presidential

The recently revised food pyramid may put fruit as a medium priority, but there is nothing the Trump administration likes more than the apple of discord.

Every news cycle, the president seems intent on introducing something new for Americans to argue about: the wisdom (and legality) of war in Iraq; the term “affordability”; the efficacy of mail-in ballots (which the president recently used); the meaning of birthright; the legitimacy of a vice president who has been publicly admonished by two popes for writing a book about his conversion to Catholicism — heck, we’re still arguing about that new food pyramid.

But there is one recent development upon which we really should all agree — erecting a gold statue of President Trump in the middle of his proposed presidential library is a No Good, Very Bad Idea.

On Tuesday, the president’s son Eric posted a first-look video for said library, which will reside on the waterfront in Miami. While questions were raised about the inclusion of the Boeing 747-8 the president controversially accepted as a gift from Qatar and the apparent lack of space in the sky-scraping library for, you know, books, it was the enormous gold statue of Trump towering over the stage in a proposed auditorium that drew the most immediate attention.

That Trump chose to reveal this little (well, actually quite big) beauty mere days after millions of Americans across the country participated in a coordinated No Kings march can be taken as either breathtaking irony or, more probably, a rage-baiting metaphoric middle finger.

As he has been recently wont to do, California Gov. Gavin Newsom quickly responded on his press office X account with photos of gold statuary depicting former chairman of the Chinese Communist Party Mao Zedong, North Korea’s Kim Il-Sung and Turkmenistan’s Saparmurat Niyazov and the observation that “The gold statue in Trump’s new library (of himself) looks awfully familiar to a few others from around the world.”

Trump’s obsession with gold will no doubt obsess future generations of historians, artists, psychoanalysts and Wikipedia editors — the guerrilla art group Secret Handshake on Monday put up a gold toilet statue on the National Mall mocking the president’s plans to renovate the Lincoln bathroom during a time of war and strife, as tribute, according to the statue’s plaque, “to an unwavering visionary who looked down, saw a problem and painted it gold.”

But even allowing for personal taste, a big golden statue of Trump is a terrible idea. For him.

In times of trouble and/or leadership changes, statues are often the first to go — as Trump knows well, since he’s working to replace the Confederate generals displaced after the Black Lives Matter movement and recently erected, near the White House, a replica of the Christopher Columbus statue thrown into Baltimore’s Inner Harbor during 2020 protests.

After hearing the Declaration of Independence read publicly for the first time, members of the Sons of Liberty tore down a statue of King George III from Bowling Green; during the French Revolution, the kings all across Paris came down; ditto Napoleon when he fell out of favor. In Russia, tsarist monuments were replaced by statues of Communist leaders, which in turn were torn down — statues of Stalin also fell in Hungary, Georgia and Albania. More recently, a statue of Saddam Hussein famously met the same fate.

As Robert Frost might have put it: Something there is that doesn’t love a statue of a divisive leader. Especially if it’s gold.

OK, I added that last bit.

There are plenty of famous and popular gold statues — Thailand’s Golden Buddha; the Golden Madonna of Essen in Germany; Jeanne d’Arc in Paris; Prometheus at Rockefeller Center in New York; even Tutankhamun’s death mask and solid gold coffin, which travel the world. But, as perhaps you have noticed, they trend toward the religious, mythic or historic, i.e. dead.

In the lavish memorial erected by his grieving widow, Queen Victoria, Prince Albert is golden, but few world leaders are permanently gilded, and certainly not before their deaths. (London’s golden statue of King Charles II was erected during his lifetime but originally in bronze — the gold was added later. It also depicts Charles in Roman garb, so I suppose the Trump statue could be worse — at least we don’t see his naked knees.)

In the United States, golden statuary is rare and usually metaphoric — the Oregon Pioneer, the Golden Driller, the Spirit of Communication. Gold remains captivating, an aspirational symbol of success (“gold standard”) and wealth (“golden touch”), but it can also bring with it an air of mockery (“golden boy”) and warning. The original golden touch belonged to King Midas, who loved it until he accidentally killed his daughter by turning her into a gold statue.

