by MAHIR ALI

Among political leaders in the 21st century, it would be hard to conjure up a greater contrast than the one bet-ween the grift-addicted Donald Trump and the man described as “the world’s poorest president”.
Jose “Pepe” Mujica, who died last week at the age of around 90, resented the frequent references to his relative poverty. He failed to see why a nation’s president should live more ostentatiously than the majority of his constituents. The trappings of power did not attract Mujica when he became president of Uruguay in 2010 — receiving the presidential sash from the senator who polled the highest votes — his wife, Lucia Topalansky.
“This world is crazy because it is surprised by the normal,” he once proclaimed. “The poor are those who want more.” As head of state, he continued to live in a humble abode on the vegetable and chrysanthemum farm he co-owned with Topalansky, and drove to work in his sky-blue 1987 Volkswagen Beetle, rejecting the presidential palace with its 42 staff members, as well as the black limousines he was offered. He saw these and other unnecessary luxuries as representing the trappings of a monarchy.
His frills-free austerity won him fans worldwide, but not all of them understood exactly why he was so keen to establish a remarkably different leadership model in a relatively tiny Latin American state. Had they paid adequate attention to his speeches and interviews, they might have realised that El Pepe recognised the resilience of capitalism — and, much like Marx, appreciated its historical significance — but also understood that the culture of consumerism and accumulation of wealth it had ushered in needed to be dismantled. He knew this could not be accomplished overnight.
There are lessons to be learned from a Uruguayan guerrilla.
As a young man, Mujica played a prominent part in the Tupamaro insurgency that flourished in the ’60s and ’70s — named, like Tupac Shakur, after Tupac Amaru II, a Peruvian rebel executed in the 18th century by Spanish colonialists. It initially focused on robberies aimed towards the redistribution of wealth, which inevitably earned comparisons with Robin Hood. But when the state resorted to violence, the Tupamaros did not turn the other cheek.
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