It is difficult to find appropriate adjectives to explain Abraham Benjamin de Villiers’s World Cup performance yesterday. I was there, at the Sydney Cricket Ground, when AB demolished the West Indian bowling: swishing, sloshing and smashing their bowling to all parts of the ground. There was one reverse-sweep off the fast bowling of the West Indian captain which defied belief. AB scored 162 off 66 balls, the fastest 150 ever scored, a record he should have had earlier this year, when he demolished the same West Indian team in Johannesburg, scoring 149 off 44 balls. (I remember critics saying that Johannesburg is a small ground and high above sea level. Well, I can tell you, the SCG is none of those things.)
It started relatively slow. Helanya and I had made a poster specifically for the game – Float like a butterfly, s
twing like AB – and after AB walked in, we had to wait several overs before he scored his first boundary and we could lift it high. (While we didn’t make it onto TV, Shaun Pollock did tweet – Float like a butterfly, sting like AB – either through incredible coincidence or because he saw our poster at the ground. Did I just fly halfway across the globe to have my poster plagiarised by Polly?*)
I don’t think the current generation of South African kids really appreciate just how special a cricketer AB is. I know the game has evolved, that it’s ‘a batsman’s game’, but to play the shots AB did yesterday against a bowling attack that, at least initially, showed determination to be accurate and consistent, requires something special. Where South Africa’s other batsmen struggled to force the scoring rate, AB had the ability to seamlessly leap to a higher level, creating boundaries from balls that should be no more than singles down the ground. The way he scooped the fast bowlers, for example, adjusting to the speed and bounce of the pitch, was extraordinary. He seems to bat with a sixth sense.
It was an incredible night and great to see so many South African supporters. We were still a bit jet-lagged (having arrived the day before), but AB’s innings quickly extinguished any yawns we might have had. He seems to have smashed South Africa’s confidence right back, and that can only be good for us in the rest of the tournament. We’ll be in Canberra for the next game. And Polly, we’ll have another poster for you too.
*After my post, Shaun Pollock sent me the following tweet: “My friend sent it to me after AB got his 100 at the Wanderers, enjoy your trip!” Thus: apologies for crying plagiarism. It seems like great minds do indeed think alike!
What South Africa’s first match against Zimbabwe in this year’s Cricket World Cup made abundantly clear, is that Zimbabwe’s national cricket team is much more representative of their country’s demography. Not one ethnically black (or ‘African black’) player was in South Africa’s starting eleven; our country’s demography (roughly: 80% ethnically black, 9% Coloured, 9% white and 2% Asian/other) is nearly the exact opposite of our national team demography (in the last Test match: 9% black, 18% Coloured, 64% white and 9% Asian/other). That is disappointing after two decades of democracy.
But it’s not as if there’s many black players clamoring for selection: Aaron Phangiso is the only ethnically black player in the group, and he will find it difficult to replace our incumbent spinner, Imran Tahir, who has become an ODI wonderkid. The pipeline is also pretty empty: I don’t know whether Kagiso Rabada, a right-arm fast bowler that destroyed Australia in the semi-final of the u/19 World Cup last year and ended the tournament as the highest South African wicket taker, will be a star Protea bowler one day. All I know is that he has the potential to be a star, which is why the national selectors thought it wise to select him for the national T20 side, only to be smashed by Australia. Let’s hope he learns, hopefully with his self-belief and confidence intact, and that he isn’t pushed too hard too fast.
Unfortunately, Kagiso is the exception rather than the rule. Since the democratic transition in 1994, very few ethnically black players have played in the Test side; Makhaya Ntini being the only one that could keep his place for an extended period of time. Of course, this is not a problem unique to cricket; the current Springbok side is as white as what it was in 1995 when it won the World Cup for the first time. But cricket’s failure to grow ethnically black talent seems to be particularly acute.
