The anti-Fujimori vote has not been activated this time
For more than three decades, Peruvian democracy has been shaped less by candidates than by the force that rose against one family's name. As the June 7 runoff between Keiko Fujimori and Roberto Sánchez approaches, that force — the anti-Fujimori movement — finds itself diminished, its energy sapped by the left's own failures and the fatigue of a people who have watched the same drama repeat across five elections. What was once the country's most powerful informal political party now struggles to fill a single plaza, raising a question that extends beyond Peru: when the opposition that defined an era loses its urgency, what fills the space it leaves behind?
- The anti-Fujimori movement, once capable of flooding twenty cities with protesters, could barely fill a Lima plaza days before the decisive vote.
- Rejection of Fujimori has plummeted 22 points — from 66 to 44 percent — a collapse that polling firm CPI's general manager describes plainly as the anti-Fujimori vote simply failing to activate.
- The left's own credibility crisis runs deep: Pedro Castillo, elected in 2021 on a wave of hope, ended his presidency by attempting the very kind of coup his supporters had spent years fighting against.
- Fujimori holds a narrow but steady 3-point polling lead, her base anchored in Lima and Callao, while she continues to frame her father's convictions for human rights abuses and corruption as nothing more than 'errors.'
- June 7 will reveal whether collective memory and democratic alarm can still be summoned — or whether Peru's most consequential informal political force has finally exhausted itself.
Peru's June 7 presidential runoff pairs Keiko Fujimori against leftist Roberto Sánchez, but the deeper contest is over whether the force that has decided Peruvian elections for three decades — the anti-Fujimori movement — still has life in it.
For years, that movement was formidable. Organized through civil collectives with names like "No a Keiko" and "Fujimori nunca más," it mobilized tens of thousands across the country and was described by observers as Peru's most important political party — one that only activated at election time. It provided the decisive margin in three consecutive defeats for Fujimori: against Humala in 2011, Kuczynski in 2016, and Castillo in 2021, that last race decided by roughly 40,000 votes after protests spread across more than twenty cities.
This year, the movement is barely visible. There were no major street demonstrations before the April 12 first round, and last Saturday's gathering at Plaza San Martín in Lima was modest by any historical comparison. Voter rejection of Fujimori has fallen from 66 percent to 44 percent — a 22-point drop that polling firm CPI's general manager describes bluntly as the anti-Fujimori vote simply not being activated.
Much of the explanation points inward, toward the left itself. Castillo's 2021 victory carried enormous hope, but his presidency collapsed into the very authoritarianism his supporters had long opposed — culminating in a failed self-coup in late 2022 that led to his arrest and removal. For many voters, that betrayal drained the coalition of its moral energy.
Fujimori, meanwhile, enters the runoff with a narrow but consistent polling lead of around 3 points, her support concentrated in Lima and Callao. She continues to defend her father's legacy, describing his convictions for human rights abuses and corruption as mere "errors," while her base credits him with defeating the Shining Path and stabilizing an economy ravaged by hyperinflation. What June 7 will settle is whether the movement that once seemed immovable can find itself one more time — or whether Peru's electoral landscape has been quietly, permanently redrawn.
Peru's presidential runoff on June 7 pits two candidates against each other, but the real contest is between two political identities that have shaped the country for more than three decades. Keiko Fujimori, the right-wing daughter of former president Alberto Fujimori, faces Roberto Sánchez, a leftist challenger. Yet what makes this election unusual is not the matchup itself, but the absence of the force that has historically decided Peruvian elections: the anti-Fujimori movement.
For decades, this movement mobilized tens of thousands of Peruvians into the streets. Organized through civil collectives with names like "No a Keiko" and "Fujimori nunca más," it became so powerful that observers called it the country's most important political party—one that only activated during elections. In 2021, before the previous runoff, the movement staged protests across more than twenty cities, framing the election as a defense of democracy itself. Fujimori had lost that race to Pedro Castillo by roughly 40,000 votes. She had also lost to Ollanta Humala in 2011 and Pedro Pablo Kuczynski in 2016, each time by similarly narrow margins, with anti-Fujimori sentiment providing the decisive edge.
But something has shifted. Before this year's first round of voting on April 12, there were no major street protests against Fujimori, despite polls showing she would easily advance to the runoff. Last Saturday, as the June 7 vote approached, the movement managed only a modest gathering at Plaza San Martín in central Lima. The contrast is stark. Rejection of Fujimori has collapsed from 66 percent before the first round to 44 percent just days before the runoff—a drop of 22 points. Omar Castro, the general manager of polling firm CPI, offered a blunt assessment: "The anti-Fujimori vote has not been activated this time."
The reasons are layered. Part of the explanation lies in disillusionment with the left. Castillo's 2021 victory raised hopes among leftist voters, but his presidency ended in chaos. In late 2022, he attempted his own coup—a self-inflicted blow that mirrored the very authoritarianism the anti-Fujimori movement had long opposed. He was arrested and removed from office. For many voters, the left's promise had curdled into disappointment, draining energy from the traditional anti-Fujimori coalition.
Fujimori enters the runoff with a narrow but consistent polling advantage of around 3 points in valid votes. Her support is concentrated in Lima and Callao, which together account for nearly a third of Peru's population. She continues to defend her father's legacy, characterizing his most serious crimes—human rights violations and corruption for which he was convicted—as mere "errors." Her supporters credit Alberto Fujimori with defeating the Shining Path guerrilla group and stabilizing the economy after the hyperinflation of Alan García's presidency in the late 1980s. She has never acknowledged the judicial findings of systematic abuse during his 1990-2000 administration, which included a self-coup in April 1992.
What unfolds on June 7 will test whether the anti-Fujimori movement can resurrect itself one more time, or whether voter fatigue and the left's self-inflicted wounds have permanently altered Peru's electoral terrain. The movement that once seemed immovable now faces its most uncertain moment.
Notable Quotes
The anti-Fujimori vote has not been activated this time— Omar Castro, general manager of polling firm CPI
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why has the anti-Fujimori movement lost so much momentum so quickly?
It's not just one thing. The left's collapse under Castillo drained a lot of oxygen from the coalition. When the candidate you helped elect tries a coup, it's hard to mobilize people around defending democracy.
But couldn't that argument work in their favor—that Fujimori represents the same authoritarianism?
You'd think so. But people are tired. And there's a difference between voting against someone and marching in the streets. The rejection numbers are still substantial, just not activated.
What does "activated" mean in this context?
It means people moving from passive disapproval to active resistance—showing up, organizing, making noise. In 2021, that happened across twenty cities. This year, one plaza in Lima.
Is Fujimori actually more popular, or is the opposition just exhausted?
Probably both. Her lead is real but narrow—three points. But the real story is the opposition's collapse. She's not winning because she's stronger; she's winning because they're weaker.
What happens if she wins?
That's the question no one wants to answer. The movement that stopped her twice before will have failed. Whether it can recover after that is unclear.
And if Sánchez wins?
The anti-Fujimori movement gets credit, but the left still has to prove it can govern without imploding. That's a much harder problem to solve.