybius, also interested in a cycle of degenerating constitutions, follows Plato and uses the phrase disparagingly. He claims that democracy is more than simply the masses being empowered to do “whatever they wish.”Footnote ³⁷ While the vicissitudes of the late fifth century, in particular Athens’ defeat by Sparta, gave critics ammunition to take aim at various democratic ideas, those targets indicate what democrats valued. By the fourth century, to do “whatever one wishes” had been formulated in a set phrase-type to explain a key democratic view of freedom.

The classical historians also express the sentiment of “doing what one wishes” as freedom. While the fourth-century Xenophon adheres most closely to the phrase’s parameters, we find Herodotus as early as the second half of the fifth century articulating positive freedom as one of the principles of democracy. In the so-called constitutional debate, the democratic notion of positive freedom prevails even when democracy does not. After seven Persians orchestrate the overthrow of the usurpers of the throne, they discuss the three main types of constitutions they might install in Persia: democracy, oligarchy, and monarchy.Footnote ³⁸ Although their conversation is set in the last quarter of the sixth century, it is widely agreed that the debate explores a topical theme in Herodotus’ contemporary Greek world through historical Persian mouthpieces.Footnote ³⁹ Consequently, we can use it as a source for fifth-century Greek thought. More specifically, Forsdyke has shown that Herodotus employed popular, polis-wide traditions from Athens in constructing his history.Footnote ⁴⁰ Thus, the Histories can be used to “extract some central themes, symbols, and ideas of Athenian democratic ideology,” including this passage.Footnote ⁴¹

The first to suggest a form of government is Otanes, who advocates for handing over rule to “the middle” (ἐς μέσον, 3.80.2). Although the term dēmokratia is not used here, his emphasis on equality under the law (ἰσονομίη), elections by lot, and collective decisions makes it clear that he represents the democratic viewpoint.Footnote ⁴² Democracy is not victorious, though. In the end, convinced by Darius’ defense of traditional monarchy, the makeshift council votes to restore a king to rule Persia. Otanes recognizes the validity of the vote and realizes that one of them will have to be made king.Footnote ⁴³ He bows out of the competition and claims “I wish neither to rule nor to be ruled” (οὔτε γὰρ ἄρχειν οὔτε ἄρχεσθαι ἐθέλω, 3.83.2). Without the possibility of equality, Otanes rejects the concept of ruling altogether. As the mouthpiece for democracy, he would be hard-pressed to rule with absolute power over free men or to be ruled, since either option would deny each person’s equality and concomitant ability to self-govern. In withdrawing from the pool of candidates, Otanes demands that neither he nor his descendants be subject to the Persian king. The other Persians agree, with the result that:

Herodotus, as narrator, thus equates freedom with the ability to choose. The point is not lessened but heightened within the confines of a monarchy where the subjects are referred to as slaves of the Great King. Rather than conclude the episode with the monarch relieving Otanes’ household of restrictions or duties, Herodotus ends on the ability of Otanes’ household to decide the amount they wish to be ruled. In this tiny democratic outpost in Persia, the defining feature is the achievement of the household’s will (θέλει). Once again positive freedom asserts itself as a fundamental characteristic of democracy.Footnote ⁴⁵

Herodotus’ account of the military success of newly democratic Athens likewise focuses on the role of individual autonomy. After the Spartans’ attempt to install an oligarchy in Athens following the Peisistratid tyranny, the Athenians spontaneously “as though of one mind” besiege them on the Akropolis and expel them from the city (τὰ αὐτὰ φρονήσαντες, 5.72.2).Footnote ⁴⁶ “The Athenians” then take the lead on all subsequent action: they recall Kleisthenes and other exiles, plan military operations, and rebuff enemies on several fronts. No leader is mentioned in any part of the decision-making or execution. Herodotus interprets their impressive victories thus:

Freedom from tyrants is tied to equality of speech (ἡ ἰσηγορίη), the type of speech that is associated with political participation, such as in the Assembly, and that is a hallmark of democracy.Footnote ⁴⁷ Herodotus explicitly connects freedom to act in the city with freedom to act for oneself.Footnote ⁴⁸ While the narrative focused on the actions of whole collective (“the Athenians”), the emphasis on each man (ἕκαστος) achieving for himself (ἕωυτῷ) when freed highlights the role of individual citizen will.Footnote ⁴⁹ To be sure, the tyrant, represented as slave master (δεσπότης), suppressed the Athenians’ negative freedom since he exercised complete domination. Yet it is not only the negative freedom from a tyrant that prompted Athenians’ newfound superiority; as explained by Herodotus, it is their enthusiasm for realizing their own will. The internal freedom of the city is enmeshed with the positive freedom of each citizen.

The effects and meaning of freedom in Herodotus are embedded in the context of the Persian War. The image of monarch as slave master conjures up the Great King, in Greek eyes the ultimate despotic threat. In fact, Herodotus has his Xerxes claim just the opposite as the narrator’s explanation of positive freedom’s effects in the passage quoted. When Demaratos, the exiled Spartan king, tells Xerxes that the Spartans would be ready to battle the whole Persian army with only one thousand men (7.102.3), Xerxes takes issue with his premise that men “equally free” (ἐόντες γε ἐλεύθεροι πάντες ὁμοίως, 7.103.3) would be better soldiers than those the under compulsion of an absolute monarch. Demaratos is specifically describing Spartans, but the king conflates them with all Greeks in general. Xerxes as despotic monarch views freedom as engendering at minimum cowardice and perhaps even anarchy, claiming men “allowed to go free” (ἀνειμένοι δὲ ἐς τὸ ἐλεύθερον, 7.103.4) would never take on a larger force or become “better” (or “braver,” ἀμείνονες, 7.103.4). For the king, his own will should be realized, not the will of his subjects. In the description of the Athenians’ freedom in 5.78, Herodotus focused on the achievement-oriented power of the liberated subjects, who do in fact become better because of freedom. At issue in both scenes is the imagined relationship between will achievement and freedom. Without the exact phrasing of later fourth-century texts, Herodotus associates the ability to act upon one’s desires, or positive freedom, with the development of democracy in Athens.

