Choosing the lesser evil will determine Peru's next president
In the highlands and coastal cities of Peru, a nation prepares once more to choose between two figures it regards with profound ambivalence. One week before a presidential runoff, Keiko Fujimori holds a slender polling advantage over Dina Sánchez, yet the margin dissolves into statistical uncertainty — leaving the true arbiter of Peru's next chapter not with either candidate, but with the millions of citizens still searching for a reason to vote at all. It is a contest shaped less by conviction than by reluctant calculation, a reminder that democracies sometimes ask their people not whom they trust, but whom they fear least.
- Fujimori leads by 3 to 4 points in the latest surveys, but both polls carry margins of error wide enough to render the race statistically tied with one week remaining.
- The undecided bloc and voters planning to cast blank or null ballots as protest represent a force large enough to override the current polling gap entirely.
- Sánchez's association with imprisoned former president Pedro Castillo casts a long shadow over her campaign, while Fujimori's own political legacy generates deep resistance among a significant share of the electorate.
- Analysts describe the choice facing Peruvians as selecting 'the lesser evil' — a framing that captures the exhaustion and skepticism many voters feel toward both candidates.
- A nationally televised debate on Sunday offers the last major opportunity for either candidate to break through the uncertainty and move late-deciding voters before ballots are cast.
One week before Peru's presidential runoff, Keiko Fujimori holds a narrow lead — but narrow enough that the outcome remains genuinely open. The most recent Datum Internacional survey placed her at 39.8 percent against her opponent's 35.9 percent, while an earlier Ipsos poll told a similar story. Both carried margins of error large enough to absorb the entire difference, meaning neither candidate can claim a commanding position.
Fujimori, making her fourth bid for the presidency, won the first round in April with 17 percent of the vote in a crowded field. Her opponent, Dina Sánchez, barely advanced with 12 percent — a reflection of how fragmented the initial contest had been. Sánchez's alignment with Pedro Castillo, the leftist former president now imprisoned, has become a defining lens through which many voters assess her candidacy.
The real uncertainty, however, lies with those who have yet to decide. Ipsos executive Alfredo Torres identified undecided voters and those considering blank or null ballots as the decisive bloc — a group large enough, in a race this tight, to determine the presidency entirely. His framing was stark: many Peruvians would ultimately be forced to choose the lesser of two evils, selecting not out of enthusiasm but out of reluctant preference.
A debate scheduled for Sunday may be the final inflection point. In a polarized electorate where neither candidate commands genuine majority support, a single strong moment — or a damaging one — could shift the outcome. What defines this race is not the strength of the frontrunner's mandate, but the fragility of both candidates' standing with the people they are asking to govern.
One week before Peru's presidential runoff, Keiko Fujimori held a narrow lead in the polls—but the margin was small enough that it could evaporate entirely depending on what millions of undecided voters chose to do.
The most recent survey, conducted by Datum Internacional between May 26 and 30, showed Fujimori at 39.8 percent and her opponent at 35.9 percent. An earlier Ipsos poll told a similar story: Fujimori ahead, but not by much. Both polls carried margins of error large enough to swallow the difference—2.8 percentage points for Ipsos, 2.5 for Datum. In practical terms, this meant the race was genuinely uncertain.
Fujimori, the daughter of former president Alberto Fujimori, was making her fourth run for the office. She had won the first round of voting on April 12 with 17 percent of the vote, a plurality in a crowded field. Her opponent in the runoff was Dina Sánchez, who had scraped into the second round with just 12 percent—a narrow escape that reflected how fragmented the initial contest had been. Sánchez was aligned with Pedro Castillo, the leftist former president now imprisoned, a connection that shaped how voters perceived her.
But the real story lay not with the two frontrunners but with everyone else. Alfredo Torres, the executive president of Ipsos, framed the decisive question plainly: what would the undecided voters do? What about those planning to cast blank or null ballots as a form of protest? These groups represented a substantial bloc of the electorate. In a race this tight, they could determine the outcome entirely. Torres suggested that voters would ultimately resort to what he called "choosing the lesser evil"—a grim calculus that would force them to pick between two candidates many Peruvians viewed with deep skepticism or outright hostility.
The two candidates were scheduled to debate on Sunday, just days before the June runoff. In a polarized electorate with so many undecided voters still in play, that debate could matter. A strong performance, a memorable moment, a gaffe—any of it might tip the scales for voters still genuinely uncertain about which direction to cast their ballot.
What made this race distinctive was not the frontrunner's strength but the weakness of both candidates' mandates. Neither had won a majority in the first round. Both carried significant political baggage. The path to the presidency ran not through enthusiastic support but through the absence of a better alternative—a dynamic that would play out over the final week of campaigning.
Citações Notáveis
The real question in this final week is what undecided voters and those planning blank or null votes will do. The logic of choosing the lesser evil will determine who becomes Peru's president.— Alfredo Torres, executive president of Ipsos
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Why does a three-point lead feel so fragile in a race like this?
Because the margin of error is 2.5 points. Statistically, they're tied. But more than that—there are millions of voters who haven't decided yet, or who are planning to vote blank or null as a protest. Those people are the actual election.
So the polls are almost meaningless?
Not meaningless, but they're measuring a snapshot of a very fluid moment. The polls tell you Fujimori is slightly ahead, but they also tell you that everything could change depending on what happens in the next week.
What's the actual choice these voters are facing?
Two candidates most Peruvians seem to view with deep suspicion. Fujimori is running for the fourth time—she's polarizing. Sánchez barely made it to the runoff and she's tied to a jailed former president. One analyst called it choosing the lesser evil. That's the frame.
Does the debate on Sunday actually matter then?
In a race this tight, with this many undecided voters, yes. A strong moment, a mistake, something that sticks—it could move enough people to change the outcome.
What does it say about Peru that this is what the choice has come down to?
It says the country is deeply divided and that neither major political faction has managed to build something voters actually want to vote for. They're voting against, not for.