Displays of it, particularly in architecture or public art, are often perceived as tacky, kitschy or, heaven forbid, nouveau riche. Trump is fine being perceived as all of these things; he has long embraced the gleaming excesses of Versailles — the golden elevator will also be featured in the new proposed library.

His personal taste is his right and is shared by many.

In terms of statuary, however, “golden” is most typically associated with “idol,” figures that are erected specifically to be worshiped — the Golden Calf that made God and Moses so angry comes to mind — and Americans, historically, have not been big fans of idolatry.

Hence the separation of church and state, a three-branch government and a president with a limited term. The early colonists were very much anti-idol worshippers and even modern Catholics, as Vice President Vance surely knows, have long been criticized by their Protestant counterparts for a love of statuary, reliquaries and other iconography that some have argued fall into idolatry.

Trump clearly has no problem with idolatry, as long as he is the idol in question — he has long characterized his supporters as people who will love him no matter what he does. So no one should be surprised that his son would anchor the Trump presidential library with an enormous golden statue of his father — Trump is not a man to be satisfied with bronze or, heaven forbid, a marble bust.

No doubt, any criticism of that statue will be met with derision from Trump supporters. In its many guises, idolatry has survived, despite regular and often cataclysmic proof of its dangers, for centuries and many people will consider a much-larger-than-life golden statue of a president to be perfectly splendid.

But someone might want to mention to the president that flashing a big gold statue of himself while cities are still doing cleanup from enormous No Kings marches might seem funny to some. But to others … well, Versailles was once a dazzling royal residence.

Until it wasn’t.

March 23 (UPI) — With just weeks to go before the April 12 general elections, Peru’s electoral landscape is defined by unprecedented fragmentation and a voter base that appears to be turning away from the traditional political class.

Right-wing candidates Keiko Fujimori and Rafael López Aliaga remain virtually tied for first place in national popularity, according to a Datum Internacional poll for the newspaper El Comercio, published Sunday.

However, analysts say the figure that truly dominates the race is not any candidate’s percentage, but rather the 57% of Peruvians who still do not know whom they will vote for or who plan to cast a null ballot.

The public opinion survey showed that only 43% of Peruvians say they have decided on their vote and will not change it. According to data collected by the pollster, this scenario has remained stable since the beginning of the month, Canal N reported.

Datum analyst and CEO Urpi Torrado said the real protagonist of this process is the “undecided bloc.” According to her assessment, the disconnect is so deep that 53% of voters admit they do not even know the party symbol of the candidate they say they will support.

The results show a technical tie at the top, but with extremely low figures for a race of this magnitude. Keiko Fujimori, of Fuerza Popular, leads with 11.9%, followed closely by Rafael López Aliaga, of Renovación Popular, with 11.7%.

Further behind are rising figures such as leftist Alfonso López Chau with 6.5%, actor Carlos Álvarez with 5.0% and social democrat Jorge Nieto with 4.6%.

Analyst Carlos Meléndez told television channel Latina Noticias that this dispersion of votes, spread across a record 36 candidates, ensures that the June 7 runoff would be decided by very narrow margins.

Analyst Pedro Tenorio said that 75% of citizens believe the candidates do not understand their real problems. Even so, he noted a trend toward center and right-wing positions, which together account for 52% of voter identification, compared with a weakened 11% identifying with the left.

According to experts, the risk is that the next president could come to power with very weak initial legitimacy, facing an equally fragmented bicameral Congress that could deepen political instability and legislative gridlock.

The overall political environment is one of extreme fragility. Unlike previous processes, there is no “coattail effect” or consolidated ideological currents. The prevailing sentiment is rejection, with 81% of the population saying they do not feel represented by any political group.

This detachment has translated into a subdued campaign, where candidates struggle to break through a ceiling that does not exceed 15%.