In a different context, Thucydides continues to recognize the link between positive freedom and democracy toward the end of the fifth century. Any discussion of democratic ideology must grapple with Thucydides’ report of Perikles’ funeral oration. Whether Thucydides is judged a cynical critic of democracy or a democratic idealist, the speech itself is recognized as a locus classicus of democratic thought. It is generally agreed that while Thucydides’ hand cannot be ignored, the speech must largely correspond to the general premises of Periklean ideas.Footnote ⁵⁰ The setting, with its large audience, and the occasion, a customary oration for the year’s war casualties, lend themselves to sweeping statements and patriotic popular sentiment: fertile ground for defining democracy.

Perikles begins his eulogy traditionally, but soon departs from convention. Rather than detail the military exploits of fallen soldiers, he launches into an encomium of the “city of the present.”Footnote ⁵¹ The Peloponnesian War had made conspicuous for Athenians the differences between Athens and other poleis, a recurring point in Thucydides’ text. Perikles links Athens’ greatness to its government and its citizens’ character, both of which are unique to Athens (2.36.3–37.1). He describes both public and private life as based on the same principles:

The opening phrase has been variously translated and interpreted, with the problem lying in how to read ἐλευθέρως. Just how does a citizen go about “freely” being a citizen (πολιτεύομεν)?

Many scholars, invoking the familiar slave-free dichotomy, take it to mean “in a manner befitting free men.”Footnote ⁵³ Raaflaub sees democracy as the constitution with the most individual negative freedom, which allows those liberal qualities to develop, in turn shaping foreign policy.Footnote ⁵⁴ Gomme and Rhodes, on the other hand, focus on the public realm: they highlight the check on the “tyranny” of any one class, preventing a single class from monopolizing political power.Footnote ⁵⁵ In Perikles’ claim that the administration of the government is in the hands of the many (ἐς πλείονας) and that the laws apply equally (κατὰ μὲν τοὺς νόμους … τὸ ἴσον), but that men of merit (κατὰ δὲ τὴν ἀξίωσιν) are honored with elected office (2.37.1), they see a check on class-specific power as the mechanism that allows the citizens to live freely (ἐλευθέρως). Negative freedom from other classes, in other words, is the central concern for Gomme and Rhodes. Another approach takes ἐλευθέρως to mean something more like “liberally” in modern English. Rusten translates it as emphatic: “It is with tolerance that we behave … .”Footnote ⁵⁶ Whether or not this interpretation also suggests an ideal typology of the free man, it, too, interprets the nature of ἐλευθέρως πολιτεύομεν as negative freedom, since citizens do not have to fear the coercion of other citizens or their sidelong glances. One might paraphrase, “as democratic citizens we do not infringe on each other’s activities, and we keep their and our own negative freedom intact.” The threat is perceived as coming from other individuals rather than at the institutional level, as Raaflaub, Gomme, and Rhodes see it.

Hornblower takes a slightly different tack while employing the distinction between positive and negative freedom. He sees the first part of this claim as indicating that citizens live in a manner appropriate for those in a free polis, and he points to the inheritance of a free Athens praised at 2.36.1.Footnote ⁵⁷ That passage, he argues, invokes not the individual, negative freedom from state interference, but the external positive freedom of the city “to pursue a foreign policy … which is a precondition for imperialism.”Footnote ⁵⁸ Perikles’ claim of conducting public life in a free manner in 37.1 accordingly means acting in “an open and generous way characteristic of citizens of a state which is free in the 36.1 sense.”Footnote ⁵⁹

I agree with Hornblower that freedom is not simply negative individual freedom, but I think there is another layer to “enjoying freedom” that pertains to the citizen. Besides negative freedom, Perikles is also ascribing positive freedom to the Athenian citizen as an individual. In order to see how this is implicit in Perikles’ words, we must first expand our focus to include more of Chapter 37. The second part of the opening sentence after πολιτεύομεν, which relates to private life, goes largely unremarked in Hornblower’s commentary, although it seems closely linked to the political passage before it. There is good reason not to separate the public and private in these sections.Footnote ⁶⁰ This applies to not only the sentence at hand, but the surrounding lines as well. We should, then, read the previous section, 37.1, closely with 37.2. The first section of Chapter 37 concentrates on public life:

Perikles comments here on the administration of the state, the rule of law, and political activity; all are clearly part of the public sphere. The opening sentence of 37.2 then turns to the private sphere. Since Perikles’ aim is to show the greatness of Athenian character and the principles that run through these closely related realms, this section should correspond to the one before it. The phrase ἐλευθέρως πολιτεύομεν is the grammatical and ideological hinge that connects them. It both regards public or political activity (πρὸς τὸ κοινόν), looking back to 37.1, and daily private life (τῶν καθ’ ἡμέραν ἐπιτηδευμάτων), looking forward.

