Read my whole Business Day column here: businessday.co.za/opinion/20…

IF SOUTH AFRICA WERE EXCLUDED FROM AGOA, the country would face an additional Most Favoured Nation tariff of around 3.4% on top of the existing tariffs the current U.S. Administration added to various countries. Currently, some South African products enter the U.S. market at 12.5% tariffs (Liberation Day tariff). Without AGOA, these tariffs would rise to 15.9%, slightly reducing the competitiveness of South African agricultural products in the U.S. market. Still, one could argue that while this would be a challenging path, IT WOULD NOT NECESSARILY BE AS CATASTROPHIC as we have faced in the past, when it faced much higher U.S. tariffs and still managed to compete. For example, in 2025, those of us in the South African farming sector faced tariffs of around 30%. Still, exports to the U.S. were strong. South Africa’s agricultural exports to the U.S. in 2025 totalled US$504 million, down 3% from the previous year.

Legendary.

Kagiso Rabada has taken the fewest balls in Test history to complete 350 wickets 🤫 ⚡

The Best In The World! 🌍🔥 #TheProteas have climbed to the summit of Test cricket, officially claiming the No. 1 ranking in the world following a magnificent 2-1 series triumph over Australia! 🏆👏 A statement of excellence, a moment of immense pride and a remarkable achievement! 🇿🇦 The World’s Best. The Proteas. 💚🙌 #Unbreakable #SAvAUS

The exhibit has been put back up till Nov. 4

Obrigado, povo brasileiro! 📸 @ricardostuckert

É TETRA ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Se ha detenido el fascismo en America Latina en Brasil. El pueblo brasileño libre logró frenar la avalancha de los bots falsos y el sistema electoral con software público y bien cuidado por la gente evitó fraudes, se salva la justicia social en Brasil y el intento extranjero de quedarse con sus recursos naturales. Muy bien Lula. Este es un triunfo para la humanidad y una derrota estratégica para las fuerzas de la oscuridad.

“𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚.“ - Former @UNHumanRights Chief and 2026 #NobelPeacePrize winner Navi Pillay #MondayMotivation

