“Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far.” That was one of the mantras of Theodore ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt, the 26th president of the United States. It meant diplomacy backed by real force. As US imperial ambitions expanded – remember, this was the time when the US fully invested in the building of the Panama Canal, among other pursuits – it set the tone for its expansionist policies.
But there is another ‘diplomatic’ practice from a few decades before Teddy, one popularised by the British Royal Navy in the 19th century and perfected by the American Commodore Matthew Perry with his arrival in Japan with warships in 1853. Perry came with an explicit threat just as Japan was starting to open itself up to the Western world. Perry’s armada surrounded key points along the island with the unmistakable message: establish relations with the US or suffer the consequences.
Current US president Donald Trump is not renowned for speaking softly, but he is not averse to deploying his ‘big stick’, as Venezuela and Iran can attest. This goes beyond military force. His trade sanctions and withholding of aid have had crippling effects on many countries, including a litany of those in Africa.
Of particular interest to Trump, as well as key cabinet personnel such as Secretary of State Marco Rubio, has been South Africa, and in mid-September Washington announced targeted visa restrictions on certain South African officials, citing expropriation without compensation and other related policies.
Prof. Piet Croucamp, political analyst from the North-West University (NWU), says these visa restrictions are deliberately vague and therefore function as an instrument of political leverage.
“The most striking thing about the statement is how vague it is. It names no individuals and relies on a provision that gives US Secretary of State Marco Rubio wide discretion to bar people whose entry is deemed harmful to US foreign policy interests. That leaves Washington room to target anyone from legislators to bureaucrats and other officials. Julius Malema may be a principal target.”
That ambiguity, Croucamp says, makes the restrictions less of a narrowly defined legal instrument and more something Washington can deploy selectively.
“In practice, the visa restrictions are less a precise legal instrument than a flexible political stick that can be used selectively. They mark another step in the Trump administration’s deterioration of relations with South Africa.”
The dispute is also much broader than land reform. Washington has criticised South Africa over its genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice, its BRICS relationships and its stated commitment to a non-aligned, human rights-based foreign policy.
“There is a fair argument that South Africa’s foreign policy is driven less by consistent human rights principles than by ideology and the ANC’s historical relationships. It is a complicated picture,” says Croucamp.
The Expropriation Act nevertheless remains an important part of the dispute. Croucamp believes the visa measures could be intended partly to pressure Pretoria over the legislation and the rhetoric surrounding it. However, he rejects the contention that white South Africans are experiencing genocide.
“South Africa’s position is that there is no evidence of a ‘white genocide’, and I think that is right. We have one of the highest murder rates in the world, but most victims are black. It makes little sense to single out one ethnic group for protection when all South Africans need protection from organised and economic crime.”
Rubio’s assertion that South Africa has failed to adequately address previous US concerns suggests that the confrontation may not be resolved soon. Croucamp also believes both governments are partly addressing their domestic constituencies.
“South African officials are addressing South Africans, while the US ambassador appears to be speaking to a particular constituency, including Afrikaner nationalists.”
The immediate effect of denying selected South African officials entry to the United States may be relatively limited. The greater concern is what comes next.
The nineteenth-century gunboat carried power precisely because its guns did not necessarily have to be fired. Its presence demonstrated what could happen if demands were ignored. In the modern diplomatic arsenal, visas, access to markets, tariffs and preferential trade arrangements can serve a similar coercive purpose.
For South Africa, that makes the trajectory of the dispute considerably more important than the visa restrictions themselves.
“That is worrying because there could be economic consequences. Our economy is barely growing, and we can ill afford further strain in our relationship with a country whose companies have substantial investments in South Africa,” says Croucamp.
Yet, he argues, economic vulnerability cannot mean surrendering South Africa’s ability to determine its own policies.
“At the same time, we cannot subject our sovereignty to the whims of the Trump administration. That puts us in a difficult position.”
That difficulty becomes considerably more acute if Washington reaches for a bigger stick.
“The larger risk is that targeting individuals through visa restrictions makes it easier to escalate to trade measures. Changes to AGOA access or tariffs would hurt far more South Africans than a visa ban. That wider relationship matters more than the visa restrictions alone.”
The US has dug a moat around itself and its interests. Its coercive tools have changed from warships to visas, finance and sanctions. It is gunboat diplomacy without the gunboats. Its weapons of choice are not only artillery, but entry and access to its resources. For now, the gunboats remain metaphorical. But Croucamp’s warning is that South Africa should be paying less attention to the size of the stick Washington has just used than to the much bigger ones still within its reach.