The idea of acting freely in the public sphere in 37.1 includes an element of equal opportunity and the assurance that poverty does not create an insurmountable barrier to public service. But recognition of merit is also emphasized. Andrews has seen these lines as indicative of Athens’ institutional positive and negative freedom.Footnote ⁶¹ He labels equal access to public participation as a positive freedom, and the protection from majority tyranny a negative one. Given the close connection with what follows, we should expect parallels in 37.2, when the focus shifts to private lives. There Perikles tells us that Athenians do not get angry when a neighbor does “what he likes.” Reciprocally, each citizen can do what he likes with impunity. The question is not whether one can do what one wishes; that is taken for granted. Perikles says that in addition to that freedom, no one cares when someone exercises it. Besides expressing a negative freedom from interference by each other, the phrase also implies that positive freedom of action is inherently democratic: every man does as he wishes, and citizens happily tolerate it.Footnote ⁶² Hence, there is a nice symmetry between public and private freedoms. To be sure, acting freely may simply mean acting as befits a free man, but here that is specified as doing what one wishes in peace.Footnote ⁶³

Nikias’ speech to his captains before the final battle of the tragic Sicilian Expedition echoes the sentiment. He includes all the standard pre-battle admonitions, which are programmatic enough that Thucydides does not recreate his address but rather reports it all in indirect speech. Part and parcel of such a set speech is the appeal to preservation of one’s homeland and way of life. Athenian freedom is presented as positive freedom and autonomy: “He reminded them of their country, the freest of the free, and of the unfettered discretion allowed to all in it to live as they please” (… πατρίδος τε τῆς ἐλευθερωτάτης ὑπομιμνῄσκων καὶ τῆς ἐν αὐτῇ ἀνεπιτάκτου πᾶσιν ἐς τὴν δίαιταν ἐξουσίας, 7.69.2). The idea of positive freedom in this passage is far removed from the specialized language of philosophers and instead situated in the routine content of the general’s speech to his troops. The implication is that positive freedom resonates emotionally with the soldiers, suggesting that it is a deeply embedded value for the Athenians, and thus worth fighting for.Footnote ⁶⁴

The historians do not always portray the idea of doing “whatever one wishes” in a positive light. Writing after the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War, Xenophon reveals the potentially nefarious result of the dēmos doing “whatever it wishes” in the Arginousai debate. When some speakers object to Kallixenos’ proposal that the generals be tried together on the grounds of illegality, “the majority shouted that it would be terrible if someone prevented the dēmos from doing whatever it wished” (Hell. 1.7.12).Footnote ⁶⁵ The capital punishment of the generals en bloc is a low point in the war, exposing critical flaws in Athenian democracy. Whatever value the author places on this rendering of freedom, however, the framing of the debate in these terms indicates its significance to democratic ideology.Footnote ⁶⁶ Christ has shown that, while Xenophon clearly portrays the dēmos as making a terrible decision, he is not despairing of democracy.Footnote ⁶⁷ Xenophon uses the episode, he argues, to highlight the role of elite leadership in a democracy. The model leader in this view is Euryptolemos, who comes quite close to persuading the people not to put the generals to death by making a strong case for abiding by the law, another democratic value. Euryptolemos’ speech still invokes the principle of positive freedom: he encourages the dēmos to act lawfully in order to avoid impiety and deception, and thereby “with full knowledge punish the wrongdoers by any penalty you wish” (τοὺς ἀδικοῦντας εἰδότες κολάσεσθε ᾗ ἂν βούλησθε δίκῃ, 1.7.19). Later Euryptolemos asks what they fear: “Is it that you will not be able to kill or free whomever you wish, if you judge according to the law, but you will be able to do so, judging against it?” (ἢ μὴ οὐχ ὑμεῖς ὃν ἂν βούλησθε ἀποκτείνητε καὶ ἐλευθερώσητε, ἂν κατὰ τὸν νόμον κρίνητε, ἀλλ᾽ οὐκ ἂν παρὰ τὸν νόμον … ; 1.7.26). The question strikes at the core of the dēmos’ concerns and reframes the debate in terms of who is allowed to do what, and why, in relation to the rule of law. His reference to the idea of the citizens being able to do what they wish legitimizes their concern, even if it is to plead against it with another piece of ideology. Freedom did not exist in an ideological vacuum. Xenophon’s account may suggest that it should not trump other democratic principles, but its inclusion in the debate is a testament to its currency in the constellation of democratic principles.

In sum, Athenians act freely in the political sphere and likewise in the private sphere – the capacity to act is a key part of that freedom. Like the philosophers, the historians also emphasize the importance of citizens’ autonomy: in spirit, if not in letter, they underscore the ability of a citizen to do “whatever he wishes.” In this way, democracy effectively turns the conversation of freedom toward personal capacities instead of state interference.

2.3 Institutional Effects

In the preceding sections, I have largely examined extraconstitutional and generalized notions of doing “whatever one wishes.” One of the aspects of positive freedom that recommends it as a hermeneutic device is its relevance to both the private and public spheres, and to both ideology and practice. Forms of political participation, whether in the Assembly, courts, or magistracies, have long been seen as institutionalized positive freedom, based on a certain conception of Berlinean positive freedom.Footnote ⁶⁸ Apart from political participation simpliciter, positive freedom is furthermore the grounds for one of the most striking features of Athenian democracy, voluntarism, and the corresponding system of magistrate accountability.

Voluntarism, or the principle of individual, nonobligatory initiative, was the starting point for most Athenian democratic processes. Designating who was responsible or eligible to engage in a particular activity, the principle was most often expressed in a familiar phrase using a form of the verb “to wish” (βούλομαι), the same verb found in the standardized expressions of positive freedom in the fourth century. Frequently, undertakings applied to “whoever wishes from the Athenians to whom it is permitted … ” (Ἀθηναίων ὁ βουλόμενος οἷς ἔξεστιν …).Footnote ⁶⁹ Inscriptions and speeches attest to its technical use in laws and decrees as well as Athenians’ general familiarity with the language. The laws and decrees directly transmitted through inscriptions encompass a variety of topics, from financial to religious, where the primary agent is “whoever wishes” to initiate action. For instance, the earliest extant law from the reestablished fourth-century democracy, a 375/4 law about silver coinage, allows “whoever wishes of the Athenians to whom it is permitted” to report the officials to the Boulē if they do not enforce the law (AIO 819.34).Footnote ⁷⁰ The laws quoted in the orators likewise show a general application of the phrase, such as a law on impeachment procedure (εἰσαγγελία) specifying that “whoever wishes from the Athenians to whom it is permitted” may prosecute the case (Dem. 24.63).Footnote ⁷¹ Elsewhere in their speeches, the orators also use the phrase in summarizing or paraphrasing laws and procedures, indicating its general familiarity as marked legal language.Footnote ⁷²

