The Literal White House

South Africa's president held his ground in his visit to Donald Trump, but the real issue is forging a Global South, and African identity, free from local white anxieties and Western preoccupations.

The Trump-Ramaphosa meeting was classic Trump: a made-for-TV spectacle complete with dramatic video reveal and condescension.

Trump got what he wanted—a moment to energize his base, especially by pushing the debunked narrative of political crimes against white South Africans and dominate the headlines till the next story. And he did: most channels played the chaotic scenes that followed when he asked an aide to play the video of speeches by an opposition MP (who has never been in government) and fake scenes of supposed white deaths taken from rightwing chat groups, white South African “civil society” and X. (I was interviewed on the BBC late Wednesday night and had to listen to that being the framing as I was being cued for a five minute — yes, that’s TV — interview.

Predictably, Trump’s framing of South Africa ignored its broader epidemic of violence affecting all races. He distorted complex issues into simplistic political theater.

Most Americans don’t care about this, and liberals here know it is a lie. But at best, they feel sorry that South Africa has to be subjected to this. But there is little to no solidarity. Also, the way white politics work here is that there is the hesitancy about “hey, how do I know it is not true,” despite all the evidence to the contrary. Even The Daily Show didn’t spend much time on it (“a fake international crisis”), except to warm up jokes about Trump’s sale of gold Trump-branded watches, erectile dysfunction honey, and Trump’s proposed missile defense system, you guessed it, the “Gold Dome.”

The basic takeaway is that Musk has coached Trump into embracing the false “white genocide” narrative, which conveniently dovetails with the neuroses of Trump’s base. The South Africa conjured up is a cautionary tale of “diversity, equity, and inclusion” policies gone too far that ends in a white genocide.

Ramaphosa was in a challenging position. It was a lose-lose scenario on Trump’s turf, with Trump’s history of publicly undermining guests. When Trump played his “gotcha” video of fake farmer graves—actually protest props—Ramaphosa looked momentarily caught off guard but regained composure. He didn’t take the bait, stayed calm, and offered flattery (including a book about golf to someone who doesn’t read). He impressed. In the UK Independent newspaper, Simon Walters opined: “I never thought I’d want to join the Cyril Ramaphosa fan club—until I saw him take on Trump.” He added that there were two heads of state in the Oval Office — but only one statesman: Ramaphosa. This was not an isolated view. Ramaphosa’s restraint was deliberate, but I'm not sure it always worked during a live TV broadcast.

Ramaphosa attempted to counter with facts—clarifying that Julius Malema is an opposition MP, has freedom of speech (something in short supply in the US at the moment), that South Africa operates under the rule of law, or that it is not government policy to exterminate whites —but this part of proceedings, in front of media, had already been co-opted for Trump’s narrative, which was not about facts. Ramaphosa could have said more, but the press corps—each seemingly vying for their own “moment”—limited the opportunity. The parochialism of some American journalists was evident, particularly in a question about New York State Attorney General Tish James, which felt out of place. Credit goes to the black South African journalist (who I later learned is Tshidi Madia) who persistently called for Ramaphosa to be allowed to respond to the propaganda video. In contrast, some of her South African colleagues appeared more focused on lobbing leading questions at Trump, perhaps with an eye toward boosting their social media profiles.

On the issues that were projected to dominate (South Africa’s affirmative action policies, South Africa’s case against Israel at the ICJ, or South Africa’s leading role in BRICS), either didn’t come up or appeared half-hearted in the case of the ICJ, Trump claimed he didn’t expect much from the case and was unsure what the ruling would mean. However, this ambiguity may have been strategic, as some have suggested, as a way to signal to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu that MAGA support for Israel isn’t guaranteed. Notably, as Tony Karon pointed out to me, Trump avoided parroting the Zionist wing of his movement, instead doubling down on white victimhood, maybe suggesting a shift in the political factions influencing him.

Regarding the delegations, it was unmistakably a Trump production on the American side. Elon Musk was in the room but remained silent, as did J.D. Vance. Marco Rubio was absent. The previous day, Rubio had embarrassed himself with his knowledge of South Africa.

