Peru’s presidential vote hinges on crime and fear as voters weigh hardline tactics

Lima’s San Juan de Lurigancho district, a sprawl of dust-choked hills and precarious homes, has become ground zero for Peru’s epidemic of extortion. Bus driver Toño still feels the phantom ache of bullets lodged in his legs and abdomen after a gang demanded $15,000 in protection money last year. 'They shot me in the legs and abdomen,' he said. 'I was out of work for four months, now I drive with fear.'

Toño’s depot now posts armed police at its gate, with plain-clothes officers riding shotgun as he navigates the same routes where five drivers from his company have been attacked—one fatally, another left in a vegetative state. 'I’ve never been so afraid to leave my young children,' he said. 'If I had money, I’d leave the country.'

Sunday’s presidential runoff pits Fujimori, daughter of the late authoritarian leader Alberto Fujimori, against Sánchez, a former education minister whose promises of redistribution have unsettled markets. Fujimori’s rallies echo with chants of 'war on extortionists,' while Sánchez’s supporters argue Peru’s mineral wealth must serve its people, not foreign investors.

Fujimori’s campaign draws on nostalgia for her father’s era, when authoritarian measures coincided with economic stabilization. 'We need a strong hand against crime,' argued Piero, a Fujimori supporter at a Lima rally. 'Peru is overflowing with crime, and only iron discipline can stop it.' Her backers, like Janeth, cite economic stability as their priority, trusting her free-market approach to sustain growth.

Sánchez’s coalition rejects that narrative. 'Our copper and gold leave our country for others to profit,' said María Elena Linares, a university professor and Sánchez ally. 'We will nationalize strategic sectors, but we will also welcome foreign partners who respect our sovereignty.' Raúl, a construction worker, hopes Sánchez’s state-led expansion will finally funnel resources into rural health, education, and infrastructure beyond Lima’s skyline.

Yet neither candidate inspires confidence among young voters like Consuelo, 21, vice-president of the student federation at Peru’s Pontifical Catholic University. 'We’re exhausted by the political class,' she said. 'Choosing between Fujimori and Sánchez feels like picking the lesser evil.' She fears Fujimori’s promise to revive her father’s tactics signals creeping authoritarianism, while Sánchez’s economic proposals risk alienating investors. 'We need real change, not recycled promises,' she added.

The runoff arrives as both candidates face legal clouds. A judge ruled Friday that Sánchez may stand trial for alleged undeclared campaign funds from 2018–2020, a charge he denies and plans to appeal. Fujimori, meanwhile, weathered years of pre-trial detention from 2018 to 2020 on separate financing allegations that were later dropped. The instability has fueled Gen Z protests, with young demonstrators decrying corruption, inequality, and the state’s failure to protect citizens.

With no party commanding a congressional majority, the next president will inherit a fractured legislature prone to impeachments. Fujimori’s bloc holds the largest minority, but Sánchez’s coalition has vowed to block her hardline security plans. The tension underscores a broader regional trend: as crime and corruption erode trust in institutions, electorates increasingly gamble on extremes—whether Fujimori’s iron rule or Sánchez’s redistributive ambitions.