Politics of the Res Publica: An Introduction to Roman Elections

This is the fourth installment in our series exploring the history and practice of democracy throughout time and across places, peoples and cultures.

In the Roman Republic (509–27 BCE), ultimate sovereignty was supposed to lie with the populus Romanus—the Roman people. In practice this meant that free-born adult male citizens could assemble to vote on laws, policy measures, and to elect officials. Rome had several popular assemblies, but by the middle Republic three were paramount: the Comitia Centuriata (Centuriate Assembly), the Comitia Tributa (Tribal Assembly), and the Concilium Plebis (Plebeian Council). Each had its own structure and purpose. 

Together these bodies provided the official venues for choosing magistrates and legitimizing Rome’s government. In theory a law or election outcome approved by the assembled people overrode any Senate decree. In reality, however, senators and wealthy elites often guided the process through custom and influence. Nonetheless, the assemblies’ workings tell us how Roman “democracy” functioned.

Popular Assemblies and Voter Eligibility

Only free adult male Roman citizens had the franchise. In each assembly, these voters cast ballots or voiced choices in groups. The Centuriate Assembly was the oldest, dating to the semi-legendary reforms of King Servius Tullius. It divided citizens into centuries—voting units originally based on military and wealth classes. The Tribal Assembly grouped citizens by geographical tribe (35 in all, including 4 city tribes and 31 rural tribes). The Plebeian Council was essentially the Tribal Assembly meeting under a tribune of the plebs and open only to plebeians. To vote, citizens had to be physically present in Rome (often on the Campus Martius or in the Forum). This direct-democracy feature meant turnout fluctuated: perhaps 20,000–70,000 might attend a big election. Rural Italians, facing long travel, tended to turn out only for major contests; urban Romans could more easily show up for everyday votes.

In theory all citizen-voters were equal before the law, but the assembly structures gave outsized influence to the wealthy. The assemblies did not follow a pure one-person-one-vote rule. Each assembly counted votes by unit (century or tribe), not by individual ballots, and the unit sizes were weighted by class or geography.

The Centuriate Assembly (Comitia Centuriata)

The Centuriate Assembly was theoretically the highest voting body. By the middle Republic, it had 193 centuries grouped into property classes (five broad wealth classes, plus separate groups for the equites or knights, and for the poorest citizens, the capite censi). Each century—regardless of how many citizens it contained—cast one vote. The centuries voted in a fixed order, starting with the richest classes. Once a majority of centuries (97 out of 193) was reached, voting stopped. Because the upper classes collectively held about half the centuries, they often decided elections before the lower orders even voted. One historian summarized: the elites voted first, so if they united behind candidates “they never even had to consult the poor. When the elites were split, that’s when the poor got to have their say. The proletariat had it really bad.”

The Centuriate Assembly’s main business was electing Rome’s highest magistrates. Each year it chose the consuls (two chief magistrates) and praetors (judges and commanders), and originally it also elected the censors (senior officials who ran the census and reviewed Senate rolls). Elections took place in the Campus Martius, a field outside the walls of the city. Citizens gathered by centuries in pens under the open sky. Candidates or their supporters would give speeches, but because of the built-in bias, the outcome often depended more on behind-the-scenes canvassing among the elite. The Centuriate Assembly also formally declared war and tried capital cases, though by the 2nd century BCE many such trials moved to permanent courts.

The Tribal Assembly (Comitia Tributa)

The Tribal Assembly was organized by Rome’s 35 tribes (geographic districts). Every citizen belonged to a tribe by family or domicile. The tribes were intended to be roughly equal, though in practice each tribe’s size could differ, and the four city tribes had many voters. In a vote, each tribe cast one collective vote: members of the tribe wrote ballots (after the late Republic introduced secret ballots) and the majority within that tribe determined its single vote. Again, the order of tribe voting could matter: one tribe was often chosen by lot to vote first, setting a precedent for others. Wealthy families tried to exploit this (for example, by having their clients enrolled in rural tribes known to be reliable), but because tribal affiliation was inherited, outright gerrymandering was limited.

The Tribal Assembly filled most of the Republic’s lower magistracies. It elected the quaestors (public finance officials, who upon election entered the Senate) and the curule aediles (administrators of the city and organizers of games). It also elected half the military tribunes of the legions. In one quirk, the Tribal Assembly even elected the Pontifex Maximus, the chief priest of Rome, a lifetime religious post. This assembly also debated and passed most ordinary laws. By the 2nd century BCE, much legislation simply went to the tribes, since plebiscites became binding on all Romans after 287 BCE.

