I had a curiosity about the word public and I also had curiosity about the word private. Once you add a prefix re- it becomes republic and similarly for private it become re-private. In the Sotho-Tswana languages the “re private” will literally mean “we are private” and so we are no longer a republic. So many goods that fit a public good such as schools, health, security and now electricity are private, water will follow and the privatisation of public goods will have been concluded by our neoliberal government. Are we still the republic or have we become the Reprivate of South Africa? But what are the implications of the mad season of privatisation we have entered into, especially on the poor?
My neighbourhood has been known for common misery of darkness when the habitual load-shedding strikes. Last night, however, as the daily load-shedding began, my neighbour took me by surprise. While I grovelled in instant darkness, his home switched immediately into brightness. My yard even had the benefit of partial brightness. I was green with envy that my neighbour abandoned the unspoken solidarity pact of darkness we shared. He has escaped the collective punishment. For quite some time I have been debating whether I should join the bandwagon of inverters and solar panels. In 2020 I had solar geysers installed not because of load-shedding, but it made economic sense to have them alongside other energy facilities Eskom provided, including energy for cooking. But Mr De Ruyter’s parting shot at Scopa last week gave me a reality check when he said the load-shedding will last more than two years. With that prospect, chances are my neighbour is soon going to see competition as I empty my pockets not only to get electricity but pay an additional R50,000 for inverters that store electricity from Eskom for use when its lines are down.
Think about the implications for South Africans who live below the upper poverty line as revised last year to R1,450 per person per month. This figure leaves at least every second South African in poverty. The data of the statistician-general in his General Household Survey of 2019 showed 80% of poor households access electricity for cooking, 65% access electricity to power TV sets, 60% use electricity for refrigerators, while 30% use electricity for radio. Once there is a blackout the poor lose a chunk of their existence that depends on electricity.
What are the political implications of a blackout as we approach the 2024 national ballot? The ANC conference raised a lot of hype, and the 2024 elections will drive South Africans into a hyperbole of political activity. But with the predictions of Mr De Ruyter, politicians across the spectrum are in for a surprise because their constituency among the poor will not be able to view the public debates. Sixty-five percent of the poor depend on electricity to participate in political debates through television. SA is certainly poised for a dark democracy. The poor subscribe to paid television programmes, and in this regard 23% of them have paid channels, but because of universal darkness they will not receive what they paid for.
Eighty percent of the poor depend on electricity or gas for cooking. Once there is load-shedding the poor have nowhere to run. Their choice is eating raw mealie meal and raw meat, should they be lucky to have meat as times get tougher. What about the implication for hygiene? Only 5.5% of the poor use electricity for heating water, so electricity or no electricity, they lose little where bathing is concerned. It is back to a washing basin and handwashing clothes for the 14% of those who are poor. No more washing machines for the next 24 months. This impact of this disruption on the poor is unimaginable because they do not have the luxury of inverters and solar panels. It is back to using antique irons on clothes. But where would they get an iron because all metal has been taken to the scrapyard, including “istove sam sa malahla” — a coal stove? Life for the poor will behell. They do not have access to alternatives because of the prohibitive prices from the alternative means of energy. Lucky is the business community, whom minister of small business Stella Ndabeni Abrahams promised relief. For the poor such relief is not possible, even if it were to be ushered through a R350 grant like TERS — what they need is electricity to go on with their lives. To this end, there is totally no plan for them, be it in respect of solar panels or inverters. After years of tasting the fruits of democracy away from paraffin stoves, cow dung and firewood, they are told by the just-transition gods that “you the poor are but cow dung and to cow dung you will return”.
This is the harsh reality that the hurriedly cooked just transition, together with some deep historical corruption in our grid, throws at the poor. This will be worse in winter. Yet my hope for a possible solution to the energy crisis was ignited by Mojalefa Murphy of M-Cycle. On Friday night we were playing with his toy that demonstrates the power of the M-Cycle, Valerie Maisotsenko’s invention that is poised to change energy systems forever. Through the evaporative cooling intervention, the heat mass exchange cooled to a dew point of 18ºC, well below the wet bulb. Mojalefa almost jumped into the swimming pool crying Eureka! Scientists have to be at the forefront of tackling this energy crisis. Nikola Tesla said free energy in the air should be exploited for humanity. Valerie Maisotsenko has shown this reality, and Mojalefa Murphy for the past four weeks has been on a mission to demonstrate how this is a feat of science that will change world energy systems. No mountain is too high to climb; let us claim the republic from the reprivate.
Dr Pali Lehohla is the director of the Economic Modelling Academy, a professor of practice at the University of Johannesburg, a research associate at Oxford University, a board member of Institute for Economic Justice at Johannesburg's University of the Witwatersrand and a distinguished alumni of the University of Ghana. He is the former statistician-general of South Africa.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.