“In an election marked by fragmentation and distrust, the form of the message can be as decisive as its content.”

In a fragmented electoral scenario marked by distrust, the language and emotions embedded in government plans become as decisive as their proposals, beyond subjective interpretations or political affinities. Based on this premise, political scientist Cristhian Jaramillo conducts a textual analysis of the government plans of Renovación Popular, Fuerza Popular, Ahora Nación, Integridad Democrática, and País para Todos, identifying overlaps, nuances, and discursive strategies. The author argues that, given programmatic weakness, political competition shifts to the narrative arena, where tone and form of communication can influence voting decisions.

To claim that Peru’s 2026 general elections will take place in an exceptionally complex context is almost self-evident. After a decade marked by political instability—presidents failing to complete their terms, ongoing conflicts between the Executive and Legislative branches, and a sustained erosion of public trust in politics—this electoral process takes on a decisive character.

This is compounded by an unprecedented level of fragmentation: 35 presidential candidates are competing for votes, creating a highly dispersed landscape for voters. For the electorate, this not only means choosing among numerous options, but doing so amid institutional uncertainty and weak political parties.

In this context, it is not enough to read what parties propose; it is equally important to understand how they say it. In an election marked by fragmentation and distrust, the form of the message can be as decisive as its content.

With this premise, a text analysis was conducted on the government plans of the five parties leading the Datum poll, measured between March 6 and 10: Renovación Popular (Rafael López Aliaga), Fuerza Popular (Keiko Fujimori), Ahora Nación (Alfonso López Chau), Integridad Democrática (Wolfgang Grozo), and País para Todos (Carlos Álvarez).

The analysis identifies not only the most recurrent themes, but also tone, emotional content, and how priorities are constructed. This allows for comparison of proposals without relying solely on subjective interpretation or political affinity.

Textual Analysis of the Plans

This textual analysis of government plans reveals, first, a notable thematic homogeneity. Terms such as system, development, services, and infrastructure appear recurrently across nearly all proposals, suggesting a discursive consensus around the need for structural reforms and the expansion of state capacity.

This convergence should not be interpreted as programmatic alignment; rather, it points to the strategic use of technocratic vocabulary aimed at projecting competence without necessarily detailing concrete implementation mechanisms.

Even within this shared framework, relevant nuances emerge across parties. Fuerza Popular emphasizes infrastructure and access, while País para Todos more strongly introduces concepts linked to employment, investment, and formalization. Meanwhile, Ahora Nación presents a discourse more oriented toward goals and strategic planning, reflected in terms such as objective, target, and strategic.

In contrast, Integridad Democrática stands out for a greater presence of words related to public management, control, and systems, suggesting a more institutionalist positioning. Renovación Popular introduces a clearer language centered on problems, objectives, and indicators, suggesting a narrative more focused on identifying failures and proposing specific corrections. These differences, although subtle, outline distinct conceptions of the role of the state and its priorities.

The emotional component of these discourses, measured using the NRC Emotion Lexicon (1), reinforces this interpretation. In all cases, a positive tone predominates, with high levels of trust and anticipation—consistent with the aspirational nature of government plans.

However, there is also a non-negligible presence of negative emotions such as fear and sadness, which serve a clear rhetorical function: diagnosing crisis to justify the need for change and to support voting for a particular political option. This balance between programmatic optimism and critical diagnosis is a common feature in political discourse.

Nonetheless, the intensity of these emotions varies across parties. Renovación Popular presents a higher proportion of negative content compared to the others, suggesting a discursive strategy more centered on problem framing and criticism of the current situation.

At the other extreme, Ahora Nación and Integridad Democrática show the highest levels of relative positivity, which could be interpreted as an attempt to construct a more proactive and less reactive narrative. This difference is significant: emotional tone shapes how voters process information and, ultimately, how they decide their vote.

An evaluation of tone balance—defined as the difference between positive and negative content—allows these dynamics to be summarized more precisely. Ahora Nación leads with the highest positive balance, followed by Integridad Democrática and Fuerza Popular. At the opposite end, Renovación Popular shows the lowest positive balance, reflecting a heavier negative tone in its discourse.

This pattern is not trivial: it suggests that, beyond concrete proposals, there is a contest over emotional framing in the public debate. While some parties center their discourse on hope and future projection, others structure their narrative around crisis as a starting point.

The Citizen’s Challenge

These findings cannot be understood in isolation from Peru’s current political moment. The repeated use of terms such as system, control, and management is not accidental, but reflects a widespread concern: the perception that the state has lost its capacity to organize, coordinate, and respond effectively.

In a country where governability has become fragile and episodic, government plans aim not only to propose policies, but also to reconstruct (at least on paper) an idea of order that has been elusive in practice. In this sense, there is a clear attempt to project control amid the political disorder Peru has experienced over the past decade.

However, this intention collides with an uncomfortable reality: the extreme fragmentation of the political system. With 35 presidential candidates in the race, the 2026 election will not only be competitive, but deeply fragmented.