The Tribal vote was theoretically one-person-one-vote within each tribe, but turnout and travel made a difference. Citizens had to come to Rome to vote, so city dwellers could attend routine votes more easily than rural Italians. Tens of thousands might assemble for a big election, but many rural voters skipped votes they saw as unimportant. As a result, urban and poorer tribes dominated day-to-day politics, while wealthier countryside citizens asserted themselves mainly during high-stakes contests like the annual consular elections. Politicians understood these nuances and tailored their campaign efforts accordingly.

The Plebeian Council (Concilium Plebis)

The Plebeian Council was a version of the Tribal Assembly restricted to commoners. It met when summoned by a tribune of the plebs and was presided over by that tribune. Only plebeians could vote; patricians were excluded. In this body, Romans elected the tribunes of the plebs (the officials with the power to veto magistrates and laws) and the plebeian aediles. Votes in the plebeian council were simple up-or-down tallies of a majority of tribes. There were no weighted classes here—in fact, this assembly was the closest Rome came to direct democracy, since all plebeians had an equal say. The urban poor tended to dominate this body, which is one reason many tribunes won office by promising grain doles or subsidized games to the masses. In the late Republic, the council also became a regular rubber stamp for the Senate’s bills: as soon as a plebiscite passed the Plebeian Council, it became law without amendment.

Campaigning and Public Persuasion

Roman elections were intensely personal affairs. There were no political parties; each candidate ran as an individual, on his own merits (and the glory of his ancestors). Beginning early in the year, ambitious men pursued votes by canvassing amici (friends) and clients. Candidates donned a toga candida—a specially whitened toga—to be visually distinctive and to suggest purity of character. In the Forum and neighborhoods, they shook hands and “called in debts of loyalty,” reminding voters of favors owed to them. The Roman patron-client system was central: aristocratic patrons had extensive networks of clientes (often poorer Romans or country clients) who by custom were expected to vote as their patron directed. Come election day, these clients could be marshaled to deliver a bloc of votes.

With no mass media, oratory and reputation were vital. Candidates or their supporters addressed citizens in the Forum or in contiones (public meetings) to win support. A brilliant orator could sway the undecided even against the Senate’s wishes. Illustrious family names also carried great weight: voters remembered the deeds of one’s forebears. Romans often invoked ancestral fame in campaigns—a candidate named Scipio or Fabius might hope his name alone signified dignitas (prestige) and reliability. Roman candidates did not typically campaign on “platforms” or detailed policies; instead they sold themselves as embodying virtues or their family’s legacy. Campaign organization could look surprisingly modern: candidates often had teams of friends and kin spreading goodwill on their behalf. A surviving booklet, Commentariolum Petitionis (“How to Win an Election”), even advises aspiring magistrates to cultivate friendships widely, remind people of past favors, secure support of local leaders, and greet voters by name.

Public largesse was expected. Successful politicians kept up liberalitas (“generosity”) even in office. A consul might sponsor popular legislation or stage spectacular games and public feasts to curry favor before leaving office. There was no resting on laurels—an ambitious magistrate’s family future depended on continuous display of generosity and competence. Thus elections and office-holding blended into a year-long popularity contest, where giving spectacles and gifts was the norm.

Bribery, Corruption and Patronage

Officially, vote-buying (ambitus) was illegal in Rome, with strict laws on the books by the 2nd century BCE. In reality wealthy candidates found ways around the ban. Direct bribery did occur but was risky if obvious. Far more common were indirect methods: sponsoring lavish games and banquets, promising future favors, and hiring agents to distribute tokens or gifts quietly. By the late 2nd century it even became standard practice for a candidate to loan money to influential patrons or entire tribes as a way of currying support.

Ironically, Rome’s solution , the introduction of the secret ballot, only shifted the tactics. Once individual votes were private, a patron could no longer be sure a given client voted as instructed. So candidates responded by treating the entire citizenry to even grander entertainments and banquets: a kind of mass vote-buying in public. After the introduction of secret ballot laws, candidates resorted to even more lavish public bribery, essentially treating the whole city to feasts. In other words, formal bribery declined, but campaign spending skyrocketed.

