At the beginning of 2026, the United States once again finds itself at the center of global disputes, but the focus is no longer only on Washington. In South Africa, Turkey and Russia people are discussing Donald Trump’s second presidency, his trade wars, the boycott of the G20 summit in Johannesburg, threats of strikes against Iran and a new wave of U.S. isolationism. For these three countries America remains simultaneously a necessary economic and political partner and an increasingly unpredictable factor to which they must adapt — and sometimes exploit for their own ends.
One starting point for the current wave of discussion was a series of Washington decisions perceived as a demonstrative “break” with multilateral diplomacy. Russian analysts point to the Trump administration’s January decision to withdraw the U.S. from several dozen international organizations, which in the Russian analytical language was immediately called “a new stage of isolationism” and “the dismantling of the American architecture of global leadership.” In Turkish and South African commentary, by contrast, the theme of “rewriting the rules” is heard more often: in their view America wants to remain strong but stop being bound by obligations.
Against this backdrop, several storylines resonate especially strongly in the three countries: the trade‑political conflict between the U.S. and South Africa, the escalation of Washington’s confrontation with Iran, and the reduction of American military and diplomatic presence in the Middle East and Africa. Each of these topics shows a distinct perspective — South African, Turkish, Russian — but they are linked by a common anxiety: America is changing faster than the rest of the world can adapt.
The first layer of this anxiety is the conflict between the U.S. and South Africa, which goes far beyond bilateral relations. South African press and local analysts are keeping count of clashes with Washington: the halt of funding for HIV/AIDS programs under PEPFAR, steep import tariffs, the boycott of the G20 in Johannesburg, and then Trump’s scandalous decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit the U.S. will hold in Miami in 2026. In a column for the South African paper Mail & Guardian, political commentators write that Pretoria has ceased to be a strategic ally for Washington and is increasingly perceived as a “problematic partner,” especially after South Africa’s rapprochement with BRICS and more frequent military contacts with Russia and China. The same piece emphasizes that South African elites are seriously worried about the fate of AGOA preferential status, which brings exports to the U.S. worth billions of dollars a year, and are already discussing a “reconciliation delegation” to Washington to save key economic links.
South African critics of Trump point to the cynical nature of his “concern” for white South African farmers. Regular references to a “white genocide” and proposals for expedited naturalization of white South Africans are interpreted by local journalists as domestic political moves aimed at the U.S. right‑wing electorate rather than as genuine concern. Notably, data from the South African police cited in Western and local media show that farm murders account for a small share of the country’s total homicides, but this statistic has had almost no impact on the White House’s rhetoric.
However, even amid harsh confrontational rhetoric, Pretoria understands how vulnerable the South African economy is to American decisions. In a recent comment, Minister of Trade, Industry and Competition Parks Tau stressed that dialogue with Washington on reducing U.S. tariffs continues, indicating that the government is seeking compromise and is not ready to sacrifice access to the world’s largest market for the sake of symbolic confrontation. In South Africa a dual discourse is therefore being constructed: on one hand — sovereign rhetoric and demonstrative rapprochement with BRICS, including Iran and Russia’s participation in naval exercises off Cape Town; on the other — attempts to separate political conflict from trade cooperation, to preserve preferential exports to the U.S. and minimize losses from Trump’s aggressive tariff policy.
Against this backdrop, South Africa’s joint naval exercises with Russia, China and Iran off Simon’s Town have become a symbolic gesture heavily commented on both domestically and abroad. South African authorities present these maneuvers as part of an expanding BRICS format and efforts to secure sea lanes and combat piracy. But the opposition Democratic Alliance and some experts accuse the government of “playing on the side of pariah states” and exposing the country to Western sanctions. At the same time U.S. military and diplomatic officials in the Western press directly call such exercises a “provocation,” and U.S. Africa Command warns of attempts by Washington’s competitors to establish a foothold on key maritime routes around Africa. Thus the same action is presented in South African discourse as an exercise of multi‑vector policy and in American discourse as a challenge and a sign of political drift.
The Turkish view of the U.S. today is less tied to specific conflicts like the South African one and more to the sense that Washington is changing the very architecture of global security. In an analytical piece for the state agency Anadolu Ajansı, political science professor Emre Aytekin examines how the escalation of trade and technological disagreements between the U.S. and China in 2025, which worsened after American tariffs and technology restrictions on Beijing, sets the agenda for 2026. The author emphasizes that even the temporary “de‑escalation” following the Trump‑Xi meeting in Busan last fall did not resolve the contradictions, but only postponed their settlement. Now a new link has been added: a large U.S. arms package to Taiwan and China’s massive retaliatory drills around the island, which in Turkey are seen as a step that raises the risk of a direct U.S.‑China clash.
