First published at NACLA.
Dozens of protesters jump for joy outside the Peru’s Congress of the Republic. It’s October 10 and President Dina Boluarte has just been removed from office by the same lawmakers who shielded her for almost three years.
The day before, Peru’s long-running social and political crises reached a boiling point. Presidential candidate Phillip Butters was attacked with stones during a provocative visit to a southern town whose protesters he had long denounced as “terrorists.” In Lima, a brutal shooting at a concert by a well-renowned cumbia band left five musicians injured, heightening the sense that crime was spiraling out of control. Hours after the shooting, in the early hours of Friday morning, Boluarte was impeached by Congress after a quick hearing she chose not to attend.
But public anger at the government has much deeper roots. The current wave of outrage and discontent began on September 20, when dozens of young people took to the streets of downtown Lima to protest a pension reform law that would require them to contribute to the national pension fund from the age of 18. Police responded to the demonstration with force.
“There was too much repression,” says Jessica, a 19-year-old college student who only provided her first name out of security concerns. “They fired directly at the protesters’ bodies. One boy was hit in the chest by a bullet. If he hadn’t put his arm up, he would have died,” she says.
This violence has continued in the protests that followed. At a demonstration in Lima on September 21, the police detained Samuel RodrÃguez, a young man who had tried to help an officer but ended up being arrested. Later that week, 18 protesters were injured at another demonstration in Lima, including an elderly man whose assault quickly went viral after being caught on camera.
As with recent protests in Nepal, Morocco, and Madagascar, young people have been leading the charge in denouncing Peru’s crisis — and demanding change. Like their global counterparts, Peru’s youth have rallied under a flag with a smiling skull and straw hat from the anime show One Piece, whose main character, the young pirate Monkey D. Luffy, embarks with his crew on a journey to overthrow corrupt powers and find freedom. It’s a fitting symbol for the the philosophy of Generation Z: to change everything.
A violent state in ruins
Social tensions in Peru, the product of a deep-seated political crisis, have been on the rise since 2022, when former President Pedro Castillo staged a failed self-coup in an attempt to overcome congressional obstruction. Boluarte, his vice president at the time, took office as president and soon colluded with center and right-wing forces to remain in power.
Boluarte’s presidency, marred by corruption scandals, failed to address even the most basic concerns of Peruvians. “There is a growing sense of unrest,” says Omar Coronel, a political scientist at the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru. “Not only among young people, but throughout the country. Since 2023, polls have been very consistent, giving the president and Congress an approval rating of less than 10 percent.”
Violence against protesters has become commonplace across the country, fueling the current uprising. “My first protest was on September 20. I was in the front row,” says Jessica. “What I saw made me feel sick. The police show no mercy. They shoot you because they shoot you. If there’s a child there, they don’t care. If there’s an elderly person there, they don’t care.”
While violence against demonstrators has long been a feature of the Peruvian state, Boluarte’s government has been exceptionally brutal. The crackdown started immediately after the fall of Castillo, when the south of the country erupted in protest in late 2022 and early 2023 in Castillo’s defense. Forty-nine people were killed by police during demonstrations in the heavily-Indigenous towns of ApurÃmac, Ayacucho, and Puno — including bystanders and seven teenagers. The January 9 massacre in Puno became infamous for its brutality: at least 18 people were shot dead in a single day, in what the Inter-American Court of Human Rights described as a “massacre.”
The government denied all accusations, labeling the protesters “terrorists.” At a press conference with international media, Boluarte told reporters, “Puno is not Peru,” an offensive statement that is emblematic of Peru’s deep geographical divides.
In Lima, meanwhile, people remained on the sidelines. “There was no support from us. We were still in a bubble,” says 22-year-old Lima resident Yacok Solano. “That’s why there’s resentment towards the people of Lima. When you live in Lima, you think it’s the center of the world.”
Recent demonstrations, however, have spread nationwide — a reflection of the country’s deepening crisis. In just nine years, Peru has had seven presidents, a cycle that has has bred institutional instability, impunity, and corruption. Generation Z and its allies are now calling for nothing less than a complete restructuring of the country.
The roots of popular discontent
On September 5, the government approved a pension reform that required all those over 18 to contribute to the system starting in 2027. The law also made contributions mandatory for self-employed workers and set the retirement age at 65. The austerity measure provoked immediate backlash.
Seventy percent of Peru’s workforce is informal, a figure that is even higher among youth. The 2021 National Youth Report revealed that 83 percent of jobs held by young people are informal. The divide between Lima and the Andean regions is stark: while informality in urban areas reaches 79 percent, in rural areas it climbs to 96 percent. Meanwhile, the average income for young people is around $320 per month, just above the minimum wage.
