Amanda Jitsing

It’s a Sunday evening and now 30 hours into a power outage. I would have been happy with load shedding. At least, those power cuts last for two hours and there is a defined start and end to it. But in my case, the problem is bigger. I understand from a solitary message on the Official Facebook Page of the City of Tshwane that there is a cable fault at the substation that serves our neighbourhood.

Along with millions of South Africans, I have learnt to accept that load shedding and power outages will become a feature of my life over the next few years. We have even started to adapt to our situation – gas stoves, LED torches and solar powered lights help consumers, like me, to build some resilience to power outages.

Barring the inconvenience, spoilt food and a rather unproductive weekend, I am not overly annoyed by this power outage. After all, it’s been a while since I last drafted a note by candlelight. However, our plight is made worse by the limited information we have received from the City of Tshwane.

So why is it so difficult for the City to let its residents know what has happened and when it will be fixed? After all, communication is surely simpler than say, fixing a substation. This situation reminded me of some research DNA Economics did a while ago on norms and standards. As researchers, we had hypothesised that because government departments had not set service standards, the quality of services could not be monitored. As a result, the quality of public services would fall over time.

Over the course of our research, we were surprised to find that there were service standards in place. In 2002, the electricity sector had developed a set of voluntary service standards for all electricity distributors. These standards were set out in the NRS-047-1:2002.[1] Even more surprising was that the National Energy Regulator of South Africa, in its attempt to improve customer service, had incorporated these standards into their license conditions. In other words, electricity distributors, like the City of Tshwane, had to comply with these service standards.

In essence, these service standards turn the Batho Pele principles, into measurable and concrete targets for municipalities. For instance, the NRS 047-1 recommends that a municipality should answer 85% of incoming calls within 15 seconds. Like many of my neighbours, I have tried to call the City of Tshwane a number of times since yesterday evening with no success. After holding on for about half an hour with no answer each time, I finally gave up. The City of Tshwane’s response time seems to be way off target. Another standard states that supply should be restored within 24 hours for 98% of forced interruptions. Seemingly, our situation falls within the 2% that cannot be resolved within 24 hours, but we have yet to be told how long we can expect to be without power.

The Batho Pele principles and these service standards are designed to improve the responsiveness of municipalities. So, why is it that municipalities find it so hard to communicate with their citizens? There may be a number of reasons. First, there is a growing divide between government officials and citizens. This schism brings with it a certain level of apathy between these two groups. Apathy can turn the important relationship between a government and its citizens into one characterised by distrust and disrespect. Without greater empathy (and respect), government officials are less able to relate to the plight of citizens. This can make them less responsive and at times downright rude to citizens. For citizens, not being given information or listened to can be dispiriting.

Second, principles and standards only work if citizens hold government to account. This is the concept of an active citenzry, where communities and ordinary citizens engage with government when things go wrong (and even when they go right). A fundamental aspect of an active citizenry is using the right channels to communicate with government. Often, we voice our concerns in the media or to our neighbours. We even write blogs (guilty!) or post our displeasure on Twitter. But, these are not necessarily the mediums that government monitors or takes seriously. A case in point, the Official Facebook Page of the City of Tshwane posts alerts but rarely responds to the posts by residents of the city. Part of being an active citizen is learning to communicate with government through established channels such as complaints mechanisms and ward committees. At this point, you are probably thinking that these are largely ineffective instruments. But, by using these channels, we can make them work better.

So before I descend into total darkness, as a first step, let me pen my complaints letter to the City of Tshwane. If that does not work, my next step will be to escalate the complaint of NERSA. All of these steps may seem overly complex and time-consuming, and would be completely unnecessary had the City simply informed its rate-paying residents of what had happened and when the problem would be fixed. But, as an active citizen, these steps are important if I am to do my bit in trying to hold my local government to account. And just maybe, next time, the City of Tshwane will learn that a little information can shed a lot of light on a power cut!

p.s. We are now into our third night without power, and still no word from the City.