Israeli digital diplomat David Saranga is using sub-national forms of diplomacy to make inroads into South African society. (David Saranga/X)
On 26 August 2025, one day after Israeli airstrikes on Nasser hospital killed 20 people — among them five journalists — Israel’s minister of digital diplomacy, David Saranga, was in the rural Eastern Cape. While global headlines condemned the attack, Saranga was meeting Amntshangase, amaPondo and abaThembu royal families.
He pledged aid from Israel’s Agency for International Development Cooperation, Mashav, to local feeding schemes run by traditional authorities, flood disaster relief and extending invitations for them to visit Israel.
The Eastern Cape is no stranger to the international spotlight. Qunu, birthplace of Nelson Mandela, draws hundreds of visitors each year. But Saranga was not there for the Mandela Museum. Mandla Mandela, Madiba’s grandson and an MP, was preparing to join South Africa’s delegation on the Global Sumud Flotilla, aiming to break Israel’s siege and starvation blockade of Gaza.
Saranga has built his career on bypassing governments to reach target audiences directly. As head of the Israeli foreign ministry’s digital bureau, he runs campaigns in more than 50 languages, using AI avatars and social media to contact publics in hostile states — from Arabic-speaking audiences to 450 million Persian-language interactions in 2022. His early work as consul in New York included launching the IsraelPolitik blog and hosting the first Twitter press conference during the 2008 Gaza war. This skill in sidestepping official channels frames his outreach to South Africa’s traditional leaders.
Israel’s planned extermination of Palestine began with the first Nakba in1948 that saw the persecution of some 70,000 Palestinians from their homeland to make way for the state of Israel. The same year that racial apartheid was adopted as South African state policy. As Israel finds itself increasingly isolated over its most recent genocidal acts that have laid bare its disdain for international law it’s looking for a political “glow up”.
The three strike attack on Nasser hospital that deliberately targeted first responders and journalists was still dominating headlines as Sarang posted videos of himself attending traditional dances with royals in rural South Africa. For the spin doctor, the contradiction was not an obstacle — it was the point of the visit. Israel needs a PR makeover, and South Africa’s rural heartland, long on the margins of service delivery and employment, offers an Instagram-ready backdrop for its so-called “humanitarian” aid.
“I came here as a symbol of the long-standing friendship between the royal families of the Eastern Cape and the people of Israel, and with a commitment to find ways we can work together for the well-being of our communities,” Saranga said during the visit. And h
He was not wrong about the relationship that Israel cultivated with traditional leaders.
In fact, almost 40 years to the day in August 1985 as the townships of South Africa were ablaze with protests against the apartheid regime, Mangosuthu Buthelezi was riding a camel in Jerusalem. The then chief minister of KwaZulu, an ethnic homeland, was in Jerusalem on the invitation of then prime minister Shimon Peres, not as a marginal figure, but as a diplomat of consequence. Aside from South Africa, the only other countries to recognise the Bantustan system were Israel, Taiwan and Malawi.
Before Buthelezi, only prime minister John Vorster had such a welcome from Israel — and before Vorster, Chaim Weizmann’s ties with Jan Smuts won South Africa’s backing for the Balfour Declaration.
The contradictions in human rights application were nothing but a mere footnote for Israel as South Africa became a refuge for former members of the Nazi regime and bigoted antisemites. In the quest for statehood as the ultimate prize, the Israeli regime didn’t mind who supported them if it translated into more votes at the United Nations. For South Africa’s apartheid state, white support, even if it came from Jews formally discriminated against in the country, was a welcome relief from growing international scrutiny.
Buthelezi’s stance — advocating a power-sharing system rather than a direct democratic transition, mirrored his claims that certain “one person, one vote” models would be rejected by white people. Yet Israel’s engagement implicitly endorsed his role and lent legitimacy to his political position. This was at a time when international condemnation of South Africa was at fever pitch, with global protests and boycotts that shaped the consciousness of a generation.
Israel laid down significant offers. It pledged agricultural assistance for the KwaZulu region, cooperative work for women’s organisations and training through its trade unions and labour bodies (including Histadrut’s Afro-Asian Institute). Unions linked to Buthelezi’s Inkatha Freedom Party received direct funding and training from Histadrut.
South African athletes, barred by the international sports sanctions on South Africa, were given “Oleh” visas to participate in the Maccabi games in Israel. These visas were normally reserved for Jews contemplating immigration into Israel and helped South Africa bypass the sanctions.
Defence ties were equally pragmatic. After the 1967 French arms embargo on Israel, South African fighter planes filled the gap. Vorster-era agreements fused South African resources with Israeli technology into a “joint arms industry” producing weapons, helicopters, a mini-carrier and tank armour.
Today, with the democratic government pursuing Israel at the ICJ, South African traditional leaders are once again becoming key nodes in Israel’s outreach. Now they function as a parallel track to official diplomacy, and a test of how far customary authority can be drawn into the geopolitics of a state accused of genocide.
Israel is seeking to use sub-national forms of diplomacy to make inroads into South African civil society – which it knows supports Palestinian liberation in large numbers. Saranga even went on to falsely claim that a Pew Centre survey found South Africa to be one of the friendliest African states towards Israel. The correct findings of the Pew research showed that Nigeria and Kenya were the only countries that had the majority or near majority of people with a favorable view of Israel. In South Africa, 34% of people view Israel positively while the majority see its influence as negative.
So, what are the pay-offs for Israel in its PR blitz with traditional authorities? There are three main areas that Israel hopes to capitalise on. The first is cultural legitimacy; traditional authorities can influence public opinion of those they administrate over even without formal legislative power. Second, such a PR jaunt gives Israel decentralised access to communities where it can bypass the internationally recognised policy positions set by the national government. And, third, it’s all about optics — imagery of Israel partnering with African royalty helps counteract its “pariah state” image in the Global South.
The Traditional and Khoi-San Leadership Act (Act 3 of 2019) took effect on 1 April 2021, recognising traditional and Khoi-San leaders subject to constitutional limits. In May 2023, the Constitutional Court ruled it invalid for lack of public participation but suspended the order for 24 months. It is currently still in force until parliament reconsiders the law. Involvement in contentious foreign policy could erode traditional leaders’ legitimacy, undermine South Africa’s unified stance at the ICJ and, perhaps most worryingly, open the door for foreign powers to build parallel influence networks.
Of course, no international visit would be complete without a visit to Soweto. Sarang even visited Antoinette Sithole, who was famously pictured running beside Mbuyiso Makhubu as he carried her wounded brother Hector Peterson on 16 June 1976. Peterson was shot by the apartheid police — the same police who would have used Israeli armaments and technology. Israel is hoping to benefit from the political apathy of a new generation that has distanced itself from its own history.
Israel’s actions are certainly not unique; it draws from centuries of Western colonial divide and rule tactics that used indigenous power centres to legitimise their illegal regimes. The real questions now are how do traditional authorities, and their constitutionally mandated power intersect with the prerogative of South Africa’s foreign policy and how does this affect South Africa’s sovereignty?
Mariam Bibi Jooma Çarikci is an independent writer-researcher; specialising in international political economy with 20+ years’ experience on the Horn of Africa, Türkiye, and Zionism in Africa.