In a global context marked by chaos and turbulence, technological advancements, health crises, marketplace alterations, shifting demographics and organizational foolishness, the demand for more adaptive and reflective forms of leadership has become a necessity. Given this context, wisdom can provide a meaningful understanding of “good” leadership to navigate such turbulence and seize the opportunities that come along with it. As such, wisdom constitutes a cornerstone of effective leadership and serves as a key driver of organizational excellence.

How do leaders ‘wise up’?

To put wisdom to good use in leadership, in one of our research pieces, we developed a valid “wise leadership scale”, designed to assess the extent to which leaders and managers demonstrate wisdom within organizations by gathering data in France and Morocco. In a recent research output, we validated the new wise leadership scale using data collected from Canada, China and Morocco. How do we define wise leadership?

Wise leadership is oriented toward enabling others to contribute meaningfully to the flourishing of individuals, organizations, and the wider community.

We conceptualised wise leaders as individuals who enact normatively positive behaviours through four mechanisms:

• Intellectual shrewdness

This involves the ability to recognise, comprehend, and make sound decisions in both predictable and unpredictable situations. It entails quickly detecting subtle cues and underlying dynamics, anticipating potential difficulties, and generating actionable insights, even in ambiguous and uncertain contexts.

Wise leaders grasp what needs to be done and are acutely aware of the repercussions of their decisions and actions. To establish facts and provide deductive explanations without rushing to judgement, they rely on reasoned and circumspect observation. Wise leaders also possess the intellectual abilities required to realise their envisioned future by selecting the appropriate course of action at the right moment,

while carefully considering the prevailing circumstances.

A lack of intellectual shrewdness along with sound judgement and foresight among high-ranking executives and engineers resulted in Volkswagen’s Dieselgate scandal in 2015.

The latter was about setting up unauthorised software to evade nitrogen oxide emission regulations. The individuals concerned were intelligent leaders with remarkable engineering and financial abilities. Nonetheless, they exhibited poor judgement and unwise behaviour as they did not adequately assess the potential repercussions or anticipate the harmful consequences for both the company and themselves of tampering with emission tests. The scandal resulted in a colossal loss of over €33 billion in penalties and settlements for Volkswagen.

• Spurring action

This refers to the capacity to inspire and mobilise others around a compelling vision. Wise leaders help subordinates perceive a positive future vision as both meaningful and attainable.

Spurring action involves directing followers toward actions that yield desired outcomes that followers themselves recognise and appreciate as wise. To this end, wise leaders display specific traits and behaviours that enable them to align individual and organizational goals. Wise leaders additionally, actively develop the potential of their followers, elevating them to new levels of performance and growth. On top of this, wise leaders are also able to bring people with varying interests together, even by resorting to power if necessary. Lastly, by fostering a sense of purpose, nurturing trust, building strong human connections, and creating opportunities for organizational members to work collaboratively, wise leaders entice subordinates to achieve positive work outcomes.

When Tadataka Yamada took over as chairman of R&D at Glaxo SmithKline (GSK) in December 2000, his company was one of 39 pharmaceutical companies suing the South African government for violating price protections and patent infringement for AIDS medicines over access to drug therapies for needy patients.

Given the patients’ powerless position to alter the course of the legal process, Yamada opted to be a part of the solution to global health problems, rather than a party to a lawsuit that prevented such treatments from reaching those in desperate need.

In one-on-one meetings with each GSK board member, Yamada emphasised GSK’s moral obligation to relieve human suffering and associated it with the company’s long-term performance. All 39 corporations withdrew their legal action against South Africa in April 2001. GSK’s business strategy in developing countries, stakeholder relations, and reputation were all positively impacted by this decision.

• Moral conduct

This refers to how far morals, values, and principles guide wise leaders’ day-to-day interactions with stakeholders in a consistent, truthful, and ethical manner. Wise leaders avoid excess and greed, uphold high ethical standards and prioritise virtuous outcomes. In practice, wise leaders balance their own interests with those of others, carefully

evaluate the moral implications of their decisions and actions, and consistently adhere to their ethical principles. To achieve this, wise leaders rely on a strong moral compass that provides clear behavioural guidelines, ensures consistency between words and deeds, and reinforces

their moral commitment. As a result, they serve as role models for their followers; their organizations function harmoniously, grounded in a noble purpose aimed at delivering benefits to the greatest number of people.