For voters, this means confronting a saturated political offer, where substantive differences are not always clear and distinguishing between viable proposals and rhetorical promises becomes increasingly difficult. In that vacuum, discourse—tone, word choice, and problem framing—carries more weight than it should.

The problem is that, in the absence of strong parties and consistent programmatic identities, politics risks being reduced to a competition of narratives. Victory does not necessarily go to whoever has the best proposal, but to whoever tells the most compelling story, conveys the most hope, diagnoses the crisis most forcefully, and connects emotionally with a fatigued electorate. While this is not new, in the current Peruvian context its effects may be particularly destabilizing.

For this reason, the challenge of this election is not only political, but also civic. It is not merely about choosing between candidates, but about making the effort to go beyond discourse and assess the real consistency of proposals.

In a scenario where language has become a central tool of competition, distinguishing between form and substance will be key. Ultimately, what is at stake is not only who wins the election, but whether the country can break free from the cycle of instability that has defined its past decade.

“Peru is a deeply fragmented country, where the political class disregards the common good for personal gain.”

The presidential period between 2011 and 2016 was the last time Peru had a government that completed its term without interruptions or abrupt changes of president. Since then, the country has not known stability again and has been caught in a whirlwind of impeachments, presidential resignations, attempted coups, mass protests, and governments that last only long enough to become unpopular.

Over these years, the presidency of the republic has become a political minefield. From Pedro Pablo Kuczynski to Dina Boluarte, every president has ended up entangled in a web of corruption accusations or charges of “moral incapacity.” Congress and the Executive have turned politics into a constant war of attrition, where partisan interests prevail over national welfare and citizens’ security.

The removal of Dina Boluarte marks the latest chapter in Peru’s long political tragedy. Her government began under the shadow of repression and violence, and in the first protests against her administration, more than fifty people lost their lives — victims of a state that confused authority with brutality. That death toll alone should have ended her presidency, yet her government endured thanks to the complicity of a Congress that ultimately went on to oust her. For months, the administration denied any responsibility for the actions of the security forces, justifying each death as an inevitable consequence of chaos. The official narrative preferred to speak of “clashes,” but what took place were killings.

In recent weeks, the country has once again taken to the streets. Protests have multiplied in Lima, Ayacucho, Juliaca, and other cities across the country. On October 16, Eduardo Ruiz was killed by a gunshot during a demonstration, and the response from the interim government was the same as always: promises of investigation, calls for order, and complicit silences. The police once again acted as if protest were a threat rather than a right. And the new president, José Jerí, pledged a firm hand instead of reconciliation.

State violence in Peru is not new, but it has taken on a different meaning now. This brutality is the clearest sign of a power that has lost all legitimacy and survives only through force. When governments can no longer persuade, they resort to repression. When they cannot govern, they attempt to control through fear. The result is a country bleeding without direction, and a society beginning to normalize the unacceptable. Images of young people beaten in the streets or mothers crying outside hospitals no longer shock — and that indifference is the most dangerous symptom for a nation still clinging to the idea of democracy.

None of this occurs in a vacuum. Peru is a deeply fragmented country, where the political class disregards the common good for personal gain. In the streets, citizens are not asking for ideologies or parties — they are demanding safety. They are not demanding programs — they are demanding justice. The men and women marching today were not born under dictatorship, yet they have already learned to distrust democracy.

Repression only postpones problems; it does not solve them. Each death widens the gap between the State and its citizens, and nothing will change as long as the response remains silence or bullets. Peru needs dialogue, but also memory and justice. The families of the victims continue to wait for someone to take responsibility, yet no government has found the will to condemn those responsible or even to acknowledge its share of guilt.

What Peru is going through today is not just a political crisis but also a moral and social one — the exhaustion of a system that no longer represents its people and instead protects its own interests. The word “democracy” is still spoken, but it has lost its meaning in today’s Peru. Elections and speeches are no longer enough; the country needs functioning institutions and a shared sense of nationhood. Citizens no longer see themselves reflected in the State — they see it as distant, indifferent, even hostile.

And yet, despite everything, Peru’s fragile democracy endures. The marches that fill the plazas, the journalists who continue reporting despite exhaustion or fear, and the civil society that demands better leaders — all of this shows that, despite disillusionment, the country remains alive. Rage is not only rejection; it is also a form of love for the nation. Those who protest do so because they still believe it is worth defending.

Peru is not condemned. But it must recognize its fracture, confront its wounds, and stop hiding them. A broken country can heal if it faces impunity and restores the value of human life. Acknowledging and effectively prosecuting those responsible for killing their fellow citizens during protests is the first necessary step for this nation to begin to recover.

“Peru needs a moral reform: to acknowledge the victims, punish those responsible, and ensure that state violence is never repeated. No democracy can stand on the denial of the pain it has caused.”

Peru is, once again, at a breaking point. In less than a decade, the country has seen five presidents fall—either through resignation or impeachment—one Congress dissolved, and even an attempted coup d’état. This unrelenting instability has naturally deepened citizens’ distrust in their institutions and in the democratic system itself. No government seems to last long enough to govern, and no Congress has shown the minimum sense of responsibility required to maintain an institutional relationship with the Executive—or at least to avoid destroying it.