No one is disputing the fact that we need more black players to be selected for the Proteas. I think it is fair to say that Makhaya Ntini was a favourite not only among black fans; he was a favourite to all because he was entertaining and hard-working and brilliant. Yet no more Ntini’s have come through the system. I’ve written before on why that is. To summarize: cricket is expensive, in terms of time and resources. It is incredibly difficult for a young kid from an impoverished background to have access to good coaching, facilities and family support that will allow him to compete on a level playing field against richer kids. In South Africa, the poorest 80% of the population is almost entirely black. And because cricket skills are developed from a young age, black kids in poor schools simply cannot compete against their wealthier white compatriots. It is also why, if you really want to change the system, you have to start in school.
Which is exactly the opposite approach Cricket South Africa has taken. Last year, the University Sport South Africa (USSA) Cricket Week enforced quotas for different race groups. Each team had to field 3 ‘players of colour’, one of which had to be ethnically black. Teams struggled to fill the quota, some having to field only 9 players because they could not meet the quota requirements. In 2015, the quotas will increase to 4 players of colour, 2 ethnically black. In 2016, it will be 6 players of colour, three ethnically black. It is impossible to see, given current trends, how most universities will be able to adhere to these requirements without 1) putting players without the required ability at risk of injury and 2) without discouraging good players from playing cricket.
Quotas are useful when there is evidence of what I call irrational racism: if there are enough black players that can be selected but coaches or managers choose to ignore them. Such irrational racism is irrational because coaches are supposed to pick the best players to win the tournament, and if they discriminate against black players then they hurt their own chances of success. In such an environment, quotas would force racist coaches to pick the black players instead of the inferior white players.
I doubt that this is what is happening at universities, though. In my discussions with university managers and players, they spend an inordinate amount of time scouting for black talent. The few black players that are available are headhunted by all universities, with promises of bursaries and free tuition. And in some cases, the really good ones, like my Masters student and former Stellenbosch captain, Omphile Ramela, are drafted to the provincial side, where quotas also mean that those coaches are frantically looking for even more promising black players.
Let me phrase this in terms of economics. Racial quotas shift the demand curve for black players, but does nothing about the supply side. The only way you shift the supply side, as any first year Economics student should know, is by improving technology and thus productivity. So the standard response to ‘how do we get more black kids in sport’ is not ‘force teams to play them’ but ‘build better facilities in schools’.
Yet we are clearly not building better facilities in schools, or providing better coaching, or, at least, we are not doing it fast enough. And yet, politicians and, in most cases, fans (myself included) want to see faster progress. A different answer is clearly needed.
So, Cricket South Africa, here is my suggestion: allow the private market to develop black talent. Economists know that the best way to ensure a steady supply of any good is to get the incentives right. And to get the incentives right, in this case, would require some financial support. Instead of a quota at the USSA Cricket Week, allow teams to pick any player they want to. But for every ethnically black player they field, pay them R500 000 (or R100 000 per match). For every Coloured player, pay them R250 000 (or R50 000 per match). If all teams pick only black players, Cricket South Africa would need a maximum budget of R50 million to stage the tournament. Do this every year for at least 10 years. (To ensure that universities play to win, give an additional R5 million in prize money.)
What is likely to happen? University coaches will react to these incentives swiftly. They will realise that it can be incredibly lucrative to field a team with several black players. They can therefore plan to invest their future earnings today; spend the next two years finding black players, nurturing and developing them (an expensive exercise), offer them bursaries (even more expensive), and fielding them in three years’ time. Intermediaries – good development coaches with an eye for talent – will realise that if they invest in black young kids with potential, universities will be willing and able to buy these players from them: expect the creation of numerous (profitable) cricket academies around the country that will improve access for black kids to better facilities and better coaching. The result is that a much larger pool of black talent will emerge, allowing provinces to pick and choose and the national team to prosper.
R500 million over a ten year period is a lot of money. But I suspect not more than R200 million will be needed, as good white players will still be selected (especially if there is a financial reward for winning). If the government (perhaps with the help of sponsors) are serious about transformation in sport, they need to put their money where their mouth is. And because much of the money will go into bursaries, this type of spending has large positive externalities too.
Quotas, although easy to enforce, won’t solve the shortage of professional black cricketers. If we want to produce a Makhaya Ntini or Kagiso Rabada every year, a well-funded system that gets the incentives right is the only viable alternative.