The economic precarity of the vast majority of Peru’s population stands in stark contrast to the conduct of its leaders. In July, Boluarte doubled her salary to about $10,000 per month. The country’s politicians “ don’t think about the people,” says Jessica. “They don’t think about young people. They only think about lining their pockets, plundering the country, and doing whatever they want with it.”
Peru’s powerful transport workers have also joined the protests. Long subject to violence at the hands of criminal groups — this year alone, more than 180 drivers have been murdered for refusing to pay extortion fees — their pleas for protection have fallen on deaf ears. Boluarte responded to their concerns by advising drivers to avoid being targeted by “not answering phone calls” from unknown numbers. With nowhere else to turn, they have linked up with the Gen Z protesters to demand an overhaul of the status quo.
Jessica echoes the feeling of a sprawling crisis linked to insecurity. “It wasn’t just the AFP law that affected me, but what I saw in the news. Crime, laws that favor criminals, extortion. That’s what sparked Generation Z to take to the streets in protest,” she says.
“Discontent is exploding on all sides,” says Noelia Chávez, a sociologist at the Pontifical Catholic University. “But in Peru, there are no parties, leaders, or political projects that serve as a reference point. Young people are protesting because there is a direct cause that affects them. And added to this discourse against injustice is that of a corrupt government whose repression they experience firsthand.”
This discontent has already claimed its first political casualty: Boluarte, who was removed and replaced by Congress President José Jerà on October 10. Yet according to activists, her removal is only the beginning. Gen Z says the marches will continue.
From TikTok to the streets
Instagram and TikTok are the main platforms Gen Z uses to stay informed. With memes and short videos that quickly go viral, they have become skilled at generating simple messages that can generate massive popular outrage on the streets. They coordinate demonstrations through Telegram and Facebook groups.
“These are young people who have resources, time, and more opportunities to go out and march than other generations,” says Chávez. “Although they are a heterogeneous group, they share the same identity linked to the political and social situation and, above all, the use of technology.”
The hashtags #GenZ, #corupción, and #ProtestasPeru generate content that incites anger, outrage, and protest. When Boluarte fell, young people drew on this playbook to quickly mobilize crowds to surround the Brazilian and Ecuadorian embassies to prevent her possible escape. According to Jessica, a poster with Boluarte’s photo was shared on Whatsapp with the message: “No to the rat’s escape.”
“We are organizing ourselves better, creating alliances, and gradually bringing more people on board. With the little experience we have, we are achieving a lot,” she says.
The organizing power of Peru’s young protesters has long been discounted. Boluarte’s Minister of Transport and Communications, César Sandoval, mockingly called them “Degeneration Z.” Yet for now, it seems the protesters have had the last laugh.
A global phenomenon
Peru’s youth movement has drawn inspiration from uprisings abroad. They learned how protests can yield results after Nepalese youth burned down Parliament and forced the resignation of Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Oli. His wife, Rajyalaxmi Chitrakar, died from her injuries after their home was set on fire.
Nepalese anger and discontent towards the country’s “nepo babies” — the children of politicians who flaunted their ostentatious lifestyles online amid growing inequality — translated easily to Peruvians’ frustration with their own political elite.
Generational identity is crucial to framing the protests in the Global South as a struggle by young people for their future. In Peru, it is mortgaged by the certainty that the pension system will fail; in Nepal, by unemployment and external economic dependence.
Still, youth-led protests face limits. “The mobilizations of Generation Z function more as a brake on authoritarianism than as a social movement that transforms reality,” says political scientist Coronel. “Young people have a legitimate claim to restore democracy and the balance of powers, but we must bear in mind that this generation is huge and varied.”
But today’s young people draw on a wealth of shared symbols to creatively denounce the concentration of power in the hands of the few. In this scenario, the One Piece flag has become a powerful emblem. The anime portrays political elites as a parasitic group that benefits from the citizenry and, for that reason, deserves to be overthrown.
The road ahead
The young Peruvians leading the protests say their fight is far from over. They continue to draw on symbols from the anime show that inspired them to take action. In a recent video announcing a national march for October 15, a dozen young people appear with their faces pixelated, standing before a One Piece flag that hangs on the living room wall.
Though the struggle ahead will be difficult, the country’s new president, José JerÃ, is a clear target. A 38-year-old lawyer affiliated with the Somos Perú party, his background includes allegations of rape, illicit enrichment, and contempt of court. The new president also shielded Boluarte from being investigated for the massacres committed under her watch.
Generation Z has achieved a large victory against corruption and impunity with Boluarte’s removal. But, like the pirate Monkey D. Luffy and his crew, there are still many seas to sail.
Lucero Chávez is a journalist specializing in gender, citizenship, and migration. She was born in Lima, Peru, and lives in Santiago, Chile. Her articles have been published on Epicentro TV, Anfibia Chile, and La Indómita. She is the founder of La Válvula, the V side of news.
