Featuring expert analysis from Professor Gowokani Chijere Chirwa, University of Malawi.
South African President Cyril Ramaphosa touched down in Washington today with a singular mission: to reset a bilateral relationship battered by what Pretoria has called the most punitive U.S. trade measures in a generation. Since returning to office in January, President Trump has unleashed a barrage of tariffs on African exports—slapping a 55 percent levy on South African vehicles, a 30 percent blanket tariff on all South African goods, and a crushing 50 percent charge on Lesotho’s garments—gutting the continent’s most trade-dependent sectors overnight.
But earlier last month, Washington announced a 90-day pause. Effective from April 10, the freeze temporarily lifts the steepest tariffs in favour of a universal 10 percent rate across most nations, pending further negotiations. For Pretoria, the suspension offers a fragile lifeline—but no guarantees. U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent has warned that unless partners engage “in good faith,” the full tariff regime may return after July 9.
The fallout had already been immediate. In Johannesburg and Maseru, factory managers faced plummeting order books. In Pretoria, trade officials scrambled for diplomatic cover. For South Africa—the continent’s most industrialised economy and the United States’ largest African trading partner —the tariff blitz threatened the future of core industries and thousands of jobs. Parallel cuts to U.S. aid, including support for HIV treatment programmes that once covered nearly 18 percent of South Africa’s national budget, have deepened fiscal anxieties ahead of today’s high-stakes state visit.
Ramaphosa’s diplomatic agenda goes beyond securing a permanent reprieve. The visit is also seen as a litmus test for the fate of the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), a long-standing trade arrangement that allows duty-free access to the U.S. market for 32 African countries. AGOA expires in September. Trump’s tariff wave has thrown its renewal into doubt, leaving African governments unsure whether to invest political capital in preserving the framework—or pivot elsewhere.
Africa seeks leverage through unity
While the shock has been felt continent-wide, the response has been anything but coordinated. Professor Gowokani Chijere Chirwa of the University of Malawi argues that Africa’s fragmented approach has only amplified its vulnerabilities. He compares it to a classic prisoner’s dilemma: “When nations respond in isolation, they play straight into Washington’s advantage. Smaller economies like Lesotho or Madagascar can’t absorb these shocks on their own. Unilateral retaliation is neither viable nor strategic.”
Instead, Chirwa urges a coordinated strategy through the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), arguing that a unified bloc could offer greater leverage. With intra-African trade still hovering around just 18 percent—far from the AfCFTA’s 2035 target of 50 percent—he believes this moment calls for acceleration, not hesitation. “Integration into regional value chains is no longer optional,” he says. “It’s now an economic necessity.”
Other African capitals are watching Ramaphosa’s Washington meetings closely. From Nairobi to Abuja, policymakers are weighing whether the South African president can secure a long-term fix—and whether Washington still views Africa as a strategic partner, or merely a peripheral supplier in an era of hardened trade blocs.
Tariffs strike at the core of Africa’s industrial base
South Africa’s automotive sector, once a quiet success story of industrial policy and export sophistication, was bearing the brunt of the U.S. tariff regime. Until April, 99 percent of South African vehicle exports to the U.S. qualified for duty-free access under AGOA. That regime was abruptly overturned, and although the 55 percent levy has now been paused, the damage lingers. NAAMSA figures show vehicle exports to the U.S. fell from 6 percent in 2023 to just 2 percent in the first quarter of 2025, with R33 billion in annual trade exposed to new uncertainty.
Even before Trump’s April decree, the sector faced mounting pressure. Exports dropped by nearly 23 percent in 2024 amid tightening European emissions rules and a global glut of Chinese electric vehicles. Now, top models such as the VW Polo, Mercedes C-Class and BMW X3 face headwinds not just in the U.S., but across an increasingly fragmented global market.
Some manufacturers, including Isuzu and Nissan, are expanding into Africa, while others recalibrate toward AfCFTA and BRICS+ markets.
Lesotho’s garment industry, the country’s largest private employer, was also under siege. Around 40,000 workers depend on U.S. market access. The AGOA Civil Society Network estimates that the tariffs—if reinstated—could wipe out over $250 million in export value annually. These industries had already been contending with synthetic fibre competition and falling demand. Trump’s latest volley may tip them into structural decline.
Yet not all sectors are retreating. Chirwa highlights mining and raw materials—particularly gold, cobalt and manganese—as domains of continued leverage. “Africa is irreplaceable in many of these chains,” he says. “The key now is not just to export—but to process, refine, and climb the value chain.”
Reserves contract, spreads widen, and pressure builds
The tariffs—ranging from 10 percent in Ghana, Kenya and Ethiopia to 50 percent in Lesotho—compounded pressure on trade-dependent economies and local currencies. With the bulk of African debt held in dollars or euros, weakening FX positions fed directly into higher servicing costs. Inflation followed. So did rating downgrades.
“Africa may be resilient,” African Development Bank President Akinwumi Adesina told reporters. “But we remain far too exposed to external shocks.” The data is clear: 47 of 54 African economies were hit by Trump’s tariffs. Yet the continent accounts for just 3 percent of global GDP, despite comprising nearly 20 percent of the world’s population.
Adesina urges a pivot to domestic value addition, infrastructure investment and skills development. “Exporting raw materials is a poverty trap,” he says. “But when we export value-added goods, we retain wealth and build resilience.”
Chirwa agrees—but sees reform starting closer to home. “Institutional weakness—broken customs systems, inefficient logistics—must be tackled before we fixate on international agreements,” he says. Africa still ranks 121st out of 141 on the World Bank’s Logistics Performance Index.
Private-sector coordination could help plug the gap. “Governments remain reactive,” Chirwa notes. “But the private sector spans borders and can negotiate with leverage.” With South African manufacturers embedded in Nigeria, Kenyan logistics firms scaling into Ghana, and pan-African banks extending cross-border platforms, corporate diplomacy may well outpace the state.
Afreximbank believes private-sector trade finance guarantees alone could unlock $5 billion in liquidity—critical ballast as export receipts falter. Companies such as MTN, Dangote Industries and Transnet have already begun building regional supply chains that hedge against U.S. volatility. But governments must still back these efforts with harmonised regulation and infrastructure.
Inflection point
Chirwa sees two possible paths from here. In the worst-case scenario, investor confidence drains, capital flows dry up, and fiscal pressure tips fragile economies into contraction. But if governments move quickly—diversifying trade, scaling value addition, accelerating AfCFTA—there is still a path to renewal.
Recent Afrobarometer data shows 60 percent of Africans now favour stronger ties with China and the EU, a sentiment shift already reshaping investment conversations.
For now, the tariffs are paused—but not revoked. Bond spreads are climbing. Reserves are thinning. But the greater test is not in the policy shock—it’s in what follows. Whether African economies lean in or fracture under pressure will define their place in the next chapter of global trade.
