By Don Terry & Ben Emos | Friday, May 23, 2025 | 5 min read
It was supposed to be a routine diplomatic visit. Instead, it turned into a political stunt. During a recent Oval Office meeting, former President Donald Trump blindsided South African President Cyril Ramaphosa with a barrage of debunked videos, pushing the false narrative of a so-called “white genocide” in South Africa. What followed was an exchange described by observers as surreal, inflammatory, and diplomatically disastrous.
Trump’s Ambush:
According to sources familiar with the meeting, Trump queued up a video of Julius Malema, the provocative leader of South Africa’s far-left Economic Freedom Fighters, shouting “Kill the Boer” during a 2016 rally. Trump pointed to this clip as supposed proof of government-backed violence against white farmers. President Ramaphosa, clearly caught off guard, responded with measured clarity: the video was ripped from its original context, the narrative was misleading, and the actual crime statistics told a very different story. It was a tense moment—especially coming from a man known for trafficking in misinformation and weaponizing outrage.
The Reality on the Ground:
Farm attacks in South Africa are heartbreaking—but they are not driven by race. According to official police data, between 2020 and 2024, there were 225 farm-related deaths, and only 53 of the victims were white farmers. “This isn’t a racial war,” said South African journalist Peter Alexander. “It’s part of a much deeper crisis of violent crime—one that disproportionately impacts Black South Africans.”
Someone should probably remind Donald Trump that the U.S. has had its own share of tragic violence. Timothy McVeigh murdered 168 people, including children, in Oklahoma City. There was the Waco siege. There are countless mass shootings across schools, churches, and public spaces every year. None of these have ever been officially labeled “genocide.” So how, exactly, does the killing of 53 white men in a country grappling with complex crime issues qualify for that label? The numbers—and the context—don’t lie.
Weaponizing Malema:
Julius Malema’s rhetoric may grab headlines, but it doesn’t represent national policy. His party, the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), holds less than 10% of seats in South Africa’s Parliament and has repeatedly been taken to court—and lost—for hate speech. “Trump knows exactly how to cherry-pick a soundbite and spin it into a sweeping indictment,” said Simon Allison, editor of The Continent. “He and Malema aren’t as different as they might seem—they both feed off outrage and thrive in the spotlight.”
The key difference? In South Africa, even the most inflammatory speech still has to answer to the courts. There are legal guardrails. But in Trump’s America, the guardrails were ripped out. MAGA wasn’t just a slogan—it became policy. Insurrectionists were pardoned. Grievance turned into governance. Every executive order, every policy shift, echoed the same angry drumbeat. What started as campaign rhetoric quietly transformed into the machinery of government. It wasn’t just talk anymore—it was the playbook.
Musk, the Megaphone, and the Misinformation Machine:
Trump wasn’t the first to push this narrative. Elon Musk—no stranger to amplifying far-right conspiracy theories—had already floated the idea of a “slow white genocide” in South Africa. Analysts suggest Trump latched onto Musk’s talking points, turning them into a political weapon to stoke division and redirect global focus toward white grievance politics.
But Musk’s influence has grown increasingly toxic, especially for South Africa—the country where he was born. His rhetoric doesn’t just echo from a distance; it casts a shadow over real lives. And there he was, figuratively present in the Oval Office, as Trump parroted his claims—only to have them dismantled point by point by South African officials. In that moment, it felt like Musk’s conspiracies were caught red-handed—like a child with his hand still in the cookie jar, only the stakes were global diplomacy and racial tension.
Ramaphosa’s Composure, South Africa’s Clarity:
To his credit, President Ramaphosa stayed composed throughout the tense Oval Office exchange. His delegation—which notably included white South African business leaders—stood as living proof of the country’s multiracial democracy in action. Even John Steenhuisen, one of Ramaphosa’s political rivals and leader of the Democratic Alliance, pushed back against Trump’s inflammatory claims. “If there were a genocide, people like me wouldn’t be sitting at this table,” Steenhuisen said firmly.
As South Africa’s Minister of Agriculture and a key voice in the ruling coalition, Steenhuisen was direct. He explained that while some white farmers had emigrated, the overwhelming majority chose to remain. “Most farmers want to stay and build a future here,” he told Trump. “They’re not running—they’re rooted.”
He acknowledged the real problems—like livestock theft and rural crime—but emphasized that these are challenges the government is actively working to address. He also reminded Trump that the individuals featured in the video—such as Julius Malema—do not represent the South African government. “Malema thrives on provocation, not policy,” Steenhuisen said.
Then he delivered the message that mattered most: “We don’t need foreign panic. We need international support to grow our economy, protect all our farmers, and shut the door on extremists who divide, not unite.”
Global Fallout, Local Strength:
The spectacle has caused ripples beyond Washington. South African diplomats now worry about economic fallout—sanctions, trade freezes, or visa restrictions—with Trump regaining power and governing based on conspiracy theories. But many in South Africa are rallying. “We’ve been through worse,” said one Johannesburg activist. “We survived apartheid. We’re not about to let a disgraced president tell our story.”
This isn’t just about Trump being wrong. It’s about how disinformation poisons diplomacy. When a U.S. president leans on YouTube clips instead of credible intelligence, the world takes notice—and recoils. For South Africa, the meeting served as both an insult and a reminder: in a world gripped by distortion and spin, truth still matters. And for now, their eyes remain fixed on real problems—economic justice, social healing, and making sure no one rewrites their history for clicks.
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