Turkish commentators draw on their own experience of living between blocs. In columns and expert texts the idea recurs that today’s Trump America is not simply continuing “America First” policy but is trying to make it the norm for others, breaking down established rules of multilateral trade and security. In an analytical piece on the reduction of U.S. global engagement, one author writing for a Turkish audience explicitly notes that the U.S. drawdown of military and diplomatic presence in Syria, Iraq and Africa is a clear trend since the Obama years, but under Trump it has acquired a “shock” character: Washington simultaneously withdraws from some arenas and raises the stakes where it wants to retain leverage — for example, in trade wars or in confronting Iran.
This duality — fewer “boots on the ground” but more pressure via tariffs, sanctions and threats of force — appears to Turkish analysts as both a threat and an opportunity. On the one hand, they warn: when the U.S. leaves a vacuum in Syria or Iraq, it is filled by Russia, Iran and local armed groups, making the region even more unstable. On the other — for Ankara it is a window to strengthen its own position and become one of the centers in a more multipolar world. In this context America stops being perceived as the only guarantor of regional security: in Turkish discourse it is increasingly described as one of the great powers whose legitimacy in the region is negotiable and tradable, not as an unquestioned leader.
The Russian conversation about the U.S. now follows a different route but arrives at similar conclusions. News and analysis show constant interest in any Washington steps that confirm the thesis about the “decline of Western leadership.” A symbolic example was the Russian Foreign Ministry’s reaction to American threats to strike Iran: Foreign Ministry spokeswoman Maria Zakharova in yet another comment called such threats “unacceptable” and used them to illustrate “the irresponsible behavior of the U.S. in the Middle East.” For a Russian audience Washington in this storyline appears as a power acting through unilateral forceful steps that bypass international law.
At the same time, Russian commentary is actively discussing the Trump administration’s decision to boycott the G20 summit in Johannesburg, which was also unattended by the leaders of China and Russia. Analytical pieces stress that the U.S. refusal to send any senior leadership and especially Trump’s subsequent statement that no U.S. representative would go to South Africa because of “white genocide” and the summit’s “left‑liberal agenda” is perceived in Moscow as a sign of crisis within Western institutions themselves. Russian commentators are less interested in disputing the White House’s arguments than in using the boycott to show that structures created under U.S. dominance, like the G20, are becoming arenas of value conflict rather than instruments of collective governance.
An important nuance of the Russian view is that Washington is portrayed not only as aggressive but also as inconsistent. In the same information stream there are stories about harsh tariffs against African economies, the end of AGOA preferences, diplomatic pressure on South Africa and, at the same time, attempts by the U.S. to regain influence on the continent alarmed by the growing presence of Russia and China. For the Russian public these “loops” are proof that America is losing strategic vision and forced to react fragmentarily, sometimes tightening sanctions, sometimes trying to reboot partnerships.
Interestingly, South African, Turkish and Russian expertise differently but similarly interpret the U.S. retreat from multilateralism. In Turkey this is discussed primarily through the prism of U.S.‑China confrontation: if the two largest economies resolve their disputes with tariffs and restrictions rather than through the World Trade Organization, it signals that the era of “rules for all” is coming to an end. In Russia the emphasis is on Washington’s decision to reduce participation in international organizations: expert reviews interpret this as a conscious renunciation of the “collective West” in favor of flexible coalitions in which the U.S. will try to impose rules without bureaucratic constraints. In South Africa, the U.S. refusal to participate in a G20 on South African soil and threats to exclude the country from the next Miami summit became a symbol that multilateral forums no longer have a guaranteed “supranational” status: if the great power’s interests are hurt, it simply refuses to play.
Against this backdrop an important common conclusion is gradually taking shape, albeit expressed differently. South African columnists warn that blind adherence to the logic of “sovereign pride” may be costly for Global South countries dependent on the American market and aid programs. Turkish analysts see that the weakening of U.S. global presence increases the risks of regional wars and instability, for which Turkey must prepare by strengthening its own defense and diplomatic channels with different centers of power. Russian experts, while criticizing Washington, simultaneously note that U.S. withdrawal from international institutions does not make the world safer: it only opens space for competitive “settling of accounts” among other major players.
What is almost absent from American domestic discussion is precisely what is visible from these three external perspectives. For South Africa the main danger of Trump’s American policy is not ideological conflict but the concrete combination of tariffs, restricted market access and political stigmatization that can scare off investment. For Turkey the key question is how to live in a world where the U.S. remains powerful but is no longer willing to play the role of a predictable “regulator,” instead making one‑off deals and applying pressure through sanctions. For Russia America remains both an adversary and a convenient argument: every Washington move, from the G20 boycott to threats against Tehran, is used to legitimize its own course toward a “sovereign” and bloc‑oriented foreign policy.
From this aggregate of perspectives a new reality emerges: in discussing America all three countries are in fact talking about themselves — about fear of dependence, the desire for autonomy and the risks of a world without stable rules. At the start of 2026 the United States remains a central player, but increasingly it is not above the system and instead sits within it as one of several fiercely competing centers of power. And it is in this role — not as the “world sheriff” but as an influential, contentious and conflict‑prone neighbor on the planet — that America is increasingly seen from Pretoria, Ankara and Moscow.
