How one man cast four ballots in the St. Petersburg elections as part of the Kremlin’s carousel voting scheme
This past weekend, the notoriously unpopular incumbent Governor Alexander Beglov won reelection in St. Petersburg with a decisive 60 percent of the vote. In the lead-up to the election, Kremlin strategists planned to mobilize loyal voters and stifle opposition by fielding token candidates. However, it seems they were concerned that even this wouldn’t be enough. One man, speaking anonymously to the independent outlet Holod, said he was paid 1,000 rubles ($11) to vote four times for Beglov and a municipal deputy at different polling stations under different names. Meduza shares his first-hand account of how electoral fraud was orchestrated during the 2024 gubernatorial election in St. Petersburg.
My first impressions after today, [September 8,] and everything that happened? Wow, the “foreign agents” weren’t lying. It seems the election system in Russia has been designed to produce a predetermined result for quite some time. It’s not just rigged voting anymore — it’s an entire industry built to maintain an illusion.
Through a friend, I found out that his acquaintance, a municipal deputy, was gathering people for “controlled voting” in the elections. I was motivated by the money, but I also thought it would be interesting to get a front-row view of how things really work.
When I agreed to this “job,” I didn’t think I’d end up giving interviews afterward, or even really think much about it. I’m a student living in a rented apartment with no stable income. They told me all I had to do was come and vote, and I’d get 1,000 rubles for it ($11). It felt cheap, honestly, and now I’m left wondering if it was worth it and what can I do to ease my conscience.
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‘Meticulously planned’
The briefing took place in the morning in an unremarkable office with no signs or distinguishing features. We were greeted warmly by the [municipal deputy] candidate and his team, who offered us tea or coffee and explained everything in detail. We were to visit four polling stations on [St. Petersburg’s] Vasilyevsky Island. At each location, “our” people would be waiting to give us pre-filled ballots with fake data and help us “vote” as non-existent people.
They placed small stickers with the letter Z on our passports so the staff could easily identify us. At each polling station, we had to give a specific registered address to be directed to the table where the bribed staff were sitting.
Some of the participants voiced concerns: they were afraid of saying or doing something wrong, and no one wanted trouble. To be honest, it all sounded simple enough, but deep down, I knew it was wrong. The whole operation seemed meticulously planned. While the instructions were being given, one of the organizers was constantly getting phone calls. I overheard, “Where are they? Go into the 105th station [number changed] carefully, leave large gaps.”
That was the first time I started thinking about what would happen if we got caught. But they reassured us that nothing would happen to us; if things went wrong, the organizers would take the fall. One “colleague” mentioned that the father of a United Russia member had voted four times at different stations for the same candidate, but on the fifth attempt, he slipped up and approached regular staff instead of the bribed ones. In the end, he simply wasn’t able to vote the fifth time, but he didn’t face any other consequences.
We were split into groups of up to 15 people. They said this number was based on mistakes from previous days when groups of 30 showed up to vote, which attracted too much attention. They advised us to enter in pairs and to move between stations indirectly, taking detours through cafes or shops. “Only visit each polling station once; no overdoing it like in other districts. Yesterday, some people visited the same station three times — complete chaos,” one of the instructors said.
The group of fake voters was pretty diverse: from students to people over 50, and even some minors. What struck me was the sheer number of people involved in the process: candidates, aides, government employees, and police officers. There were plenty of people whose appearance or behavior didn’t give away that they were members of our election mafia. The simplicity and openness of the process were surprising. Independent observers could have stopped this, but they’d need to be much more organized and monitor things more comprehensively.
‘A parallel reality’
The principle was simple: sign for a fictional or, most likely, deceased person and vote. All the “approved candidates” were from United Russia. When asked if we had to vote for the current governor, the coordinators were clear: “Uncle Sasha helps with money and more, so voting for him is absolutely mandatory.”
I can’t explain why, but after the briefing, I started feeling an internal resistance. I also realized that no one was actually checking where I marked the ballot. I could have spoiled it or voted for another candidate — we didn’t have to take a photo. Yet, for some reason, I still marked it exactly where I was supposed to.
Later at home, I felt like a small, foolish cog, used for the benefit of a machine built on lies and deception. A cog that for some reason didn’t even try to resist and, most absurdly, acted dutifully. In the groups, no one talked about supporting the ruling party; it felt like everyone was just there for the reward.
After telling my girlfriend everything, I felt truly miserable. Sure, maybe my participation didn’t change much, but now I have this shameful episode in my life. It’s like stepping in shit and not being able to get your shoe clean.
Now, I’m not as bothered by it and even feel a bit relieved to share my experience. I used to think that society and politics were too complicated to grasp. Maybe I’m oversimplifying things, but the key realization I’ve come to is that the whole system is built on fear. Fear of losing your livelihood, your job, or a bonus. Fear of getting reprimanded by your boss. Fear of change.
After visiting four polling stations, I can say that not all voters looked like they were paid. There were plenty of pensioners who, while standing by the candidate boards and waiting their turn, clearly didn’t recognize any of the names. “I like this one’s face, seems honest,” I overheard a gray-haired woman with a cane say. She said it sincerely, without a hint of doubt. Maybe it really didn’t matter to her whom she voted for.
At some point, it felt like I was in a parallel reality: everything seemed surreal, like something out of a Bosch painting. So many people were maintaining this illusion of order — from the observers to the polling staff — as if it were some kind of dystopia, but even more cleverly disguised. It felt like everything was illegal, yet it was all so blatant!
Oddly enough, I don’t feel deceived. Now I have no illusions about how elections work, and I’m convinced that people like Navalny were right about it [all along]. Before, I always had the sense that elections were a sham, but I never had any personal experience to back it up.
At the same time, it’s unsettling to think that I played a role on the side of the villains, and for such a small fee, too. This was the first and last time! I hope I’m wrong, but after what I’ve seen, it feels like this authoritarian-totalitarian routine will be with us for a long time.