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IOL News
29-05-2025
- Business
- IOL News
Pray for entrepreneurs: the devil is in the details
Finance Minister Enoch Godongwana's Budget 3.0 may have spared us a VAT hike curse, but he unleashed a slow poison in the form of a 4% inflation-linked increase in the fuel levy, the writer says. Image: Picture: IOL Finance Minister Enoch Godongwana's Budget 3.0 may have spared us a VAT hike curse. Still, he did unleash a slow poison in the form of a 4% inflation-linked increase in the fuel levy, adding 16 cents per litre on petrol and 15 cents on diesel, effective from 4 June 2025. Small businesses that dodged the blue 'VAT devil' now face a red 'fuel-levy demon' pushing up transport and input costs, squeezing already razor-thin margins. Between a VAT hike that would have been a broad-based bite or a fuel levy that's a sneaky surcharge on every wheel that turns, entrepreneurs must decide which monster stings less—and learn to sidestep whichever serpent gets under their bonnets. The last time South Africans danced to 'the devil made me do it' was during the 2021 budget speech, cooked by the late Finance Minister, Tito Mboweni. On that fateful day, fuel levies were increased by 27 cents per litre- comprising 15 cents for the general fuel levy, 11 cents for the Road Accident Fund levy, and 1 cent for the carbon fuel levy. Video Player is loading. Play Video Play Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration -:- Loaded : 0% Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Window Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Transparency Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Dropshadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Advertisement Next Stay Close ✕ Ad Loading I won't bore you with the political mixed reactions of that time, which amounted to nothing more than hot air- without even a hint of Nando's aroma. Even the term 'small business' appeared only once in a 23-page budget speech document, where it was noted that the Department of Small Business Development has allocated R4 billion over the medium term to township and rural enterprise development, including blended finance initiatives. Only the devil knows who bewitched South African small businesses to remain an invisible, tiny dot -in the corridors of power. Once again, if we take a step back to the 2020 budget speech crafted by the late Minister Tito Mboweni, the ghost of the fuel levy appeared mysteriously much like his famously unusual 'tin fish' cooking times. (R.I.P. Chef Tito, we miss you). In that 2020 budget speech, the fuel levy increased by 25 cents per litre, with 16 cents going to the general fuel levy and 9 cents to the Road Accident Fund levy. I'm not against the experts' sentiment that the scope of fuel primarily relates to transport-related costs, while VAT is broad-based, covering all goods and services. However, the Finance Ministers' budgets from 2020, 2021, and now in 2025 have been 'hacking' small business pockets with sneaky fuel levies. South Africa's small-business battleground is quietly becoming a tax buffet. For SMMEs that earn a living out of an already slim profit margin, these charges are like tiny termites taking a bite from every rand of hard-won revenue. What looks like a humble R0.16/L extra at the pump is a profit drain for township SMMEs. Every extra penny on fuel will be etched in every invoice that lands in the mailboxes of small businesses. Logistics companies, where fuel accounts for 40% of costs, could see operating expenses rise, further eroding their razor-thin margins. Retailers and service providers who depend on delivery services now face a choice: absorb the cost or pass it on to customers, risking churn in a price-sensitive market. Taxi commuters will also feel the pinch, as it is one of the few industries where fare discounts offer a rare sanctuary. The budget speech resembles a spiritual brawl in Bushiri's church arena, where the worshipers spared from the curse are those who hope and learn to pray, 'go deeper Papa,' because the devil is in the details of every budget tweak. To survive, savvy small business owners must incorporate these extra levies into their pricing, tighten logistics, embrace technology, and get creative on how to manage the levy vampire—at least until the next budget brawl. Bongani Ntombela is an executive: programmes at 22 On Sloane. Bongani Ntombela is the Programmes Director at 22 On Sloane, Africa's Largest Entrepreneurship Campus. Image: Supplied BUSINESS REPORT Visit:
The Citizen
20-05-2025
- Business
- The Citizen
When liberation swapped the streets for boardrooms
