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Did Ambassador Ebrahim Rasool speak an undiplomatic truth? And if he did, isn’t that better than uttering polished falsehoods? MAHMOOD SANGLAY offers reflections on the diplomatic incident that led to the expulsion of the recently-appointed South African ambassador to the United States.
What did Rasool really say?
Click the link below to download the full PDF transcript of the webinar hosted by the Mapungubwe Institute for Strategic Reflection (MISTRA) held on March 14, 2025. (We even highlighted the dramatic bit on p.6 for your convenience!)
Download the full PDF transcript (MISTRA Rasool 2025.03.14 Transcript)
Below is the 1-minute, 33-second video of Rasool’s allegedly controversial remarks.
Diplomats routinely use polished language to smooth over tensions, navigating conflicts with carefully crafted ambiguity. However, this US administration is demonstrating that when you speak truth to their power, their diplomacy is ruthless. They prefer the moral emptiness of diplomatic speech that prevaricates in the face of injustice and domination.
Rasool’s expulsion highlights the US’s growing intolerance of dissent, particularly from the Global South. His remarks were not an undiplomatic outburst but a well-founded critique of US foreign policy, exposing its hegemonic disregard for international law. The US routinely disregards global institutions, from ignoring ICC rulings to unilateral sanctions, proving it no longer seeks legitimacy—only dominance. By removing Rasool, Washington has reinforced what he exposed: its empire is sustained through force, not moral authority.
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The merit of Rasool’s remarks
Rasool’s comments, far from being ‘race-baiting,’ are a legitimate, evidence-based critique of US domestic and foreign policy. His analysis places the rise of Trumpism within a broader global trend of right-wing populism, which has leveraged racial and nationalist anxieties to maintain power. His remarks reflect well-documented political realities rather than inflammatory rhetoric.
First, Rasool’s claim that Trump’s movement represents an ‘assault on incumbency’ through supremacist mobilisation is not only sound but widely recognised by scholars and analysts. The Make America Great Again (MAGA) movement has been explicitly built on nativist and white nationalist rhetoric, reinforcing a nostalgic vision of an America that predates civil rights gains and demographic shifts. Trump’s own statements and policies—from the Muslim travel ban to the repeal of diversity, equity and inclusion programmes—affirm a political strategy rooted in racial and cultural grievance. Numerous political studies have shown that the MAGA movement thrives on fears of demographic change, particularly the declining white majority in the United States, which Rasool accurately references.
Second, Rasool’s observation that the US electorate is projected to become 48% white is not a radical claim but a demographic fact. The US Census Bureau has long projected that the country will become a majority-minority nation by 2045. This shift has already fueled reactionary policies, voter suppression efforts, and political movements aimed at consolidating white conservative power. Trump’s appeal to these anxieties is not speculative—it is foundational to his political strategy.
Third, Rasool connects this domestic racial panic to US foreign policy, arguing that Trumpism extends its supremacist logic beyond American borders. This is an entirely valid critique. Under Trump, the US intensified its rejection of international norms, withdrawing from agreements such as the Paris Climate Accord, sidelining multilateral institutions like the United Nations, and embracing unilateral economic coercion against countries in the Global South. The administration’s relentless support for Israel, including cutting aid to Palestinian refugees and undermining international rulings against the occupation, further exemplifies how racial and colonial hierarchies shape its foreign policy.
Moreover, Rasool’s point about border walls and deportation policies is directly supported by Trump’s rhetoric and actions. The administration’s obsession with building a wall along the US-Mexico border, its expansion of ICE deportations, and its policies that separated migrant families all underscore how Trumpism operationalises racial exclusion as a political tool. The Supreme Court’s recent decision to uphold a law allowing the deportation of long-term legal immigrants further reinforces how anti-migrant sentiment has become enshrined in US governance.
Thus, Rasool’s analysis is not an emotional provocation but a structured critique backed by data and observable policies. If anything, his comments serve as a crucial warning: when a superpower uses racial anxieties and supremacist narratives to shape both domestic and international policy, the consequences are not only dangerous for the US but for the global order. Suppressing such analysis through expulsion only proves his point—Washington is more committed to silencing dissent than addressing its own supremacist tendencies.
Ironic engagements in the webinar
The MISTRA webinar audience engaged Rasool with insightful yet ironic questions, many of which foreshadowed the very suppression that followed his remarks. One notable comment was the suggestion that Rasool should not ‘provoke’ the US and should instead focus on economic self-sufficiency. This perspective ignores the reality that economic subjugation is a fundamental pillar of US hegemony. South Africa’s reliance on AGOA trade benefits is precisely the mechanism through which Washington exerts leverage over its foreign policy.
Another concern raised was whether South Africa should seek new alliances outside the US-led system. Rasool himself had highlighted the rise of multipolarity, referencing BRICS and alternative global governance structures. Ironically, his expulsion only strengthens the case for reducing dependency on the US.
Some critics took issue with Rasool, arguing that he sounded more like a political analyst than a diplomat. But this very criticism exposes a deeper fault line: is diplomacy merely about toeing the official line, or can it be a force for truth and justice? Rasool chose the latter, refusing to play the role of a silent envoy. Yet in a world where the Trump administration wields power with brazen impunity, trampling international law whenever it suits its interests, his fate was never in doubt. Speaking truth to power comes at a cost, and in Rasool’s case, that cost was swift and unforgiving—his diplomatic tenure cut short with ruthless efficiency.
Rasool’s expulsion may serve as a precedent for further punitive actions against diplomats from Global South nations. If Washington can remove a seasoned South African diplomat for expressing widely recognised critiques, it forebodes a hardening of imperial discipline.
The real danger lies in the precedent: The US will crush any attempt by a Global South nation to successfully use international law against Israel. This is not merely about South Africa—it is about ensuring that the ICJ case against Israel is delegitimised through diplomatic distractions.
Rasool’s expulsion was not about ‘race-baiting’—it was about silencing a Global South voice that challenged US imperial hegemony. The accusation of race-baiting reflects Washington’s own projection, using racial politics as a diversionary tactic to obscure its complicity in human rights violations.
This incident should compel South Africa and the Global South to rethink their engagement with a US-dominated world order. If the cost of diplomatic engagement is silence in the face of injustice, then alternative global alliances—such as BRICS and expanded South-South cooperation—must be prioritised.
