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Condolences and contradictions — what André Lincoln's funeral exposed about the state
Condolences and contradictions — what André Lincoln's funeral exposed about the state

Daily Maverick

time10 hours ago

  • Politics
  • Daily Maverick

Condolences and contradictions — what André Lincoln's funeral exposed about the state

When retired top cop André Lincoln died recently, he faced a multimillion-rand state legal bill and accusations, which he denied, about a killed colleague. But President Cyril Ramaphosa approved Lincoln's funeral, meaning the state officially viewed him as honourable. Decades of state-driven action saw André Lincoln evolve from an anti-apartheid intelligence agent, to an undercover policeman in democratic South Africa, to a criminal accused who insisted he was framed, and then to an exonerated man and a celebrated police officer. But his state-dictated past, which stretched from apartheid into democracy, never let go. It clung onto Lincoln up until his death on 30 May 2025 at the age of 63. After Lincoln was convicted of criminal charges in 2002, which he insisted apartheid-era police officers concocted against him, he was kicked out the South African Police Service (SAPS). He successfully challenged his convictions, was acquitted and in 2010 was reinstated as a policeman. Lincoln versus the State This saga, rooted in the 1990s and with aspects entrenched in apartheid, produced years of legal sparring between Lincoln and the state. He said he was not compensated for his time out of the cop service – the years between his dismissal and readmission – even though he was exonerated. And Daily Maverick previously reported that the State Attorney was pushing for him to pay what could amount to about R4.8-million for previous court processes in which Lincoln was involved against certain police bosses. To put it succinctly, the State Attorney, via a cost order, wanted to recover from him what the government had spent on legal processes relating to him that had not panned out to his favour. This put Lincoln at risk of losing his pension. He tried to overturn the legal money demand, sometimes from a hospital bed he was confined to due to ill health – he had diabetes, went on to have a double leg amputation below the knees and a heart transplant. The cost order issue is also one of the last that Lincoln flagged with this journalist before his death. 'It should never have happened' In one of his previous communications to superiors to try to get the state to abandon the matter, Lincoln wrote: 'I have tirelessly dedicated my entire police career to fight crime, which I have done with distinction.' He was celebrated as that which he described himself as, at his funeral on 14 June 2025, a part of which was an official state send-off. This effectively means Lincoln only received the acknowledgement he sought from the state in death. Allan Boesak spoke at the funeral, saying that, aside from health issues, Lincoln died of a broken heart. Boesak also seemed to acknowledge Lincoln's legal and money drama, without going into nitty-gritty detail. 'It's not just about the money. That's still not resolved, those issues. It's about the other things that can be stolen from you. Your life and your work. Your honour, your dignity,' he said. 'And then comes the dragging of the feet so that even André lies here today, no longer alive, it's still not resolved. That is a shame. 'It should never have happened.' The legend Under apartheid, Lincoln was an ANC intelligence operative with uMkhonto weSizwe (MK) and fought the apartheid regime. He became a policeman when the country progressed into a democracy around 1994. Democratic South Africa's first president, Nelson Mandela, handpicked Lincoln to head an investigative unit that focused on suspicions of high-level organised crime suspects working with certain government figures and police officers. Such suspicions still rattle this country, especially in the Western Cape, where Lincoln was based. When Mandela appointed Lincoln to head the investigative unit, he had been an undercover police officer and said he created a 'legend' – a character – to conceal his identity. According to Lincoln, his legend involved him having to blend into organised crime circles and interact with figures including gangsters, so he may have come across as one of those dubious characters. His cover was blown when he was accused of various crimes – a saga he said fellow police officers, some apartheid-era policemen, deliberately orchestrated to derail investigations he was driving. After Lincoln was acquitted and readmitted to the SAPS, he climbed the ranks. He was appointed to head the Western Cape's Anti-Gang Unit in 2018 with the approval of President Cyril Ramaphosa – that same year a high court judgment found he had been maliciously prosecuted in the 1990s and was therefore entitled to R15-million in damages. But the State Attorney managed to overturn that. This is what saw the state pursuing money it said