South Africa's liberation leaders once fought for dignity; now, many chase dividends in corporate suites. The late Tito Mboweni, third from right, during the Sunday Times Top 100 Companies 2017 event in Joburg that celebrated JSE-listed companies that had done well. Picture: Gallo Images There was no drumroll. No grand announcement. No whisper even. But it happened – quietly, suddenly and irrevocably. Somewhere between the last exile's return and the first black economic empowerment (BEE) deal signed, the liberation struggle changed outfits. It swapped khaki fatigues and wood-handled AKs for navy-blue suits, Montblanc pens and private equity portfolios. That day, the struggle went corporate and at first felt like victory. For decades, the architects of the struggle fought not for title deeds and car allowances, but for dignity. For the right to exist, speak, learn and lead. In prison, exile and underground, they endured the unimaginable so that future generations could live unshackled. When the gates of Robben Island opened and negotiations began in earnest, the idea was simple: liberation should now mean transformation. ALSO READ: Workers' rights: Union members tend to become spectators while leaders take decisions It was time to take the reins of power. Politically, yes, but also economically. By the late 1990s, the symbols of victory were shifting. Comrades who once huddled over Marxist pamphlets in Lusaka or Dar es Salaam were now being seen in Sandton skyscrapers and five-star conference centres. The rallying cry of 'the people shall govern' evolved into strategic board appointments, BEE scorecards and shareholder activism. Some wore it well. But for many, especially those groomed in struggle circles but disconnected from post-liberation policy, the new terrain was confusing and seductive. Deals were structured not around need or equity, but access. Who you knew and the struggle resumé you carried. The term 'Struggle Credentials' found new life. ALSO READ: Minister extends date for comments on R100 billion transformation fund No longer just a badge of honour, but a currency. It would be disingenuous to pretend this evolution was all betrayal. For many, it was a genuine shift in the theatre of struggle. If capital had been the tool of oppression, then surely mastering it, reclaiming it, was the next phase of emancipation. Then, the language of freedom became interchangeable with financial jargon. Development was measured not by clinics or clean water, but by returns on investment. Public intellectuals who once challenged state power now issued press releases defending profit margins. And corporate events began with liberation songs, rendered in mezzo-soprano as background entertainment between keynote addresses. The tragic brilliance of the South African story is that it was so well-intentioned. We wanted to believe that wealth could be wielded ethically. That capitalism could be tamed and Africanised. That executive power could be used to empower, not just enrich. But markets have no memory. And soon, neither did we. In the process of 'being taken seriously', the movement adopted the postures of the very structures it once vowed to dismantle. ALSO READ: What problem does government want to solve with R100bn Transformation Fund? Respectability became strategy. The revolution wore a Rolex and arrived late to the AGM. Those who raised questions about extractive economics, about moral drift, about the marginalisation of communities were quietly pushed aside. 'Idealist.' 'Out of touch.' 'Still stuck in the past.' The real thinkers, agitators and grassroots leaders, many of them women, many of them youth, were left at the periphery. Not everyone succumbed. There were those who tried and are still trying to reimagine power. To hold space between justice and profit. Thinkers like Mamphela Ramphele, who never shied from critiquing the dilution of the liberation dream. Or Neville Alexander, who warned about replacing one elite with another. ALSO READ: Steenhuisen hits back at Sakeliga's claims he is pushing pro-black agriculture policies Thuli Madonsela, who demonstrated that integrity could exist inside high office without being swallowed by it. Duma Gqubule, whose economic commentary continues to call out the illusions of inclusion. Many remain unsung. Men and women who chose less glamorous paths. As once-famous names died, obituaries would reveal their 'covert' roles in the struggle. 'Underground operative,' 'MK combatant,' 'intelligence courier.' Sometimes the claims rang true. Other times, we squinted. The real resistance was, and still is, unglamorous. Unrewarded. The woman who fed exiles with her last meal. The teacher who snuck in black consciousness literature. The nurse who hid activists during curfew. The ones who never got invited to sit on a board and never asked to be. If the first liberation was political, and the second economic (however flawed), then perhaps a third is emerging: a moral and intellectual reawakening. ALSO READ: Sho Madjozi accuses AfriForum of being used by Elon Musk in bid to launch Starlink in South Africa One where liberation is not measured by wealth or status, but by how we care for the most vulnerable. Where blackness is not sold back to us through branding. Where struggle is not a springboard to entitlement, but a commitment to service. This doesn't mean we must abandon ambition or success. It means interrogating its purpose. The day the struggle went corporate was not a betrayal. It was a choice. As history marches forward, we must ask ourselves, honestly: what kind of legacy are we building? – This article first appeared in Global South Media Network –