Often shortened simply to the generalizing participle, ho boulomenos, this phrase expresses a formal feature of Athenian democracy and is used in various legal and administrative contexts.Footnote ⁷³ For instance, Kleinias’ fifth-century decree regarding tribute allows “whoever wishes” of Athenians, and even allies, to accuse someone of mischief regarding the tribute (AIO 297.34). Phratry, genos, and deme decrees also employ the same expressions regarding various activities.Footnote ⁷⁴ In general, public prosecutions were not in the purview of specialists but of whoever wished, ho boulomenos, to bring one.Footnote ⁷⁵ Solon is credited with creating a type of public suit that could be brought by “whoever wished,” the graphē. Previously, suits could only be brought by the victim, or in some cases, by a magistrate.Footnote ⁷⁶ A very old example of a public suit, from either the Solonian laws or soon after, is the law prohibiting the torture and ransom of a convicted murderer where ho boulomenos can prosecute (Dem. 23.28).Footnote ⁷⁷ The fourth-century author of the Aristotelian Athenian Constitution goes as far as to take Solon’s introduction of the graphē as one of his most “democratic” reforms (9.1).Footnote ⁷⁸ The author’s assessment creates a misleadingly neat line of democratic development from Solon to the fourth century. What it does accurately reveal, however, is the way this type of claim and ho boulomenos language had become institutionalized and synonymous with democracy.

A narrower understanding of voluntarism has focused on the legal sphere.Footnote ⁷⁹ In this context, the “high degree of responsibility private citizens bore for initiating, conducting, and executing judgments of legal actions … would shock most modern Westerners.”Footnote ⁸⁰ Rubinstein has shown that the “volunteer prosecutor” was a widespread Greek phenomenon, often used to regulate officials, and likely was not invented in Athens.Footnote ⁸¹ Although not unique to Athens, the ho boulomenos “is regarded, entirely justifiably, as a hall-mark of Athenian democracy” and was considered such by the Athenians themselves.Footnote ⁸² In her study, she notes the great local variation in the terminology for the volunteer prosecutor and the details of its execution. Rather than argue for Athenian origin or singularity, I am interested in the relationship between freedom and the role of voluntarism as it developed in Athens. My use of “voluntarism” is broad, incorporating all the instances where citizen initiative took precedent, not only in his role as prosecutor. The citizen as ho boulomenos in this sense is such an essential component at all levels of the democratic machine that Hansen has called him “the real protagonist of the Athenian democracy” and Rubinstein, too, concludes her study acknowledging that “while there could be hoi boulomenoi without democracy, I think the Greeks would have found it impossible to think of a democracy without hoi boulomenoi.”Footnote ⁸³ Obviously, the term ho boulomenos did not literally apply to everyone who wished to do something, but only to fully enfranchised citizens. It is, therefore, shorthand for a citizen specifically; the class of the “ones who wish” overlaps precisely with the class of full citizens.Footnote ⁸⁴

Other variations in legal and procedural language employ the finite form of the verb boulomai to the same end as the uses in Section 2.2. For example, the formula for decrees granting citizenship expressly allowed the honorand to choose the tribe, deme, and phratry “which he wished” (… ἧς ἂν βούληται). In line with other legal developments, different versions are found in the fifth century before becoming standardized in the fourth.Footnote ⁸⁵ Similarly, consider Demosthenes’ paraphrase of Solon’s law permitting the childless man to bequeath his property to “whomever he wishes” (ᾧ ἄν τις βούληται, 20.102). In procedural language, the question τίς βούλεται with the relevant complementary infinitive (“Who wishes to do x?”) is common. For example, the expression τίς ἀγορεύειν βούλεται; (“Who wishes to speak?”) opened Assembly meetings starting in the fifth century.Footnote ⁸⁶ During the examination of candidates for office (dokimasia), those present were asked whether anyone wished to bring a charge against the potential magistrate, “does anyone wish to accuse this man?” (τούτου βούλεταί τις καταγορεῖν;).Footnote ⁸⁷ Inscriptions also attest to the use of the finite forms of boulomai to express voluntarism. An ordinance regarding the Eleusinian mysteries from the second quarter of the fifth century gives discretion to the Athenians to use some funds “however they wish” (ℎό[τι] ἂν βόλο[νται], AIUK 4.2 no.1 face C 34).Footnote ⁸⁸ Like the fuller phrase found in laws, this wording puts the burden of the political apparatus on the individual’s willingness rather than compulsion or deserts. These phrases are elaborations of the principle of self-selection, or voluntarism. That is, the political process depended on citizens to select themselves for various roles. Whether a position was chosen by lot or by vote, the first step was a citizen’s self-selection to the pool of candidates, just as, whether a decree passed or not, someone first had to be willing to initiate the proposal.Footnote ⁸⁹

Since much of Athenian legal language is not technical, such word choices are telling. From 410 to 400, Athens reviewed and revised its law code, amending inconsistencies and distinguishing between laws and decrees. The result was greater standardization. As shown earlier, the feature of voluntarism and the language of volition already existed in the fifth century. Just as the fourth-century literary texts employed a more calcified phrase to reflect a sentiment found in more fluid expressions during the previous century, so the formalization of the fourth-century legal language reflects an already extant principle of voluntarism, closely linked to positive freedom. In addition to fifth-century decrees and laws, Euripides establishes the connection between freedom and voluntarism in the Suppliants (422). His protagonist Theseus, who functions as a democratic mouthpiece, proclaims:

Not unlike Herodotus’ earlier assessment of relationship between freedom and isēgoria, Theseus lays bare how freedom, voluntarism, and citizen will are intertwined. The poet uses other verbs of willing (ἐθέλω and χρῄζω) instead of boulomai, but the essence is the same: the ability to answer the herald’s call, to be one who can act if so willing, is freedom itself.Footnote ⁹⁰ Voluntarism, as well as the phrases themselves expressing self-selection, draws attention to the agent’s ability to make a choice where public action is concerned. The use of the verb boulomai literalizes the internal motivation and expresses it in practical terms: the impetus for action is codified as dependent on a citizen’s desire.

