Selective Remembrance is a Betrayal of our Shared History and the Sacrifices of Black South African Heroes

I write this opinion piece with a heavy heart and a deep sense of outrage. As I watched the video circulating widely from President Cyril Ramaphosa’s recent engagements in France, my blood boiled. Fresh from the solemn 110th Commemoration of the Battle of Delville Wood on July 12, 2026 at the South African National Memorial in Longueval, the President is seen shaking hands exclusively with white South African military veterans’ representatives. There is not a single black face among them. No descendants of the courageous black African soldiers who toiled, suffered, and died in service of our country’s contribution to the First World War. This is not mere optics. It is a profound and unacceptable betrayal that strikes at the core of who we are as a nation.

On that day in Longueval, President Ramaphosa participated in a wreath-laying ceremony and the unveiling of a UNESCO commemorative plaque. The event honoured South Africa’s sacrifices during the Battle of Delville Wood, part of the brutal 1916 Somme offensive. The 1st South African Infantry Brigade, under Brigadier-General Henry Timson Lukin, fought with legendary valour. Ordered to capture and hold the dense wood “at all costs,” these predominantly white volunteers endured six days and five nights of hell. Relentless German artillery, counter-attacks, hand-to-hand fighting, mud, thirst, and exhaustion reduced their ranks dramatically. Of roughly 3,200 men who advanced into the wood starting July 15, 1916, approximately 2,536 became casualties. Only a few hundred emerged when finally relieved. Their stand helped secure key objectives and became a symbol of South African courage, rightly commemorated at the majestic memorial in Longueval where oaks and birches now stand where once there was devastation.

I honour that bravery as a veteran of Umkhonto we Sizwe and someone who serves on the Portfolio Committee on Defence and Military Veterans and the Joint Standing Committee on Defence. I understand the cost of war. But history demands completeness. To celebrate Delville Wood while erasing the massive contribution of black African South Africans is to perpetuate the very racist exclusions that defined the Union of South Africa’s participation in the war. Black South Africans were barred from combat roles by design — the white establishment feared arming them and the ideas of equality they might encounter in Europe. Instead, they were funnelled into the South African Native Labour Corps (SANLC). Some 25,000 black men answered the call, with around 21,000 deployed to France. Their labour was indispensable: unloading ships at ports like Le Havre with impressive efficiency, building and repairing roads, railways, airfields, and quarries, and keeping supply lines flowing under constant threat. Without them, the Allied effort on the Western Front — including the operations that the South African Brigade supported — could not have been sustained.

The pinnacle of their sacrifice came on February 21, 1917 with the sinking of the SS Mendi. Carrying men of the 5th Battalion SANLC, the troopship was rammed in thick fog by the larger SS Darro off the Isle of Wight. It sank rapidly, claiming 616 Southern African lives — 607 black troops and 9 white officers — plus crew members. These men, many of whom had never seen the sea, faced death with extraordinary dignity. As the ship listed, Reverend Isaac Wauchope Dyobha, a Xhosa minister and interpreter, rallied them: “Be quiet and calm, my countrymen. For what is taking place now is what you came here to do… Brothers, we are drilling the death drill. I, a Xhosa, say you are my brothers… Swazis, Pondos, Basothos… we are the sons of Africa. Raise your war cries, my brothers, for though they made us leave our assegais in the kraal, our voices are left with our bodies.”

Those words echo through time as a powerful assertion of humanity against dehumanisation. The black soldiers sang and stood firm. Many could not swim. Their bodies lie scattered on the seabed or are commemorated on memorials like the one at Hollybrook in Southampton. They received no war medals — a deliberate slight rooted in racial policy. Yet today, at the very memorial in Longueval, their story is partially inscribed through poems and panels. Why, then, was President Ramaphosa’s public engagement limited to white veterans only? The video shows him making fresh promises to these white veterans representatives about increased funding for the SANDF. These promises ring hollow. Successive governments have allowed the SANDF to decay through chronic underfunding, corruption, and neglect. Veterans’ welfare, particularly for black and previously disadvantaged communities, remains inadequate. I have raised these issues repeatedly in parliamentary oversight visits to bases like Hoedspruit, Simon’s Town,Langebaan and Lohatla, and in committee meetings. Empty rhetoric changes nothing.

I am deeply outraged by the video now making the rounds, showing President Cyril Ramaphosa at the South African National Memorial in Longueval, France, during the 110th Commemoration of the Battle of Delville Wood on 12 July 2026. In it, he is seen shaking hands exclusively with… pic.twitter.com/RDlhS5za5w

— Carl Niehaus (@niehaus_carl) July 16, 2026

The black labourers of the SANLC and the fallen of the Mendi were part of the continuum of our liberation struggle. They fought imperialism abroad while we were still enduring it at home. This makes the exclusion in the modern remembrance even more painful. The exclusion in the modern remembrance is not accidental. It reflects a government that has abandoned radical economic transformation, land expropriation without compensation, and the dismantling of white monopoly capital. Instead, we see cosmetic reconciliation that protects unrepentant racist structures while black pain is sidelined.

I have seen the marginalization of black veterans, specifically those who were members of Umkhonto we Sizwe, APLA, and the other liberation armies, who are treated very differently and discriminated against as compared to the military veterans of the old South African Defence Force who fought for the apartheid regime. This is utterly unacceptable, unconscionable. It is an outrage. This pattern of discrimination extends the historical injustices of the past into the present, where those who fought against apartheid are sidelined while those who defended it continue to enjoy preferential treatment and recognition. It undermines the very foundations of our democracy and the sacrifices of those who fought for true liberation.

The said video is circulating at a time when the contradictions in our democracy are laid bare. As an EFF Member of Parliament serving on defence oversight structures, I have witnessed firsthand the decay of the SANDF and the marginalisation of black veterans. Promises of funding and support have been made time and again but remain unfulfilled. The government’s approach to remembrance mirrors its broader failures: selective inclusion that appeases certain constituencies while sidelining the majority. How can we build a united nation when the contributions of black South Africans — essential, sacrificial, and unrecognised for far too long — are once again rendered invisible in such a high-profile setting?

True nation-building requires acknowledging all contributions without hierarchy. Black South Africans did not choose labour roles; they were forced into them by a system that viewed them as inferior. Yet they performed with excellence and dignity. Their story must be centred, not footnotes. The EFF has consistently demanded this: full representation of SANLC descendants and Mendi families at commemorations, dedicated funding for transformation in defence, and policies that honour black military heritage.

President Ramaphosa must answer directly: Why only white representatives in that video? Where were the black voices honouring the 607 who perished on the Mendi and the thousands who laboured in France? How can we speak of unity and progress while erasing African agency in our own history? The government’s selective memory breeds resentment and undermines the very foundations of our democracy.

I call on all South Africans, especially veterans, the youth, and progressive forces, to reject this erasure. Demand inclusive ceremonies that reflect the full spectrum of sacrifice. Support the push for SANDF restoration to at least 1.5% of GDP, with prioritisation of black veterans and radical transformation. History will judge us not by grand memorials alone, but by whether we honour every son and daughter of Africa who contributed to freedom’s cause.

The Mendi men died as brothers. We must live as such — unapologetically inclusive, revolutionary, and committed to complete liberation. Anything less dishonours Delville Wood, the Mendi, and the long walk to genuine freedom that still continues today.

* Carl Niehaus is an EFF member of parliament and EFF permanent representative on the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee for Defence and Military Veterans and the Joint Standing Committee on Defence.

** The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of IOL.