Over the past days three very different countries — Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China — have been discussing the United States with surprisingly similar words: “unipolarity,” “double standards,” “limits to American power,” “room for maneuver for middle powers.” But behind these common terms lie very different emotions and interests. In Riyadh — pragmatic calculation and an attempt to turn US–China competition into a resource for its own autonomy. In Pretoria — almost a sense of offense and the feeling of being scorned by Washington. In Beijing — a cool analysis of how to exploit US “fatigue” with global leadership and its strategic mistakes from the Middle East to Latin America.
Seen from Washington, this might look like the familiar backdrop of “criticism of America.” But reading local columns in Arabic, English and Chinese shows that this is no longer classical anti‑Americanism, but a rethinking of how to live in a world where the United States is still strong but no longer omnipotent.
One common nerve running through all three discourses is a mix of dependence and irritation: the US is still needed as a military guarantor, financial hub or technological pole, but there is a growing conviction almost everywhere that Washington is no longer able — and has no moral right — to dictate the rules as it did in the 1990s. Against this background Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China each test the limits in their own way: how far they can go in confronting or distancing themselves from the US without paying too high a price.
The first major theme where the voices of the three countries unexpectedly converge is the new American “selective principle” toward the Global South. South African media is aflame with discussion of the Donald Trump administration’s decision not to invite South Africa to the G20 summit in Miami in 2026 and the broader degradation of relations: from the boycott of the Johannesburg summit to expulsions of ambassadors and public denunciations of Pretoria for its position on Ukraine and especially on Gaza. One analytical piece aimed at an African audience emphasizes that for many on the continent the United States looks like a country “ready to tear up relations with one of the region’s key players, relying on a narrative perceived as ideologically loaded and factually disputed” — precisely at a time when Washington proclaims a “competition for influence in Africa.” The authors recall that the White House redefined Nigeria’s status as a “country of particular concern” on religious freedom grounds and increasingly frames Nigeria’s complex conflict through the simplified prism of “persecution of Christians,” a move seen in the region as an internal American culture war transplanted onto African soil.
Against this backdrop the rhetoric of South African official and party commentators close to the African National Congress is growing harsher. Their remarks regularly invoke a historical argument: in the final phase of the struggle against apartheid, they stress, key political and diplomatic support came not from the US but from the USSR and the “socialist camp.” In one extended analytical note prepared in Pretoria it is stressed that Washington systematically underestimates the depth of this historical memory: when the US presents itself as the “natural conscience of the world,” a significant portion of the South African elite recalls the years when American backing for the apartheid regime was covered by anti‑communism. As a result, current US pressure over Ukraine and especially harsh US criticism of South Africa’s stance on Israel and Gaza are perceived not as “defense of international law” but as a repetition of an old pattern: forcing a choice of camp and ignoring the Global South’s own experiences and priorities.
The Saudi discussion of America in recent days sounds noticeably less emotional but no less critical. In major Arabic newspapers and analytic portals geared to a Saudi audience the dominant theme is rebuilding relations with the US on a “purely pragmatic basis.” Saudi commentators, closely watching fluctuations in Congress over the kingdom’s security, the normalization deal with Israel and missile defense guarantees, increasingly write that Washington is no longer seen as the guarantor without alternatives. One columnist in a popular Saudi daily, reflecting on American attention to human rights, Yemen and the Jamal Khashoggi case, notes that “the US too often uses moral rhetoric as a tool of pressure rather than as a universal principle; this pushes regional powers to create new strategic supports, from Beijing to Moscow.” In texts aimed at the Gulf elite the idea becomes clearer: the more the US relies on sanctions, restrictions on access to technologies and financial channels, the greater the incentive for countries like Saudi Arabia to build alternative infrastructure — from payments in national currencies to diversification of defense purchases.
The Chinese conversation about America today is perhaps the most conceptual. In a number of fresh Chinese analytic pieces authors discuss the “reversible role of the US as a global leader” and the “growing risks of a rollback of America’s global role,” drawing not only on domestic sources but also on English‑language commentary. One column republishing analysis from Singapore’s Lianhe Zaobao notes that despite persistent military and technological superiority, Washington “increasingly shows signs that it wants to but cannot” perform its former global function because of internal polarization and economic imbalance. This thread runs through many pieces: American power is interpreted not as vanishing but as “structurally overloaded,” with the domestic system no longer able to sustain the volume of international commitments it has taken on.