What South Africans learned last night – if we did not already know it – is that if we are to make progress as a country, it will happen despite and not because of our politicians. Everyone lost in last night’s State of the Nation embarrassment: the EFF who, after chasing around one of their own MPs in the streets of Cape Town, interrupted the president repeatedly during his State of the Nation Address; the Speaker, who ordered armed police to forcibly remove the boisterous EFF members; and ANC MPs, for cheering on while EFF members were assaulted. And I haven’t even mentioned the jamming device used to scramble all cellular networks (shut down only after journalists and opposition MPs insisted that it be turned off). Or the fact that DA members marching outside were hosed down by riot police, and some arrested. The solemn figures of Thabo Mbeki and FW de Klerk in the parliamentary gallery depicted perfectly how far our country’s leadership has fallen.
But perhaps, in search of our dark cloud’s silver lining, what happened in parliament yesterday, although a reflection of the state of the nation, is not a reflection of the future of the nation. Another South African made news yesterday, news that will affect countless more lives (even South African ones) than what our president did or could say in a State of the Nation address. Instead of focusing on the sorry figure of Zuma, perhaps we should pay more attention to the ideas and plans of our greatest export in recent years: Elon Musk, founder and owner of Tesla and SpaceX, who is, incredibly, still only 41 years old. Musk announced on Wednesday that Tesla is planning to unveil a new lithium-ion battery pack that homeowners could buy to store and supply their own energy. Here’s Time Magazine:
Details on the batteries were sparse, but an obvious use would be placing them in homes equipped with solar panels to store excess energy. Solar energy company SolarCity already offers Tesla battery packs in some markets that customers can use to store energy and use as a kind of emergency generator. Musk is the chairman of SolarCity and its largest shareholder.
In addition to selling to residential customers, Tesla could also sell batteries to utilities trying to increase energy efficiency.
A shortage of electricity is arguably South Africa’s most immediate constraint: South Africa is producing less electricity than it did twenty years ago, owing to a lack of investment in new power plants and maintenance on existing ones. It is embarrassing to explain to my international visitors that, yes, we have a schedule about when power cuts will occur. Load shedding is killing investment, growth and jobs. Zuma acknowledged as much: “The country is currently experiencing serious energy constraints which are an impediment to economic growth and is a major inconvenience to everyone in the country”. He outlined short, medium and long-term responses, none new. According to most experts, we can expect load shedding for most of 2015 and well into 2016.
That is, if we trust government to deliver on its promises. We shouldn’t. Last night showed us that the best we can hope for is a government that does little harm. Don’t expect that any time soon, though. Instead, we should trust those people who have an incentive to get things right: if they do, and we begin to use batteries in our homes like we use toasters, they win fame and fortune. Musk will become an even richer genius. Politicians, in contrast, have none of those incentives. The way they make money is to skim the cream of a big tender. Delays mean larger contracts and more to skim off. There is nothing in politics that incentivize leaders to be efficient.
Entrepreneurs are different. They must innovate, improve, and deliver to satisfy the demands of millions of consumers. The better they do this, the more money they make. And this innovation improves the planet, too. Battery-powered homes (and cars and offices) will allow us to make better use of renewable energies, especially in a sunny and windy South Africa. It will allow us to connect the 3.5 million people that still don’t have access to electricity. (Consider the impact cell phone technology on African living standards.) And it will allow us to escape the inefficiencies of badly-run state monopolies. #powertothepeople #inmuskwetrust
Better politicians are not the answer to South Africa’s woes. Better entrepreneurs are. For South Africans, the light at the end of Eskom’s dark tunnel is a fast-approaching train. For Musk, it’s an entirely new world.
Black South Africans have suffered a lot over the last two centuries. I am an economic historian and, together with some of my students, have recently begun a project which hopes to quantify the material inequalities between black and white South Africans over the last 200 years. It is not easy, because the colonial records have often ignored the black experience. And yet, there are clues everywhere. From early nineteenth-century government payrolls (where black translators earned one-tenthousandth of what the white governor earned) to mid-twentieth century cadaver heights (where blacks are significantly shorter in height than their white compatriots).
