
The opinion piece critiques short-term, profit-driven models and calls for investment in human potential, even when immediate returns aren’t guaranteed. photo illustration
Across rural Africa, new energy infrastructure is steadily rolling out. From solar mini-grids to national grid extensions and last-mile connections, power is reaching communities that have long lacked access to it.
On paper, this development is a game-changer. For communities that have long lived without power, this should be transformative.
But it isn’t. Instead of unlocking productivity, new energy access stalls at lighting homes and charging phones.
The deeper economic momentum—growing businesses, activating value chains, increasing incomes—rarely follows. Not because the potential isn’t there, but because we haven’t designed for it.
As electricity begins to flow, a persistent question arises: Is there enough demand to justify the investment? It’s a reasonable inquiry, but it rests on a flawed assumption—that demand already exists and should be measured.
In truth, demand is not something that naturally appears with access. It’s something that must be designed, enabled, and nurtured.
The dominant approach to rural electrification is built on a logical but overly simplistic chain: provide access to power, which leads to productivity, which increases income, which then catalyses development.
But in practice, this chain breaks almost immediately.
The assumption that electricity alone will unlock economic activity ignores the many critical elements needed to make productivity possible—tools, training, finance, markets, logistics, and coordination.
These enablers rarely arrive at the same time or in the right sequence.
Without them, electricity remains underutilised. It lights homes and charges phones, but it doesn’t transform lives.
A closer look reveals a more troubling pattern: everyone involved in development energy companies, agricultural officers, donors, and NGOs, is doing their job. Solar systems are installed, training is provided, grants are disbursed, and reports are written.
Yet little changes on the ground. This isn’t due to a lack of commitment or competence. The problem lies in the structure of delivery. Each actor is focused on their mandate, not on the functioning of the system.
Infrastructure by itself does not lead to productivity unless the surrounding ecosystem is ready to support and absorb it.
Unfortunately, no one is typically tasked—or funded—to ensure that this readiness exists. Governments, particularly in countries like Kenya, often operate reactively based on fragmented donor-driven funding streams.
Energy providers, in turn, are incentivised to deliver kilowatts, not improved livelihoods.
Their business models are based on current levels of demand, which in impoverished areas reflect conditions of poverty rather than economic potential.
This creates a feedback loop. Because people don’t use much electricity today, it’s assumed they won’t use much tomorrow.
As a result, less investment is made, reinforcing low usage. But demand in such contexts isn’t static—it’s latent. With the right conditions, electricity can catalyse economic activity.
Yet, most energy delivery models are not designed to harness this potential.
They provide basic access—a few hours of power, often without appliances or support services—and leave everything else to chance.
What’s needed isn’t just more input, but a different way of thinking. The most significant barrier is not technical—it’s architectural.
There’s no one responsible for aligning the moving parts so that power leads to productivity. Programs are created in silos.
Energy is handled by one team, training is dealt with by another, and enterprise development is managed by yet another.
They don’t intersect in meaningful ways. This lack of orchestration means that systems don’t just fall short—they fail quietly.
Power is delivered, but no economic motion follows.
Training is completed, but no tools or capital are available to put new skills to use. Nothing visibly breaks, but nothing truly changes.
The real cost of this disconnection is momentum—the forward motion that helps businesses grow, livelihoods improve, and communities believe in progress.
When that motion is missing, expectations fade. People grow sceptical of new initiatives, not because they’re ungrateful, but because the system repeatedly proves unable to deliver tangible outcomes.
Projects remain small. Opportunities stay isolated.
And value chains operate at a bare minimum, just above subsistence, with no real leverage to grow.
To break this cycle, it’s not enough to deliver more infrastructure, more training, or more grants. The loop only breaks when the logic itself changes.
Productivity must be designed for, not left as an afterthought. That means aligning interventions, so they arrive in a coordinated sequence.
Power must come with appliances and equipment. Training must connect directly to viable business models.
Financing must be based on real revenue logic, and logistics must be tied to functional supply chains.
This shift demands a paradigm where development is no longer fragmented into isolated efforts but approached as a dynamic interplay of interconnected systems.
To truly catalyse productivity, electricity must be viewed as the spark that ignites a chain reaction, linking skills acquisition, resource availability, financing mechanisms, and functional markets.
Each element must support the others, working harmoniously to create a self-reinforcing cycle of growth.
Only through such integration can the latent potential of underserved communities be realised, transforming access into empowerment and infrastructure into opportunity.
This kind of design isn’t flashy. It’s practical, even unglamorous. But it’s what makes development interventions stick.
It’s the connective tissue that turns isolated efforts into a functioning system.
A similar paradigm shift was observed during the development of undersea cables in East Africa—a monumental undertaking that redefined digital connectivity on the continent.
While the concept initially faced scepticism and a lack of understanding among many stakeholders, its impact has been transformative, driving innovation across sectors such as finance, education, and healthcare.
However, the lessons learned from this initiative highlight an essential truth: infrastructure alone, no matter how groundbreaking, is not enough.
The cables created pathways for data, but the broader ecosystem—encompassing access, training, and enterprise development—was what unlocked meaningful progress.
The current investment logic is part of the problem. Most energy projects employ narrow, short-term profitability models that assume modest growth based on current consumption levels.
However, in underserved communities, current consumption often reflects poverty, rather than potential.
As a result, the actual value of electricity—its ability to unlock productivity across sectors like agriculture, health, and education—is ignored because it’s difficult to quantify in advance.
Investors, especially in the private sector, often demand predictable short-term returns. Even development finance institutions, which are more tolerant of risk, typically require a minimum level of commercial viability.
So, if a productivity gain can’t be monetised quickly, the opportunity is lost. Few actors are willing—or able—to take on the risk of orchestrating the entire ecosystem.
The root issue is that most infrastructure is delivered in isolation. Electricity is seen as an endpoint, rather than the beginning of economic acceleration.
Roads, digital tools, cold storage, and training programs are implemented independently, with no shared responsibility for outcomes.
The system is treated as a collection of parts, not as an integrated whole.
To change this, we must reframe our approach to development. Someone must be empowered and funded to look at the whole system—to make sure the pieces not only arrive but work together.
This doesn’t require inventing a new solution. The components already exist. What’s needed is the function that brings them into alignment.
In short, we must stop delivering outcomes in isolation and start delivering systems by design. Only then will power become more than a utility—it will become a tool for prosperity.
We’re ready to demonstrate what that looks like, not just in theory, but on the ground.
This article was co-authored by Liesbeth Bakker of CASBI – Centre for Applied Sciences & Business Innovation.
The insights in this article are drawn from field-tested readiness frameworks developed and deployed by the team across sectors, now being adapted to agri- and energy-enabled productivity.
For other partners interested in piloting this approach, don’t hesitate to reach out.