“Ha se mo States mo!” (This is not America) South African netizens like to say when an unfamiliar topic dominates the discourse.
The United States of America, as a global superpower, wields immense cultural influence. How the world dresses, speaks, thinks, creates and consumes media is substantially shaped by American culture.
The influence comes as a double-edged sword; the same twang praised as intelligent can in the same breath be mocked if you “yo yo yo” too much. The same modern styles applied to traditional attire are called chic one moment and uncultured the next.
Against this backdrop, American discourse doesn’t just influence South African style; it can overshadow and reshape how South Africans discuss their own issues by filtering it through a Western lens informed by America’s own history and social circumstances. That lens can empower the youth’s activism but also distort local realities. According to the 2026 Global Digital Report, 64.8% of South Africans use social media, meaning most people are directly exposed to American media and culture.
A recent example is South Africa’s reaction to the death of right-wing political activist Charlie Kirk. An event that should have had little bearing on South Africa, had Afrikaner activist and author Ernst Roets threatening to report anyone who mocked the death of Charlie Kirk to their employers. In an interview with conservative political commentator Tucker Carlson, Kirk said he does not want to live in South Africa, describing it as a country of resentment and bitterness where he would have to drive around in armoured cars and wouldn’t be able to leave his house after 10 pm. Despite that, the same man had a number of South Africans rush to his defence and mourn his death. The point is not to interrogate Kirk’s views, but to examine South Africans’ adoption of American discourse over a story with no real domestic stakes.
More recently, one can draw parallels between the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s (ICE) “targeted arrests” earlier this year and South Africa’s March and March movement. According to the U.S. government’s own description, ICE targets public safety threats, including convicted criminals, undocumented aliens and gang members – people who have otherwise violated U.S. immigration laws, including those who illegally re-entered the country after being removed and immigration fugitives ordered removed by federal immigration judges. In contrast, the March and March Movement’s website describes it as a local movement focused on illegal immigration, employment competition, and access to public services. While the two are fundamentally different in structure and mandate, their impact is similar. Anti-immigration protests led to great violence and in some cases the death of some foreign nationals. Though not initiated by March and March, the movement triggered a special operation ahead of the movement’s 30 June deadline that cost taxpayers R600 million for security around the demonstrations. In the U.S., the city of Minneapolis estimates the total economic damage from ICE enforcement sweeps totaled nearly $700 million, as reported by multiple media outlets, including CBS News.
Two very different countries arriving at costly aftermaths arising from comparable logistics. That is the concern: South Africa has a completely different history and social background that could make comparable instances much more dire in local circumstances. While American discourse and language can provide tools for South Africans to express themselves, it can also blind us to the specific historic and economic nuances of local issues.
Visual: Amy Lamplough