All this evidence points to the incredible material injury of black South Africans. And this is to say nothing of the psychological scars and social strife that has accompanied this material hurt.
This suffering is much longer than the colonial experiences of many other Africans on the continent. Although Van Riebeeck already arrived in 1652 and first contact with the isiXhosa’s at the infamous Fish River was more than a century later, this was still much earlier than the colonial experiences of other African countries, which started around the end of the nineteenth century. True, many countries across Africa suffered the vulgarities of the slave trade, most pronounced during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. But South Africa’s colonisation, I would argue, was worse, with Europeans subjugating complex agricultural societies to material inferiority by taking their lands, stealing their cattle and, above all, exploiting the minerals that they had claim to. (Is it not ironic that the Queen of England still wears Africa’s most prized diamond?)
When and where black societies adjusted to the new reality of colonialism – proverbially pulling themselves up by their shoelaces – they were punished, either through higher head and hut taxes to ensure that they remain docile labourers, or through more sinister (but also more effective) policies, like building a railroad circumventing the black areas, excluding blacks from the vote despite their immense contribution (to both sides) during the Second South Africa War, or, most infamously, by providing rubbish education (with the 1953 Bantu Education Act). For two centuries, at least until 1994, whites did their best to discourage, disrupt and, when those two did not work, destroy, African innovation and entrepreneurship.
All this changed in the new South Africa, for although blacks were (and many remain) at a serious disadvantage, there was no one to now stand in their way. And so, we witness the rise of the black middle class and the black diamonds. Sandton today is perhaps the epitome of this black entrepreneurial class; confident, successful, prosperous. South Africa has moved from a nation of between-group inequality (i.e. white vs black inequality) to a nation of within-group inequality. As an example, if all of South Africa’s whites were to leave the country tomorrow, the Gini coefficient (the measure social scientists use to quantify the inequalities of a country) would remain exactly the same. Over the last two decades, millions of black South Africans have escaped poverty and moved into the middle class; some studies estimate that this group is now close to 5 million people, larger than the total white population. And yes, whites have prospered too, despite their complaining and moaning about everything from BEE to racial quotas in the Springbok team. None of this hurt them (on aggregate), and the only things that do hurt – violent crime, corruption, blackouts – hurt black South Africans even more.
But the post-1994 South Africa is not a narrative about a minority group that represents less than 10% of South Africans. Instead, it is a story of a people rising up from the depths of economic and social deprivation. It is a remarkable story of courage, determination, and perseverance and triumph-against-all-odds. Black South Africans have claimed their birth right and begun to overturn centuries of injustice. They have had to skill up, build up collateral, educate the next generation, all with relatively little support from a government that first had to steer a sinking ship through shallow waters. And more: they have had to reconcile with racists, so magnanimous a step that we forget it is called a miracle.
And yet, when Jacob Zuma blamed apartheid for Eskom’s blackouts and when he branded Jan van Riebeeck the scapegoat for the country’s high levels of inequality, he changed the narrative again. Suddenly, South Africa was not a country where black South Africans had the agency to affect their own destiny, but one where whites had (again) the starring role. This tiny minority, Zuma implied, was the lead actor in the South African story; his statements suggest that black South Africans are, at best, supporting characters, much like in the days before 1994. While whites are up in arms at being blamed for everything, they are happy to be part of the conversation again, happy to be listened to, happy to have their say. (For, really, why should South Africans otherwise care about the opinions of a former presidential secretary?)
Zuma does this, I would argue, because it gives him legitimacy (much like Bob Mugabe gets legitimacy by blaming the whites in Zimbabwe, now less than 1% of the population). But Zuma is wrong. While this may still be a country home to millions of whites, it is certainly not a country about them. By blaming whites, Zuma is denying black South Africans the right to take ownership of their own future.