The origins of this crisis are not recent. The presidential period between 2011 and 2016 was the last time a Peruvian head of state completed a full term without upheaval. Since then, the so-called “permanent moral incapacity,” an ambiguously defined constitutional clause, has become a political weapon. What was originally conceived as an exceptional measure for cases of clear corruption or mental unfitness has turned into a routine instrument to remove unpopular or inconvenient governments. Over time, impeachment ceased to be a mechanism of accountability and became one of political control.

From Kuczynski to Boluarte: the normalization of crisis

Pedro Pablo Kuczynski was the first to fall under this logic in 2018, cornered by a hostile Congress and by corruption allegations linked to the Odebrecht case. His successor, Martín Vizcarra, was removed in 2020 amid a political struggle and accusations of wrongdoing dating back to his time as a regional governor. Manuel Merino lasted barely five days after the police repression of protests that killed two young men, Bryan Pintado and Inti Sotelo. Then came Pedro Castillo, whose improvisation, errors, and clientelist networks ended in his failed self-coup in December 2022 and subsequent removal. Finally, Dina Boluarte assumed power and responded to social protests with a level of state violence that crossed every democratic limit. More than fifty Peruvians were killed by the National Police—most of them in the southern regions—and, to this day, none of those state-sponsored killings have received justice.

Boluarte’s recent impeachment should not be seen as the end of a cycle, but rather as another chapter in a long institutional agony. The country continues to repeat the same pattern: a weak president, an illegitimate Congress, mass protests, and a government that, lacking legitimacy, turns to brutality. To this vicious circle we must add a fragmented society that no longer trusts politics or its leaders. What Peru is experiencing is not only instability—it is a profound democratic exhaustion.

The underlying problem is not only corruption or polarization but the very architecture of the political system. The impeachment for “moral incapacity” is the clearest symbol of an institutional design that breeds crisis. In a country where congressional majorities are built on opportunism rather than conviction, any disagreement can become grounds to oust the sitting president. Through this mechanism, Peruvian democracy has turned into a machine of replacement rather than representation. As long as this clause remains in force, it is unlikely that any government will achieve stability.

Contrary to what some analysts argue, eliminating the “moral incapacity” clause would not weaken congressional oversight. On the contrary, removing such a vaguely defined and severely consequential provision would help restore a true balance of powers. Accountability must exist, but not under the constant threat of arbitrary impeachment. The country needs mechanisms to punish proven corruption, not political unpopularity.

Justice for the dead, dignity for democracy

Yet the crisis is not only institutional—it is also ethical. The deaths that occurred during the 2022 and 2023 protests remain unpunished. Investigations move slowly, stalled by official silence and evasive statements. The State has neither acknowledged responsibility nor asked for forgiveness. The response has always been the same: denial, justification, delay—and, in the most absurd cases, conspiracy theories blaming Venezuela, terrorist groups, or imaginary enemies, all to avoid any form of political accountability. But without memory and justice, there can be no democracy. The country cannot continue to accept that the price of stability is the blood of its citizens.

Holding the police and armed forces accountable is not an ideological demand; it is a basic principle of humanity. The Peruvians killed in Ayacucho, Juliaca, and Lima are not collateral damage—they are victims of a State that lost the line between order and repression. If Peru wants to rebuild itself, it must begin by recognizing that those lives mattered, that they were taken by political decisions, and that impunity is the most silent way of perpetuating violence. Those cases must be resolved, and the perpetrators must face justice.

The country needs a constitutional reform to abolish the “moral incapacity” impeachment clause, establish clear procedures for removal only in cases of proven crimes, and guarantee the independence of the judiciary. But it also needs a moral reform: to acknowledge the victims, punish those responsible, and ensure that state violence is never repeated. No democracy can survive on the denial of the pain it has caused.

“There is no democracy without memory, nor justice without accountability. Latin America deserves better than this violent normality.”

The history of Latin America is marked by multiple forms of violence. Colonisation, civil wars, military dictatorships, enforced disappearances, and political repression have left traces in the collective memory, shaped the relationships between citizens and the State, and influenced citizens’ understanding of democracy. Today, however, that violence seems to have taken new forms—sometimes more subtle, other times more brutal—but equally devastating for the population. What is worrying is not only that atrocious acts continue to occur, but that they begin to be seen as part of the everyday political landscape. Political violence has become normalised, along with the impunity of those who perpetrate it.

The recent case of Peru is a painful reminder of this normalisation of violence. Between December 2022 and the early months of 2023, protests against the government resulted in the deaths of at least 54 people, mostly civilians. More than a year after these events, the Executive continues to refuse to acknowledge that human rights violations occurred, despite multiple national and international reports documenting the excessive use of force by the authorities. The systematic denial of state violence not only undermines the memory of the victims but also consolidates a dangerous narrative: that repression can be a legitimate tool of public order.