As an example, Mario Rovirosa, CEO of Ferrer – Spain’s first B corp pharmaceutical company, stresses that the brand’s slogan “Ferrer for good” says it all: it is the company’s purpose to “do good” in society and on the planet, and asserts that Ferrer harnesses its pharmaceutical activity to obtain the required resources to do good.

Rovirosa spearheaded Ferrer to become the first Spanish pharmaceutical laboratory to obtain the B Corp certification that is awarded by B Lab to firms that meet high standards of social and environmental performance, accountability, and transparency.

Ferrer takes into account the effects corporate decisions have on their employees, customers, suppliers, community, and the physical environment. Recently, the company conferred more than half of its profits to social and environmental initiatives.

• Cultivating humility

Cultivating humility involves a balanced sense of self-worth that lies between the vices of deficiency and excess. Wise leaders deeply value their expertise and knowledge yet continually subject them to critical scrutiny. They are committed to lifelong learning as they strongly believe that true wisdom also stems from the vast realms of knowledge that remain unexplored. Wise leaders remain open to learning from all sources, including subordinates, and readily acknowledge that they do not know everything.

Moreover, the humility of wise leaders is evident in their willingness to openly admit mistakes and draw valuable lessons from them. Finally, wise leaders willingly adopt the perspectives of others, rather than

exclusively rely on self-focused stances. In so doing, they truly guard against intellectual arrogance and ignorance.

When Anne Mulcahy took the reins of Xerox in 2001, it was recommended that she announce the company’s bankruptcy. Xerox was losing 300 million dollars each year. However, she chose not to take the “easy path”. When confronted with daunting obstacles, Mulcahy favoured dialogue over speeches and exhorted staff to share critical viewpoints and even discordant stances, and hence succeeded in accommodating diverse perspectives and expectations.

Mulcahy did what the vast majority of leaders would not do: she approached junior subordinates to mentor her in product development, engineering, and finance. Mulcahy ended up saving Xerox and improving its profitability by slashing both its capital expenditures and total debt in half, and cutting its general and administrative expenses by one third.

The proposed wise leadership model broadens the scope of existing approaches, such as authentic, ethical and transformational leadership, by incorporating the core components of judgement, action, morality, and humility.

This new wise leadership scale can serve as a practical tool to assess the degree of wise leadership demonstrated by current employees and to identify individuals with (un) wise tendencies during leadership recruitment and selection processes.

It also offers a valuable mechanism to design and deliver targeted leadership training and development programmes aimed at fostering wisdom in leaders, which may lead, in turn, to generating positive organizational outcomes.

The European Academy of Management (EURAM) is a learned society founded in 2001. With over 2,000 members from 60 countries in Europe and beyond, EURAM aims at advancing the academic discipline of management in Europe.

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Les auteurs ne travaillent pas, ne conseillent pas, ne possèdent pas de parts, ne reçoivent pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'ont déclaré aucune autre affiliation que leur organisme de recherche.

The assassination attempt targeting Donald Trump and several of his most senior cabinet members on April 26 took place at Washington’s Hilton Hotel, the very site where Ronald Reagan had been seriously wounded in a shooting 45 years earlier.

This parallel invites us to examine how the physical attacks suffered by the two Republican presidents reshaped their public image, as well as the ways in which they responded to them.

Forty-five years after the assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan on March 30, 1981, another attack targeting Donald Trump has occurred in the very same place: Washington’s Hilton Hotel.

This detail is far from insignificant, because it transforms an isolated event into a sense of continuity. The location itself becomes a stage. Political violence no longer appears merely as a singular event; instead, it seems to reenact itself, linking two presidential figures through a shared ordeal.

A place that turns violence into narrative

In 1981, Ronald Reagan, whose lung had been punctured by a bullet fired at point-blank range by John Warnock Hinckley Jr.., emerged from the episode profoundly strengthened.

Images of his discharge from the hospital, his humour in the face of mortal danger, and the media narrative surrounding the event all helped to durably establish the image of a leader who had endured, and survived, a major ordeal. Only hours after being shot, Reagan joked to his surgeons, “I hope you are all Republicans.”

The remark immediately spread across the country and helped shape the image of a courageous president, composed and self-assured even in the face of death.

