JOHANNESBURG - South Africa’s diplomatic capital is running dangerously low and Pretoria is spending it as though it can be replaced overnight.
There used to be a time when South Africa’s foreign policy carried moral weight. It drew on ubuntu, on non-alignment and on a reputation for principled engagement that allowed us to speak to both the West and the Global South. That credibility is now being steadily eroded. A series of adversarial choices, most visibly around the ICJ case, but also in our posture toward neighbouring authoritarian regimes and our increasingly strained relationships with important global partners, has narrowed South Africa’s room to manoeuvre.
At a moment when our domestic crisis is deepening, that is a luxury we simply do not have.
The danger is not abstract. South Africa is already grappling with unemployment, crime, collapsing public trust, failing infrastructure and a state under pressure. In that context, diplomatic capital is not symbolic wallpaper. It is a practical asset that helps secure trade, investment, security cooperation and political goodwill. When we burn it, the costs do not remain in Geneva, The Hague or Washington. They come home as weaker growth, fewer opportunities, and less influence when South Africa most needs leverage.
The ICJ cost
The ICJ case may be defensible in legal or moral terms to some, but politically it has come at a price. It has sharpened suspicion among Western partners who already question whether Pretoria is still committed to a balanced, credible foreign policy. The result is a harder environment for diplomacy, a chillier reception in key capitals, and a growing sense that South Africa is choosing confrontation over persuasion.
That matters because diplomacy depends on trust, and trust is fragile. Once a country is seen as predictably adversarial, even in moments when it has a legitimate case to make, it
loses the benefit of the doubt. That weakens its ability to mediate, to broker, and to influence outcomes. South Africa used to punch above its weight in that regard. Now it risks being treated as a difficult actor rather than a serious one.
Regional contradictions
The problem is not limited to our dealings with the West. South Africa’s posture towards Zimbabwe and Mozambique has also raised questions about whether principle has been replaced by political convenience. When Pretoria appears to shield or indulge leaders widely regarded as failing their citizens, it sends a troubling signal. We speak in the language of democracy and solidarity, but too often our actions suggest loyalty to power rather than loyalty to people.
That contradiction is costly. It undermines our claim to regional leadership and weakens our standing in multilateral spaces where credibility matters. If South Africa wants to be seen as a defender of justice and stability, it cannot continue to treat authoritarian drift in its neighbourhood as something to explain away. Silence and softness have consequences.
Migrants and public tone
The domestic migration debate makes the picture worse. What began as a fight about illegal immigration has increasingly become a generalised attack on migrants overall, whether legal or illegal. Foreigners have been turned into convenient scapegoats for South Africa’s deeper failures. That is morally corrosive, but it is also diplomatically damaging. A country that claims the moral language of ubuntu cannot normalise hostility toward vulnerable people on its own soil and expect that language to carry weight abroad.
Seen together, the treatment of migrants at home and the posture we adopt abroad tell a worrying story. They suggest a state that is becoming less confident, more defensive and more willing to define itself through exclusion. That is not just bad politics. It is bad statecraft.
Why presidential control is risky
At the heart of this problem is the concentration of foreign-policy power in the presidency. In theory, executive discretion allows for agility. In practice, it can encourage unilateralism, ideological signalling and decisions made without enough democratic restraint. That is dangerous in any country. In South Africa, with its domestic fragility, it is especially dangerous.
A single office should not be able to make high-stakes foreign-policy decisions that could isolate the country, damage trade relations, or deepen diplomatic mistrust without broader accountability. Foreign policy should be guided by national interest, not by narrow political theatre. If the decisions are serious enough to shape the country’s future, they are serious enough to require wider oversight.
A constitutional check
This is why a constitutional amendment should now be part of the conversation. Not to strip the President of diplomatic authority, but to limit unilateral action where the consequences are profound. Parliament should have a role in major international commitments, significant security decisions, and any foreign-policy move that could materially affect South Africa’s long-term interests.
That kind of reform would not weaken the state. It would strengthen it. It would force deliberation, improve transparency, and make it harder for short-term political instincts to override long-term national interest. In a democracy, that is not an obstacle. It is a safeguard.
A warning we should heed
South Africa still has assets. We still have a respected diplomatic service, deep historical credibility, and a national language of reconciliation that many countries would envy. But these assets are not limitless. They are being worn down by repeated choices that make us appear more combative abroad, more confused at home, and more willing to spend legitimacy we cannot easily replace.
That is the real warning. If we continue down this path, we will find ourselves more isolated internationally at the very moment our domestic crisis demands broader partnerships, steadier relationships and maximum room for manoeuvre. A country in South Africa’s position cannot afford to treat diplomatic capital as disposable.
The question is no longer whether this is a problem. It is whether we are prepared to act before the damage becomes irreversible.
- by Nkateko Muloiwa