In politics, youth tends to be fertile ground for idealism—and radicalism—while maturity tends to bring prudence, nuance, and common sense. But Ricardo Belmont has taken that path in the opposite direction.
Coming from a wealthy family, educated in good schools and universities, his original emergence into politics could make many uncomfortable, but not scare them. He was an ‘outsider’, yes, but one closer to the center than to a refounding adventure. There was in him a mixture of personalistic pragmatism, but not a vocation to break with the system.
Today, Belmont embodies a late radicalism, based on a view of politics as a moral cause. His speech does not propose managing the system better, but rather changing it. And it does so from the typical populist narrative that divides the country into the good people versus the bad “mafia” that loots and captures everything—politics, media, and economic elites.
Rather than public policy proposals, which it does not exhibit, what it offers is a broader and more uncertain “transformation” project. The initial central axis is an institutional rupture that involves returning to the Constitution of ’79 and calling a Constituent Assembly. Antauro Humala himself.
In practice, this means dismantling the legal framework that has governed the country for the last three decades. It is not just changing a Constitution; is to open the door to reviewing—and eventually rewriting—contracts signed since 1993, particularly in extractive sectors that he accuses of plundering our natural resources. That is, changing the rules of the game on which investment in Peru has been built, which has allowed a drastic reduction in poverty.
Furthermore, the discourse is not abstract. In mining, the idea of reviewing contracts and increasing fiscal and social pressure introduces a level of uncertainty that hardly coexists with long-term projects. In energy and hydrocarbons, criticism of privatizations and the defense of a more active role for the State—including the defense of Petro-Perú—point in the same direction. In the financial system, the narrative that banks “rob people every day” anticipates tougher regulations, with the consequent risk of distorting credit. And in foreign trade, his skepticism towards FTAs suggests a turn towards protectionism of local industry, a Velasco policy that led us to the abyss.
The proposal abandons the social market system with economic openness to the world, and mutates towards a scheme of economic protectionist nationalism, where the State gains strong prominence to “promote” national industries. And, in doing so, legal security—which today functions as the foundation of the system—is undermined, weakening the basis on which investment decisions are made.
In parallel, his political vision reinforces this logic. Belmont proposes a direct relationship between leader and people. Representative democracy, with its checks and limitations, appears more as an obstacle than as a guarantee. The implicit alternative: a plebiscitary democracy, where legitimacy emanates more from the emotional connection than from the institutional architecture.
At the time of writing this column, it is not known if Belmont will advance to the second round. But his prominence already says something important: in a country where distrust is the norm, whoever manages to embody anger has half the election won; despite the fact that this anger, to the surprise of many, does not include strong-arm proposals to fight insecurity.
The woman who worked for years in my house was one of the tens of thousands who financed Belmont to found Channel 11, and she died without seeing anything in return. If he goes to the second round, it will be necessary to fight so that he does not become president.
