The May 21, 2025 Oval Office press appearance between South Africa President Cyril Ramaphosa and U.S. President Donald Trump took place against an unusually tense backdrop. It was the first time an African leader visited Mr Trump’s White House, and Mr Ramaphosa was preparing to hand off South Africa’s G20 presidency to the U.S. later in the year. Yet the two nations had recently clashed over several volatile issues: Trump had cut U.S. aid to South Africa, offered asylum to 59 white farmers based on debunked “white genocide” claims, expelled Pretoria’s ambassador in mid-March, and threatened 30% tariffs under a new trade directive.
South Africa’s domestic policies (land use and ownership reform, affirmative action) and its international positions (filing an ICJ case against Israel and a cautious stance on Russia’s war in Ukraine) had increasingly alarmed U.S. policymakers. In this seemingly high-stakes context, where the U.S. is South Africa’s second-largest trading partner, Ramaphosa’s delegation arrived hoping to secure economic cooperation while defusing diplomatic confrontations.
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Diplomatic Optics: Tone, Hierarchy, and Public Symbolism:
In introducing his guest, President Trump quipped that “He [President Ramaphosa] is a man who is certainly in some circles really respected, other circles a little bit less respected,” immediately setting a tone of ambivalence rather than mutual respect. This was reiterated twice in the opening. Just over two minutes into the exchange after a curt mention of the upcoming G-20 conference which he had previously barred U.S. state agencies from participating in, Mr Trump reiterated that “we are going to be discussing some of the things that are taking place in South Africa and see if we can help. We want to help,” a declaration that thinly veiled his intent to lecture rather than to engage as equals. He went on to remark that he “didn’t know where he [Ramaphosa] got his number from,” despite Mr Ramaphosa being the duly elected head of state of a sovereign nation with well-established diplomatic channels. This casual aside laid bare the contempt underlying Trump’s posturing with which he related with Mr Ramaphosa from the onset, not as a counterpart, but as someone to be condescended to under the pretense of patronising concern.
Soon, it was time for Mr Ramaphosa’s introductory remarks. He starkly contrasted Mr Trump’s demeanour with a mild active-positive posturing. He elaborately thanked Mr Trump for agreeing to his visit and for starting trade talks with his delegation. The South African president then further dignified the public appearance with his remarks saying his team wanted to “… discuss a whole range of issues – geopolitical, the work that you [Trump] are doing to bring peace around the world, in
the Middle East. So we value that and we are also a great contributor to the peace processes that are going on in the world.”
“…we want to discuss how we can support each other, you are a much bigger economy than we are,” he added. Mr Ramaphosa, towards the seventh minute of the interaction, also thanked Mr Trump for the assistance provided to his country during the 2020 COVID-19 crisis by sending ventilators to help contain the impact of the illness.
Despite the heartfelt introductory remarks of Mr Ramaphosa wherein he had expressed gratitude to Mr Trump and respect for the American people, Mr Trump’s response to a reporter’s question undercut Ramaphosa’s goodwill and distorted the intent for which the American president brought him before the cameras as he had done to other world leaders who visited him in the White House since reelection.
Responding to NBC’s question on why White South Africans have priority refugee status over other nationals, Mr Trump said his country takes in people from many countries where “we feel there is persecution or genocide going on,” but a lot of people are “very concerned with regards to South Africa, and that’s really the purpose of the meeting.” This undercuts and shows little respect for Mr Ramaphosa’s opening remarks which sought to broaden the scope of the conversation to mention trade, geopolitics, global peace building, mutual economic development and reindustrialisation which included offering up rare earth minerals. “I hope we can have an explanation,” Mr Trump said, speaking to South Africa’s president.
Political psychologists often analyse leaders using frameworks like Barber’s presidential character typology and Joseph Nye’s soft vs. hard power model. By Barber’s scheme, Mr Trump’s assertive, combative behavior aligns with an “active-negative”
style: high energy and dominance driven by personal grievances, rather than an enjoyment of governance. U.S. tabloid, Axios, calls Trump’s style “a highly personalised, transactional, coercive style of deal making.”
