That’s how it works, look. In the Novosibirsk Region, there was an election commission chief—a certain Petukhov—who was supposedly known for not being especially eager to take part in vote-rigging and other dirty tricks.
Nevertheless, in the most recent elections, Petukhov proved himself a real mini-Churov (Vladimir Churov, the former head of Russia’s Central Election Commission, widely associated with electoral fraud): he barred the opposition from participating in the elections through sheer lawlessness, and all those now-famous "Darya Timurovichs"—that was him.
People were still wondering: why had the guy decided to burn his reputation to the ground overnight?
Did the job? Proved your loyalty? Earned it? Here’s your appointment.
What’s interesting, by the way, is the high price of Petukhov’s “service.” He got nothing less than the post of head of the governor’s administration for keeping PARNAS out of the Novosibirsk elections, which shows just how important it was for the Kremlin to keep the opposition off the ballot in a major city.
At a critical moment, the official proved himself exactly as required: he lied, cheated, falsified. He wasn’t afraid to commit acts that were plainly criminal. He organized the work of other liars and vote-riggers. So he should be promoted: reward him, and show everyone else how to climb the career ladder.
So the “negative selection” I often write about is not just some theory of mine. It’s what happens every day.
The rule of the worst. A constant evolution of the rule of the worst, where one crooked, thieving official is replaced by one even more crooked and thieving.