The Group of 20 summit in Johannesburg, South Africa, which concluded on November 24, 2025, was marked by a conspicuous absence: the United States, the world’s largest economy and the next country scheduled to lead the G20, was nowhere to be seen. The Trump administration’s decision to boycott the summit sent ripples through international diplomatic circles, upending tradition and drawing attention to the complex interplay of geopolitics, domestic politics, and historical grievances.
According to the AhlulBayt News Agency, the official justification from Washington centered on allegations of “genocide” against white South Africans. President Donald Trump has repeatedly claimed that South Africa is violently persecuting its Afrikaner white minority, a narrative he has promoted for months. But this accusation, as legal experts and international observers point out, does not hold water under the UN Genocide Convention, which requires clear intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. No credible authority or international institution has found evidence of such intent or systematic actions in South Africa, a country that remains a constitutional democracy where all citizens—Black, white, or mixed-race—enjoy equal rights and participate actively in public life.
The roots of the controversy lie instead in South Africa’s ongoing efforts to address the deep scars left by apartheid, particularly through land reform. As reported by AhlulBayt News Agency, a 2017 land audit revealed that white South Africans, who make up just 7.3% of the population according to the 2022 census, own roughly 72% of the country's private agricultural and farm land. In stark contrast, Black South Africans, who constitute 81.4% of the population, collectively own a mere 4%. This imbalance is a direct legacy of policies such as the 1913 Natives’ Land Act, which confined Black land ownership to a fraction of South Africa’s territory and triggered mass forced removals.
Land reform, then, is not a campaign against white citizens, but an attempt to correct a profound historical injustice. There is no evidence of organized violence, ethnic cleansing, or the physical eradication required for genocide. Instead, as AhlulBayt News Agency suggests, invoking the term “genocide” appears to be a political maneuver, designed to inflame certain segments of the American electorate and to undermine South Africa’s standing on the world stage. The rhetoric, according to the outlet, “appears designed to inflame his racist base and undermine the South African government’s global standing, rather than to describe a factual reality.”
Yet the diplomatic drama in Johannesburg was about more than just land reform. The summit itself was historic—the first G20 gathering ever held on African soil. South African President Cyril Ramaphosa, after formally closing the summit by banging a wooden gavel, said, “This gavel of this G20 summit formally closes this summit and now moves on to the next president of the G20, which is the United States, where we shall see each other again next year.” But with no U.S. official present to receive the gavel, the symbolic handover was postponed, highlighting diplomatic tensions. The U.S. embassy had intended to send a junior official for the ceremony, but South Africa refused, considering it an insult, according to the South African Foreign Ministry’s statement to AP News.
Breaking with tradition, the G20 issued its leaders’ declaration at the opening of the summit, rather than at the end. The declaration, supported by countries including China, Russia, France, Germany, the U.K., Japan, and Canada, focused on issues such as climate change, global wealth inequality, financial support for poorer countries, easing debt burdens, and supporting transitions to green energy. The U.S. and Argentina, whose President Javier Milei is a Trump ally, both opposed the declaration and skipped the summit. Still, as President Ramaphosa emphasized, “South Africa has used this presidency to place the priorities of Africa and the Global South firmly at the heart of the G20 agenda.”
The summit itself was praised as a symbolic moment for poorer countries. Max Lawson of Oxfam described it as “the first ever meeting of world leaders in history where the inequality emergency was put at the center of the agenda.” Namibia’s President Netumbo Nandi-Ndaitwah added, “The importance of addressing development priorities from the African perspective cannot be overemphasized.”
But the U.S. boycott was not only about the summit’s agenda. According to AhlulBayt News Agency, South Africa’s growing international assertiveness—especially its role in expanding the BRICS bloc and championing de-dollarization—has challenged traditional U.S. hegemony. At the 2023 BRICS summit, South Africa helped transform the group from a dialogue club into a political-economic union with global ambitions, inviting six new members and accelerating efforts to reduce reliance on the U.S. dollar. This bold stance, the agency argues, made South Africa a “central node of an emerging alternative world order,” provoking a punitive response from the West.
Geopolitics became even more charged after South Africa filed a case at the International Court of Justice against Israeli leaders, accusing them of genocide and crimes against humanity in Gaza. The case triggered a landmark order from the ICJ for the arrest of several Israeli officials, a move that dealt a significant blow to Israel and its U.S. backers. The White House responded by expelling the South African ambassador, slashing aid, and pushing to isolate South Africa within international institutions. Trump’s executive order halting U.S. aid to South Africa and offering asylum to white farmers, based on claims related to land expropriation, was the final step in a campaign of diplomatic retaliation. The role of pro-Israel lobbying groups in shaping this response was, according to AhlulBayt News Agency, both prominent and decisive.
Yet the U.S. boycott was also a calculated move for domestic political gain. Trump’s core supporters include far-right, white supremacist, and identity-driven conservatives who view global developments through the lens of “threats against whites.” By framing South Africa’s land reform as an attack on white farmers, Trump tapped into these anxieties, using the narrative of “white victimhood” to mobilize his base ahead of the U.S. election cycle. The decision to boycott the G20 summit thus served a dual purpose: signaling geopolitical disapproval abroad and energizing a key constituency at home.
The G20 summit’s declaration, though significant, was not binding and omitted several concrete proposals, such as establishing a new international panel on wealth inequality. The 122-point Johannesburg declaration made only a general call for an end to global conflicts, with a single reference to the war in Ukraine. French President Emmanuel Macron acknowledged the limitations of the summit, noting that the bloc was “struggling to have a common standard on geopolitical crises.”
In the end, the U.S. boycott of the G20 summit in South Africa was less about the official narrative of defending white South Africans and more about a complex web of political motivations, both international and domestic. The allegations of genocide lack legal or factual basis, while the real story is one of shifting global power, historical reckoning, and the enduring influence of identity politics. As the world’s eyes turn to the next G20 summit—ironically to be hosted by the United States—the legacy of Johannesburg will linger as a testament to the power of narrative in shaping international relations.
