Note: This is an un-published essay by Heinrich Bohmke in which he comes clean: he actually does work for the police. Somehow, he thinks he can get away with using 'radical' analysis to delegitimise the activism of others (such as those who protested against COP17). Yet, Bohmke himself is the biggest hypocrite of all. He himself "talks left and walks right". What revolutionary 'autonomist' activist would ever consider working for the police while at the same time lambasting 'reformist activists' and 'neoliberal social movements' for daring to protest on issues such as climate change or housing? This article, which perhaps he never wanted published, proves to anyone who still thinks Mr. Bohmke is an honest and fair writer, that he is anything but that. Mr. Bohmke can't play both sides (who knows if he even realises his own hypocrisy!!!). He can't be police / impimpi and a revolutionary autonomist at the same time. In other words, never trust a COP.
Every two years or so this really nice training gig comes up. I grab two boxes of files and some branded pens, get on two planes and head up to Kimberley in the Northern Cape. I’m hired to train a unit within the South African Police Service how to fire those within their ranks who contravene Regulation 20 (z) of their disciplinary procedure.
Regulation 20 (z) is reserved for murderers, armed robbers, rapists, fraudsters and, above all, extortionists. Owing to a useful quirk in our law of evidence, it is easier and faster to fire cops who commit criminal offences than it is to put them behind bars; the latter mostly never following the former. The idea behind Regulation 20 (z) is, for example, that even if a rogue cop demanding R300 from an illegal immigrant is not convicted of this crime, he will at least lose his badge. I should quickly admit that contributing to this high-minded mission is not why I enjoy the SAPS training so much. Mine are sad and perverse reasons. I get a thrill out of being picked up at the airport in a marked car by crisply uniformed lads, whisked from a guesthouse to the Galeshewe Cluster Headquarters every morning and then, once within this nerve centre, to not only move around freely among the top brass, but to have my every word taken in by 45 of the most earnest and impressive among them.
Every two years or so this really nice training gig comes up. I grab two boxes of files and some branded pens, get on two planes and head up to Kimberley in the Northern Cape. I’m hired to train a unit within the South African Police Service how to fire those within their ranks who contravene Regulation 20 (z) of their disciplinary procedure.
Regulation 20 (z) is reserved for murderers, armed robbers, rapists, fraudsters and, above all, extortionists. Owing to a useful quirk in our law of evidence, it is easier and faster to fire cops who commit criminal offences than it is to put them behind bars; the latter mostly never following the former. The idea behind Regulation 20 (z) is, for example, that even if a rogue cop demanding R300 from an illegal immigrant is not convicted of this crime, he will at least lose his badge. I should quickly admit that contributing to this high-minded mission is not why I enjoy the SAPS training so much. Mine are sad and perverse reasons. I get a thrill out of being picked up at the airport in a marked car by crisply uniformed lads, whisked from a guesthouse to the Galeshewe Cluster Headquarters every morning and then, once within this nerve centre, to not only move around freely among the top brass, but to have my every word taken in by 45 of the most earnest and impressive among them.