Agricultural economist Lesedi Mokoena explains how VAT on sorghum unfairly penalises low-income households, erodes indigenous heritage, and undermines food security.
This is not just about a grain crop; it’s about the grain of our society, which we value, whose culture we uplift, and which histories we preserve.
Sorghum is more than a plant grown in arid soil. It is a legacy crop, deeply embedded in the culinary and cultural fabric of South Africans. For generations, it has been a staple in black, coloured and some white households; served as soft porridge, stirred into ting, or brewed into traditional beer (umqombothi).
Its resilience in drought-prone regions and its rich nutritional value once made it not just an agricultural mainstay, but a vital lifeline for rural low-income communities.
Yet, despite its historical and nutritional significance, predating the popularity of maize, wheat, and rice in the staple food chain, sorghum has been relegated by a suite of issues, ranging from modern agricultural policies and rigid tax laws to changing consumer taste preferences.
The clearest evidence of this systemic marginalisation lies in an overlooked yet impactful policy – the value added tax. In 1994, the government vowed to ensure food security and sovereignty in the country.
Consequently, most staple foods were VAT-exempt; however, sorghum continues to carry the full 15% VAT just like luxury goods. This disparity isn’t merely a bureaucratic slip; it reveals a deeper systemic neglect rooted in historic tactics to promote sorghum’s substitutes on South Africans’ plates. One can argue that it was perhaps a calculated erosion of indigenous heritage disguised as fiscal neutrality.
When taxation fails the people
VAT is often praised for its administrative simplicity, fiscal uplift and economic efficiency, but it is also notoriously regressive. When applied to basic necessities like sorghum – a product that carries cultural and heritage value beyond its food security properties – the impact is doubly cruel.
Not only are low-income households paying more for a nutritious and culturally relevant staple, but they are also being subtly coerced into abandoning it in favour of substitutes that benefit from state preferences. Economic theory outlines key principles for good taxation, which include efficiency, equity, simplicity, and transparency.
The VAT on sorghum fails on nearly every count:
- Efficiency: It discourages production and consumption of a crop well-suited to the South African climate and marginal soil types.
- Equity: It disproportionately burdens poor low-income households, and its orchestrated scarcity disconnects the poor from their heritage and cultural roots.
- Simplicity: Its exclusion from zero-rating raises questions about policy coherence.
- Transparency: Consumers and producers most affected are expected to absorb its impact without explanation or recourse, reinforcing a sense of disconnection between policy decisions and the everyday realities of the people they affect.
The continued taxation of sorghum, while other staple foods are zero-rated, is a policy choice – and choices have consequences. This one in particular seems to disproportionately affect low-income households. By taxing a culturally significant, nutritious, and locally grown crop, the policy has effectively nudged consumption patterns away from indigenous staples towards Western-imported food systems.
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Sorghum’s real struggle
Sorghum-based products like Morvite, which has been a household name for decades, and newly packaged instant porridges are widely available on the shelves of major retailers. These are not obscure or forgotten products. They are well-known, particularly in black communities. The parroted claim of “poor marketing” is not to blame for sorghum’s low demand.
That narrative must be challenged – this isn’t a marketing failure; it’s a policy failure and a lack of institutional support. What it really means is we haven’t made material conditions conducive for growing and processing sorghum profitable enough for big business.
Consumers have not forgotten sorghum, but market conditions have priced this product outside the affordability range for the majority of poor households, hence declining sales.
The combination of VAT and constantly increasing input costs, coupled with a changing climate, has collectively reduced the attractiveness of growing sorghum, thus gradually causing the disappearance of the product from household staple choices.
The narrative that consumers are simply unaware or uninterested is a convenient diversion. This isn’t an organic shift in consumer preference, it is a coerced abandonment of tradition masked as market evolution.
The contradiction becomes even more glaring when viewed through the lens of South Africa’s international commitments. As a signatory to the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals, we have pledged to end hunger, improve nutrition, and promote sustainable agriculture by 2030.
The United Nations declared 2023 the International Year of Millets, which includes sorghum, highlighting the importance of this crop in achieving SDG targets, especially for developing countries like South Africa.
How can we fulfil these commitments while taxing the very crops that are essential to food security, cultural continuity, and ecological sustainability? Moreover, how can we talk about inclusive economic growth when the playing field is so obviously tilted against indigenous food systems and the small-scale farmers who sustain them?
At its core, this is more than just policy inconsistency. It is about values: are we prioritising public health, equity, and dignity as we claim – or are we prioritising tax revenue at the expense of those who can least afford it? This is not only crushing the spirit of the SDGs but also contradicts the constitutional promise of dignity, equality, and access. In the end, it is not just about what is taxed; it’s about what we treasure, what we choose to protect, and who we are building this country for.
- Lesedi Mokoena is an agricultural economist. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Food For Mzansi.
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