The use of ho boulomenos as a ready substitution for the everyman citizen further marks the insistence on one’s willingness to act and subsequent ability to do so as essential to citizenship.Footnote ⁹¹ A passage from Aeschines succinctly expresses the importance of the citizen as ho boulomenos and designates him as a definitive feature of democratic identity. In defending his occasional rather than persistent activity in the Assembly, he claims that professional politicians are “not from democracy, but from another constitution. In oligarchies it is not whoever wishes, but whoever is in power that addresses the people, but in democracy it is the one who wishes that does so and whenever it seems good to him” (οὐκ ἐκ δημοκρατίας, ἀλλ᾽ ἐξ ἑτέρας πολιτείας. ἐν μὲν γὰρ ταῖς ὀλιγαρχίαις οὐχ ὁ βουλόμενος, ἀλλ᾽ ὁ δυναστεύων δημηγορεῖ, ἐν δὲ ταῖς δημοκρατίαις ὁ βουλόμενος καὶ ὅταν αὐτῷ δοκῇ, 3.220). The equality of opportunity and centrality of each man’s autonomy versus obligation are tied into the democratic process. Positive freedom undergirds this language of willingness and the corresponding institutions that allowed those desires to come to fruition. This ability was not confined to the public sphere or to collective action but was a value that permeated all aspects of citizen life. Just as democracy rejected outside rule, it also rejected a separate arbiter of desires. As a free man, the democratic citizen must be empowered to be the author of his own actions.

At first glance, self-selection is a mysterious aspect of ancient democracy. One might expect a polity that emphasizes a high percentage of citizen participation, at least in theory, to require that very participation as a matter of fact. Just as selection by lot and rotation of offices guaranteed that low-level political positions could be filled with the most wide-ranging selection of applicants, mandatory participation would assure the inclusion of a broad cross-section of the citizenry. In contrast, liturgies and military conscription were not based on self-selection but instead on clear obligation.Footnote ⁹² In the legal and political spheres, however, Athenians preferred to tolerate vacant political positions and to leave infractions untried rather than to compel citizens to act.Footnote ⁹³

Farrar, for one, has suggested that this puzzling aspect of democracy, self-selection, was its most important institutional feature, more so even than selection by lot or rotation. She has claimed it is not just an assumption of aristocratic privilege, but “a quintessentially democratic challenge to the elite.”Footnote ⁹⁴ The aristocratic model of government saw rule as the obligation of a class of citizens predetermined to be capable of rule. A democratic system dependent on self-selection not only eliminates extra-political power, since it makes citizenship the sole criterion for fitness to rule, but it also relocates the decision to rule to the individual. Each citizen may choose to participate, but none is required to do so. Farrar convincingly demonstrates how this creates a sense of continuity between political actors and the whole dēmos, as well as how it filters participation in the most democratic of ways, since each individual is endowed with the same choice. Rather than being represented by another citizen, each Athenian could imagine himself in any given political office.Footnote ⁹⁵ She sees the voluntarism encapsulated by ho boulomenos as a “pro-equal-freedom, anti-entitlement practice: any citizen may speak … and no one must speak, or indeed take political action of any kind.”Footnote ⁹⁶

While I agree with Farrar’s assessment, I would like to unpack further what it means for a citizen to be equated with ho boulomenos. Freedom is certainly part of it, but not just the negative freedom from personal obligation or from a ruling class. The participle pinpoints and articulates the ability to act on one’s decisions as an essential ideological aspect of citizenship. It is self-government at a basic level. The procedural language corresponds both in essence and in diction to the descriptions of democratic freedom that we saw earlier (namely, the variations on “to do whatever one wishes”). That is, the mechanism of voluntarism allowed any Athenian citizen qua citizen not only to be free from a ruling class, which might exclude him, but also to be free to act by choosing to participate. While there is no explicit use of the term eleutheria in immediate proximity to such uses of boulomai, both the process and the diction arise from the freedom of the citizen and indicate that this freedom should be understood as positive freedom.

As we saw in Plato and Aristotle, the reliance on “whoever wishes” in ideology and institutional practice is a source of critique. Outside of the philosophers, the so-called Old Oligarch also explores it in his pamphlet of the 420s.Footnote ⁹⁷ The dangerous freedom associated with democratic freedom is not limited to the private sphere but also forms part of his institutional analysis. The Old Oligarch describes it as central to the functioning and maintaining of Athenian democracy. Since democracy depends on the poor to supply the fleet, he reasons, it is consistent to allow them a share in offices and “to permit whoever wishes of the citizens to speak” (λέγειν ἐξεῖναι τῷ βουλομένῳ τῶν πολιτῶν, 1.2).Footnote ⁹⁸ Reiterating this idea, he claims that in the Assembly, “any worthless man who wishes can stand up and find something good for himself and those like him” (λέγων ὁ βουλόμενος ἀναστάς ἄνθρωπος πονηρός ἐξευρίσκει τὸ ἀγαθὸν αὑτῷ τε καὶ τοῖς ὁμοίοις αὑτῷ, 1.6). The self-interest alluded to is intended to discredit the democratic process, since it will benefit the poor and base citizen majority. Embedded in this critique is the democratic institutional and ideological principle of positive freedom, where each may participate by means of the enshrinement of ho boulomenos in the democratic process in order to attain his own ends.