Lincoln owed it over the legal processes. In 2021, Lincoln retired and the situation persisted. Advocate Johan Nortjé, who represented Lincoln legally since the 1990s, previously said Lincoln had served as a policeman 'with dedication and distinction'. But when he retired he was 'left out in the cold as a disabled person with severe heart conditions at the age of 60, with only 11 years of his lifetime service being recognised by SAPS'. And Lincoln was saddled with the massive cost order. Such contradictions and pluralities in the way the state treated him were apparent at his 14 June funeral. Kinnear's killing Some of those relate to the 2020 murder of policeman Charl Kinnear in Cape Town. Kinnear should have been under state protection at the time of his killing, but was not. This sparked investigations into that security lapse and resulted in certain police officers, Lincoln included, being implicated. In November 2024, the Independent Police Investigative Directorate (Ipid) declassified its findings on the matter. This also meant that culpable homicide complaints filed by Kinnear's widow, Nicolette, could be solidified against nine police officers referenced in Ipid's findings – Lincoln included. He previously denied putting Kinnear at risk, and in related court papers stated: 'I believe that I am being persecuted by the SAPS because I have made disclosures about the inaction of my seniors.' All this ultimately meant that Lincoln died while facing the possibility of being criminally charged in connection with Kinnear's security, despite his denials, decades after he was convicted of crimes he said were maliciously crafted against him and of which he was acquitted. From Lincoln's perspective, he may have viewed this as an element of the horrific part of his history effectively repeating itself. Anti-Gang Unit reality At his funeral, Western Cape police commissioner Thembisile Patekile had glowing words about Lincoln. He said Lincoln had undergone various forms of training in the police and was 'a good leader with skills'. Patekile also spoke about how Lincoln was appointed to head the Western Cape's Anti-Gang Unit, which had Ramaphosa's backing. Daily Maverick has reported that the unit was launched towards the end of 2018 in an event that appeared to be something of a gimmick in the lead-up to a general election – it may have been used to try to gain votes for the ANC. Lincoln himself, after his retirement, spoke out about how the unit was not what was presented to the public. He had told Daily Maverick: 'I started realising… all those things were nothing more than an election ploy… 'The fact that we were promised a budget, that we never ever got. Even up to today, the Anti-Gang Unit is probably the most underresourced unit. 'As much as the public saw the emergence of this elite unit, there was nothing elite about it.' Omissions and officiality During Lincoln's funeral, none of that was referenced. Issues relating to accusations Lincoln faced – and had denied – about Kinnear were not acknowledged either. At one point, speaking at the funeral, Patakile explained how Lincoln had been promoted to the rank of major general. But what was not referenced was that when Lincoln was reinstated into the SAPS in 2010, his lawyer believed he should have then already been promoted to the higher rank of lieutenant general. At the funeral, Patekile described Lincoln as 'an ambassador for the police service'. Part of the proceedings was a category two Special Provincial Official Funeral, in other words, a state one. A Presidency document said this type of funeral was for ' distinguished persons specifically designated by the President of South Africa on request by the Premier of a province'. Constant contradictions During his tumultuous career in the SAPS, Lincoln had Mandela's backing when it came to the investigating unit that saw his career temporarily derailed. He also had Ramaphosa's backing when he headed the Anti-Gang Unit – and Ramaphosa, based on the provincial state funeral for Lincoln, effectively viewed him as a 'distinguished' person. Two presidents of democratic South Africa backed Lincoln, yet he still faced legal skirmishes with the state – and before that he fought the apartheid state. This means Lincoln came up against each government – the one he fought against and the one he fought for. These are the contradictions and incongruencies that shaped Lincoln's career, in democratic South Africa, and which trailed him to his death. It was as if the state itself treated Lincoln as if he were the 'legend' he created decades ago, and at the same time, as the top police officer it subsequently celebrated him as. At his funeral, Boesak described what Lincoln had faced in his life, saying: 'Danger from without and betrayal from within… 'That is what André had to live with. All of these constant contradictions. Up one day, down the other day. Swinging in the middle for most of the time. 'And yet trying to focus, trying to keep the course, because he believed in what he was doing.' DM