The second major theme common to all three is criticism of American “selective legality” of the use of force, especially in the Middle East and Latin America. Chinese and Arab commentators reacted in tandem to the recent US “lightning operation” in Venezuela, which one North American Chinese‑language editorial described as a strategic signal: under the cover of fighting drug trafficking and transnational crime, Washington effectively confirms an updated “Monroe Doctrine 2.0” — an intent not merely to preserve but to “exclusively” strengthen its dominance in the Western Hemisphere. The authors of that piece link the operation directly to the recently published US National Security Strategy and to China’s policy document on Latin America and the Caribbean, arguing that this is not an isolated episode but the formation of a kind of “demarcation line” between Beijing and Washington in the region.
Saudi commentators, though more cautious in phrasing, clearly resonate with this analysis. In Arabic discussions about Gaza and relations with Iran the thesis often appears that the United States tends to view the region through the prism of its domestic politics — whether it is pressure from pro‑Israel groups in Congress or anti‑Iran rhetoric. One commentator on a pan‑Arab TV channel popular with Saudi audiences observed that “America’s capacity for pinpoint strikes is not accompanied by the ability to build a sustainable world order; we saw this in Iraq, in Afghanistan, and now we are following the same path in Gaza.”
Chinese texts on the subject go even further, treating the US–Iran confrontation and the war in Gaza as illustrations of America’s “strategic constraints.” In one column in a Chinese outlet specializing in international politics the author flatly asserts that Washington, becoming the de facto primary military and diplomatic patron of Israel in its confrontation with Iran, “has confused roles and risks acting as a proxy actor,” whose freedom of maneuver is limited not only by the ally’s interests but also by its own need to demonstrate toughness to a domestic audience. This reversal — presenting the US not as the puppeteer but as a hostage of alliances it created — markedly distinguishes Chinese and Arab discourse from America’s usual self‑presentation.
The third crosscutting theme is economic and technological competition, seen in Beijing, Riyadh and Johannesburg simultaneously as a threat and an opening. Chinese official and semi‑official media in recent years have consistently deconstructed the American narrative of a “Chinese economic and technological threat.” A recent commentary by Xinhua, widely circulated regionally, argued that Washington systematically levels accusations of “economic coercion” and “export expansion” at China while actively seizing market niches that its allies lose because of confrontations with Beijing. As an example it cites the situation in which, after Australia imposed anti‑China restrictions, American exports to China grew to fill the share vacated by Australian suppliers: “The US step by step filled the vacuum left by its ally,” notes one review, serving as an illustration for a Chinese audience of the motto “America First” hidden beneath moral rhetoric about “fair trade.”
At the same time Chinese press harshly criticizes recent trips by US officials around the world with the thesis of “exaggerated fear of China’s manufacturing power” — especially in electric vehicles and renewable energy. One article based on expert remarks states that American attempts to portray China’s export boom as a “national security threat” are a “logical continuation of America’s external threat theory,” in which every competitor by definition becomes a source of danger. According to Chinese analysts, this rhetoric not only undermines the World Trade Organization but also pushes developing countries to create parallel financing and trade structures where the United States cannot dictate the rules.
The South African and broader African discussion of American economic influence is more pragmatic but no less suspicious in this context. Several African columns analyzing sanctions, debt restructuring and creditor competition stress that the US, on the one hand, criticizes China’s “debt traps,” and on the other actively uses financial tools and the threat of secondary sanctions to constrain African states’ room for maneuver. For the South African audience the recent debate over possible sanctions for military cooperation with Russia has been particularly painful: as several commentators note, it revealed Washington’s habit of viewing the continent exclusively through the lens of “other people’s wars” — whether Ukraine or the rivalry with China.
Saudi economic analysts approach this theme through the lens of energy and diversification. Against the backdrop of American debates about reducing dependence on Middle Eastern oil and a shift to green energy, the argument that betting solely on the American consumer and American capital markets is too risky is gaining traction in Saudi Arabia. One recent column on a Saudi‑oriented economic portal notes that “the US can afford to politicize energy ties; therefore the kingdom cannot afford dependence on a single buyer or a single technology supplier.” Here the Saudi discourse interestingly intersects with the Chinese: in both cases the discussion centers on seeking strategic autonomy amid growing instrumentalization of the dollar, markets and export regimes.