I am a member of the Norwegian Nobel Committee. There are five of us. Five people, appointed by a parliament most of the planet could not find on a map, who decide, once a year, which human being the world has agreed to call good. I know. I know. I think about it on the tram. We meet in a building on Henrik Ibsens gate, a street named after a man who wrote almost exclusively about people discovering they are frauds, which nobody on the committee finds funny except me. There is a room with a long table and the portraits of the dead laureates looking down, Mandela, the Dalai Lama, a great many earnest men in spectacles, and one portrait we do not discuss, which is Kissinger, 1973, awarded while the bombs were still falling, after which two of our predecessors resigned and the satirist Tom Lehrer said political satire was now obsolete. We keep him on the wall. A reminder. Every family has the uncle. It is October in Oslo, which means the sun gives up around four in the afternoon like a civil servant, and it rains the particular Norwegian rain that isn’t quite falling, just hanging there, judging you. I arrive with wet shoes. I always arrive with wet shoes. There is coffee, because this is Norway and there is always coffee, we drink more of it per person than almost anyone alive, and someone’s wife has sent kanelboller, the cinnamon buns, and we sit, five Norwegians, damp, caffeinated, sugared, and we decide the moral standing of the entire species. Let me tell you how it actually works, because the world imagines a cathedral and it is, I promise you, a book club with a mandate. 287 nominations this year. 208 people, 79 organizations. Anyone can nominate, that’s the secret nobody understands: a professor, a parliamentarian, a former laureate, so the “nominee” list is meaningless, it’s a suggestion box, and every autumn some congressman nominates his own golden retriever and the press writes “SHORTLISTED.” Nobody is shortlisted. There is no short list the public ever sees. There is us, and the coffee, and the rain, and the portraits, and a Norwegian stubbornness that is older than the prize itself. We read reports. The institute’s advisers write them, thick dull documents, and we argue. Our chairman told the BBC once that in the final meeting “there is a high temperature.” High temperature, for a Norwegian, means someone slightly raised an eyebrow and then apologized for it. We don’t do high temperature. We do a long silence, and then Kristin says “well,” and everyone knows exactly what “well” meant, and it’s settled. That’s our shouting. “Well.” You’d have to be raised here to hear the violence in it. Now. This year. I will not say the name, because we never say the name, but you know the name. A certain head of state wanted this prize the way a child wants a thing in a shop window, which is to say loudly, and in public, and with the full belief that wanting it was itself the argument. He said he deserved it. He said he’d ended eight wars, a number that grew most times he said it, like a fish. He had other heads of state phone us. Israel’s prime minister posted it on the internet, “Give him the Nobel.” The leaders of Cambodia and Pakistan announced they’d nominated him, as though announcing it were part of it, as though we tally mentions. A man flew around the globe collecting endorsements for a Norwegian committee the way you’d collect signatures for a petition to the council about a noisy dog. And here, uff da, is the detail I treasure, the one that makes me smile into my coffee. The nomination deadline is the 31st of January. He took office on the 20th. So for all the phone calls, all the posts, all the gilded lobbying, the only nominations that could possibly count for this year’s prize were filed in the first eleven days of his term, before he had, by his own arithmetic, ended a single one of the eight wars. He campaigned all year for a prize whose window had shut while he was still hanging up his coat. We didn’t have to reject him. The calendar did. We just watched. Norwegians are very good at watching. We have long winters. People think we sit there weighing his deeds. We don’t. That’s the thing I can’t make the world understand. We’re not grading his homework. We don’t owe anyone the prize for a ceasefire, however real, however loud the announcement. “He made peace” is not a sentence that ends in a medal, the way he believes it does, the way he believes every good thing ends in his name on it. The will of a dead Swede says the prize goes to whoever did the most for fraternity between nations. A dead Swede, I should add, who made his entire fortune inventing dynamite and selling arms, and spent his last years horrified at his own obituary, which called him a merchant of death, and so bought his way to immortality as a man of peace. The whole prize is one guilty arms dealer’s attempt to launder his name. We are, all of us, administering a dead man’s public relations. I find this clarifying. It keeps me humble. It should keep everyone humble, and it keeps, by my count, no one humble at all. So who did we give it to? An eighty-five-year-old woman. A judge. Born in Durban, under apartheid, granddaughter of a Tamil man who came to South Africa as indentured labor, a bus driver’s daughter from the poor Indian quarter, who became the first non-white woman to run a law practice in her province, who defended Mandela’s people when defending them was dangerous, who sat on the Rwanda tribunal and the court at the Hague, and who, at eighty-five, is right now a judge weighing whether a genocide is a genocide. When we told the world, our chairman said the rule of law “underpins the system we have set up to ensure peace,” and that “peace requires justice.” She wasn’t even in Oslo. She was in Nuremberg. In courtroom 600. The actual room where they tried the Nazis. You cannot stage that. God staged that, and God, it turns out, is a better satirist than any of us. She did not phone us. She did not post. No prime minister demanded it for her on the internet. She had, as far as our deliberations are concerned, the one qualification the loud man could never manufacture, which is that she wanted the work and not the medal. The medal finds those people. It flees the ones who chase it. This is not a rule we wrote. It’s just the only pattern the hundred-odd years of our mistakes has ever shown. The reaction from across the ocean was immediate. His spokesman posted that we “place politics over peace.” Ja. Perhaps. We’re five damp pensioners in a rainy city; of course it’s political, it was always political, it was political when we gave it to a sitting American president nine months into his first term for the promise of things he had not yet done, and we have been quietly embarrassed about that one for fifteen years, so believe me, we had a particular reason this year to prefer a woman with fifty years of verdicts behind her over a man with eight wars in front of him and a deadline already behind him. Here is what he will never understand, the thing I’d tell him on the tram if he ever took one. We are the one prize he cannot buy, cannot post his way to, cannot have a friendly dictator phone in for him. Not because we’re incorruptible, nei, we’re as vain and wrong and human as the portraits on our wall. But because the entire point of the thing, the only power a small cold country’s book club has ever held, is that it goes to the person not performing the wanting. The moment you demand it, you’ve proven you don’t understand what it’s for, and proving that is itself the disqualification. He ran the most expensive campaign in the history of the prize and the campaign was the reason. He was never losing to Navi Pillay. He was losing to the concept. It’s dark now. Four o’clock dark. The buns are gone. Kristin said “well” an hour ago and we all went home. I’m on the tram with my wet shoes, and somewhere across the water a very powerful man is explaining to a camera that the prize is rigged, that we’re corrupt, that he’ll win it next year, and he genuinely might, we’re only five idiots and we’ve been wrong before, Kissinger is still on the wall. But not this year. This year an old woman in Nuremberg, in the room where the law once stared down the exact kind of man who thinks wanting a thing loudly enough should make it his, got a phone call she didn’t ask for. That’s the job. We don’t reward the man who ends the war and announces it. We reward the woman who spent fifty years deciding what a war was. He’ll never see the difference. That’s rather the whole point of him. Takk for i dag. I have to change trams.