But Mr Ramaphosa attempted to “sidestep Trump’s theatre,” as South Africa based tabloid, Semafor, remarked. With some measure of calm and what the report described as “emotional intelligence and a quiet touch of diplomatic choreography,” he withstood Mr Trump’s statements which analysts have decried as aimed at baiting him into an uncomposed reaction.
The Optics of Restraint: Was Calm Enough?
Several news reports portrayed the meeting as a dramatic ambush and tested diplomacy. U.S. and European outlets focused on Trump’s “hectoring stunt” and Ramaphosa’s seeming calm response. Reuters, NPR and the BBC described a tense Oval Office encounter where Mr Trump pressed discredited “white genocide” claims. The Guardian and Al Jazeera highlighted that Mr Trump “ambushed” Mr Ramaphosa with false videos, stressing that Mr Ramaphosa refused to be baited, insisting on calm discussion. Analysts noted the South African leader’s restraint: NPR reported that South African media saw him as having “kept his composure despite some serious provocation” (unlike Ukrainian President Zelenskyy, whom Trump “similarly bullied.”) The Semafor analysis likened the outcome to a “diplomatic draw,” praising Mr Ramaphosa’s calm under fire and noting that he “walked out with his dignity intact”. One South African blog humorously stated: “he [President Ramaphosa] didn’t get Zelenskyed.”
However, much of the Western press has adopted an almost reflexive hostility toward the second Trump administration—portraying the United States as veering toward authoritarianism amid the president’s high-pressure tactics on institutions, allies, and a media that spotlighted his pre-election controversies. This pervasive critical angle raises the question: did Western outlets’ preoccupation with Trump’s own excesses obscure more nuanced appraisals of President Ramaphosa’s conduct? For the broader public attuned to media opinion leaders, Ramaphosa may have emerged from the Oval Office unscathed. Yet a closer examination suggests a more complex picture—one in which his composure, strategic messaging, and underlying concessions warrant deeper scrutiny.
In the sixth minute of the exchange, President Ramaphosa conceded that “you [the U.S.] are a much bigger economy than we are. We are just a tiny economy…,” a seemingly innocuous remark that nonetheless undercut his own negotiating leverage. By highlighting South Africa’s relative size, he failed to account for its sophisticated industrial base and leadership in continental economic initiatives. When he repeated this deprecating comparison four minutes later, the line between diplomatic humility and self-doubt blurred—weakening his core message of reciprocal trade and partnership by anchoring negotiations on an apologetic, self-deprecating premise rather than on the strengths and strategic value South Africa brings to the table.
Barely twenty minutes into the conversation, a reporter asked what it would take Mr Trump to believe that there is no White genocide in South Africa. Mr Ramaphosa interjected to answer on behalf of his American counterpart and said: “It will take President Trump listening to the voices of South Africans, some of whom are his good friends, some of those who are here. …if there waas Afrikaaner farmer genocide, I can bet you, these three gentlemen will not be here, including my minister of Agriculture, [reffering to Johann Rupert, South Africa’s richest man, and by champion golfers Ernie
Els and Retief Goosen and Agriculture Minister John Steenhuisen, all of whom are white].
Mr Ramaphosa asked Mr Trump to listen to the voice of South Africans but failed to reference any institutional fact or data that represented the voice and true state of things in South Africa: instead he pointed to his three rich white friends. Such a response scarcely qualifies as a genuine rebuttal; rather, critics at home condemned it as pandering to Trump and furthering what they derided as “imperialist interests.” If anything, it fell short of the rigor required to debunk a false genocide narrative. Not only does this reliance on celebrity name-dropping invite dismissal as an anecdotal fallacy, it also tokenizes a handful of individuals while ignoring less visible victims in rural communities.