South Africa is a country of immigrants. 2000 years ago, when Romans were conquering Europe, Chinese invented paper making, and Jesus was born in the Middle-East, only the San lived in South Africa. Visit Aliwal North, or Lesotho, or Fish Hoek, or Kwazulu-Natal, and you will find evidence of their existence. Around 300 CE, groups of blacks crossed the Limpopo, settling within the boundaries of modern-day South Africa. Roughly three hundred years later, these groups reached the Eastern Cape. This slow process of gradual migration – known as one of the largest migrations in world history – created the cultural differentiation within black society that we still observe today: the clicks of the Xhosa, for example, is the result of assimilating the Khoesan language. The reason they supplanted the ‘indigenous’ San was iron-working and crop cultivation: two key ingredients to support larger populations. Recent evidence shows that another group – the Khoe – moved into South Africa roughly between 900 and 1300 CE. A pastoral people, they came from Botswana, crossed the Gariep, and settled in the Western and Eastern Cape. (They were roughly 10 cm taller than the San, who still relied mostly on hunting and gathering, although with the arrival of the Khoe, the San often lived in a servant-relationship with the Khoe.)
It was the Khoe the Portuguese first met on their visit to Africa’s southernmost trip in the fifteenth century. And it was the Khoe who lost their land when the Dutch settled the Cape in the seventeenth century. And after 1652, that dreaded date in South African history, came more Europeans: Germans, English, French, Scandinavians. And with the Europeans came slaves from the East: mostly from modern-day Malaysia, Indonesia, India, Sri Lanka, Madagascar and Mozambique, but also China, Iran, and the coast of West Africa (even as far as the Canary Islands).
During the nineteenth century came more Europeans, British mostly, moving to sunny South Africa to escape the working-class squalor of the early Industrial Revolution. And when diamonds and gold was discovered, more came, this time from all across Europe, and America, and Australia. But the diamond mines required labour, and so millions of Africans came from across southern Africa: Tswanas from Botswana, Shonas and Ndebele from Zimbabwe, Makua and Tsonga from Mozambique, Chewa and Lomwe from Malawi. At the beginning of the twentieth century, more than 60 000 Chinese were brought to work on the mines, although the experiment proved disastrous and most were sent back. In Kwazulu-Natal, however, the settlement of more than 150 000 Indians on sugar plantations proved more enduring.
Immigration never stopped, not even during apartheid, comprising many nationalities, religions and ethnicities: Jewish, Portuguese, Greek, to name a few. The world wars brought thousands of Western and Eastern Europeans to South Africa. And mines continued to bring foreign workers to the country, in their tens-of-thousands. And it continued after 1994: Between 1995 and 2010, more than a million Basotho (from Lesotho) and Swazi (from Swaziland) traveled to South Africa every year. The New South Africa brought Chinese and Pakistani and Cuban and Bangladeshi and Nigerian and Somali and Congolese and Vietnamese and Senegalese immigrants to our shores. Many of the Italian and German and Irish and American tourists who fall in love with the country and its people, stay behind. More than a million Zimbabweans now call South Africa home.
South Africa is a country of immigrants. And yet, we treat our new arrivals like shit. This week, xenophobic attacks in Soweto relived the awful attacks of 2008. Poor communities are disgruntled because immigrants ‘steal the jobs of locals’. And while the attacks on foreigners are limited to townships, the vitriolic sentiment is pervasive, even into upper middle-class households. “Send them back to their own countries” is the standard response on news sites.
It is certainly sad that many of the foreigners’ origin countries are struggling economically, notably Zimbabwe. But South Africa should be thankful to these immigrants, welcoming them, offering them work visas (and, after a few years, citizenship) and allowing them to build our economy. They are not a drain on our resources, but a boon. The literature on the economics of immigration suggest that immigrants stimulate the domestic economy, creating jobs (and not stealing them). That is because immigrants are often better-educated, more resourceful and more driven; they have to make a success because their support structures (family and ethnic networks) are limited. Especially in South Africa where skills are in short supply, foreign skills are critical if our economy is to thrive.
South Africa, the rainbow nation, should be the one place where we celebrate diversity, where we live Thabo Mbeki’s vision of the African Renaissance. It is deeply ironic that we consider our African neighbours ‘foreigners’ only because they live in countries created by European colonial officials randomly drawing lines on a map.
