The 2026 Peruvian general elections were held on Sunday, April 12, 2026, to elect the president and vice presidents of the Republic, as well as representatives to Congress and the Andean Parliament for the 2026–2031 term. More than 40 political parties ran in the elections. As of April 15, the results indicate that a runoff election will take place in June between conservative candidate Keiko Fujimori, left-wing candidate Roberto Sanchez, and far-right candidate Rafael López Aliaga.
Our partner, the Bartolomé de las Casas Institute, has published a post-election reflection and has graciously allowed us to translate and share it on our website.
When the heartbeat of a country comes from below: A post-election reflection
By Steve Privat Pérez, Project Coordinator for “Agroecology for a Better Life” – APTES, Bartolomé de las Casas Institute
These days, the people seem to be speaking out louder than ever, as if every voice were trying to drown out the others in a race to define who we are and who we will become. The streets, the media, and social media are overflowing with messages that seek to convince, warn, or even frighten, creating a tense atmosphere where everything feels urgent and crucial. On election day, this acute intensity convinces us that everything depends on this moment.
However, beneath this constant noise, there is another nation with a less strident voice. It is a nation that does not need to raise its voice, for its strength lies not in declarations but in daily practice. There, in this quieter space, life continues with a steadfastness that depends neither on polls nor on results, but on real and enduring bonds.
Community as a living territory
There are communities that do not wait for the verdict of the ballot box to remain who they are, for their existence is not conditioned by political cycles. These communities have been building the nation for a long time, and will continue to do so in the future, regardless of who wins or loses. For them, organization is not a discourse, but a necessity transformed into constant action.
These are places where defence of life is a collective endeavour, where obstacles do not paralyze but inspire shared responses. There, the idea of a nation ceases to be abstract and becomes concrete: people cook, talk, care for one another, and protect one another. And it is in this daily, often invisible practice that one of the most authentic forms of building the common good lies.
In contexts marked by inequality, the simple fact of existing is already a powerful form of affirmation. This is not a passive existence, but a presence that persists despite adverse conditions, defying what seeks to render it invisible. Communities that acknowledge themselves and speak their names are, at their core, claiming their place in the nation.
This existence carries profound political weight because it breaks with the notion that only those who occupy visible positions of power matter. Every community that organizes, affirms its identity, and chooses to remain active asserts that the nation belongs to its members as well. And this assertion, even if it does not always make the headlines, possesses a transformative power that cannot be ignored.
The concept of “taking care” as the foundation of the nation
There is an aspect of communal life that rarely takes center stage in political debate yet is indispensable to the existence of everything else: the concept of “taking care.” Without this concept, no community is possible, and without community, the very idea of a nation loses all meaning. Taking care is neither a minor nor a secondary act; it is a fundamental way of sustaining life.
In many contexts, the act of “taking care” is practiced without being recognized, as if it were a natural thing rather than a constant choice. Yet taking care requires effort, attention, and commitment, particularly in contexts where resources are limited. It is in these acts that a different kind of politics emerges—one that does not seek to impose itself, but to support.
The defense of life does not always take place on grand stages or through visible gestures. It is often manifest in everyday life, in small decisions that, when added together, have a profound impact. Defending life may mean continuing to teach, continuing to sow, continuing to support—even when the environment does not make it easy.
This form of defense is no less important simply because it is silent; on the contrary, it is what allows life to go on. In a context where everything seems to boil down to choices and results, these actions remind us that the nation is also built in those places where life is sustained day after day. And that, without them, any political project remains incomplete.
Weaving amid uncertainty
Uncertainty is part of our history and our present, and it is all the more evident these days. Faced with it, it is easy to sink into despair or feel the need for immediate answers to ease anxiety. There is, however, another way to confront it—one that does not seek to eliminate it, but to inhabit it with patience.
Weaving is a metaphor that helps us understand this process, as it involves time, perseverance, and the conviction that every thread contributes to the whole. Communities that weave networks know that results are not always immediate, but that the process itself is already valuable. In this weaving, uncertainty does not disappear, but it becomes more bearable because we do not face it alone.
Ultimately, the results will be in and will mark a new chapter in the nation’s political history. There will be interpretations, analyses, and reactions that attempt to explain what happened and anticipate what will follow. All of this is part of the democratic process and is important, but it does not capture the full complexity of the nation.
For in the meantime, there is a reality that does not stop and is not redefined solely by these results. Communities will continue to function, to organize, and to live life with the same intensity as before. The nation continues beyond any numbers, beyond any victory or defeat.
This calm is built by recognizing that the nation is greater than the electoral moment, that there are longer and deeper processes underway. It is not a matter of downplaying the importance of what is happening today, but of integrating it into a broader vision that allows us to support one another emotionally and collectively. From there, it is possible to approach this day with greater clarity.
Final note: Hope that endures
Maintaining hope in times of uncertainty is no easy task, and even less so when tensions are running high. Yet there is a form of hope that depends neither on immediate results nor on external promises. It is a hope built on experience, on what already exists and works in everyday life.
This hope does not deny the difficulties, but neither does it resign itself to them. It is nourished by community practices, by solidarity, by a resistance that creates rather than merely endures. In this sense, it is a more solid hope, for it is not based on expectations but on concrete realities.
We have voted, and this act is of great importance in democratic life. But the nation is not limited to this moment; it neither begins nor ends with it. The nation lives on in every community that takes responsibility, that exists, that resists, that takes care, that defends, and that weaves life together with admirable perseverance. Remembering this, amid so much uncertainty, does not solve all problems, but it offers a point of support. And sometimes, on days like today, that is enough to maintain a calm that does not paralyze but rather sustains us.