The principle of voluntarism has been opposed to the rule of law by ancient and modern critics. As a consequence, modern scholars have challenged its centrality to Athenian democracy. Harris is a fierce proponent of the rule of law at Athens in opposition to an emphasis on voluntarism, which he equates with a mistaken primitivist view of Athenian society.Footnote ⁹⁹ He focuses on a magistrate’s capacities to execute the law and on the restrictions on private citizens’ use of self-help. To be sure, self-help has been used in scholarship to describe Athens as a feudal society, wherein the courts merely extended competition for honor rather than offered law-based dispute resolution.Footnote ¹⁰⁰ Rather than perpetuate the dichotomy between voluntarism and rule of law, I suggest there is a middle ground wherein the positive freedom recognized as central to democratic citizenship worked in harmony with self-imposed laws.Footnote ¹⁰¹ As one of several democratic values, like the rule of law, it could occasionally compete with those other values, but generally was assumed to function in concert with them. Furthermore, the voluntarism expressed by boulomai phrases is not exhausted nor circumscribed by technical cases of self-help. Assuredly, the magistrates had real duties and responsibilities, including the oversight and execution of certain laws. The ability of an Athenian to act upon his wishes, however, does not negate the power or processes particular to a magistrate, nor vice versa. A citizen’s identification with being ho boulomenos in legal and political procedures, whether or not he ultimately had to, for example, submit claims to an archon, squares with his autonomy. Voluntarism, supported by both institutional and noninstitutional types of evidence outlined earlier, need not automatically resist the rule of law.

The necessary complement to voluntarism was the complex system of accountability for individual political actors. The accountability apparatus set democracy apart from monarchy and oligarchy, constitutionally and in the minds of Athenians. Aeschines claims, for instance, that “there is nothing in all the city that is exempt from audit, investigation, and examination” (ἀνυπεύθυνον δὲ καὶ ἀζήτητον καὶ ἀνεξέταστον οὐδέν ἐστι τῶν ἐν τῇ πόλει. 3.22).Footnote ¹⁰² Monarchy, assimilated to tyranny, represented completely unaccountable power.Footnote ¹⁰³ Oligarchies, themselves conflated by democrats with tyranny, were also imagined as run by unaccountable elites.Footnote ¹⁰⁴ Historical oligarchies may have actually had more stringent oversight and behavioral controls than acknowledged by Athenian popular discourse, but they referred those powers to select individuals rather than to the dēmos.Footnote ¹⁰⁵ The rendering of accounts to the people and the key role of individual initiative set Athenian democratic accountability apart.Footnote ¹⁰⁶

The mechanisms for accountability ultimately relied on the individual citizen’s will to pursue a charge. The many layers of accountability began with the preemptive scrutiny (δοκιμασία) that was automatically employed to check the formal eligibility of citizens at various points.Footnote ¹⁰⁷ In the fourth century, an initial scrutiny took place when a male citizen came of age, verifying that he was of age and “free and born in accordance with to the laws” (Ath. Pol. 42.1), that is, of two married Athenian parents.Footnote ¹⁰⁸ Additional scrutinies were held before holding any magistracy (ἄρχαι), including membership in the Council.Footnote ¹⁰⁹ The various processes occurred in the Assembly, the people’s courts, and the Council. For the initial scrutiny and for the incoming Nine Archons and Council, the matter was at first the province of the Council, but, if rejected, the candidate had the ability to refer it to a dikastery. The scrutinies for the rest of the magistrates took place before a dikastery from the beginning. During the scrutiny before taking office, candidates were asked about their lineage, family shrines, and proper conduct regarding their parents, taxes, and military service ([Arist.] Ath. Pol. 55.3). After witnesses supporting the candidate’s claims were produced, those present were asked “does anyone wish to accuse this man?” (τούτου βούλεταί τις καταγορεῖν; 55.4). Rhetors, the unofficial “politicians” of ancient Athens, did not undergo a scrutiny prior to addressing the Assembly but were subject to a retrospective scrutiny (δοκιμασία ῥητόρων), also before a panel of dikasts, if they committed specific types of unseemly conduct.Footnote ¹¹⁰ That scrutiny was initiated by ho boulomenos. Footnote ¹¹¹

In addition to some procedures that applied during an official’s tenure, at the end of his term an official underwent a routine audit of his performance (εὔθυνα).Footnote ¹¹² Procedures such as the impeachment of a magistrate or rhetor (εἰσαγγελία) only occurred if someone “who wished” brought an accusation during his term. Regularly scheduled audits at the end of the term also involved ho boulomenos, just as in the initial scrutiny.Footnote ¹¹³ Auditors from each tribe were required to be available at the statues of the eponymous heroes for “anyone who wished” to submit a charge against an official undergoing his audit.Footnote ¹¹⁴ Likewise, while there were institutionalized accountants (λογισταί) to review each official’s financial accounts and to bring a charge themselves, they were required to accept any brought forward by a citizen.Footnote ¹¹⁵ Some of the procedures begin with boards of officials or particular officials, but the opportunity for citizen intervention is present throughout the process and the end is found in front of the dēmos whether in a courtroom or on the Pnyx. The picture that emerges from this elaborate system is the institutionalization of each citizen’s power of oversight. The citizen qua citizen, not officeholder, had the ultimate ability to do what he wished.

Why the need for this elaborate system of oversight? Accountability procedures address the problem of rule inherent in democracy. Namely, that individual people must hold office (and in fact social elites often tended to do so), but the dēmos must be in power by definition.Footnote ¹¹⁶ Officeholders threaten the ability of those not in office to do “whatever they wish.” Accountability functions to protect the freedom of the rest of the citizens and keep them in power. In this way, the dēmos maintains authority and exercises control although it does not itself hold office.Footnote ¹¹⁷ Notably, dikasts and Assemblymen qua dikasts and Assemblymen were themselves not subject to any of these reviews or procedures.Footnote ¹¹⁸ Thus, a male confirmed as a citizen upon reaching adulthood was ultimately able to hold others accountable. The check on the powers of each magistrate was wedded to the individual citizen’s will in theory and practice. As an extension of voluntarism, these mechanisms protect the rule of the dēmos, a rule which aimed at maintaining positive freedom.