The fourth important line is the perception of American domestic politics as a source of instability for the rest of the world. Chinese and Arab commentators, especially in official and semi‑official outlets, eagerly cite American texts about the crisis of free speech, polarization and “mutual witch hunts” between left and right. One compilation by the Chinese MFA, widely circulated in pro‑government media, lists examples of how inconvenient voices in academia and media are being restricted in the US and how anonymous networks on social media have pushed pro‑Western narratives in regions from the Middle East to Central Asia. Beijing uses these arguments to show that American rhetoric about free speech and the fight against “foreign propaganda” is a tool rather than a principle.
For South African and broader African analysts American domestic polarization is dangerous for another reason. Several articles emphasize that fluctuations in US policy toward Africa — from periodic “US–Africa summits” to sharp bursts of attention only when China or Russia advances — are largely tied to the fact that Africa has become “an arena for projections” of American domestic debates about race, religion and identity. Thus the reassessment of Nigeria’s status in the context of religious freedom is explained not only by the situation in Nigeria itself but also by the influence of evangelical lobbies in the US. For part of the African elite this makes American policy unpredictable: decisions affecting millions in other countries are made within a domestic cultural conflict to which those countries have no relation.
Finally, there is a topic where divergences between the three countries are especially pronounced: the question of whether and whether it is desirable for the US to remain the leading power in the world. Saudi texts, even the most critical, rarely call for “replacing” the US. On the contrary, they often stress the need for a balanced architecture in which America remains an important but not the sole pillar of security and the economy. In Riyadh there is typically little belief in a rapid and safe “decoupling” from the US: institutional, financial and military ties are too deep. But Saudi authors increasingly say that Washington must “get used” to a new reality in which regional powers have their own agendas and are not ready to automatically back every American initiative.
The South African discourse is built differently. There the voices claiming the “American era” is already over are much stronger, and current attempts by Washington to “punish” Pretoria or impose a line on Ukraine and Israel only accelerate the search for alternatives. In texts close to BRICS circles and pan‑Africanists there are growing calls to regard the US as “one among many” centers of power rather than as a mandatory partner. At the same time full confrontation with America is seen by most authors as unrealistic and dangerous: the country is too integrated into the dollar system, and access to American markets and technologies remains critically important. But the idea of “measured distancing” — participation in BRICS, expanding ties with China, Russia and Gulf countries — is becoming mainstream.
In Beijing the tone in recent publications is different still. The debate is less about whether the world needs a “leader” in the form of the US and more about how to manage the “dangerous competition” between two superpowers. In a widely discussed Chinese internet review of a Singaporean column on the logic of US–China rivalry, the point is made that for decades China accepted US absolute superiority and “kept a low profile,” while Washington hoped China would integrate into its order. Now both sides, the reviewer argues, are convinced that “advantage is on their side,” which makes the rivalry particularly risky. From this logic, official and semi‑official Chinese texts draw a dual attitude toward American leadership: on the one hand, the US is seen as the main strategic rival striving to “contain” and “undermine” China’s development; on the other, as a necessary partner in managing escalation risks, climate change and the global economy.
What unites the three perspectives — Saudi, South African and Chinese — is the refusal to see the US in the categories America uses to describe itself. In Riyadh, Pretoria and Beijing Washington is viewed not as an “indispensable nation” but as a highly influential yet constrained actor, subject to internal conflicts and often driven by short electoral cycles. This does not mean the automatic “fall” of American influence: all three capitals recognize that key military, financial and technological questions cannot be solved without the US. But the frame is changing: whereas many Global South states once oriented toward Washington by inertia as the ultimate arbiter, today, judging by the tone of local debates, they increasingly treat America as one factor — important but not the only one — in a more complex equation.
That is why today’s debates about the US in Saudi Arabia, South Africa and China matter far more than they may seem from Washington. They show that the world around America is no longer rigidly pro‑ or anti‑American. It is becoming calculating, flexible and in some sense cynical: ready to cooperate with the US where it is profitable, to resist where American demands conflict with their own interests, and at the same time to build parallel channels with other centers of power. For American foreign policy this may be the most serious challenge: not the rise of someone’s military power, but the gradual erosion of the aura of exceptionality, when even long‑standing partners begin to see “American leadership” as one option among others rather than as a given.