Ramaphosa’s sidestepping of hard data from crime‐reporting agencies or oversight bodies, like the South African Human Rights Commission, missed an opportunity to root his refutation in transparent, institutional evidence. For instance, South Africa itself has brought genocide charges against Israel at the International Court of Justice: a crisis where Lancet report estimates over 186,000 civilian deaths and the daily release of graphic imagery from Gaza—while in stark contrast, South Africa recorded 49 farmer fatalities out of nearly 29,000 violent deaths in 2023 and 42 out of roughly 27,000 in 2024. Worse still, by framing the issue around personal testimony rather than objective facts, he implicitly validated the notion that unverified allegations carry the same weight as verifiable research. A more polished diplomatic response would have foregrounded South Africa’s constitutional safeguards, rule-of-law institutions, and transparent judicial processes, shifting the debate from personalities to principles.
Trump’s Confrontational Theater and Ramaphosa’s Tactical Calm
When President Trump rolled out edited clips—from Economic Freedom Fighters leader Julius Malema’s speeches to footage of memorial crosses he mischaracterized as “white genocide” graves— Mr Ramaphosa’s startled body language laid bare his surpise. These allegations were not novel; they had been widely circulated online by the very claimants themselves. Yet Ramaphosa and his team neither anticipated the montage nor pre-screened the evidence behind it. It is remarkable that he would undertake an international visit only to find himself forced into on-the-spot debunking of a conspiracy theory for which neither he nor his advisers had gathered or vetted the underlying material. “This I’ve never seen,” he said in response to the video.
Moreover, questions about Mr. Ramaphosa’s overall readiness arose even before the memorial video segment, when he publicly offered South Africa’s strategic mineral resources—including rare earth elements—directly to President Trump on live camera. Such an unscripted concession not only broke diplomatic sequencing but also underplayed the careful valuation and multilateral negotiation typically surrounding these assets and risked signaling desperation and economic vulnnerability rather than strategic partnership. In professional diplomatic practice, discussions of critical national resources are normally conducted through discreet, phased channels—first securing internal consensus and valuation, then engaging counterparties in formal forums. By advancing these offers extemporaneously, the President inadvertently diluted South Africa’s negotiating leverage and departed from the calibrated approach that his earlier messaging had otherwise suggested. Such could have been edited out of his remarks by the preparatory team.
In replying to the clips, President Ramaphosa rightly clarified that “what you saw…is not government policy” and underscored the value of open debate in a multiparty democracy. Yet by framing the issue purely as non-state rhetoric, he neglected the substantive grievances underpinning those speeches—grievances born of a society still grappling with apartheid’s economic legacy. Critics contend this amounted to pandering to President Trump: a procedural rebuttal that sidestepped the real task of acknowledging how systemic inequality fuels such charged language. While the calls in question may not qualify as extremist, they reflect deep-seated frustration over enduring exclusion. A more effective response would have paired his defense of free expression with a candid recognition of those structural inequities, thus addressing both the form and the substance of the controversy.
Despite his typically composed demeanor, Mr. Ramaphosa’s discomfort became apparent as he fidgeted—rubbing his thumb against his hand—and struggled to find firm footing in response to repeated provocations. In an effort to counter the genocide narrative he conceded, “there is criminality in our country,” a line his Agriculture Minister would later reframe more adeptly as a “rural safety problem,” afterall crime pales in South Africa compared to U.S. numbers. Later still, 36 minutes into the exchange, when President Trump pressed him on South Africa’s recently enacted Land Expropriation Law in a condescendingly authoritative manner, Mr Ramaphosa’s admission that “we have not really gotten underway with it” risked throwing a sovereign, parliament-vetted statute under the bus to placate Washington’s unfounded fears. That exchange not only undercut his government’s legislative authority but also revealed a troubling degree of deference—missed opportunities to assert South Africa’s policy rationale and uphold the integrity of its democratic processes.
When pressed to denounce Mr. Malema’s language and the accompanying chants, President Ramaphosa simply replied, “Oh yes. As government, as my own party, we are completely opposed to that,” framing these liberation songs as offensive outliers rather than acknowledging their roots in South Africa’s struggle against apartheid. Yet the Constitutional Court has ruled that such chants—grounded in historical protest poetry—cannot be interpreted literally as calls for violence, but rather form part of the country’s living heritage of resistance and reclamation. Had Mr. Ramaphosa taken the opportunity to educate President Trump on the enduring legacy of apartheid—explaining that these songs encapsulate collective memory and hope for redress—while affirming his government’s ongoing work to address systemic injustice and safeguard a vibrant, multiparty political climate, his strategic communication would have been far stronger. By simultaneously supporting the EFF’s right to expressive dissent within constitutional bounds and contextualizing the chants’ historical significance, he could have shifted the narrative from one of denuncion to one of dignified leadership, reinforcing South Africa’s commitment to both justice and democratic pluralism.