2.4 Nondemocratic Freedom

The democratic conception of freedom as doing “whatever one wished” (ὅ τι ἂν βούληται) may be further clarified by contrasting it with competing conceptions of freedom. As previously discussed, in the earlier world of Homer, eleutheria was purely a civic status defined in contrast to slavery and was only relevant when the external status of the settlement was threatened. As points of comparison contemporary with classical Athens, let us turn to the freedom of the Persians and the Spartans, two groups the Athenians used in many ways to define themselves. These two examples also have the advantage of representing monarchic and oligarchic government types, respectively.Footnote ¹¹⁹ From the point of view of the Athenian imaginary, their freedom is centered on the external freedom of the state at the expense of any individual freedom, in contrast with the individual positive freedom of Athenian ideology.

For Athenians, the Persians represented the antithesis of freedom insofar as they were ruled by the absolutely sovereign Great King. However, Herodotus’ Persians do not present themselves as lacking freedom.Footnote ¹²⁰ He has them assert that their freedom is by virtue of, and not in spite of, their monarchy. An exemplary passage is found in Book 1 of his Histories, where Cyrus interprets a dream as indicating that Darius is plotting to overthrow his rule. When he tells Darius’ father, Hystaspes, of his dream and its signification, Hystaspes is quick to reassure Cyrus of his own allegiance. He does so with an appeal to freedom:

Looming in the background of any discussion of freedom in Persia is the commonplace use of “slaves” to refer to the subjects of the Persian king, including those who were otherwise juridically free.Footnote ¹²¹ How can his subjects be both free and slave? This difficulty is resolved once we accept that Hystaspes is referring to the external freedom of the state rather than internal individual or political freedom. The enslavement Hystaspes mentions is the domination of the Persians by the Medes. When they are freed, they themselves become rulers over the Medes, and others. Rather than exchange former slavery for simple freedom from external forces, the Persians exchange slavery for mastery thanks to Cyrus.Footnote ¹²² This, too, however, is not an individual feature of any one Persian. In the references to slavery and rulership, Herodotus’ Persians appear to be interested in freedom for the collective rather than the individual.Footnote ¹²³ Not only does Herodotus call attention to external freedom but he underscores the lack of individual freedom with Hystaspes’ offer to surrender his son for Cyrus to treat “however he wishes.” The language indicates his utter submission to Cyrus at the same time it foregrounds Cyrus’ ability to achieve his desires. In other words, the only individual in Persia with the power to achieve his desires is Cyrus, the king. His supremacy is thus established by securing Persia’s external freedom and expressed by doing whatever he wants.Footnote ¹²⁴ Freedom of action for all Persians would conflict with Cyrus’ absolute monarchy, thus pitting the freedom of the individual against the system of rule under which he lives. The king’s monopoly on this ability depends on the fact that, for his subjects, external freedom takes precedence over internal freedom.Footnote ¹²⁵ As individuals, they cannot do as they wish publicly or privately (not even in another man’s dream!).

In the constitutional debate discussed in Section 2.2, Darius likewise attributes Persia’s freedom to the monarch Cyrus (Hdt. 3.82.5). Rather than seeing democracy as the bastion of freedom, Darius argues that a monarchic constitution should be maintained because Persians were “liberated by one man” (ἐλευθερωθέντας διὰ ἕνα ἄνδρα, 3.82.5), again referring to liberation from the Medes by Cyrus. Freedom is essentially passive: when Darius asks the council, “where did freedom come from and who gave it?”, he places agency solely on the authority figure, not on the people themselves (3.82.5). Herodotus presents the Persians valuing freedom in relation to the whole state; external freedom is the key element in their identification as free.Footnote ¹²⁶ It is important to note that in the Histories’ context of the Persian Wars, where the external freedom of Greek states lied in the balance, this kind of freedom is not unimportant. Additionally, in the historical context of Herodotus’ authorship, the interrogation of the relationship between freedom and empire, too, is salient. That is to say, although distinguished from democratic freedom, the terms by which Persian freedom is described would not be foreign or unwelcome to a Greek audience. Yet even if there is a positive element of freedom as mastery over others, rather than simply defined as lack of domination, it is not the same as mastery over self. Herodotus’ discussions of Persian freedom writ large does not take into account the individual Persian.Footnote ¹²⁷ Looking again at the Athenians after their expulsion of the Spartans, the contrast is striking.Footnote ¹²⁸ Democratic freedom was presented as enacted by citizens, enhanced by individuals, and complementary to the constitution. In Persia, freedom was brought by one man and is an external attribute of the collective, while individual freedom conflicts with the constitution.Footnote ¹²⁹

