OpinionPREMIUM

This is no way to honour our soldiers

Facing the nation, our leaders should have foregrounded empathy and compassion, not politics

SANDF officials hand over of the mortal remains of the captain Simon Mkhulu and Irvin Thabang from the DRC at Waterkloof air base in Pretoria on February 21 2023. File photo.
SANDF officials hand over of the mortal remains of the captain Simon Mkhulu and Irvin Thabang from the DRC at Waterkloof air base in Pretoria on February 21 2023. File photo. (ANTONIO MUCHAVE)

When in 1994 South Africa walked into democracy, we did so with the swagger of legitimacy, approval and even envy.

We knew we were the chosen ones. Led by revered statesman Nelson Mandela, with a government that reflected not only our diversity but also our miraculous transition from hate to reconciliation, we had one mission: to become an exemplary citizen of the world. Accordingly, we took our rightful place on the world stage, participating in critical structures of the UN and key events like the World Economic Forum.

This also meant participating in peacekeeping missions across the globe to help create a better world.

But war comes with casualties — even if you are on the “right side”. Wars also come with rules and conventions, especially where there are casualties. The recent comedy of errors surrounding the communication of the events in Goma, in the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, leading to the death of at least 13 South African soldiers, is a stark revelation that, even if we mean well, South Africa has not learnt the rules and conventions of communication in conflict situations.

Soon after the tragedy in Goma, many things went wrong. First, the government took forever to confirm the stories that were making rounds in social media circles. In its defence, government could argue that it was making sure it had the right facts — names and other details of casualties — before communicating with families and addressing the nation.

Wrong. We live in a world where news travels fast, and we should move as fast. At most, 24 hours after the tragedy, the head of the army should have deployed teams to the families of the deceased to inform them privately, with dignity, and promise more details as soon as they were available.

In the 1998 war movie Saving Private Ryan, set in France in 1944, an army captain and a group of soldiers are sent to find Private Ryan to inform him that his three brothers had fallen in the war. The moral of the story? Be the first to break the news.

The South African National Defence Force failed to do this. Families learnt via social media that their children had been killed. The subsequent mop-up operation went badly.

Defence minister Angie Motshekga travelled to the DRC to “establish the facts” and came back to be publicly rebuked by her deputy, Bantu Holomisa. She seemed to give commander-in-chief President Cyril Ramaphosa half-baked information, and he issued a statement that led to a diplomatic fallout with his Rwandan counterpart, Paul Kagame. As if that were not enough, international relations minister Ronald Lamola jumped into the fray, which added more confusion to what by now looked like a web of lies.

South Africa broke the conventions of war. In war situations, only the commander-in-chief or the generals speak. Not everyone. But as usual, in  South Africa, politicians want the limelight, and everyone wants to be in front of the cameras. During the Covid crisis, only the president spoke to the nation. In between, corporative governance and traditional affairs minister, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, was the face of communication, supported by health minister Zweli Mkhize. It wasn’t a free for all.

Our leaders were quick to be drawn into the politics, instead of focusing the nation’s concern on the tragedy

Only the head of SANDF or the president should have been the ones talking. Everyone else should be part of the situation room briefing, advising the commander-in-chief. Heads of the armed forces are not to be drawn into politics, and typically do not entertain “sensational” media enquiries.

Also, and quite strangely, what sort of combatants are we that we are — it seems — only too keen to broadcast our losses? In war, parties boast about their conquests and downplay their losses. This is called propaganda. It serves to drive doubt and fear in the minds of the enemy. The M23 militia, reportedly responsible for our soldiers’ deaths, were talking only about how they had taken over the city of Goma. They did not tell us about their losses, if any.

And most importantly, if it is indeed true that we are in the DRC as part of a UN or Sadc peacekeeping mission, why are we the spokespersons for the mission? If our soldiers were attacked and killed as part of a peacekeeping mission, shouldn’t the communication be led by the mission? We are not there in our capacity as South Africa, so why speak as South Africa? Why not speak as part of the UN or Sadc?

When finally they faced the nation, our leaders should have foregrounded empathy and compassion, not politics. The government, after informing the families about their loved ones, should have dictated the agenda and mood of the nation to be one of mourning. Our leaders were quick to be drawn into the politics, instead of focusing the nation’s concern on the tragedy.

As a result, we're left with saddened and ill-informed families, angry political partners, lies and a nation that jokes about our armed forces. This is not how we should be honouring the memories of the soldiers who gave their lives for the South Africa we birthed in 1994.

 Mabote is executive chair of Decode Communications, a reputation management company.


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