Instead, we despise these ‘foreigners’. We attack them. We loot their shops. We don’t give them work visas, which means they can’t find work as nurses, or electricians, or university professors. They find it difficult to open a bank account, register a car, or buy a house. In short, we make their lives a living hell. (Read Jonny Steinberg’s latest novel – A Man of Good Hope – to get a sense of the hope and determination of these immigrants, but also of the sad reality of their unwelcoming arrival here. The Economist reviews the book here.)
I am sure we can all do better. For the future of South Africa, we need to do better. That a country which has survived apartheid can be so hostile to outsiders is perhaps the greatest indictment against our generation. Especially considering that we are all, essentially, immigrants.
I rarely get to read fiction books these days, but that changed this holiday when, on advice of Helanya, I decided to tackle Ken Follett’s Century trilogy. The books follow families (and later extended families) in five countries: Wales, England, Russia, Germany and America. And it is epic in scope: the first book, Fall of Giants, covers roughly WWI and its immediate aftermath (1900s to 1920s), the second, Winter of the World, covers the rise of socialism, fascism and WWII (1930s-1940s), and the third, Edge of Eternity, spends an inordinate amount of time in the 1960s (the rise of the Berlin Wall, the Kennedy assassination, and the civil rights movement in the US) but then moves rapidly to conclude with the fall of the Wall. A brief epilogue describes Barack Obama’s victory speech in Chicago.
The story begins with Bill Williams and his sister, Ethel, raised in a strict (Godly) household in a fictional town in Wales. Billy is thirteen and about to begin work in the local coal mine, while Ethel, strong and sexy, works in the estate of Lord Fitzherbert and soon begins an affair that would have repercussions in all three books. To give a sense of the intertwined nature of the story (spoiler alert): Ethel’s illegitimate son fights in WWII against his aunt’s secret husband, becomes a Member of the British Parliament, marries an American women who is the daughter of a Russian bootlegger, and has a dyslexic son who becomes one of the world’s most famous musicians.
Ken Follett won’t win the Nobel for Literature, but he has created something quite wonderful. History writing is often criticized for being dry and detached – ‘just one damn fact after another’ – but this historical storytelling is everything but dispassionate. It’s easy to learn about historical events – the Battle of the Sommes, the storming of the Winter Palace, Pearl Harbor, the Freedom Riders movement, Cuba, Vietnam, Watergate – when beloved characters are intertwined in the plot, often on both sides. Here the stories of two Russian brothers, Grigor and Lev, are a fascinating case in point: Grigor wants to go to America but ends up giving his ticket to his lazy and murderous brother, Lev. Their paths diverge dramatically: Lev will become a rich man, a movie producer, his (illegitimate) son a US senator. Grigor will start the Bolshevik Revolution, help introduce communism to Russia and remain a man of power within the Russian elite. But in comparison to Lev, Grigor’s family will be relatively poor, will experience continuous shortages of food and other basic necessities, will be continuously harassed by the secret police, will be ill-equipped in all the wars they fight, and, ultimately, will see the system implode on itself. For those who favour communism, this series is a stark reminder of why it does not work.
It’s difficult to be critical of such a series, but with such an epic scope, some things are missed. There is little mention of the world outside Western Europe, Russia and the United States. Latin America (apart from Cuba) hardly features. Asia (apart from Vietnam and Japan) hardly features too. Africa might not exist; I think South Africa gets three mentions, one on the Boer War and two on apartheid. The character who recommends that France remains in the post-WWI negotiations may have been Jan Smuts, but the remarks are attributed to a British lord. Nelson Mandela or African independence should have received an honourable mention, especially during the discussions on civil rights.
But these are small qualms. Together, the three books are more than 2500 pages. That’s already bordering on encyclopedic. Ken Follett has given us the easiest way to learn about a century that won’t be easily forgotten.
Of the 1 252 071 South African students who entered Grade 1 in 2003, only 150 752 (or 12%) matriculated with access to a Bachelors degree at university. That single statistic encapsulates the sad reality of the South African education system. Even worse, a large proportion of the 12% won’t ever make it to university, either because they have alternative plans or, more likely, because they cannot afford it. Those who make a success of their university education will go on to find well-paying jobs; those without access (or who fail) will have to compete with the 88% remaining 18-year old’s for a job in a country with a broad unemployment rate of close to 40%. The severe income inequality in South Africa today is perpetuated by the inequality of our education system.
