Geopolitics Undermine Cooperation
The G20 summit in Johannesburg has unfolded as a vivid tableau of diplomatic tension, geopolitical fragmentation and competing visions for the global order, leaving behind more questions than resolutions. What could have been a milestone moment—Africa hosting the G20 for the first time—became overshadowed by a fresh rift between the United States and South Africa, triggered by a dispute over protocol but rooted in deeper political antagonisms. Washington boycotted the leaders’ meeting altogether, citing the Trump administration’s position that South Africa was violently persecuting its white Afrikaner minority. Pretoria dismissed those claims, but the clash escalated when South Africa refused to conduct the traditional G20 presidency handover, accusing the US of sending an envoy far too junior for a head-of-state forum. The US contends it reserved its attendance solely for the handover and intended to proceed with business as usual, already planning to host the 2026 summit at President Donald Trump’s Doral golf club in Florida.
This episode captured the tone of a summit defined by suspicion and shifting alliances. South African President Cyril Ramaphosa suggested the US changed its mind and sought last-minute participation, prompting a sharp retort from the White House, which denied any such move and rebuked Ramaphosa for criticising President Trump. The atmosphere soured further when South Africa broke tradition by issuing its presidency declaration on the very first day—something typically done at the close of the summit. The move was a deliberate assertion of agency and a challenge to the US, which had fiercely opposed South Africa’s agenda centred on climate change, debt reform and global wealth inequality. Argentina, led by Trump ally Javier Milei, also objected. Yet the declaration garnered broad backing from the remaining G20 heavyweights—China, Russia, France, Germany, Japan, Canada, the UK and the EU—reflecting a widening divide between the American vision of global economic governance and that of much of the rest of the world.
For South Africa, the declaration was a symbolic victory, signalling solidarity among nations seeking to tilt the global conversation toward the needs of poorer countries: climate-related loss and damage assistance, relief from unsustainable debt burdens and greater support for energy transitions. But symbolism alone cannot disguise the fact that G20 communiqués are non-binding and often ephemeral. Even within the declaration itself, several priorities—such as the call for a global panel on wealth inequality modelled on the IPCC—were conspicuously absent. The G20, conceived as a forum to stabilise global economic governance, appears increasingly ill-equipped to confront today’s most urgent geopolitical crises. Its 122-point document offered only a cursory nod to the grinding war in Ukraine, calling generically for an end to global conflicts while offering no political roadmap or consensus. With leaders or senior envoys from Russia, the EU and major European states sitting around the same table yet unable to move the dial even minimally, the limitations of the bloc were starkly exposed.
That lack of unity extends well beyond the Ukraine war. The Trump administration’s “America First” foreign policy has further tested the G20’s capacity for consensus, particularly as Washington distances itself from multilateral commitments on climate, development aid and global governance reforms. Meanwhile, middle powers like South Africa are pushing hard to reshape the narrative, asserting that the world’s most influential economic forum cannot remain detached from the inequality emergency gripping billions. For activists and policymakers from the Global South, the Johannesburg summit was significant precisely because it highlighted themes long overshadowed by the preoccupations of wealthier nations. The inclusion of the African Union as a permanent member and the invitation extended to over twenty smaller nations underscored a shift—modest but meaningful—toward amplifying the voices of regions historically marginalised in global forums.
It was, in many ways, a symbolic summit: one that foregrounded the hardships of the developing world while simultaneously revealing the impotence of the international community in responding to them. The chorus of African leaders calling for debt restructuring, climate finance and development-focused policy shifts made clear that the crisis of inequality is now impossible to ignore. At the same time, the geopolitical theatrics involving the US highlighted how easily multilateral cooperation can be derailed by political grievances and personal rivalries. Even as French President Emmanuel Macron hailed the symbolic value of holding the G20 in Africa, he acknowledged that the bloc is struggling more than ever to find a common standard on global crises.
The broader truth illuminated by Johannesburg is that the G20 is at a crossroads. Its ability to act as a stabilising force is impeded by widening geopolitical fissures, divergent priorities and the resurgence of unilateralism. Yet its relevance endures because it remains one of the few platforms where major economic powers and emerging nations still attempt—even imperfectly—to negotiate common ground. The Johannesburg summit reaffirmed both sides of this paradox. It spotlighted the urgency of global inequality and the vulnerabilities of developing nations, but it also exposed how deeply divided the world’s most powerful economies have become.
In the end, the summit will most likely be remembered less for its policy outcomes and more for the tensions that overshadowed them. The absence of the United States from the room, the unusual timing of the declaration, the host’s defiance of diplomatic norms and the muted response to pressing global conflicts all combined to offer a snapshot of a world struggling to cooperate at a time when cooperation is most needed. The hope—slim though it may be—is that the symbolic weight of Africa hosting the G20 will not be lost amid the disputes. Instead, it could serve as a reminder that the voices of the world’s most vulnerable must not merely be heard but acted upon if global governance is to have meaning in an age of crisis.