Today, Trump – who had already experienced a similar moment on July 14, 2024, when he emerged with a raised fist and a bloodied ear after surviving an assassination attempt at a campaign rally — appears in a different yet comparable situation in one crucial respect: exposure to violence reinforces the posture of a besieged leader. For nearly a decade, his political rhetoric has largely rested on the idea of an America under threat, surrounded by enemies both foreign and domestic. Each attack therefore strengthens an already established narrative: that of a leader targeted precisely because he embodies a form of political resistance.

In both cases, the event therefore extends beyond the violent act itself, as it is immediately absorbed into a political narrative. Yet this narrative does not operate on its own. It relies on sustained media coverage that transforms violence into a major political sequence. If violence creates the event, the mediated narrative turns it into a political moment.

A premeditated attack in a highly symbolic space

The information now available about the April 25 attacker, Cole Tomas Allen, confirms that he had planned the attack well in advance. The 31-year-old man had crossed the United States carrying several weapons and had booked a room at the Hilton weeks beforehand.

According to investigators, he intended to target Donald Trump as well as several political officials attending the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.

His writings, a mixture of confession, political manifesto, and farewell message, reveal an accumulation of personal and political grievances directed at the Trump administration.

Authorities also indicated that he did not expect to survive the attack, anchoring his actions in a sacrificial logic that has become relatively common in contemporary mass violence. This dimension is important because it moves away from the idea of a purely impulsive or irrational act. Research on mass shooters has highlighted trajectories often marked by social isolation, forms of humiliation, or a search for recognition. In many cases, the act of violence emerges within an environment saturated with violent and highly mediatised narratives.

Media coverage therefore does not merely function as a channel of information. Through the repeated circulation of images and attackers’ names, it can, for certain individuals, contribute to making such acts seem genuinely possible — that is, imaginable. As violence is replayed continuously, it becomes embedded within a familiar mental horizon in which acting out violently may come to appear as a brutal means of attaining public visibility.

The location as a political stage

The choice of location plays a central role in this dynamic. These attacks do not occur in neutral spaces: schools, shopping malls, universities, sites of political power, and government buildings all concentrate visibility and media resonance. They function as stages exposed to the nation as a whole.

The Washington Hilton functions, in this respect, as a space of political memory. Already associated with the assassination attempt against Ronald Reagan, it instantly transforms the event into part of a historical continuity. This site of memory generates meaning even before any political interpretation takes shape and extends far beyond the individual act itself.

The comparison between Cole Tomas Allen and John Warnock Hinckley Jr.. nevertheless highlights important differences. Hinckley acted within a deeply personal and obsessive logic combining media fascination with a fixation on the actress Jodie Foster. Allen, by contrast, appears to have been engaged in a far more overtly political and ideological undertaking.

Yet one common feature remains: in both cases, the act targeted a highly visible space now heavily charged with symbolic meaning. Contemporary political violence therefore does not target individuals alone. It also targets places, symbols, and narratives.

A media polarisation that immediately transforms violence into political confrontation

This evolution cannot be understood without situating these events within the recent history of the American media landscape. The Ronald Reagan presidency marked a major turning point with the gradual disappearance of the Fairness Doctrine in the late 1980s. Until then, this regulation had required broadcast media to cover controversial issues in a balanced manner.

Its repeal gradually paved the way for a far more polarised media system, in which information became a space of permanent ideological confrontation. The rise of conservative talk radio, followed by cable news networks and social media platforms, fragmented the American public sphere into competing narratives.

In this context, every violent event immediately becomes the object of competing interpretations. For Donald Trump supporters, the attack reinforces the idea of a leader persecuted for challenging parts of the political and media establishment. For his opponents, by contrast, the attack reflects a climate of political tension to which Trump’s rhetoric and his tendency to polarise public debate are seen as having contributed.

Violence thus ceases to be merely a shared tragedy and becomes instead an element of political struggle, used by each side to reinforce its own interpretation of the country, power, and threat.

Firearms as a political imaginary

The issue of firearms occupies a central place in this dynamic. Their widespread circulation sustains a political imaginary grounded in self-defence and the perception of permanent threat. In the United States, firearms are not merely associated with security or recreation; they also function as a cultural and identity marker deeply rooted in sections of American conservatism.