The emergence of figures such as Wolfgang Grozo, a retired major general and former director of intelligence of the Peruvian Air Force, who has risen in the polls thanks to a strong presence on Instagram and TikTok, shows that sustained anti-establishment sentiment could trigger a last-minute shift among undecided voters and drastically alter the race.

This scenario is not unfamiliar in Peru. In the 2021 general elections, Pedro Castillo staged one of the biggest political upsets in the country’s history, going from a virtually invisible candidate in the polls to winning the presidency in a context of extreme fragmentation.

At that time, weeks before the first round, Castillo, a primary school teacher and union leader from Cajamarca, appeared in the “others” category with less than 3% voting intention. His rise was explosive in the final 10 days, driven by intensive campaigning in rural areas that urban polls failed to capture in time.

Castillo won the first round with just 18.9% of valid votes. It was the first time in the country’s history that a candidate advanced to the runoff with such limited support, highlighting a total crisis of representation among the 17 candidates competing in that election.

Reporting from El Progreso, Honduras — Not long after Jesuit priest Jack Warner met a bearded, 22-year-old Midwesterner in 1980, the two Americans bonded, drawn together by the goals and questions that led them both to El Progreso, a small city not far from vast banana fields — the campos bananeros.

Warner was 35 and had arrived a year earlier to form the Teatro La Fragua, a theater company for Hondurans. As the young priest looked to forge a relationship with the campesinos, his friendship blossomed with Tim Kaine, who had taken a year off from Harvard Law School to join the Jesuit mission.

“He was 22 years old,” Warner said, “and it was the typical thing that a 22-year-old would do: What do I do with my life?”

Kaine, now a 58-year-old U.S. senator from Virginia and the Democratic vice presidential nominee, has often said that his time in Honduras helped him answer that question, giving him “a North Star” to guide his life toward public service. It’s central to his biography and likely to arise Tuesday night when he debates his Republican opponent, Mike Pence.

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When Kaine traveled to Honduras, the nation was in the throes of turmoil, flanked by countries torn by civil war and ruled by the heavy hand of a U.S-backed military bent on stamping out what it perceived to be communism spreading in the region.

“I got a firsthand look at a system — a dictatorship — where a few people at the top had all the power and everyone else got left out,” Kaine said in July at the Democratic National Convention.

He also witnessed extreme poverty. His experiences, coupled with the Jesuit goal of being “men for others,” led him to become a civil-rights lawyer for 17 years, specializing in housing-discrimination cases. Honduras convinced him, he said, “that we’ve got to advance opportunity for everyone.”

Kaine now serves on the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations and this year co-sponsored a bill that would increase aid to Central America’s “Northern Triangle” — Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras.

Key to his experiences in Honduras was the friendship and example of Warner and a handful of other Jesuits. And a Christmastime visit to a poor man’s house taught him a lesson that resonates decades later.

During his time in El Progreso, Kaine lived in a barracks, along with Warner and other Jesuits. After their work days wrapped up about 5 p.m., he and Warner frequently commiserated over office duties, students, the teatro and the poetry Kaine was writing. Warner, a former English teacher, worked with Kaine on his verse. Over time, they became confidants.

Father Jack Warner admires a painting created by an actor who performs in the Teatro la Fragua in El Progreso, Honduras.

(Veronica Rocha / Los Angeles Times )

Both men grew up in the Midwest — Kaine in the Kansas City, Kan., suburb of Overland Park; Warner in St. Louis — and had been drawn to the Jesuit mission of social justice from an early age.

Kaine attended Rockhurst High School for boys, run by Jesuit priests who ran a demanding schedule of daily Masses, theology classes and community service activities with retreats.

Kaine, who earned a bachelor’s degree in economics at the University of Missouri, was at Harvard Law when he began to question his faith and the path he should take in life, he says. Because he had made a brief trip to Honduras in 1974 to deliver donations to the Jesuits, he decided to write them and see whether they could use some help. They said yes.

“He took a rather strong decision to seek out an answer — not everyone comes to Progreso,” Warner said.

