How South Africa is resisting US diplomatic bullying
By Dennis Mogare, August 6, 2025Transnationalism seems to be the currency in US foreign policy, where threats, tariffs, and punitive diplomacy take precedence over alliances or values.
Nowhere is this more evident than in Washington’s decision to impose a crippling 30 per cent tariff on South African exports, while simultaneously cutting softer deals with its weaker neighbours.
This is not merely a trade dispute; it is a textbook case of diplomatic bullying, starkly illustrating what realists have long argued: that power, not principle, defines global politics.
And for middle powers like South Africa, the international arena remains a jungle where might trumps right, and Global South solidarity is, at best, a fragile shield.
The US tariff imposition reflects a hard-nosed assertion of economic power to discipline a state perceived as not malleable.
Trump’s public invocation of South Africa’s “very bad policies” and crime, regardless of their veracity, is merely a pretext to punish Pretoria for straying too far from Washington’s orbit.
By contrast, Lesotho and Eswatini, lacking South Africa’s strategic autonomy, were granted reduced tariff rates, although at a steep political cost.
Eswatini’s reported agreement to resettle violent US criminals in exchange for lower tariffs exemplifies transactional diplomacy at its most cynical.
While South Africa reels, the silence from continental allies is deafening. This episode reveals the hollow nature of Global South solidarity in a moment of crisis.
It reminds one of the impotence of the African Union in the face of Muammar Gaddafi’s ouster with tacit NATO support.
In the current case, neither the AU nor fellow BRICS states have mounted a coordinated pushback against what is clearly punitive economic warfare.
Instead, Pretoria has had to scramble unilaterally by setting up an export support desk, seeking new markets in Asia and the Middle East, and offering support to affected companies.
Solidarity requires more than summit slogans. When one African state is economically coerced for asserting diplomatic independence, it sets a dangerous precedent.
Domestically, the fallout has laid bare the frictions within South Africa’s coalition government.
The Democratic Alliance’s charge of “diplomatic failure” is not without merit. The absence of an ambassador in Washington since March, after the previous envoy called Trump a supremacist, undoubtedly weakened Pretoria’s position.
But the deeper question is whether any diplomatic finesse could have altered Washington’s calculus.
Trade Minister Parks Tau insists negotiations were ongoing and blames US intransigence.
However, in the zero-sum logic of Trumpian geopolitics, concessions are extracted, not negotiated.
That South Africa offered no grand bargain, unlike its neighbours, suggests it refused to play by those rules. For that, it has been punished.
The economic impact is uneven. Only 7.5 per cent of South African exports go to the US, and many key commodities remain exempt.
But for sectors like wine, citrus, and leather, the consequences are acute.
The government’s promise of a support package is welcome, but questions remain about funding, sustainability, and delivery.
Still, the issue is larger than GDP points or trade statistics.
It is about sovereignty, dignity, and the cost of independent foreign policy in a world where the hegemon still expects compliance.
As South Africa seeks new markets, it must also build coalitions within Africa, across the Global South, and with like-minded middle powers to defend against this kind of coercion.
The Trump tariffs are a wake-up call for the entire Global South. In an era of resurgent great power rivalry, strategic autonomy comes with risks.
Pretoria’s refusal to capitulate may have economic costs, but it preserves political self-respect.
By refusing to kowtow, it reaffirmed the principle that African states must not be treated as client regimes.
The writer is a foreign policy Analyst and PhD Candidate in international studies