This system operates in a self-reinforcing loop: fear encourages armament, while the omnipresence of firearms makes violence more likely. Each new attack generates a sense of insecurity that, in turn, further legitimises gun ownership.

It is precisely within this tension between gun culture and the direct experience of violence that the comparison between Ronald Reagan and Donald Trump becomes particularly revealing. Reagan, despite being a major figure of American conservatism and a defender of the Second Amendment, gradually shifted his position after surviving the 1981 assassination attempt, notably in an op-ed published in The New York Times. In the 1990s, after leaving office, he publicly supported the Brady Act, legislation strengthening background checks on firearm sales — named in honour of James Brady, the White House press secretary who was severely wounded alongside the president on March 30, 1981, and left permanently disabled by his injuries. Reagan then acknowledged that stricter gun regulations could have saved lives.

Donald Trump, by contrast, has maintained a firmer defence of gun rights, including after having personally been targeted by violence. This difference reflects a deeper transformation within the Republican camp: for Ronald Reagan, violence led, at least partially, to a form of reassessment, whereas for Trump it has tended instead to reinforce an already consolidated political narrative centred on danger and confrontation.

When the place outlives the event

The attack against Donald Trump is not an isolated event. It occurred within a broader context of political polarisation and violence targeting public officials in the United States.

The January 6 United States Capitol attack had already revealed the intensity of a polarisation in which part of the political conflict has now shifted onto the physical and security terrain.

Perhaps most striking, however, is the persistence of the place itself. Forty-five years after Reagan, Washington’s Hilton Hotel reemerges as though certain spaces retain the memory of the violence that has passed through them. The location no longer merely hosts the event; it gives it an immediate historical depth and connects multiple moments of American political life through the same stage.

From Reagan to Trump, the political effects may differ, but one constant remains: exposure to violence can strengthen the symbolic power of political authority. While political violence has long been part of American history, its constant media circulation and its inscription within a deeply polarised landscape now give it a particular resonance, in which every attack immediately becomes a political and media confrontation that extends far beyond the event itself.

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Florian Leniaud ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

L’Afrique du Sud connaît depuis 2008 des vagues récurrentes de violences xénophobes visant des migrants, dans un contexte de pauvreté, de chômage massif et de défiance envers l’État. Des mouvements nationalistes relayés par les réseaux sociaux accusent les étrangers d’être responsables de la criminalité et de la dégradation des services publics, avec le soutien implicite ou explicite de nombreux acteurs politiques.

En 1974, Hugh Masekela, célèbre jazzman sud-africain, enregistre ce qui est devenu sa chanson la plus populaire, véritable hymne de la lutte contre l’apartheid : Stimela (coal train). Il y raconte la souffrance des travailleurs recrutés de force par le régime de Pretoria :

« There is a train that comes from Namibia and Malawi, there is a train that comes from Zambia and Zimbabwe, there is a train that comes from Angola and Mozambique, from Lesotho, from Botswana, from Zwaziland, from all the hinterland of Southern and Central Africa. This train carries young and old, African men who are conscripted to come and work on contract in the golden mineral mines of Johannesburg… »

(« Il y a un train qui vient de Namibie et du Malawi, il y a un train qui vient de Zambie et du Zimbabwe, il y a un train qui vient d’Angola et du Mozambique, du Lesotho, du Botswana, du Swaziland, de tout l’arrière-pays de l’Afrique australe et centrale. Ce train transporte jeunes et vieux, des hommes africains enrôlés de force pour venir travailler sous contrat dans les mines d’or de Johannesburg… »)

Cet hommage aux opprimés en est aussi un aux migrants déracinés par le système raciste, et rappelle à quel point les migrations sont consubstantielles à l’histoire de l’Afrique du Sud.

Comment en est-on alors arrivé à ce que, en avril 2026, les rues des métropoles sud-africaines soient envahies par des foules appelant à l’expulsion des étrangers, pointant du doigt d’autres Africains noirs comme étant la cause de tous leurs maux ? Comment le pays dont la Constitution de 1996, modèle d’inclusion, protégeait les droits de tous les réfugiés, est-il devenu le théâtre des violences xénophobes récurrentes ?

