Loyalty vs competence

It is not unknown in history to have regimes or governments that have been in power for decades collapse overnight. And most of those regimes or governments followed a similar trajectory.

For decades, the system appeared stable. Leadership remained unchanged, institutions functioned with ritual regularity, and authority seemed firmly entrenched. Yet beneath this appearance of permanence, a quieter transformation was underway, one that gradually weakened the very machinery of power.

Over time, loyalty became the safest qualification for advancement, while competence was increasingly treated as a liability. Decision-making narrowed, not for the lack of expertise but because taking initiative was discouraged. Ministries lost their ability to correct mistakes, military structures favored obedience over initiative, and policies hardened into routines rather than adaptive tools.

In long-lasting regimes, political survival tends to reshape institutions from within. Promotions reward trust over skill. Officials learn that initiative carries risk, while conformity offers protection. Over years, this logic produces an elite that is reliable and loyal, yet increasingly detached from reality. While the system continues to function, it functions out of habit rather than feedback.

The late Soviet system offers a clear illustration. By the 1970s, under Leonid Brezhnev, the state possessed vast military power, a dense bureaucracy, and near-total political control. Yet under his leadership, promotion within the party and state apparatus increasingly depended on ideological reliability and personal networks. Reform-oriented officials such as Alexei Kosygin, known for his efforts to introduce limited economic rationalization in order to boost the Soviet economy, were at best impeded and at worst became political prisoners. While other individuals, who were ideologically orthodox and not politically threatening, managed to reach positions of power. A good example of such an individual would be Konstantin Chernenko, a man of limited charisma and no major policy achievement, who became general secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1984. His sole credential: having worked as Brezhnev’s personal assistant for more than 20 years.

When economic pressures intensified in the mid-1980s, the system proved incapable of meaningful adaptation. Mikhail Gorbachev sought to address this paralysis through reforms known as glasnost (openness), aimed at increasing transparency and freedom of expression, and perestroika (restructuring), intended to modernize the Soviet economy and institutions by decentralizing decision-making.

But it was too late. By the time these reforms were introduced, the institutional foundations required to implement them had already eroded. Openness exposed failures faster than restructuring could address them, while the rigid structure of the Soviet elite and the fear of being the one who rocked the boat led to inaction at precisely the moment when decisive action was required. What remained was greater visibility of failure without the means to correct it. As confidence drained from both the citizenry and the ruling elite, the Soviet system lost its capacity to hold together, culminating in its “sudden” collapse in 1991.

The Syrian system offers a contemporary illustration. After decades of consolidation under Hafez al-Assad, the state appeared tightly controlled, with security services deeply embedded in political life. Under Bashar al-Assad, power remained concentrated among loyalists whose primary qualification was reliability rather than institutional competence. When protests erupted in 2011, the regime lacked the administrative and political capacity to respond through reform. Repression substituted for adaptation, transforming unrest into civil war. After years of attrition, the Syrian state appeared battered but intact. Then, in December 2024, the advance of Ahmad al-Sharaa’s forces triggered a rapid unraveling of state authority, exposing institutions, such as the army, that could no longer function when tested.

What matters in these cases is not ideology or culture, but incentives. From the perspective of rulers, prioritizing loyalty over competence is often a rational choice. Competent officials with independent authority can become rivals, skilled commanders may acquire popular legitimacy, and effective administrators can expose corruption or policy failure. Loyalty, by contrast, offers predictability. A mediocre loyalist is far less dangerous to the ruling elite than a brilliant dissenter.

The problem is that this logic compounds over time. Loyalists promote other loyalists, while institutions lose internal mechanisms of correction. Information reaching the top becomes filtered, delayed, or distorted. Leaders are reassured precisely when they should be alarmed. The system becomes increasingly confident and increasingly blind.

This helps explain why such regimes often fail suddenly rather than gradually. Their weaknesses are cumulative but hidden. As long as external conditions remain manageable, the system holds. When conditions change, through war as in Syria, or financial collapse and political shock as in the Soviet Union, the absence of institutional resilience becomes immediately apparent.

Crucially, this pattern is difficult to reverse. Attempts to reintroduce merit threaten those who benefited from loyalty-based advancement, while reforms themselves imply an admission of failure. Even limited changes can be interpreted as a loss of control. As a result, leaders often delay correction until correction is no longer possible.

This dynamic was visible in China during the early stages of the COVID-19 outbreak, when officials selected and promoted for political reliability hesitated to elevate professional warnings or ask for reforms in the health sector that conflicted with official narratives. By the time accurate information surfaced, the costs of delay had already multiplied.

This is why, in the study of political regimes, longevity should not be confused with institutional health. Regimes that reward loyalty over competence may survive for years, even decades, but they do so by trading adaptability for control. Systems built to avoid internal threats often prove least prepared for external ones, discovering too late that obedience is not a panacea for longevity.