On Tuesday, October 14, 2025, Madagascar was thrust into the global spotlight as its military seized control of the government, ousting President Andry Rajoelina after weeks of massive, youth-led protests that swept the island nation. The coup—led by Colonel Michael Randrianirina and the elite CAPSAT military unit—marks a dramatic new chapter in Madagascar’s turbulent political history, echoing the very events that first brought Rajoelina to power 16 years ago.
The roots of this upheaval run deep. For weeks, frustration had been simmering across the country’s cities and towns, driven by chronic power outages, water shortages, rampant poverty, and allegations of government corruption. The spark came from the country’s youth—particularly Generation Z—who took to the streets in ever-growing numbers, demanding not just the president’s resignation, but a fundamental change in how Madagascar is governed.
“I study in darkness every night because we have no electricity,” 18-year-old university student Shaniah Rakotohania told The Associated Press. “If the government cannot even give us light, how can we have a future?”
Protests initially began as small gatherings over rolling blackouts and water shortages but quickly evolved into a nationwide movement. Demonstrators flooded Antananarivo’s Independence Avenue and other major squares, waving the national flag and chanting, “Rajoelina must go!” Security forces responded with tear gas and arrests, but momentum shifted dramatically over the weekend of October 11-12, when the powerful CAPSAT unit—long considered loyal to Rajoelina—defected and publicly sided with the protesters.
“We have taken the power,” Colonel Randrianirina announced on national radio, as reported by NPR and AP. He declared that the armed forces would form a transitional council composed of army and gendarmerie officers, suspending the constitution and pledging to organize a referendum within two years to establish a new democratic order. The military also promised to appoint a civilian prime minister “within days” and to hold a national dialogue aimed at drafting a new constitution before a referendum in 2027.
Rajoelina, 51, had already fled the country by private plane late Monday, October 13, according to sources close to his office. In a video statement released from hiding, he claimed to be in a “safe place” after what he called “a rebellion and an attempt to seize power illegally.” He accused a group of military personnel and politicians of plotting to assassinate him. His office later condemned Randrianirina’s declaration as “a serious breach of the rule of law,” vowing that “the Republic of Madagascar cannot be taken hostage by force.”
Just hours before the military takeover, Madagascar’s parliament had voted overwhelmingly—130 in favor, one blank ballot—to impeach Rajoelina for abandoning his post. In a last-ditch attempt to thwart the proceedings, Rajoelina had issued a decree dissolving the lower house of parliament, but lawmakers ignored him and went ahead with the vote. Opposition leader Siteny Randrianasoloniaiko told local media, “The action was not legally valid… The President of the National Assembly says he was not consulted.”
Rajoelina’s rise and fall are emblematic of Madagascar’s broader political struggles. He first came to prominence as the mayor of Antananarivo, leading protests that toppled then-President Marc Ravalomanana in 2009—a coup that also saw CAPSAT play a decisive role. Rajoelina then headed a transitional government until 2014, before winning presidential elections in 2018 and again in 2023. Both elections were marred by allegations of unfair practices and opposition boycotts.
Madagascar, home to about 31 million people, is one of the world’s poorest countries despite its rich natural resources and status as the largest global producer of vanilla. More than 75 percent of the population lives below the poverty line, according to the World Bank. The country’s chronic instability—marked by assassinations, coups, and disputed elections since gaining independence from France in 1960—has left many citizens disillusioned with traditional politics.
This latest crisis was fueled by the energy and determination of Madagascar’s young people, who make up more than half the population. Many drew inspiration from recent youth-led movements that toppled leaders in Sri Lanka, Nepal, and Bangladesh. “This was not just about politics—it was about dignity,” said 23-year-old protester Soavololona Faraniaina. “We want electricity, jobs, and a future in our own country. We will not stop until Madagascar belongs to its people.”
The scale of the unrest was staggering. The United Nations reported that more than 20 people were killed during the protests, with authorities accused of using deadly force. As the crisis deepened, the CAPSAT unit’s decision to side with the demonstrators proved decisive, effectively sealing Rajoelina’s fate. “The army is the only neutral institution that can get us back on track,” protester Sariaka told NPR. “To me it’s a popular revolution supported by a military unit.”
Yet, as celebrations erupted in Antananarivo and elsewhere, concerns quickly surfaced about the return of military rule in a country long plagued by coups. The African Union and the United Nations both called for calm and urged the military to restore constitutional order as soon as possible. In a statement from Addis Ababa, the AU Commission said it was “deeply concerned” by the developments and called for “inclusive dialogue to return Madagascar to democratic governance.” France, Madagascar’s former colonial power, and the U.S. State Department issued similar calls for restraint and the protection of democratic institutions.
Political analyst Lalao Randriamampionona of the University of Antananarivo warned, “Madagascar has once again entered dangerous territory. The challenge will be whether this movement—born out of legitimate frustration—can avoid repeating the cycle of coups that have defined our politics for decades.”
Despite the uncertainty, many protesters expressed hope that the military council would make good on its promises to appoint a civilian prime minister and pave the way for a new constitution. Fanilo, a 21-year-old medical student, told NPR, “We are all deeply relieved and even thrilled by his removal from office. We are not oppressed anymore.” He added, “Not really [concerned] because the current military leadership is in very good hands… especially as they plan to hand back power to a civilian government afterwards.”
As night fell in Antananarivo on Tuesday, thousands remained in the streets, singing and dancing with soldiers under the glow of phone flashlights—a powerful symbol in a country where power cuts have come to define daily life. For many, it was a moment of relief, but also of uncertainty. “We have won the first battle,” said Rakotohania. “Now we must make sure our future is not stolen again.”
The coming weeks will reveal whether Madagascar’s military rulers can deliver on their pledges or whether the country will remain trapped in its long cycle of instability. For now, the hopes of a new generation—and the eyes of the world—are firmly fixed on this Indian Ocean nation.