2008-2019, des vagues successives de violences xénophobes

En mai 2008, une vague de violences inédites (plus de 50 morts et de 60 000 déplacés) est venue ternir l’image de la « nation arc-en-ciel » : les scènes d’agression contre les étrangers, poursuivis jusque dans leurs maisons, parfois brûlés vifs, ont envahi les médias du monde entier et conduit à une intervention de l’armée dans les townships et les bidonvilles des grandes villes.

Des violences de ce type se sont reproduites plus tard : en 2013, au Cap, contre des commerçants originaires de la Corne de l’Afrique ; en 2015, à Durban, peu après que le roi des Zoulous (une des plus puissantes et influentes autorités dites « traditionnelles », instrumentalisées par le régime d’apartheid et maintenues officiellement après 1994) a appelé au départ des « étrangers » ; en 2017, les propos anti-immigrés du maire de Johannesburg Herman Mashaba précèdent de peu une nouvelle vague de violences ; en 2019, à Durban et dans le Gauteng, les Nigérians et les Ghanéens sont systématiquement visés. Dans tous les cas, il est toujours question d’un phénomène urbain, et les attaques ont lieu essentiellement dans les townships et les quartiers informels.

La stigmatisation des migrants d’Afrique noire semble être devenue un trait caractéristique de la démocratie sud-africaine. Aucun des principaux partis politiques ne peut s’en dire innocent, et certainement pas le Congrès national africain (ANC), au pouvoir depuis 1994, qui, à chaque campagne électorale, voit certains de ses candidats sortir la « carte xénophobe » et a également mis en place une législation de plus en plus restrictive et répressive en matière d’immigration, bien éloignée des idéaux des années 1990 et qui finit pratiquement par légitimer le rejet des migrants.

L’approche des élections municipales de novembre 2026 n’est d’ailleurs pas sans lien avec les manifestations actuelles. Celles-ci ont cependant des caractéristiques nouvelles : elles se présentent comme portées par des « mouvements citoyens » et leurs leaders tiennent un discours en apparence légaliste, assumant d’être pleinement visibles jusque dans l’espace public des centres-villes. Ils sont souvent issus du monde des médias, voire des influenceurs – ce qui explique que les réseaux sociaux jouent un rôle majeur dans ces mobilisations xénophobes.

Les nouveaux visages de la haine

Ainsi est née en 2021, à Soweto, l’opération Dudula – qui signifie littéralement « forcer » ou « abattre » en IsiZulu (la langue zouloue) –, une organisation nationaliste qui affirme « lutter contre la criminalité et la dégradation des services publics ». Blocage à l’entrée des écoles ou des services de santé pour en interdire l’accès aux étrangers, attaques violentes des locaux d’entreprises accusées d’employer des étrangers ; autant de modes d’action largement médiatisés sur les réseaux sociaux. Zandile Dabula, 36 ans, présidente du mouvement, déclare à la presse :

« La plupart des problèmes que nous rencontrons sont causés par l’afflux de ressortissants étrangers. Notre pays est en désordre. »

Une autre jeune femme dirige le mouvement March and March, l’organisateur des manifestations actuelles. Né à Durban en 2025, ce collectif a pour visage Jacinta Ngobese-Zuma, une ancienne vedette de la radio, 39 ans, née à Kwamashu, l’un des grands townships de Durban. Elle appelle à l’expulsion des migrants illégaux et dénonce l’« inaction » de l’État face aux criminels et trafiquants. Elle vise plus spécifiquement les migrants du Nigeria et du Ghana – ce qui a d’ailleurs fait réagir officiellement les gouvernements de ces deux pays – et refuse la qualification de « xénophobe », affirmant n’avoir rien contre les étrangers « légaux ».

Début avril 2026, son mouvement manifeste violemment dans la ville d’East London (KuGompo City dans l’Eastern Cape) pour dénoncer le prétendu couronnement d’un roi igbo (groupe ethnique du Nigeria) dans la région. À la fin du mois, March and March manifeste à Johannesburg. Herman Mashaba, ancien maire et candidat aux prochaines élections municipales pour le parti ActionSA, vient lui faire part de son soutien.

Ces mouvements xénophobes font aussi circuler des chiffres validant le sentiment d’une invasion d’amaKwerekwere (« barbares »), désignation courante et péjorative des étrangers en IsiZulu, alors qu’il y aurait, en réalité, entre 3 millions et 4 millions d’immigrés sur une population totale de près de 63 millions – une proportion similaire à celle de nombreux pays du monde.