Kaine had to tell his law school dean, and his parents, of this new direction. “The dean, not to mention my parents and friends, were confused about what I was doing and even questioned whether I would come back,” Kaine once recalled in a Virginia Tech speech.

By September 1980, Kaine was rumbling along in a bus into northern Nicaragua, where he visited another American Jesuit, Father James Carney. In Honduras months earlier, Carney had encouraged peasants to fight for their land, and he was expelled by the Honduran military, which saw him as one of the leftist priests who embraced liberation theology and the Sandinista revolution in Nicaragua.

Activists, some of them priests or the peasants they worked with, would be banished or killed by authorities. Carney would later disappear in what was believed to be a clandestine Honduran military operation backed by the CIA.

“It was a time when anytime the police stopped you, you got really nervous. You never knew what was going to happen,” Warner recalled. “We were under a military dictatorship at the time and very heavy military control. It was scary, and one had to live very carefully.”

In El Progreso that September, Kaine soon met another Jesuit, Brother James O’Leary, a missionary also from Missouri.

O’Leary, who died in 2002, was often described as an outspoken, occasionally cranky but also skilled carpenter, painter and electrician who built houses and chapels for the poor. Kaine worked with him at his Loyola Technical Vocational Center, helping to boost the school’s enrollment and teaching carpentry and welding. As a youngster, Kaine had picked up skills working in his father’s ironworking shop in the Kansas City area.

Kaine declined to be interviewed for this story, but in a speech at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, he recalled what O’Leary taught him.

“I learned from a great mentor there, Brother Jim O’Leary, that faith is about more than words or doctrine — it’s about action,” he said. “And that led me to spend my life in public service.”

One of Kaine’s former students at the vocational center, Alex Hernandez Monroy, recalled the daily lessons in carpentry and welding from the shaggy-haired young American.

“His Spanish wasn’t very good, but despite all that he interacted with us,” said Hernandez Monroy, then 13 and now 48. Although Kaine couldn’t pronounce certain words, the students appreciated his efforts.

“Something very important that he did was that he visited the families of the students,” he said. “We were not used to interacting with Americans, so it had an impression on us to see someone like him educating us.”

Their debate might not matter much, but Mike Pence and Tim Kaine would be key White House players »

Using some of the skills he learned from Kaine and O’Leary, Hernandez Monroy teaches carpentry to a group of 15 students at the school. “They taught us that we could help our kids,” he said. “The majority of our youth are at risk, so that left an impression on us.”

::

About 35,000 people lived in El Progreso in 1980, when it was dominated by the presence of the United Fruit Co., the world’s largest — and often exploitative — banana company. Today it has a population of about 200,000, and the winding roads leading to the city are lined by brightly colored, one-story concrete homes.

During Kaine’s time there, however, it was a collection of dusty, rural villages and banana camps, with mountaintop towns accessible only by foot or mule. As a center for union activity, it became a target of the communism-fearing Reagan administration.

While war raged in neighboring El Salvador and Nicaragua, Honduras remained calm — but was gripped in fear. It was the staging ground for many of the United States’ clandestine operations aimed at toppling other governments.

People dared not speak about activism or union organizing lest they risk being among those who “disappeared.” More than a dozen priests were killed in the 1970s and 1980s after being associated with liberation theology, considered a Marxist-tinged doctrine that preached to the poor.

While Catholic priests in Central America were attacked for advocating on behalf of the poor, Kaine maintained a low profile and didn’t attract notice from the military.

Warner, a slender man with gray shoulder-length hair, recalled Kaine’s time in Honduras during a recent interview at the theater in El Progreso.

“His interest was in the students and what he was doing in his work, which is what we were all doing,” Warner said. “Trying to figure how we can do the work without being kicked out of the country for exploring it.”

Kaine also saw poverty and expressed his feelings about it through writing, as did Warner.

The priest maintained a daily newsletter with accounts of poverty and life in El Progreso. “We all have our defenses to shut out the existence of human misery, most of which consist of closing our eyes and pretending it doesn’t exist,” Warner wrote in a December 1980 newsletter. “Hopelessness then becomes a way of life for both parties.”

