NIALL FERGUSON
India’s massive blackout is just the beginning.
The British—slightly less than a thousand of them—used to govern India. Without air-conditioning.
Conan
O’Brien was not the only one who watched the London Olympic opening
ceremonies with amazement. “Hard to believe my ancestors were conquered
by theirs,” he tweeted. Every Indian watching must have been thinking
the very same.
Until their TVs went dark.
The
recent power outage in India interested me more than the Olympics. (I
had a very British reaction to the opening ceremonies: I found them
excruciatingly embarrassing.) The Indian blackout was surely the biggest
electricity
failure in history, affecting a staggering 640 million people. If you
have ever visited Delhi in the summer, you will have some idea what it
must have felt like.
“Every
door and window was shut,” Rudyard Kipling recalled of summer in the
scorched Indian plains, “for the outside air was that of an oven. The
atmosphere within was only 104 degrees ,
as the thermometer bore witness, and heavy with the foul smell of
badly-trimmed kerosene lamps; and this stench, combined with that of
native tobacco, baked brick, and dried earth, sends the heart of many a
strong man down to his boots, for it is the smell of the Great Indian
Empire when she turns herself for six months into a house of torment.”
There
was a reason the British moved their capital to the cool Himalayan hill
station of Simla every summer. Maybe today’s Indian government should
consider following their example. Because power failures like this are
not about to get less frequent. On the contrary, the outage has exposed
the single greatest vulnerability of the Asian economic miracle: it is
fundamentally underpowered.
In
the past 10 years, according to the energy giant BP, India’s coal
consumption has more than doubled, its oil consumption has increased by
52 percent, and its natural-gas consumption has jumped by 131 percent.
For China the figures are, respectively, 155 percent, 101 percent, and
376 percent. Asia as a whole is insatiably guzzling fossil fuels. And
this is not about to stop. The McKinsey Global Institute expects India’s
economy to grow at an average rate of between 7 percent and 8 percent from now until 2030.
The
good news is that all this growth will do something (though not enough)
to compensate for the depressed state of indebted developed economies
like the United States and Europe. The bad news—apart, of course, from
the soaring CO2 emissions—is that Asia’s creaking institutions may not
be able to cope with the staggering social consequences.
According
to McKinsey, India’s urban population will increase from 340 million in
2008 to around 590 million in 2030. By then, India will have 68 cities
with populations of more than 1 million, including six megacities with
populations of 10 million or more, of which two—Mumbai and Delhi—will be
among the five biggest cities in the world.
To
cope with this breakneck urbanization, India needs to invest $1.2
trillion over the next 20 years to upgrade the infrastructure of its
cities. Mumbai alone needs $220 billion. Will it happen? In India, there
is a sideways movement of the head that means neither “Yes” nor “No,”
but “Please don’t ask that.”
India’s
electricity grid has missed every capacity addition target since 1951.
The system is so dilapidated that 27 percent of the power it carries is
lost as a result of leakage and theft. Even today, 300 million people—a
quarter of the population—don’t have access to the grid. That’s one
reason the blackout didn’t spark more public ire.
The
root of the problem is one of many leftovers of India’s
post-independence experiment with socialism. Half of India’s power
stations are coal-fired. Indian coal is produced by a state monopoly
(Coal India). The price is controlled by the state, as is the price of
electricity itself. The private firms running power stations are trapped
between a lump of coal and a hard place. They cannot even trust the
regional distributors to order the right amount of power.
In
effect, Indians have a National Power Service similar in many ways to
the National Health Service their former rulers in Britain are so proud
of. Which brings me back to the Olympics. Surely the most embarrassing
thing about Danny Boyle’s opening extravaganza was the surreal dance
routine involving 1950s-era hospital beds and nurses. Considering just
how bad the NHS is in any meaningful international comparison, you have
to wonder what the Indian equivalent would be. How about a stadium full
of coal-fired power stations, all dancing in the dark?
Something to look forward to at the 2028 Mumbai Olympics.
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