Trump, Malema, Ramaphosa and the Oval Office Grill By Femi Fani-Kayode
It was quite a spectacle at the Oval Office a few days ago when South African President Cyril Ramaphosa met with U.S. President Donald J. Trump to discuss bilateral relations and global affairs.
The meeting took a troubling turn when President Trump launched into an unsubstantiated and frankly absurd allegation: that white Boers in South Africa were victims of mass murder, ethnic cleansing, and genocide. Not only is this claim patently false, but it also reveals a disturbing detachment from reality.
More astonishingly, Trump accused Julius Malema, the charismatic and controversial leader of South Africa’s Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), of being a hate-filled black supremacist, a murderer, and a terrorist determined to wipe out the white population of South Africa. Such claims are not only baseless but malicious. It is a clear case of giving a dog a bad name in order to hang it—a calculated attempt to vilify a man who has emerged as a voice of justice for Africa’s oppressed.
Malema may be vocal and unapologetically radical, but he is not a racist. He is a passionate advocate for the dispossessed and a relentless crusader against systemic injustice and institutionalized racism. He is articulate, well-read, bold, and committed to dismantling the structures of inequality that still plague post-apartheid South Africa.
To millions of South Africans—and indeed Africans across the continent—Malema represents courage, consciousness, and the unyielding pursuit of justice. His strong Pan-African ideals and unwavering defense of immigrants in South Africa have earned him admiration from Nigerians, Zimbabweans, and others residing there. His boldness, however uncomfortable it may be for some, should not be twisted into terrorism.
For the White House to target such a figure for attack—merely for singing an old liberation-era anti-Boer song at a political rally—is not only unfair, it is unkind. More so, to turn down the lights in the Oval Office and screen a four-minute documentary on Malema during a diplomatic meeting is to inadvertently elevate him into a global brand and African icon.
In effect, Trump’s attempt to malign Malema has only amplified his relevance—just as Pharaoh’s persecution elevated Moses. Like the biblical Joseph, what was meant for evil may well result in good.
Yet the most egregious moment came when Trump presented President Ramaphosa with a photograph purportedly showing 1,000 graves of white South African farmers allegedly killed by black terrorists. The image, it turns out, was from the Democratic Republic of Congo—a staggering blunder and deliberate act of misinformation. One wonders how the leader of the free world could fall for, or worse still, propagate such a lie.
President Ramaphosa’s response to Trump’s barrage was, sadly, underwhelming. His body language and tone were described by many commentators as timid and deferential. He appeared cowed and unprepared, offering little pushback to Trump’s bullying and falsehoods.
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This was a far cry from the assertiveness of African giants like Nelson Mandela, Thomas Sankara, Jerry Rawlings, Murtala Mohammed, or even Muammar Gaddafi—men who would never have tolerated such humiliation on foreign soil. The Oval Office should not become a theatre for belittling African leaders, regardless of their geopolitical stature.
One cannot help but detect the hand of Elon Musk—a South African native and vocal critic of the ANC—and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, whose government faces genocide allegations from South Africa at the International Court of Justice, in Trump’s posture. Their glee at Ramaphosa’s discomfort would be unsurprising.
And yet, Trump’s behavior has left many of his African supporters—myself included—profoundly disillusioned. Many of us have defended him against accusations of racism. We have seen him as a man divinely appointed to dismantle the globalist deep state, uphold Christian values, and restore balance to world affairs. But these actions are deeply troubling.
When you add this latest incident to a list of odd pronouncements—from seizing Greenland and Gaza, to alienating allies and waging economic wars—it begins to raise serious questions about Trump’s grasp of global diplomacy and leadership priorities.
We cannot, in good conscience, continue to support a man who refuses to empathize with the oppressed or who bullies those less powerful. That would not only be politically reckless—it would be morally wrong.
Trump must retrace his steps. He must resist the allure of megalomania, narcissism, and racial superiority, and return to the values that once made him a beacon of hope to many. If he cannot do so, God may yet raise another to fulfill the mission he has squandered.
As for President Ramaphosa, the disappointment runs deep. A leader of his standing should never cower under pressure. The South African people, with their painful history of apartheid and exploitation, deserve a president who will stand tall, not bow in silence.
That same white minority which brutalized black South Africans for centuries still owns the lion’s share of the economy and land. These are the people Trump claims are victims of genocide. These are the people who once described black Africans as subhuman—hewers of wood and drawers of water.
The irony is bitter. Had a Nigerian leader been subjected to such humiliation in my presence, I assure you the response would have been swift and uncompromising. I am a Trump supporter, yes—but I am an African first.
The time for cowed and compromised African leaders is over. A new spirit—what I call the “Traoré Spirit”—is sweeping across the continent. It is bold, it is unapologetic, and it is coming for those who have sold Africa short.
Trump’s policy on Africa, like his stance on Gaza, is deeply flawed. He must recognize that Africans, though challenged, are resilient. We come from civilizations far older and richer than America’s. We may lack financial might, but we have history, we have dignity—and above all, we have God.
Their time may be now, but our time is coming. And when it does, the rejected stone shall become the cornerstone. The last shall indeed be first.
Chief Femi Fani-Kayode is the Sadaukin Shinkafi, the Wakilin Doka Potiskum, a former Minister of Culture and Tourism, and a former Minister of Aviation.
