THE conflict converging in the next month or so on the Korean Peninsula is a prime example of the moral conflict that has defined the past few years. I think it points to some of the moral dilemmas we will face locally as well, because the next election will ask difficult questions of us. And perhaps the very eye of the storm, the crescendo of all the fears and doubts the world seems to be experiencing lands on this final question: if successful in denuclearising the Korean Peninsula, will it be acceptable for Donald Trump to win the Nobel Prize for Peace?

Perhaps the least liked US president ever, there are too many allegations of personal misconduct on his part to count. Even now, a casual perusal of international news will probably feature the continuing legal struggle between the former porn star who now alleges she had an affair with Trump, and his lawyer who previously paid her a significant sum to not reveal this. These scandals represent not just US firsts, but international ones, as hardly has a head of state been so consistently embroiled in controversy.

If in 50 years I died and went to heaven, would Donald Trump be there? We can all readily imagine former President Obama shooting hoops and handing out beers, but Trump? Wouldn’t he make the women in the afterlife feel uncomfortable? In the age of #metoo and all the good it has done for women’s rights, Trump winning a Nobel would be a stunning rebuke. But then, one could argue that his election was itself the biggest rebuke, having defeated the first woman candidate to represent a major party in US elections.

In the end, he may not win it for the simple reason that the organisation’s reputation would suffer too much. Everyone will nonetheless know, should he be successful in Korea, that he is the rightful winner, however, and so the moral dilemma persists. Perhaps we can frame it this way: would resolving the Korean conflict be enough to make Trump, in the eyes of the world, a good person? Maybe not a good person; but definitely a good leader.

In a way, there is such a mysterious parallel between him and Abraham Lincoln, arguably his polar opposite. Honest Abe never lied. There are records of thousands of lies Trump has told in office. Honest Abe freed the slaves; Donald Trump wants to build a wall to keep immigrants out. Honest Abe married a witty, intelligent woman he loved; Trump’s relationship with his model wife is, shall we say, unclear.

And yet, when confronted with the American Civil War, historians say Lincoln and his generals went out of their way to pit Union soldiers against Confederates, striving to kill as many as possible. That hardly seems the most restrained, most morally right strategy, and yet it ensured there was relatively little long-term resistance in the South, because the heart of their fighting force had been killed. It was very, very effective, and, some might say, the only reason the US has remained a single state.

Somehow, though, I get the impression that if I did make it to heaven, I would definitely see Lincoln there, top hat in hand. There’s something about Abraham Lincoln’s demeanour which I think explains the key difference between these two tough men. I can hardly point to an image of him in which he is smiling, where he doesn’t look vaguely, intangibly sad. Sympathetic with slaves throughout his public life, I think Lincoln recognised the tragedy of his time.

Further, I think Abraham Lincoln was not a happy man, because he recognised that morality is a struggle; full of regret and shame. It is Trump’s inability to genuinely express regret and apparently feel shame that keeps the controversy about his presidential career alive. As my generation would say, something about the “vibe” is not right. Perhaps we will only really see that side of him once he leaves office, whether in a year or six. Until then, however, the gap between him and a man like Lincoln remains a chasm.

As we roll slowly into thinking deeply about the next election, I wonder whether this is really what keeps opposition to the current administration from gaining strength. On some level, Guyanese don’t yet believe in the opposition, perhaps for the same reason we can’t yet believe in Trump. There’s a big difference between admitting there were mistakes during their long time in office and pretending nothing had ever gone wrong.

Regret and shame are the markers of genuine commitment to Guyana’s development, because they show that you can recognise what’s in the interest of the nation and what’s not. Just as Trump can’t admit he’s ever said something he didn’t mean, the opposition can’t admit they would have done some things differently. As a result, it seems Guyanese can expect not a reformed, focused PPP/C (which so many legitimately desire), but a return to the unacceptable chaos of the past. The chasm between the PPP/C and the truth sadly continues to grow.