It took the Peruvian electoral machinery nearly a month to decide which flavor of central planning the populace deserved, but the smoke has finally cleared from the counting rooms. Keiko Fujimori has been declared the winner, proving that in the game of democratic musical chairs, the music is composed by the bureaucracy and the chairs are paid for by people who would rather be left alone. If you listen closely, you can hear the faint, rhythmic thumping of F.A. Hayek spinning in his grave at the notion that a four-week counting delay constitutes a "functioning" administrative process. It is a testament to the sheer inefficiency of the state that it requires thirty days to tally paper in a digital age, though I suppose we should be grateful they didn't take a full year to decide which hand will be reaching into the citizens' pockets next.

As a devotee of the road away from serfdom, I find the elevation of another Fujimori to the heights of power about as refreshing as a lukewarm glass of administrative overreach. The name Fujimori carries with it a certain hereditary flair for the heavy-handed, a tradition of treating the treasury like a personal piggy bank and the rule of law like a polite suggestion. We are told this is a victory for stability, which is usually the word the ruling class uses right before they draft a few hundred more pages of trade restrictions. In the eyes of the state, stability is simply the absence of movement among the governed while the regulators get to work rearranging the furniture. To the libertarian eye, it looks more like a changing of the guard at the local precinct of the global regulatory complex.

The delay itself is the real story here, a masterclass in why we should never trust the government to run anything more complex than a lemonade stand—and even then, they’d likely shut it down for missing a structural permit for the pitcher. When an election takes a month to certify, it isn’t a sign of rigorous verification; it’s a sign of a system so bloated with its own self-importance that it can no longer perform its primary function without a nervous breakdown. The state is that embarrassing relative who insists on hosting Thanksgiving dinner but forgets to turn on the oven and then blames the turkey for being uncooperative. Peruvians have spent weeks in a state of suspended animation, waiting for the high priests of the electoral tribunal to interpret the omens and grant them a leader. One wonders if they realized how much more productive life was during the weeks when the seat of power was technically vacant.

Ms. Fujimori now inherits a machine that is undoubtedly eager to be used. The tragedy of modern governance is the belief that the "right" person at the helm can make the leviathan dance a graceful waltz. But as history shows, the leviathan only knows how to stomp. Whether the president is a Fujimori or anyone else, the underlying infrastructure of permits, licenses, price controls, and bureaucratic gatekeeping remains. The state is a self-perpetuating organism; it doesn't care who signs the executive orders as long as the orders keep coming. We are meant to celebrate the "peaceful transition" or the "finality of the count," but for the merchant in Lima or the farmer in the Andes, the result is merely a new face on the same old posters demanding their compliance.

Let’s be honest about what Keiko Fujimori brings to the table: a political lineage that views the constitution as a series of loose guidelines. While her supporters argue she is the bulwark against radicalism, a libertarian knows that the "lesser of two evils" still ends with an increase in the size of the state. It is the Fatal Conceit in action—the idea that a centralized authority in Lima can better direct the lives and fortunes of millions than those millions could do for themselves. By the time the next election cycle rolls around, we will likely find that the red tape hasn’t been cut; it’s just been dyed a different shade of orange to match the party colors.

Ultimately, the month-long drama in Peru serves as a grim reminder that democracy is often just a high-stakes auction of other people's money. The fact that it took so long to settle suggests the bidders were arguing over the commission. As Fujimori prepares to take the sash, we should skip the champagne and instead check our wallets. The machinery of government is grinding back into gear, and it requires a constant diet of liberty to keep its gears lubricated. The people of Peru have a new president, but what they really need is a vacation from the state. Unfortunately, the state never takes a holiday, even if it does take a month to count its own votes.