Héctor Béjar, an enigmatic figure in Peruvian politics, has been making headlines not for groundbreaking reforms, but for a brand of idealism that seems more like a page from history’s misguided revolutions. Born in 1935 in Peru, this so-called thinker doesn't shy away from discussing his allegiance to Peru's turbulent revolutionary movements of the 1960s. Béjar’s ideas, draped in Marxist ideology, re-emerged when he was briefly appointed as Peru’s Foreign Minister in 2021 by President Pedro Castillo, a man who...well, also flirts with socialist dogma. Béjar's appointment was like watching a vintage rerun, complete with predictable plot twists.
But what was Béjar really bringing to the table? A good question, because if you’re looking for substance, you might end up inherently disappointed. Béjar’s tenure was short-lived, predictably contentious, and steeped in controversy—an ideological experiment gone awry. Rather than steering towards modern diplomatic strategies, Béjar seemed more interested in reviving outdated socialist narratives, causing a stir both within and outside of Peru. The architect of armchair revolutions, he is a reminder that clinging to past failures is no way to craft future success.
Surprisingly—or not, if you ask around certain circles—Béjar has his supporters. A cohort that still believes in the magic of Marxist fairy dust. They are quick to overlook the glaring inconsistencies of socialist policies, misunderstand the core tenets of rooted economic success, and celebrate talk over tangible outcomes. Béjar’s past is littered with affiliations to organizations like the National Liberation Army, an 1960s guerrilla group he co-founded. This is a man who once believed blowing up buildings in the name of ‘freedom’ was a feasible route to better governance. Charming indeed.
His resignation from the Foreign Ministry was almost inevitable. One might even argue a dog chasing its own tail has a better chance of making progress than Béjar had in executing sound foreign policies. Just a month into his job, his peculiar perspectives, especially on Peru's historical interpretation of terrorism, became the subject of national debate. Béjar’s remarks blaming the navy and not the insurgent Shining Path for the initiation of terrorism felt like he’d unearthed a script from a parallel universe. Yet, somehow, he tried painting this as the truth.
Béjar was destined to irritate those with any sense of geopolitical awareness. Who could imagine steering a nation's foreign relations with the philosophy of a bygone era that imploded under its own ideological weight? His time in office stirred the political soup, as it would with anyone who disregards decades of evidence proving the pitfalls of socialist systems. Yet some argue his exit was orchestrated by political rivals. While this makes for an engaging plot twist, the reality is, Béjar's ideas were poorly landed punches no worthy opponent needed to dodge.
Héctor Béjar is emblematic of the forces at play in a country like Peru circa 2021. A place where hanging on to the ideas that leave nations stagnant is seen as a badge of honor by some. His political rise and fall is a cautionary tale against repeating history without acknowledging its unequivocal failures. Justification of past extremists’ tactics under the guise of liberation is not exactly the strategy for a 21st-century political resurrection, now is it? Béjar reveled in arguments that painted history heroes as villains and vice versa. It’s a strategy seen time and again by those who romanticize an unworkable ‘workers’ paradise.’
For someone with Béjar's resume, there are lessons to be learned about the intersection between ideological commitment and practical governance, even if they weren’t learned by him. Perhaps the political fervor that burned in his early days needs more than nostalgia and rhetoric to meet the challenges of our times. The gravitational pull of his bygone ideas may have attracted attention, but not the kind of success that truly impacts lives. Béjar, though briefly visible again, is more an artifact of the past, a curious exhibit of political thought that was never brought to a laudable reality. His tale stands as a reminder to steer away from romanticized past ideologies and toward practical, evidence-based policy-making.