A tiny country in Africa’s most Southern tip has produced 12 Nobel Laureates since the first award was announced in December 1901 These great leaders and amazing human beings bestow huge responsibility on every South African @GovernmentZA

Warm congratulations to Navi Pillay on being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. From her work in South Africa defending Nelson Mandela & others, to her role as an international judge on cases relating to international crimes, including the genocide in Rwanda, to her tenure as High Commissioner for Human Rights, to chairing the @UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry on the Occupied Palestinian Territory, she has shown that the force of law must prevail over the law of force and that defending human rights is the surest safeguard against injustice. Today’s prize is a tribute to all those working to uphold & defend international law, the rule of law & human rights, and secure peace, justice & human dignity.

I echo the congratulatory message of President Ramaphosa : “We are proud that Justice Pillay joins Chief Albert Luthuli, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, President Mandela and Former President FW de Klerk in highlighting the far-reaching impact of South Africans on peace, justice and the advancement of humanity. “We congratulate Justice Pillay and wish her well as she continues to participate in various platforms to secure the rights and dignity of all people.”

🇿🇦 A proud moment for South Africa. Congratulations to Navi Pillay, who has been awarded the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize for her efforts to promote peace and international law. She becomes the first South African woman and the fifth South African to receive this prestigious honour, joining Chief Albert Luthuli, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Nelson Mandela and F.W. de Klerk. Her recognition reflects the far-reaching impact South Africans can make through courage, justice and a commitment to a better world. #SouthAfrica #InspiringNewWays 🇿🇦

Addressing the UN Human Rights Council on the implications of Artificial Intelligence for the promotion and protection of human rights, Permanent Representative, Ambassador Zaheer Laher noted that AI holds immense potential to advance human rights, but also risks deepening discrimination, inequality, stereotyping and exclusion. We should heed the warnings of those developing the most powerful AI systems, whose capabilities they maintain may become difficult for human beings to control. Stronger global cooperation, meaningful technology transfer and equal participation of developing countries in AI governance—as co-designers, not merely recipients is needed. No one should be left behind!

Press Statement at the Conclusion of the Promotion Mission of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights to the Republic of South Africa The Commission expresses its full support for and solidarity with the efforts of South Africa for safeguarding its Constitutional democracy, as an exercise of the sovereignty and self-determination of the people of South Africa, and for defending international rule of law as responsible member of the African Union and the international community. achpr.au.int/en/news/press-r…

Minister @RonaldLamola addressing the @NEPAD_Agency founding members summit in Egypt. #GCIS #sabcnews

#SouthAfrica🇿🇦 recorded foreign direct investment inflows of 49.8 billion rand ($3.03 billion) in the second quarter of 2026, up from 20.3 billion rand in the previous quarter. Source @SAReserveBank