One factor that may explain this surge in state repression against its citizens is political polarisation in parliaments. Broadly speaking, polarisation has the potential to reinforce authoritarian attitudes, weaken bridges for dialogue between adversaries or dissenters, and promote a binary friend/enemy logic that also permeates state action. When this logic takes hold at the heart of executive power, it enables a discourse that justifies violence under the pretext of restoring order. In the worst case, protesters are seen not as dissatisfied citizens but as external agents who foment violence for violence’s sake. Valid citizen protests may be labelled as terrorist movements.

But violence does not come only from the State. The case at the beginning of May in the department of La Libertad, in northwestern Peru, shows an equally terrifying face: that of organised crime infiltrating local economies. Thirteen workers from the Poderosa mining company, kidnapped at the end of April, were found dead inside a mine—bound, blindfolded, and executed with shots to the back of the head. Authorities have pointed to illegal miners colluding with criminal gangs as responsible for the act. The number of victims is not insignificant: according to the company itself, 39 murders have been attributed to these gangs just in that area. Pataz, a province in the northern highlands, has reportedly become, according to many reports, a lawless territory.

This phenomenon—the coexistence of organised crime, illegal mining, state absence, and systematic violence—is not new in the region. What is worrying is that institutional responses remain so weak, so uncoordinated, and so lacking in political will. How can it be explained that in 2025 there are parts of the country where the State lacks the capacity to guarantee even the minimal legitimate monopoly of force? How can the government’s apparent lack of any plan in response to summary executions be interpreted?

These questions are not intended to increase the already existing Latin American pessimism. Rather, they aim to spark an urgent conversation about the direction our democracies are taking. Protests are a democratic thermometer: their violent repression is not only a human rights issue but also a symptom of intolerance towards dissent. And when that repression is neither sanctioned nor even recognised, the message sent is devastating: that the lives of those who protest are worth less and that their causes can be silenced with bullets.

The normalisation of political violence does not happen overnight. It is built gradually, through media coverage that downplays the social causes of protest; official discourses that criminalise demonstrators; the slow pace of prosecutors investigating deaths. And also through citizen indifference when events do not happen nearby or directly affect us. It is a normalisation that anaesthetises, trivialises serious issues, turns us into spectators of a recurring tragedy, and without solutions will tend to repeat itself.

In response, it is urgent to politicise memory again. Name the victims, demand justice, document the facts. From academia, we have a particular responsibility: to document rigorously, analyse with historical perspective, and denounce with evidence.

What happened in Pataz, what occurred during the Peruvian protests, what continues happening in many corners of the continent, cannot be seen as isolated problems. It is part of a greater crisis: the progressive erosion of democratic guarantees, the growing militarisation of politics, the capture of territories by organised crime, and the State’s indifference to the suffering of its citizens.

There is no democracy without memory, nor justice without accountability. Latin America deserves better than this violent normality. It deserves governments unafraid to acknowledge their mistakes, institutions that respond firmly, and societies that do not give up their right to indignation and protest.

“Instead of correcting its institutional weaknesses, Peru continues to deepen its crisis. A semblance of democratic governance persists, but its foundations are increasingly fragile.”

Peruvian democracy is relatively young. Since the resignation of former dictator Alberto Fujimori in November 2000, the country has embarked on a democratic transition. However, over the past eight years, this transition has been continuously tested. In less than a decade, Peru has had six presidents, faced an attempted self-coup, and endured a social crisis that left 28 dead in the 2022 protests and 48 in 2023, without any political accountability being established. Although elections remain free and competitive, civil rights have deteriorated, and political impunity has reached levels bordering on authoritarianism.

Peru is the most extreme case of party disintegration in Latin America. The 2021 presidential election highlighted this fragmentation: eighteen parties fielded candidates, reflecting the absence of strong party structures and electoral opportunism. The institutional crisis is undeniable. While parties multiply without consolidating, public trust in political institutions is collapsing. Congress and the Presidency have record levels of disapproval, and disillusionment with representative democracy has deepened. Citizens perceive their leaders as ineffective and corrupt, fuelling support for anti-system rhetoric and authoritarian solutions, further weakening the country’s democratic stability.

To address these failures, Peru embarked on a frantic race for reform. “Reform” became a recurring slogan for candidates, legislators, and decision-makers. However, these modifications have been irregular, drastic, and, in many cases, contradictory. Between 1975 and 2022, the country made 75 changes to its electoral laws, 47 of which were radical alterations affecting key processes such as party registration, candidate selection, and voting methods. Despite this hyper-reformism, the results have been counterproductive: instead of strengthening parties and reducing their number, the system has become even more fragmented, with 42 parties registered for the 2026 elections.

One of the reasons for the failure of these reforms lies in Congress itself, which has distorted any attempt at change. A paradigmatic case is the High-Level Commission for Political Reform in 2019. This team of experts, convened by then-President Martín Vizcarra, proposed 12 comprehensive reforms to the government and electoral system. Among the most significant were the introduction of open, simultaneous, and mandatory primaries; the implementation of gender parity and alternation in congressional and subnational election lists; and stricter control over party financing.

Of all these reforms, only gender parity and alternation were fully implemented in 2021. However, in 2024, horizontal parity in election lists was eliminated, marking a clear regression. Even more alarming has been the deregulation of political financing. Following the Odebrecht corruption scandal, which implicated most of Peru’s former presidents, it was crucial to reform this aspect to prevent future corruption cases. Nevertheless, Congress chose to weaken financial oversight of parties even further.