Rome’s elections could also turn ugly. Violence and intimidation were never far away (and would grow worse in the late Republic). Although fewer episodes are noted in the 2nd century BCE, armed gangs sometimes disrupted contests. The climate hardened later, but even earlier, elections were seen as arenas for pressure and coercion as much as persuasion.

Patronage networks and family ties were another form of “campaign asset.” It was common for candidates to seek the open endorsement of a respected elder statesman or fellow aristocrat. Behind each man stood his gens (clan) and allied families. Successful bids often depended on a consortium of powerful sponsors and kinsmen. Conversely, a stain on one’s lineage could doom a candidacy. Voters prized dignitas and fama (reputation)—they remembered what a candidate’s father or grandfather had done for Rome. Candidates openly evoked ancestral glory in their speeches and coinage to win support. Still, “new men” from undistinguished families could occasionally break into the oligarchy by sheer talent and charisma. Men like Cato the Elder owed their success to exceptional skill and integrity rather than pedigree. These cases reminded Romans that while the system favored aristocrats, it was not legally closed to outsiders who could sway the electorate.

Wealth, Class, and Geography

Wealth and class skewed Roman votes. The century system gave a structural bias to the rich. It also meant that in practice the urban poor were sidelined in many assemblies. Unless the upper classes remained evenly split, decisions could be made without ever calling the lower centuries. By design, therefore, Roman elections were not one-person-one-vote. A similar pattern appeared in the Tribal Assembly: on paper each tribe was equal, but the tribes themselves differed. City tribes had far more poor citizens; rural tribes had fewer but wealthier voters. In the Tribal vote, this worked to the advantage of country landowners.

Geography also mattered. Citizens had to travel to Rome to vote. Many rural voters simply didn’t bother for routine issues. Travel could take days, so rural voters often only came for the most important votes, whereas urban voters could more easily show up. Over time the better-off countryside voters began skipping elections that didn’t seem to affect them, leaving the field to the urban masses for day-to-day matters. In short, a Roman candidate needed to pay attention to both social class and local interest: you could win an election by appealing to the boots-on-the-ground urban crowd, but you had to ensure the rich country tribes weren’t alienated on big issues.

Then and Now: Roman Elections vs. American Elections

The Roman Republic’s system of elected magistrates, popular assemblies, and a Senate blended elements of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy into a unique system, one that has won the admiration of generations of thinkers, including our own Founding Fathers. Studying Roman elections reminds us that democratic practices have deep roots and evolve over time. 

Romans and Americans alike believed in the principle of popular rule, but their methods of putting it into practice differed significantly. Both systems involve regular elections for high officials and claims to popular consent. In fact, the Roman Republic introduced the secret ballot in 139 BCE, a practice cherished to this day as a key method of protecting voter privacy and freedom of conscience. Campaigning also has familiar echoes: just as modern candidates meet voters, give speeches, and organize supporters, Romans greeted people in the Forum and relied on networks of allies to deliver votes. In both eras, great emphasis falls on personal image and promises of public benefit. And like today’s aspirants, Roman politicians could not stop governing once elected; they had to keep building auctoritas by producing results and maintaining public favor.

But the differences loom large. Roman elections were exclusive, with only a small fraction of the population ever voting, whereas modern democracies (at least in principle) extend the franchise broadly to all adult citizens. In Rome women, slaves, and most foreigners were entirely excluded. The Roman voting mechanism was also more direct and exacting: a citizen who lived anywhere in Italy had to travel to Rome to cast his ballot, unlike Americans who vote in local precincts or by mail. The unit-voting system (centuries and tribes) meant that not all votes were equal; wealthier Romans were intentionally weighted more heavily. In our system, by contrast, every vote is supposed to count equally (though the Electoral College introduces its own kind of weighting by state). Romans had no political parties; each candidate ran individually, whereas modern American elections revolve around parties, platforms, and ideological coalitions. 

Even amidst these manifold differences, however, we see similar issues and concerns about election integrity. Nowhere is this more acute than on the issues of money and undo influence: ancient laws banned outright bribery, as do our laws, and both systems grapple with the negative forces of runaway campaign spending and undemocratic patronage. And, despite Rome’s best efforts, wealth nonetheless played a role in warping electoral processes and outcomes—a challenge we today understand all too well.