Peru’s tight presidential race: crime fears and old ghosts

Peruvians headed to the polls Sunday with heavy hearts, not just ballots. Crime is the monster under the bed for most families, and the two final candidates offer very different dreams of how to tame it. Keiko Fujimori, daughter of a former leader who now lives in prison clothes, waves the flag of order and says she’ll copy her dad’s old playbook—extra soldiers, extra cameras, even making prisoners work off their debt to society. Roberto Sánchez, on the other hand, rides in wearing a wide-brimmed hat that once belonged to the jailed ex-president he still admires, promising cleaner cops and smarter partnerships with foreign investors. This is Peru’s ninth president in ten years, a carousel that spins faster every time voters feel unsafe. In April, neither Fujimori nor Sánchez broke 20 percent of the vote, so they’re back for a do-over. Pollsters say one in three voters is still undecided, which means the result could take days to settle. More than 27 million people must vote, including the 1. 2 million who live abroad and will post their ballots from places like Miami and Buenos Aires. Talk to voters and you hear the same tired story. Magali Quiquia, a food cart owner in Lima, scratched her ballot blank because she feels both candidates are clones of past disappointments. “Castillo was chaos and corruption, ” she says, “and Sánchez is basically Castillo’s shadow. Fujimori hasn’t delivered either, even though her party controls Congress. ” Her words echo across urban Peru, where 84 percent of people now fear they’ll be robbed or worse within a year.Behind the fear is a simple truth: organized crime is printing money. Illegal gold mining in the Andes and Amazon funds gangs that run everything from extortion rings to drug routes. Fujimori’s answer is to blanket the country with troops and drones. Sánchez prefers to clean house inside the police and let the military help without stepping on private companies. Both men also swear they won’t touch foreign mining or gas projects, trying to calm investors who worry about sudden nationalizations. The only debate before the runoff showed the gap. Fujimori defended her father’s brutal fight against the Shining Path, a Maoist militia that once shook the nation. Sánchez, who once served in a minister’s chair, promised to fix corruption in the security forces and keep Chinese cash flowing. His signature hat, a gift from Castillo, became the most photographed prop of the night. By mid-afternoon in Lima, Heidi Ramírez stood in line weighing her choice. A quick chat with friends flipped her from undecided to Sánchez supporter. Meanwhile, the U. S. ambassador dropped by a polling station, not to campaign, but to watch and tweet that America will work with whoever wins. The new president will be sworn in next month, but the real test—stopping crime and restoring trust—will only begin then.