On January 31, a reform to the political organizations law was enacted, introducing troubling changes. Now, undeclared funds within permitted limits are no longer presumed to be of illegal origin, effectively nullifying the purpose of financing caps. Additionally, if contributions are made through the Nation Bank, donor confidentiality is maintained, effectively allowing anonymous funding.

Instead of correcting its institutional weaknesses, Peru continues to deepen its crisis. A semblance of democratic governance persists, but its foundations are increasingly fragile. The question remains: how long can it endure?

“This analysis highlights the complex interplay of political, economic, and social factors in driving election-year reforms. Affirmative action policies consistently increase the odds of reforms, reflecting their importance as tools for addressing inclusion and equity.”

An election year represents, or should represent, a transition of power and a turning point in the political landscape of democratic governments. These are moments where citizens, political parties, and politicians engage in political activity and serve as critical junctures for institutional reforms. In Latin America, reform has been a central theme in political discourse, frequently invoked by politicians and parties as a mechanism for strengthening institutions and fostering greater inclusion. This is especially true in systems where existing inequalities and/or institutional weaknesses have led to public distrust and, at the same time, demands for change.

However, reforms implemented during election years can profoundly alter the competitive landscape for politicians and political parties, reshaping electoral dynamics and potentially influencing outcomes. Despite its frequency, the motivations driving electoral reforms during election years, as well as the factors influencing their likelihood and timing, remain underexplored.

Examining the interplay between key variables—such as inequality, economic performance, and democratically elected governments—and the timing of reforms is crucial to understand how election years are leveraged to shape political competition. For example, does economic prosperity during election years facilitate reforms, or do structural challenges, such as nondemocratic governance or entrenched inequalities, make reforms more likely?

To address these questions, this analysis draws on the Observatory of Political Reforms in Latin America database, which documents electoral reforms in areas such as the executive, senate, and lower chamber systems, as well as reforms related to direct democracy, media access, and affirmative action. The dataset encompasses 303 reforms across 19 countries from 1917 to 2023. A multinomial logistic regression is used to examine how reform type (categorized as executive, senate, lower chamber, affirmative action, access to media, and direct democracy), inequality (measured by the Gini coefficient), GDP, and if the government was democratically elected influence the likelihood of reforms during election years.

The graph shown for this article depicts the odds ratios calculated from four models where there is a progressive addition of variables to show how these influence the likelihood of a reform occurring during election years.

In Model 1, affirmative action significantly predicts reforms during election years (OR=1.17, p=0.017), with a 17% increase in odds, while reforms for the Lower Chamber (OR=1.08, p=0.14) and Senate (OR=1.07, p=0.28) are not significant. In Model 2, affirmative action remains significant (OR=1.16, p=0.015), while the democratically elected variable (OR=3.39) and access to media reforms (OR=1.08, p=0.10) are not.

Model 3 identifies GDP (log) as significant (OR=2.29, p=0.041), suggesting a 129% increase in reform odds. Affirmative action (OR=1.21, p=0.036) remains significant, while democratically elected (OR=4.86, p=0.18) and access to media reforms (OR=1.14, p=0.18) do not. In Model 4, the Gini Coefficient is the strongest predictor (OR=2.54, p=0.001), indicating a 154% increase in reform odds. Affirmative action shows marginal significance (OR=1.25, p=0.06), while GDP (log) is no longer significant (OR=2.40, p=0.17).

These results suggest several important inferences about the dynamics of election-year reforms. There is a consistent significance of affirmative action policies across all models indicating that election years are critical moments for pushing reforms aimed at inclusion and equity. This could reflect political calculations, where parties and politicians use affirmative action reforms to appeal to underrepresented groups. These reforms not only influence the composition of political institutions but also reshape the competitive strategies of political parties by compelling them to include more diverse candidates.

Moreover, the strong and significant role of the Gini coefficient in Model 4 underscores the importance of inequality in driving reforms during election years. High inequality levels likely create social and political pressures that make reforms both necessary and politically practical. Politicians may use these reforms as a tool to pacify discontent or to gain electoral support from marginalized groups. However, the timing of these reforms raises questions about their sustainability and genuine intent.

GDP also plays a significant role in Model 3, suggesting that economic prosperity during election years provides the fiscal and political stability needed to implement reforms. A strong economy may give governments the confidence to introduce potentially contentious reforms without fearing backlash, as voters are less likely to react negatively in periods of economic growth. However, its reduced significance in Model 4 indicates that economic factors alone are insufficient to explain the likelihood of election-year reforms, particularly when inequality is considered.

This analysis highlights the complex interplay of political, economic, and social factors in driving election-year reforms. Affirmative action policies consistently increase the odds of reforms, reflecting their importance as tools for addressing inclusion and equity. Inequality, as captured by the Gini Coefficient, emerges as a critical factor, with higher levels of inequality significantly increasing the likelihood of election-year reforms. Finally, although GDP plays a role, its significance is conditional on the inclusion of other variables.