Le principal changement depuis 1994 est que si la majorité des étrangers sont toujours originaires d’Afrique australe (près de 70 % selon le service statistique national), les flux migratoires viennent désormais aussi d’Afrique de l’Ouest et de la Corne de l’Afrique. Ces « nouveaux » arrivants sont très présents dans le secteur du commerce informel (ce qui en fait des cibles visibles et faciles), mais nombreux sont aussi, parmi eux, des travailleurs qualifiés –médecins, ingénieurs, enseignants – dont l’Afrique du Sud a cruellement besoin. Certes, le nombre de migrants a augmenté. Pourtant, rapporté à la population totale du pays, le poids des étrangers reste relativement modeste.

La colère des « frustrés relatifs » ?

C’est donc plutôt l’échec des gouvernements post-apartheid à réduire la pauvreté et les inégalités et à faire reculer la criminalité qui est le plus souvent pointé comme cause de la xénophobie.

En Afrique du Sud aujourd’hui, le taux de chômage dépasse les 30 % (et est bien plus élevé dans les espaces les plus paupérisés) et plus de la moitié de la population vit sous le seuil de pauvreté, alors que l’enrichissement des élites a été extrême. Les inégalités, et surtout la pauvreté, sont des facteurs de « frustration relative » (relative deprivation). Leur inscription dans l’espace hérité concentre géographiquement le sentiment d’injustice dans les townships et plus encore dans les quartiers informels – c’est-à-dire les espaces où étaient, sous l’apartheid, cantonnées les populations noires.

Sous la présidence de Jacob Zuma (2009-2018), les inégalités ont explosé et la corruption s’est généralisée massivement à tous les niveaux de l’État. Le ministère de l’intérieur n’a pas été épargné : en février 2026, une enquête commandée par le président Ramaphosa (à la tête du pays depuis 2018) a révélé que de nombreux fonctionnaires acceptaient des pots-de-vin pour attribuer des visas. Or, c’est aussi à cette période que le quotidien des Sud-Africains s’est dégradé : coupures d’eau et d’électricité, infrastructures en déliquescences, services publics à l’agonie, criminalité endémique…

La méfiance à l’égard des forces de l’ordre s’est aussi accrue. La police, largement corrompue et violente, réprime et harcèle systématiquement les étrangers alors que sa tolérance à l’égard des groupes de « vigilants » voire des gangs criminels, notamment liés au narcotrafic, est bien connue.

La fracturation de la société est également une conséquence de la multiplication des mobilisations identitaires. Le régime d’apartheid était déjà fondé sur la ségrégation ethnique, au-delà de la seule ségrégation raciale (l’ensemble du système des bantoustans était une mise en œuvre de cette double ségrégation, raciale et ethnique, qui permettait de diviser la population noire pour mieux la contrôler).

Jacob Zuma a, à son tour, largement instrumentalisé l’identité ethnique zouloue (un des neuf grands groupes ethniques sud-africains, numériquement le premier puisqu’il rassemble près de 25 % de la population totale du pays), notamment lors de son procès pour viol en 2006 (à l’issue duquel il a été acquitté) quand ses partisans manifestaient vêtus de t-shirts « Real Zulu Boy ».

On ne s’étonnera donc pas que le mouvement March and March soit né à Durban (ville où, comme dans toute la province du Kwazulu-Natal, la population noire est à une écrasante majorité zouloue) et, qu’en tête de ses cortèges, viennent souvent des hommes en tenue traditionnelle zouloue. Cette forme particulière d’ethnicisation accompagne et nourrit la montée en puissance des mouvements nationalistes et populistes.

En Afrique du Sud, les modalités des processus liés à l’accroissement des inégalités et au repli identitaire nationaliste sont particulièrement violentes dans une société « à vif ». Mais le sentiment anti-migrants est bel et bien porté par des acteurs politiques et sociaux. Dans un contexte où la défiance envers l’État ne cesse de croître (celle-ci étant davantage aggravée par les accusations de corruption portées contre le chef de l’État, risquant de donner lieu à une procédure de destitution en 2026) et où la participation politique est en déclin, c’est bien pour la démocratie sud-africaine elle-même qu’il y a à s’inquiéter.

Philippe Gervais-Lambony ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d'une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n'a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.