Still, it is important to note that President Ramaphosa has a long history of negotiations and has climbed the ladder of leadership through astute political involvement spanning decades unlike President Trump. Therefore, his steadfast calm amid provocations can be interpreted as embodying core principles of African diplomacy: enduring external pressure, privileging institutional process over impulsive theatrics, and employing restraint as a strategic resource. While critics may decry this as indecision, it in fact creates vital space for deeper strategic coordination and
research-driven communication, allowing South Africa to articulate its positions with clarity and evidence rather than be drawn into episodic showmanship. The president should be given his credit for resisting the temptation to mirror transactional grandstanding, and reflecting his understanding that the true work of diplomacy lies not in headline-grabbing confrontations but in cultivating durable channels of dialogue, rigorous policy framing, and collaborative problem-solving that outlast the fleeting drama of any single administration.
Moreover, this approach provides South Africa’s foreign policy apparatus the opportunity to conduct comprehensive analysis—drawing on academic insights in political psychology, media framing, and negotiation theory—to refine its messaging and anticipate future flashpoints. Instead of Trump’s style of reactive soundbites, the government can develop pre-vetted narratives supported by empirical data, legal frameworks, and multilateral endorsements, ensuring that its line of argument is both robust and resistant to distortion.
As the president’s domestic allies have remarked, President Ramaphosa’s style not only preserves South Africa’s diplomatic dignity but also lays the groundwork for long-term strategic initiatives—be they in trade, security cooperation, or global governance. His choice to absorb short-term pressure without sacrificing institutional prerogatives affords ministers, advisors, and civil society actors the breathing room to craft targeted policy interventions and coordinate across government departments, academic institutions, and private-sector stakeholders. In this way, the legacy of the May 21 meeting may ultimately be judged not by its viral moments but by the methodical, research-informed efforts it spurred to fortify South Africa’s global standing and safeguard the bilateral relationship in the years ahead.
Summary of Diplomatic Optics and Missed Signals:
| Dimension | Trump | Ramaphosa | Optical Impact |
| Opening framing | Condescending, ambiguous respect | Warm, deferential, overly humble | Power imbalance favoured Trump |
| Use of evidence | Weaponised edited media to support conspiracy narrative | Used anecdotal name-dropping instead of institutional fact | Trump’s framing prevailed in public perception but for media fact-check |
| Emotional tone | Assertive, domineering | Restrained, dignified | Ramaphosa gained personal credibility but lacked narrative control |
| Strategic resource framing | Passive recipient | Over-eager supplier South Africa’s offer | lacked diplomatic calibration |
| Institutional signalling | Bypassed institutions for personal spectacle | Failed to leverage national institutions’ credibility | Missed opportunity to assert sovereignty through legal/data channels |
| Global message | U.S. concern about South Africa | South Africa seeking partnership | Dialogue asymmetry reinforced, despite Ramaphosa’s calm |
Recommendations:
1. Advance future engagement preparation via scenario-mapping: Teams must anticipate rhetorical ambushes and deploy institutional counter-narratives in real-time.
2. Train principal actors in assertive communication diplomacy: Humility must not eclipse strength. Emphasising constitutional values and data-driven rebuttals reinforces sovereignty.
3. Embed economic offers in phased negotiation frameworks: National assets should never be offered ad hoc. Announcements must follow technical groundwork and inter-agency coherence.
4. Expand institutional visibility in diplomatic communication: Counter disinformation not with anecdotes, but through credible state-backed evidence and globally respected indices.
5. Leverage multilateralism: Frame engagements not as bilateral dependencies but as strategic alignments with shared global objectives—on minerals, climate, and democratic development.
This analysis was prepared for the presidency of South Africa and released to public view in line with our policy on institutional disclosure.