In addition, fewer unskilled and semi-skilled jobs are being created. Mechanisation and computerisation mean that robots are increasingly doing the jobs of unskilled workers; walk into a motor vehicle assembly plant, or visit a maize farm, or go to a supermarket in a developed country and you can easily see how robots and machines are replacing human labour. I even get phone calls from electronic telemarketers (surely, those can’t be successful?). So, given the large supply of unskilled labour in South Africa and the dearth of demand for such workers, what can those matriculants without access to university do?
A lot. Although there are many jobs that are becoming redundant because machines can perform them better, technological innovation can also be complimentary to unskilled labour, i.e. robots can also create jobs for poor people. In contrast to the first phase of industrialisation – when poor, unskilled (blue collar) workers worked on farms or in mines and (manu)factories and rich, skilled (white collar) workers had cosy desk jobs in the services industries like banking and insurance – the trend is reversing: the highest paying jobs are now building and programming the robots who do all the farming and mining and manufacturing, while poorer, less-qualified workers work in the services industries. Yes, some service industries, like lawyers and accountants and dentists, are still incredibly well paid, but other service industries that provide work for unskilled labourers are also flourishing.
Consider cellphone repair shops in townships. A decade ago, only fixed-line pay phones were available in poor areas, and they were serviced by technicians of Telkom. Now, with a little bit of ingenuity and experience, anyone can be a cellphone (or laptop) repair man (or woman). Smart phones are not only connecting companies with clients, but also with a work force they would never have had access to. As The Economist writes this week, the future of work will increasingly be outsourced. That is true both for skilled occupations, like lawyers and HR and management consultants, but also for unskilled labourers. Consider Uber, a car service which was founded in San Francisco in 2009 and which already operates in 53 countries including South Africa. Technology allows anyone with a decent car to act like a taxi service, creating jobs for people that only need a drivers license. It will certainly injure the existing taxi services. But it is generating far more new jobs than it is destroying, simply because far more people will use the new (cheaper and more efficient) service. (Unfortunately, government regulations are very slow to adapt to new technologies, and it is incredibly disappointing that Uber cars are now being pulled off Cape Town roads simply because government officials are unwilling, or unable, to understand the immense benefits of the new service, killing jobs for those who need it most.) Or consider Handy, a company where you can find someone to clean your house, or do small plumbing jobs, or paint, or fix the paintings to the wall. Technology (such as smart phone apps) now allow the providers of such services to be matched to the suppliers of such services at very low cost, creating jobs for the unskilled.
What can be done to encourage more of this behaviour? Governments could ease regulation to make such exchanges legal and less complicated. Entrepreneurs should build apps that allow people to match their needs (dog sitters, electricians, massage therapists, tattooists, midwives, house cleaners, snake catchers, whatever) to those who can provide it. What we need is a Gumtree for the service industry, with an interface like Uber.
But kids leaving school can help themselves too. They can start by acquiring basic skills that will be needed in a future where robots are our friends. A drivers license can still get you a job (especially working for yourself through Uber), but perhaps Google’s self-driving car will make that obsolete in ten years’ time. So here is my advice: think about what services cannot be done by machines. Sport coaches. Au pair services. Beauticians. Chefs. Wedding planners. Gardeners. Music teachers. Barbers. Paramedics. The best thing is that none of these require a university education. And these jobs will be in-demand for a long time to come; in fact, chances are you are more likely to find a job qualified in one of these professions than if you were to leave university with only a Bachelors degree. Often they will require extremely hard work and long hours, but in most cases you will be able to work for yourself, which means you determine the lifestyle you want.
Robots are not the evil things that will destroy the jobs of the poor. They may destroy some jobs, yes, but they will create far more jobs in other places; in fact, they may be the saving grace for our faltering education system. To identify the opportunities new technologies offer, matriculants without a university access will have to innovate, experiment, be entrepreneurial and dedicated. They will also have to learn to work with robots, not against them.