Much has been written about how Donald Trump’s return to power ominously accelerated the erosion of the ANC’s credibility and leadership. Trump has openly condemned the ANC government’s pursuit of racialised legislation, including the controversial expropriation without compensation bill.
The US withdrew funding for SA, and tensions escalated when the country’s ambassador to Washington was expelled. President Cyril Ramaphosa was publicly admonished at the Oval Office on May 21 — with Trump levelling accusations of a white genocide taking place in SA on the ANC's watch.
Trump’s pronouncements were swiftly followed by the approval of the US—SA Bilateral Relations Review Act of 2025, advancing through the house foreign affairs committee on July 23 and now awaiting a full house vote, which would pave the way for paralysing sanctions against the ANC. Polls now show the ANC’s support collapsing ahead of the local government elections, with its electoral base having declined to about 20% according to recent estimates.
As the ANC’s authority wanes and ties with the West fray, Ramaphosa has had few allies to turn to — and chief among the steadfast few we find the Brics bloc. Trilateral naval exercises between China, Russia and SA have thus come to be seen as an important foreign policy lever demonstrating the ANC’s apparent loyalty to comrades Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin.
These military displays serve multiple purposes: they are an assertion of sovereign strength in the face of Western isolation; a message that Pretoria remains relevant on the global stage; and a show of solidarity that deepens ties with powers willing to stand with the ANC despite its global pariah status.
Yet the Brics embrace carries risks, as it provides ammunition to critics in the Trump administration who argue that SA’s foreign policy choices justify financial sanctions — and possibly harsher responses — to curtail what they view as a drift away from democratic norms and liberal alliances.
The naval exercises represent far more than routine defence co-operation; they have become a flashpoint in the escalating diplomatic tensions between Ramaphosa and Trump. The inaugural episode in the series, Exercise Mosi I, took place off Cape Town’s coast in November 2019, followed by Exercise Mosi II in early 2023 off Durban and Richards Bay.
Designed to enhance maritime interoperability among Brics members, the drills also serve as a pointed show of defiance against Western pressure and a clear signal of SA’s strategic alignment. This is precisely why these exercises have drawn such sharp criticism from Washington.
Then-US ambassador Reuben Brigety called out SA in a May 2023 press briefing addressing Russian military efforts in Ukraine, saying that he’d bet his life that SA sent weapons to Russia — referring to the controversial docking of the sanctioned Russian cargo ship Lady R at the Simon’s Town naval base. He added that SA was engaging in “outrageous” anti-Americanism and questioned Pretoria’s claims of neutrality among great powers.
This year the planned trilateral naval activities known as Exercise Mosi III were set to coincide with SA’s preparations to host the G20 summit, scheduled for November 22-23 in Johannesburg. Hosting the G20 — the first on African soil — put Ramaphosa in a conflicted position. These overlapping commitments threatened to complicate his efforts to mend strained ties with the Trump administration and to forestall potential sanctions on the ANC and its leaders. Commenting on his intentions regarding the summit in the Oval Office on September 5, Trump said: “I won’t be going this year. It’s in SA. I won’t be going”.
Nonetheless, SA has officially announced the postponement of Exercise Mosi III, originally also planned for November in SA’s waters. The department of defence cited “activities related to SA’s G20 presidency” as the reason for the delay. But the message is clear: Ramaphosa has prioritised Trump over Putin and Xi — a slap in the face for SA’s Brics partners that will hardly be forgotten.
The sobering reality is that Ramaphosa’s primary loyalty lies squarely with the ANC and its political survival, above all else. In the face of Western sanctions that threaten its existence, the ANC’s allegiance flexes pragmatically, shaped by what best preserves its grip on power rather than by steadfast loyalty to any particular foreign partner. Hence Ramaphosa’s diplomatic overtures to Brics leaders like Xi and Putin are less about genuine solidarity and more tactical moves to secure political support and resources essential for the ANC’s endurance.
This survival calculus is reinforced by the ANC’s intricate internal power struggles — marked by factionalism and patronage — where control over the state and its institutions is paramount. Foreign policy decisions, including provocative military collaborations with Russia and China, are driven by these dynamics, not by what might be best for the SA people.
This helps explain why the ANC may abruptly shift or even abandon partnerships — be they with Western nations or Brics partners — when such moves serve the overarching goal of political survival.
World leaders will soon realise — if they haven’t already — that the ANC is fickle and cannot be trusted. The party’s wavering loyalties and frequent recalibrations of foreign alliances, oscillating between the West and Brics, appear driven chiefly by desperate attempts to cling to power as the sun sets on its era of hegemonic control.
• Kajee is a lecturer at Southern Utah University, a non-resident research fellow at the Korea Institute for Maritime Strategy and a researcher for the SeaLight maritime transparency initiative at Stanford University’s Gordian Knot Center for National Security Innovation.
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