The fifth-century historians further complete the picture of Athenian freedom by portraying Spartan freedom as limited at best. Herodotus’ hand in constructing the “Spartan mirage” may distort our view of how Spartans imagined themselves, we can, however, deduce what Athenians believed about the rival polis. While not entirely blinded by Athenian ideology, Herodotus was quite influenced by it.Footnote ¹³⁰ As Millender has shown, the polarity between Sparta and Athens is a central organizational theme in his work.Footnote ¹³¹ Her article focuses on how his treatment of the Spartan kings as despots aligns them more closely with barbarian autocrats than Greeks to draw out the contrast with Athens. Another way he does so, I submit, is in how he represents the differences in their understanding of freedom. In Book 7, Demaratos, the exiled Spartan king, extols the virtues of the Spartans to Xerxes, claiming that as free Greeks they will never surrender to Persian enslavement (7.102.1–3). Xerxes is incredulous that men without a master would be able to fight effectively at all. Demaratos reaffirms their freedom, but with the caveat that they consider the law a more compelling master than even the Great King: “Free though they are, you see, yet they are not altogether free. Set over them as their master is the law – and of that they are far more terrified than ever your men are of you” (ἐλεύθεροι γὰρ ἐόντες οὐ πάντα ἐλεύθεροί εἰσι· ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος, τὸν ὑπερδειμαίνουσι πολλῷ ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ οἱ σοὶ σέ, 7.104.4). The city and its men are praised as free, but the law’s regulation of citizen life is emphasized as above freedom. The use of the word for master (δεσπότης) especially underscores the perceived subordinate relationship between Spartans and the law, representing a crucial Athenian criticism of Spartan values.Footnote ¹³² Thus, Spartans have more freedom than Persians, but a limited freedom compared to Athens.Footnote ¹³³ While Athenians view themselves as having no master, and accomplishing their wishes in the polis, they view the Spartan notion of freedom as limited to being free from external powers, while they are enslaved to laws they cannot change.Footnote ¹³⁴

Since Thucydides is not so much writing about the war between Athens and Sparta as “the war the Athenians fought versus the Peloponnesians,” he shows little interest in depicting the political processes within Sparta.Footnote ¹³⁵ What treatment there is of Spartan freedom aligns with Herodotus’ earlier treatment. Like Demaratos, Thucydides’ King Archidamos also appeals to freedom in a moment of Lakedaimonian self-definition during the debate at Sparta about whether to go to war with Athens. While defending the Spartan temperament, derided as slow and overly patient, he reminds his audience that they “inhabit a city that has always been free and well-thought of” (καὶ ἅμα ἐλευθέραν καὶ εὐδοξοτάτην πόλιν διὰ παντὸς νεμόμεθα. Thuc. 1.84.1–2).Footnote ¹³⁶ He then elaborates on their education, supreme fealty to the laws, and dedication to a life of severity (1.84.2–4). As in Herodotus, the city is praised as free, but the law’s regulation of citizen life is the key component of their way of life. In both Herodotus and Thucydides, “free” for the Spartans signifies the external freedom of the city from an outside ruler, such as the Persians or other Greeks. The status of individual freedom within the city is not considered. These representations are markedly different than Thucydides’ treatment of freedom in moments of Athenian self-definition, where he instead elevates the individual. Rather than freedom as oppositional to rule when not limited to collective external freedom, democratic freedom is more capaciously defined as individual freedom to act and is still compatible with democratic rule.Footnote ¹³⁷

While the negative view of an authoritarian Sparta in the fifth century gives way to a more idealized version of the “Spartan mirage” in the fourth century, extreme state control and obedience continue as recognizable Spartan features.Footnote ¹³⁸ Xenophon, a writer with intimate knowledge of Sparta, provides a more nuanced view of Sparta, but still foregrounds state control and compulsory obedience.Footnote ¹³⁹ The family of freedom words appears just a scant three times in his Constitution of the Lakedaimonians.Footnote ¹⁴⁰ The adjective is used twice to describe a personal status and seems to indicate full citizens.Footnote ¹⁴¹ In one of those uses, the abstract noun, eleutheria, appears alongside the substantivized adjective:

Lipka notes that this is one of several instances in different texts where Xenophon expresses the belief that “one can better focus on warfare if exempted from daily business.”Footnote ¹⁴³ In other words, “freedom” is simply the external freedom of the city, for that is what is protected by military might. Xenophon uses “free men” as a shorthand for Spartiates, linking their free status to their citizenship. That free status, however, in a departure from the norm at Athens, is interpreted as best suited for keeping cities free.

As presented by the historians, in Sparta and in Persia, individual positive freedom is imagined to conflict with the government. Spartans and Persians both fear the despotism of external rule, but internally freedom of action lies outside their abilities. Against this background, the presentation of doing “whatever one wishes” in these texts as the Athenian ideal as conspicuous. Aversion to external rule was a general feature of Greek poleis, regardless of political affiliation.Footnote ¹⁴⁴ Democratic freedom is a shift to the internal freedom of the city and to the individual’s ability to pursue his own ends, not simply the absence of external rule.

2.5 Conclusion

Freedom in Greece was initially conceived of primarily as a juridical status for individuals and independence from outside domination for poleis. As democracy developed, a distinctive strain of freedom emerged from new ways of imagining the relationship between civic status and political life. The characteristic feature of democratic freedom was its positive conception as autonomy that straddled the public-private divide. This was not the only way in which Athenians understood how to be free, or even what they unanimously believed was the most important part of their politeia. However, both the novelty of positive freedom and its effect on institutions demonstrate its utility for understanding democratic ideology.

The shift in focus to active, individual, self-governance was Athens’ unique addition to “freedom,” and one that is both praised and critiqued throughout our sources. As a result, phrases that express an ability to do “whatever one wishes” are specifically identified with democratic freedom. The struggle to interpret the meaning and desirability of doing “whatever one wishes” is evidence that it was central to democratic thought. This interpretation is not incompatible with the discourse on freedom versus slavery but is in fact borne out by the dichotomy. Moreover, the historians, legal language, and bureaucratic procedure attest to positive freedom as a democratic value developed throughout the fifth and fourth centuries. By the time the fourth-century philosophers discuss such freedom, the language has ossified into such formulas as doing “whatever one wishes” (ὅ τι ἂν βούληται) or living “however one wishes” (ὡς βούλεται). Democratic freedom stands in opposition to the purely external interpretations of freedom at Sparta and Persia. Practically, it gave rise to procedural components in various aspects of Athenian administration and law, most notably voluntarism and a robust system of political accountability to the citizenry. Theoretically, positive freedom provided a distinctive point of contrast between Athenian democracy and other systems of government, as a core marker of identity for better or worse. A democratic citizen was free: he did what he wished.