André Lincoln — from Mandela's protector to anti-gang pioneer, leaving a legacy of resilience
André Lincoln — from Mandela's protector to anti-gang pioneer, leaving a legacy of resilience

Daily Maverick

time30-05-2025

  • Politics
  • Daily Maverick

André Lincoln — from Mandela's protector to anti-gang pioneer, leaving a legacy of resilience

Retired top cop André Lincoln died on 30 May 2025 at the age of 63. He arguably had one of the most tumultuous careers in the history of the South African Police Service. What he leaves behind is not just a legacy of controversy, but of resilience and perseverance. 'Please remember we still have lots left to do.' These are the words André Lincoln, a retired policeman, wrote a few months ago when signing a copy of a book framed around his life. Lincoln, a married father of five, died in Cape Town on Friday, 30 May 2025. He was 63. Before Lincoln retired in 2021, he had a remarkable career in the South African Police Service that stretched over decades. He headed the Anti-Gang Unit in the country's gangsterism epicentre, the Western Cape. Years earlier, he was convicted of crimes of which he was later acquitted — Lincoln always maintained he had been framed because investigations he was conducting were causing panic among figures in the government who were up to no good. Opinions about him over the years were somewhat split — despite his acquittal, some individuals peddled the idea that he was criminal, while others believe he was still being maliciously targeted. Lincoln, when detailing his past, said he was effectively the first victim of State Capture in democratic South Africa. Before his time as a police officer, Lincoln was assigned to protect the democratic country's first president, Nelson Mandela, and before that he was an ANC intelligence operative taking on the apartheid regime. Lincoln recently said he was hellbent on trying to ensure that young children had decent role models. The country's trajectory disheartened him, he distanced himself from individuals linked to the state whom he had spent time with during earlier years, and he wanted a better South Africa, saying we must push for it. That is perhaps the legacy he now leaves behind. This journalist wrote a book, Man Alone: Mandela's top cop – exposing South Africa's ceaseless sabotage, that tracked Lincoln's life as this country's political arena shifted. It was published in November last year, and Lincoln signed my copy. Part of the message he penned says: 'Please remember we still have lots left to do.' This is an extract from the book: Man Alone André Edward Lincoln was born in the city of Mahikeng in South Africa's North West province on 28 October 1961 to devoutly Catholic parents, Reginald and Wilma. The two met in Mahikeng and later got married there in October 1960. They had three children, Lincoln and two daughters. Before 1994, Reggie was involved in underground MK activities — he'd helped smuggle recruits from Mahikeng to Lobatse in Botswana. Wilma, on the other hand, wanted to distract her husband from politics and protect her son from it. So she convinced Reginald to move to Cape Town (where he had gone to high school) to try to sever ties with political matters. This plan backfired. Spectacularly. Lincoln's footsteps matched his dad's. He and Reggie obviously share genes — Lincoln looks a lot like his father. And the two also shared deep foundational bonds. Aside from his MK activities, Reggie became a motor mechanic and had a workshop in the Cape Town suburb of Athlone, where Lincoln spent long periods next to him. Reggie also enjoyed sports such as soccer, cricket and, most notably, karate. He became a sensei, later spending his evenings and Saturdays teaching. Those who experienced his mentoring recalled how he taught students and those around him that everyone was born equal. Reggie, to them, truly understood and practised ubuntu – part of a Zulu phrase meaning 'I am, because you are.' Reggie was no ordinary sensei. He'd trained in Okinawa, Japan, the birthplace of karate. (When he retired from the sport in his late 70s, he was graded a sixth dan in Okinawa, which is a very high rank.) On home soil, Reggie dealt with issues like poverty and hunger through the sport. Out of his own pocket, he was said to have created a dojo first in the Cape Town suburb of Salt River, and then in Maitland. Reggie had also coached at a primary school on Robben Island — where Mandela was imprisoned for 18 of his 27 years; these were training sessions for the workers and officials (and their children) based there. He taught timeless karate prescripts: 'To strive for the perfection of character. To defend the path of truth. To foster the spirit of effort. To honour the principles of etiquette. To guard against impetuous courage.' These were likely the lessons Reggie instilled in Lincoln, who also excelled at karate. A primary school friend of Lincoln's said that Reggie had been the sensei at a karate school both he and Lincoln attended from a young age – 'I think that's where André got his discipline from.' Indeed, Lincoln achieved a grading of fifth dan in Japan in 1992. In the years after that, figures linked to underworld investigations recalled that Reggie was an impenetrable karate master whom they respected. It was his son they had issues with. Lincoln has textured memories of his father. 'His life, his influence, his energy, are inextricably linked to mine,' Lincoln recalled. 'I'm grateful that I'm becoming a more fully realised human being. A more caring, compassionate and empathetic person because of my dad.' Lincoln does not believe that money, possessions, or professional success quantifies a person. He said of his father: 'The true measure of a man is how much love he gives, how selflessly he shares whatever he can to help others, how consistently he lifts those around him with a kind word, a funny joke, a compliment, a humble ear, or the very shoes off his feet. By this measure my dad was immeasurable.' Lincoln also remembered Reggie as the most 'sincerely unselfish' person he had ever met, with no attachment to material goods. 'He would literally give you the clothes he was wearing; this became abundantly clear to us as children when he would always see to himself last and Mom and us first.' In 1974, at the age of 13, Lincoln was recruited into the ANC by Brian Williams, a former trade union leader who became the first head of the Labour Department in the Western Cape post apartheid, and whom Lincoln now describes as his mentor. A tender teen, Lincoln was effectively being trained to fight apartheid. He was being ushered towards MK — and towards becoming a child soldier. During an informal conversation with me, one of Lincoln's associates explained that theirs was a generation that lost out on vast tracts of childhood. They were reared to fight for liberation and against racism, and did not have the chance to have other children's experiences. Playtime was cut short. Toys were exchanged for guns, bullets or makeshift weapons. They were under immeasurable stress, even though they may not have understood it at the time. Those children had to defend themselves, a country, and the children they'd perhaps have one day. Lincoln, the child undergoing a baptism of political fire, attended St John's Roman Catholic School in the Cape Town suburb of Kensington. Of his time as a young boy, Lincoln, with a naughty look in his eyes, says, 'When I was at school I was afraid of only two things — the Security Branch… and my mother.' By 1980, aged 19, Lincoln was part of the ANC's national tactical unit. In 1982, still following in his dad's footsteps, Lincoln joined MK as part of a cell led by Tony Yengeni, now a former ANC chief whip, who gave him a crash course in underground warfare in an abandoned classroom in Kensington. Lincoln received further military training in Zimbabwe and Angola, and later worked in the MK information wing. By 1989, he worked on a campaign that involved marches and other acts of defiance by organisations that the apartheid government had banned. An informant of his would later recall that Lincoln drew strength and motivation from anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko's words: 'Black man, you're on your own.' Lincoln then found himself working for the ANC's Department of Intelligence and Security (DIS), which was still operating underground beyond the grasp of apartheid. On the surface it looked like South Africa was inching away from that regime, but some who'd been ensconced within the state felt that wasn't exactly the case. DM

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