Warner published one of Kaine’s poems, titled “Still Life,” in which he described the “thick misery” of the town of San Pedro Sula. “In the saddest slum of San Pedro, lives are played out in the shade of a highway where buses glide like lost thoughts overhead.”

He likened the challenges, or “questions marks” facing the town to fingers testing the wind. “Each predicts change that just won’t come.”

Kaine spent nine months in El Progreso before returning to Harvard. He has kept in occasional touch with Warner and has returned to Honduras several times, most recently last year. This year, he and 25 senators called for an end to immigration raids in the U.S. targeting women and children who were fleeing violence in Honduras, Guatemala and El Salvador.

When he accepted the nomination for vice president, Kaine said that the three basic values he absorbed in Honduras hold true today: “Fe, familia y trabajo.” Faith, family and work.

Students take a break before heading to class to learn carpentry at Loyola Technical Vocational Center, where Tim Kaine volunteered, in El Progreso, Honduras.

(Veronica Rocha / Los Angeles Times )

“I came to understand the power of faith and communal worship,” Kaine said at Virginia Tech in 2006. “I learned how to speak Spanish and began to understand how the things which can seem to divide us — like language and skin color — were so much smaller than the dreams and fears that unite us.”

Kaine also has repeatedly recalled what became one of his most indelible memories of Honduras.

He and Father Jarrell Wade, a Jesuit known as Father Patricio, had traveled by mule to visit a dirt-poor family around Christmas. As they prepared to leave, the husband handed Wade a bag. “Merry Christmas, padre,” he said.

Inside the worn bag were fruits and vegetables he had saved for the priest. Wade took the bag and thanked him.

Kaine was appalled and angered that the priest would take food from such a poor family — “I was fuming” — until Wade imparted the lesson: “You must be really humble to accept a gift of food from a poor person, and the most important thing in life is the ability to give.”

veronica.rocha@latimes.com

Twitter: @VeronicaRochaLA

Times staff writer Tracy Wilkinson in Washington contributed to this report.

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March 12 (UPI) — Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva and right-wing Sen. Flávio Bolsonaro are tied for the first time for a potential runoff after the Oct. 4 presidential election, according to a poll released Wednesday. A runoff would be Oct. 25.

The survey found each candidate with 41% support in a hypothetical second round.

Bolsonaro, a member of the Liberal Party and son of former President Jair Bolsonaro, leads among voters who identify as independent, a shift that could give him an edge.

Among independents, Bolsonaro gained 6 percentage points and would lead Lula 32% to 27% in a runoff scenario. Another 36% said they would not vote and 5% were undecided.

The gap between the two candidates has narrowed steadily, from 10 points in December to seven in January, five in February and zero in March, according to the survey conducted by polling firm Quaest and commissioned by Genial Investimentos.

Similar trends have appeared in other recent polls. A Datafolha survey published Saturday showed Lula with 46% support compared with 43% for Bolsonaro.

Quaest tested first- and second-round scenarios with eight potential candidates. In first-round simulations, Lula leads in two scenarios and is statistically tied with Bolsonaro in five others. Lula’s support ranges between 36% and 39%, while Bolsonaro’s support ranges between 30% and 35%.

Felipe Nunes, Quaest’s director, said Bolsonaro’s gradual rise began after his father publicly named him as a potential candidate in December.

“Flávio has managed to consolidate Bolsonaro’s electorate. He has grown among right-wing voters and improved his performance among independent voters,” Nunes said, according to news website O Globo.

The poll also showed worsening public assessments of the government and the economy.

Both Lula and Bolsonaro face high rejection rates, with 56% of respondents saying they would not vote for Lula and 55% saying the same about Bolsonaro.

“The shift over time is striking. In December, Lula had much greater potential and lower rejection. Now, both have similar levels,” Nunes said.

The survey found 48% of Brazilians believe the economy has worsened over the past 12 months, while 24% say it has improved. In February, negative perceptions stood at 43%.