Election years represent a window of opportunity for institutional change, but the motivations and consequences of these reforms are complex. While they can address pressing societal issues and reshape political competition, their timing and design raise questions about their long-term impact and intent. Policymakers must balance the urgency of addressing systemic challenges with the need to maintain transparency and ensure broad-based support, particularly in the heightened political environment of election years. This study underscores the importance of examining these dynamics to better understand the role of institutional reforms in shaping democratic governance.

“Not only in Peru, but in other countries, former dictators are remembered with nostalgia, and some even argue that, under their mandate, economies were more solid, crime was controlled or better “values” were promoted (…) omitting the devastating consequences that these governments have had.”

The death of Alberto Fujimori, the last Peruvian dictator, has sparked an interesting debate both in his country and across Latin America. His government, democratically elected in 1990, soon became an authoritarian regime, marked by a self-coup against Parliament in 1992, intervention in the Judiciary, the Public Ministry, and the Constitutional Court, along with severe human rights violations and high levels of corruption. Despite these abuses, a portion of the public continues to view his administration as moderately successful, particularly in areas such as economic stability and the fight against terrorism.

This stance reflects a dangerous tendency to idealize authoritarian governments under the terrible excuse that “the ends justify the means.” Not only in Peru but also in other countries, former dictators are remembered with nostalgia, and some even argue that under their rule, the economies were stronger, crime was under control, or better “values” were promoted. However, this kind of rationalization ignores the devastating consequences these governments have had on democratic institutions and human rights; the kidnappings, tortures, murders, and disappearances are quickly forgotten. Worse still, the abuses of current governments in power are still justified by a supposed priority of other sectors, such as the economy or security. This is a perverse trade-off, as if solving a country’s economic problems gives a blank check to govern without accountability.

To understand why certain authoritarian governments continue to be admired or supported, it is crucial to ask whether the public truly values democracy itself. According to the Latin American Public Opinion Project (LAPOP), support for democracy in the region has steadily declined over the past decade. In 2023, only 59% of respondents expressed their support for this system, a worrying figure that reflects the disenchantment of citizens with a system that, for many, seems unable to solve fundamental problems.

This discontent is exacerbated by the inability of traditional parties to address basic issues such as inequality, insecurity, and economic crises. Countries like Argentina, Bolivia, Peru, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Venezuela have experienced, and continue to experience, deep crises that have driven sectors of the population to prefer options in favor of a “strong hand.” The popular Peruvian phrase “he steals, but he gets things done” unsettlingly sums up the logic of an electorate that, in the face of total crisis, is willing to sacrifice fundamental rights for minimal order.

The political class has tried to respond to these challenges with both political and electoral reforms. According to the Observatory of Political Reforms in Latin America, in the Lower Chamber’s electoral system alone, 19 countries in the region have made 91 modifications to their laws, with Ecuador (13) and Peru (11) leading the way. However, this hyper-reformism hides two extremely naive assumptions: first, changing the rules does not automatically transform the behavior of citizens; and second, legal changes do not immediately translate into perceivable improvements, and as a result, they are seen as ineffective.

The challenge, therefore, is much deeper. Reforming political systems is necessary to strengthen democracy, but it is essential to understand that the effects will be evaluated in the long term. Reforms require time to take effect and must be accompanied by a solid implementation and monitoring strategy. Moreover, it is crucial to have strong political parties that not only understand the basic needs of the people but are also committed to addressing them effectively. Only in this way can the dangerous nostalgia for authoritarian regimes be combated, and democracy be seen not as a lesser evil but as the most suitable system for facing the challenges of the future.

“Electronic voting, whether in-person or remote, is the technological promise to modernize elections worldwide. Speed, accuracy, and inclusion are the key words for this tool, designed to address the logistical challenges of traditional elections.”

Electronic voting, whether in-person or remote, is the technological promise to modernize elections worldwide. Speed, accuracy, and inclusion are the key words for this tool, designed to address the logistical challenges of traditional elections. However, these expectations come with challenges that must not be ignored.

Among the greatest advantages of electronic voting are the immediacy and accuracy it offers compared to traditional methods. Additionally, this method opens the door to greater inclusion, making it easier for people with disabilities and citizens abroad to vote. On top of that, electronic voting also promises to significantly reduce costs by eliminating the need to print ballots and reducing the personnel required for the process.

But it’s not all about efficiency and convenience. The risks are real. Fears of result manipulation—both internal and external—and the lack of transparency have raised alarms. In several countries, such as Germany and Finland, they opted to abandon these systems after discovering critical vulnerabilities that compromised the integrity of the vote.

In Peru, the adoption of electronic voting has been slow and cautious. From the first pilot experiments in the 90s to the partial implementation in the 2011 general elections, progress has been gradual. In the extraordinary congressional elections of 2019, only 2.1% of districts used electronic ballot boxes.

Despite the concerns, Peru cannot afford to fall behind. Electronic voting is crucial to include those who cannot travel. The expansion of this technology must continue, but in controlled districts and in a limited manner to minimize risks, as ONPE has done. Electronic voting is the future, but a future that must move forward with the caution and rigor necessary to strengthen trust in our democracy.