On Ramaphosa’s side, one striking detail was the underwhelming presence of the white men—Ernie Els, Retief Goosen, and Johann Rupert. If their presence was a “trump card,” it worked only insofar as it reinforced Trump’s bigotry: he felt more at home speaking to these white okes as equals.

Two things about the white men: Their contributions underscored the broader mediocrity of South Africa’s white elite and the tendency to center whites and their “anxieties” in South Africa at moments like this. As journalist Richard Poplak joked at one point on X: “I’m no woke academic, but let’s just say we’re centering whiteness today.” They were incoherent and actually repeated some of the lies about white suffering. Els reminisced about the Angolan war, effectively applauding US support for apartheid-aligned forces. Goosen spoke about his family’s supposed hardships on their farm. Rupert’s remarks were muddled and incoherent, including speaking affectionately about a visit to a disgraced sex pest, TV host Charlie Rose. Both in the live reporting and afterwards, the South African press cleaned up these men’s babble to make them seem insightful. (Rupert did speak one truth, though: exposing the dirt of the “well-governed” Western Cape province, which has the highest murder rate in the country, which is confined to poor black people, including townships, away from the predominantly white suburbs and the tourist zones downtown and along the Peninsula’s beachfronts.)

I could only imagine Ramaphosa’s disappointment at Goosen, Els, and Rupert’s performance. Except for some lapses on crime and xenophobia, the unionist Zingisa Losi's eloquence made Goosen, Els and Rupert come across as garbled and exposed their selfishness and entitlement. (From watching, it seems Trump wasn’t interested in her input.)

As for John Steenhuisen, the leader of the Democratic Alliance, the reactionary, mostly white-led party, in a governing coalition with the ANC at the national level, when Ramaphosa called him (because he is white) he muted some of the genocide language (while not completely disavowing it). But his more significant, and disturbing, contribution was to reassure the Americans about the moderating role of the DA, presumably as a rightwing white-led party, on real political change, i.e. forms of racial and class redistribution: that the DA is what’s stand between South Africa and chaos (“those people,” “the rabble” was his reaction to two black-led parliamentary parties).

Ramaphosa should have let two of the five government ministers who accompanied him, Parks Tau and Ronald Lamola, both black, speak instead. Lamola is an experienced representative of South Africa internationally (he drives the ICJ case), while Tau is an impressive technocrat and former mayor of Johannesburg where he did a capable job.

Although the meeting was meant to focus on trade and possibly a Starlink deal (Ramaphosa’s team previewed that in the days leading up to the meeting), it seems no meaningful economic agreements emerged from the whole encounter. (Musk’s frustration with operating Starlink in South Africa has been cited as one of the motivations behind his spreading fake news about a white genocide in South Africa.) As I noted already, discussions around BRICS or any concrete cooperation were notably absent. Instead, the event became a platform for Trump’s white nationalist messaging, with, on the face of it, virtually no diplomatic or economic gains for South Africa from the US.

The meeting proved one other thing: It is easier to make fun of the neurotic whining of a privileged minority, but they have real consequences. Afriforum’s lobbying, combined with Musk’s use of his platform to spread falsehoods, is a large part of the problem, and we can’t do much about it for now except debunk it. But that feels like bringing a knife to a gunfight. My sense is that calls to regulate the activities of social movements and political groups in South Africa that spread fake news may be flouted.

Near the end, Trump did not exactly say no to attending the G20 summit in South Africa in November 2025. But he also has little regard for multilateralism.

The broader and more enduring challenge lies with South Africa: to disentangle itself from an exploitative relationship with the West, particularly the United States, and to harness its growing influence within the Global South. This means deepening economic alliances and building political solidarity with countries like Brazil, Mexico, Malaysia, and key members of BRICS. It’s a chance to imagine a future beyond the decaying legacy of white nationalism, increasingly visible in both the US and parts of Europe.

But this is hard work, and it’s unclear whether Ramaphosa has the stomach for it—this is his final term—or the mandate, given that the ANC now governs in coalition with an alphabet soup of rightwing parties whose worldview is firmly anchored in the West. Nor is it clear whether the electorate, often reactionary and parochial, will offer the mass political support needed to take that leap.

• This post has been edited, updated and extended since it was first published on May 22, 2025.