“Peru is at a political crossroads. The organization of transparent and fair elections, although crucial, is not enough to fully sustain the rule of law.”

Peru stands out in Latin America as an extreme case of political party collapse, a political context that has been described as a ‘party-less democracy’. Following its late transition to democracy in 2001, Peruvian political parties have become mere personalized vehicles, lacking effective presence at the subnational level, without discernible ideological coherence, and sometimes unable to significantly represent the interests of the citizenry.

Faced with this weakness in the party system, legislators, experts, civil society groups, and other actors have driven a process of political and electoral reform. Various investigations conducted by the Observatory of Political Reforms in Latin America reveal that Peru ranks second in the region, after Ecuador, in reform efforts. From 1975 to 2022, 75 modifications to Peru’s electoral regulations have been recorded, a process characterized by its irregularity, drastic transformations, and, at times, noticeable contradictions.

Despite efforts to strengthen the political system, the performance of democratic institutions in Peru has deteriorated to the point of being perceived with skepticism, and even rejection, by the citizenry. The latest Barometer of the Americas survey reveals that, between 2010 and 2021, only an average of 54% of Peruvians trust in democracy, while a mere 10% consider political parties as viable institutions.

This constant weakening of political parties, a trend rooted in the Fujimori era (1990-2000), has led to an unprecedented institutional crisis in the last seven years (2017-2023). Growing conflicts between the Executive and Legislative branches have triggered a tumultuous political crisis, which has seen the succession of six presidents, the resignation of one (Pedro Pablo Kuczynski in 2017), the impeachment of two (Martín Vizcarra in 2018 and Pedro Castillo in 2022), the dissolution of the Congress of the Republic (2019), and even a failed attempt of a self-coup (2022). Since 2017, no Peruvian president has managed to complete their full term.

This political crisis can be explained from an institutional perspective. Principally, Peru’s governance, like in many countries in the region, heavily depends on the composition of the Legislative branch. Since 2016, the opposition in the Peruvian Congress has been characterized by a lack of willingness to dialogue, increasing political polarization. Added to this is Congress’ ability to impeach the sitting president through a motion of vacancy for ‘moral incapacity’, an imprecise term that has led to the abuse of this tool. For example, Castillo’s government faced three impeachment processes in less than two years. This situation highlights the urgent need for deeper reforms to restore stability and trust in democratic institutions in Peru.

However, discussions about institutional causes remain incomplete without highlighting the tragic circumstances surrounding the more than 60 deaths during protests against the government led by Dina Boluarte. In a country where the rule of law has significant shortcomings, the lives lost amidst the protests and the violent police intervention in peaceful marches stand as a grim testimony to the failures of Peruvian institutions to safeguard the integrity of its citizens, emphasizing the urgent need for a thorough and transparent investigation to hold those responsible accountable.

Currently, Peru stands at a political crossroads. The organization of transparent and integral elections, though fundamental, is not sufficient to fully sustain the rule of law. Despite significant efforts made to reform and strengthen the political system, confidence in democratic institutions has experienced a marked decline. This reflects an increasingly widening gap between the government and the citizenry, positioning Peru as a prominent example that the so-called ‘party-less democracy’ is not only ineffective but also leads to a widespread erosion of the democratic system as a whole. After all, without parties, there is no democracy.

“Reforming should be a process resulting from thorough analysis, but the frequency of these changes in Latin America seems to indicate the opposite.”

In Latin America, electoral reforms have been mostly used to strengthen the rights of certain sectors of the population, increase confidence in the democratic system, bolster political parties, and/or democratize certain public spaces. In this region, reforming has become the favorite response of decision-makers to address issues related to institutional functioning, political organization weakness, and the public’s perception of politics, as evidenced by the work of Flavia Freidenberg.

These constant changes to the electoral system have drawn the attention of researchers. Literature related to reform processes has focused on documenting, describing, and evaluating these modifications while proposing new adjustments. Despite the existence of comparative studies in the region, very few of these evaluate reforms over time. The Observatory of Political Reforms in Latin America, a joint project of the Secretariat for Strengthening Democracy of the Organization of American States and the Institute of Legal Research of the National Autonomous University of Mexico, has filled this knowledge gap by investigating, documenting, and assessing reforms from 1977 to the present.

One of the most common changes in Latin American countries has been made to the electoral systems of legislative bodies, i.e., the rules defining how power is accessed and distributed in these spaces. According to Boix, these types of modifications aim to change the way competition for positions of power occurs by altering its distribution. Consequently, the rules defining how representatives of the Legislative branch are elected are crucial, as regulations can determine actors’ incentives, the way political organizations compete, and which groups and/or sectors - racial, territorial, ideological, among others - are more likely to access power.

Although changing the electoral system is not a straightforward task, usually requiring constitutional amendments, from 1949 to the present, 106 reforms to the electoral system of legislatures have been recorded by nineteen Latin American countries (#ReformObservatory). An analysis of the frequency of reforms indicates that a significant portion of these took place in the 1990s, during which countries amended their Chambers or Congress electoral system up to 30 times (28.30% of the total). The second period with the highest number of reforms was the last decade (2010-2020), witnessing 24 changes (22.64%) (#ReformObservatory).

The assessment of these data aligns with what Flavia Freidenberg highlighted in her analysis of electoral reforms in Latin America. Reforming has become the immediate response of decision-makers to the demands of the citizenry, but also a response to the interests of political elites who use rules as a space to maximize power. Unlike Europe, which has been much more conservative in changing the rules of the game, the frequency of reforms in Latin America seems to indicate that these changes have been constant, rushed, and extremely repetitive.

Specifically, the countries that have most frequently reformed their legislative electoral systems during the studied period (from 1977 to the present) are Ecuador (thirteen changes), Mexico (eleven), and Peru (ten). Following these, Colombia (nine modifications), Bolivia (seven), Argentina (six), Guatemala, Honduras, and Panama (all with five changes). Brazil, Chile, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Paraguay, the Dominican Republic, and Venezuela share the same number of modifications (four changes). Finally, the countries with the fewest reforms are Uruguay (three), Costa Rica, and Haiti (two each).

This account of the number of reforms carried out by countries in the region highlights extreme stances. Countries with a higher number of legislative reforms have executed these changes extremely regularly. For example, on average, Ecuador’s legislative electoral system has been reformed approximately every three years, while in Peru, these modifications have occurred every four years. In contrast, the most stable electoral systems, Haiti and Costa Rica, changed their legislation only twice. Specifically, Haiti’s electoral system was reformed in 2011 and 2013. Meanwhile, reforms to Costa Rica’s legislative electoral system occurred in 1949 and 1998, spanning a 49-year interval.

The frequency of these changes adds to the fact that they are not minor alterations of the rules of the game. Reforms to the legislative electoral systems of Latin America have affected different dimensions of these systems. These changes encompass the principle of representation, the electoral formula, the number of chamber members, the number of electoral districts, the voting structure, the length of mandates, the possibility of reelection, the existence of a legal barrier, and recalls in the Legislature.

Regarding the principle of representation, only three countries modified this dimension in their Lower Chamber (Bolivia, Chile, and Ecuador) and two in the Upper Chamber (Bolivia and Mexico). On the other hand, the electoral formula is the dimension that has undergone the most reforms: seven countries modified this criterion for the Lower Chamber (Bolivia, Colombia, Costa Rica, Ecuador, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Uruguay) and four for the Upper Chamber (Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, and Mexico). In this context, Ecuador stands out as the country with the most drastic and concentrated modifications in a single dimension of the electoral system. The thirteen reforms to its electoral system have caused this country to change its electoral formula up to seven times. Consequently, Ecuadorian assembly members were elected using the quotient or residual voting, relative majority, D’Hondt system, corrected Imperiali quotient, weighted factor, Hare method, and finally, in 2019, the Webster method.

Similar to the electoral formula, the number of members in each Chamber has been frequently changed. In the analyzed period, from 1977 to the present, only seven out of 19 countries (Bolivia, Brazil, Haiti, Panama, Paraguay, Uruguay, and Venezuela) did not modify the number of representatives in the Lower Chamber. However, the composition of the Upper Chamber was reformed for Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, and Mexico. As for the number of electoral districts, these have been reformed on eight occasions for Lower Chambers (Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Mexico, Nicaragua, Peru, and the Dominican Republic) and five times for Upper Chambers (Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Colombia, and Mexico).

The voting structure has undergone similar modifications to the electoral formula. In this case, eleven countries changed the composition of the lists for Lower Chambers, and only Argentina, Brazil, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Haiti, Nicaragua, Panama, and Venezuela did not change this criterion. For the Upper Chambers, only Bolivia and Colombia modified this dimension. In contrast, the mandate of representatives (number of years in office) is one of the dimensions with less variation, as only Bolivia, Brazil, Ecuador, Guatemala, and Nicaragua made reforms to change this aspect in the Lower Chamber. In the Upper Chamber, the only country that changed the mandate of its representatives is Colombia.

Another aspect that has remained relatively stable within the legislative electoral systems is the possibility of reelection by representatives. Of the region’s countries, only four (Ecuador, Mexico, Peru, and Venezuela) changed the conditions for Lower Chamber members to seek reelection. For the Upper Chamber, only Chile and Mexico have reformed this aspect.

However, the legal barrier is an aspect of the electoral system that has moderately changed in the region; seven countries (Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Peru, and the Dominican Republic) have carried out reforms for the Lower Chamber, and only two (Colombia and Mexico) for the Upper Chamber. Finally, the last dimension, the recall of Legislative members, was only introduced in five countries (Bolivia, Colombia, Ecuador, Honduras, and Venezuela).

These constant changes to the rules of the electoral system and its dimensions only foster uncertainty about how positions are chosen and how political organizations and citizens participate. Without clear rules or stability in how representatives are chosen, there is little possibility of creating strong institutions that produce predictable results and, in turn, a degree of governability. Reforming should be a process resulting from thorough analysis, but the frequency of these changes in Latin America seems to indicate the opposite.