Thousands of young protesters have taken to the streets of Madagascar’s capital, Antananarivo, in recent weeks, turning what began as demonstrations over chronic power and water shortages into a full-blown anti-government movement. The unrest, which has persisted almost daily since late September 2025, has been marked by violent clashes with police, heartbreaking casualties, and mounting frustration over deep-seated economic and social woes.
On October 9, 2025, the situation reached a boiling point. According to BBC and AFP, roughly 1,000 protesters—many of them youth activists from the Gen Z Mada movement—attempted to march from Lake Anosy toward Ambohijatovo Gardens. Security forces responded with armored vehicles, tear gas, and rubber bullets, dispersing the crowd and triggering chaos in the streets. Protesters hurled stones in retaliation, and the violence soon spilled over into nearby areas, including a maternity facility where medical staff had to evacuate premature babies after tear gas seeped inside.
At least four people were injured by rubber bullets and two more by fragments from stun grenades, according to AFP. But the toll of these confrontations has been even grimmer. The United Nations has reported at least 22 deaths during the initial phase of the protests, a figure that President Andry Rajoelina has publicly disputed. Speaking to the French-language channel Reunion La Premiere, Rajoelina insisted, “There have been 12 confirmed deaths and all of these individuals were looters and vandals.” The UN’s human rights office, however, maintains that some of the victims were protesters or bystanders killed by security forces, while others died in violence involving criminal gangs and looters following the demonstrations.
One of the most harrowing stories to emerge from the unrest is that of Razanasoa Edmondine, whose one-month-old grandson died after inhaling tear gas fired by police. In an interview with BBC, Edmondine recalled, “It was just a normal Friday. My daughter-in-law was going to the market with the baby when they encountered demonstrators on the road. Not long after, police showed up and started dispersing the protest with tear gas.” The mother and baby sought shelter in a nearby building, but police fired more canisters inside, filling it with choking smoke. Unable to reach a hospital until the following day, the family could only watch as the infant struggled to breathe. “The baby was trying to cry but no sound came out,” Edmondine said. “The doctor told us he had inhaled too much smoke. A couple of days later, he passed away.”
Tragedy struck other families as well. Rabe, a resident of Antananarivo, told BBC that his 20-year-old autistic son was shot and killed by police during the protests. “He must have slipped outside to see what was going on. That’s when the police shot him and continued chasing other protesters,” Rabe recounted. He believes his son was shot from the front, with the bullet leaving a fatal wound.
President Rajoelina, in response to mounting accusations of police brutality, acknowledged the deaths but maintained a hard line: “There have been deaths, we completely agree. And I truly sympathize with the suffering and pain of the families who have lost loved ones. But I want to tell you that these deaths are not protesters, they are not students. They are rioters. They are the ones who looted.”
As the unrest has spread, its impact has rippled through nearly every sector of Malagasy society. More than 200 civil society organizations issued a joint statement on October 9, expressing alarm at what they described as “a military drift in the country’s governance, rather than a search for appeasement and an end to repression.” The protests have disrupted daily life and commerce, particularly in neighborhoods near the University of Antananarivo, where the demonstrations have been organized. Laza Brenda, who runs a roadside mobile phone repair kiosk, told BBC, “I fully support Gen Z, but I don’t think protests are the right way to address their grievances. When people demonstrate, I can’t do business.”
The economic impact has been severe. Ulrichia Rabefitiavana, an entrepreneur, said several of her international clients had canceled contracts for training and seminar events, while the Radisson Hotel Group’s François van Rens reported that hotel occupancy had plunged from 60-70% to just 10% during what is normally the busiest period of the year. “So it’s like in full throttle and all of the sudden the handbrake,” van Rens said.
The Gen Z Mada movement, which spearheaded the protests, is now demanding not just improvements in infrastructure but sweeping political change. Initially, demonstrators called for President Rajoelina’s resignation. However, their demands have shifted: protesters now want a public apology from the president for the violence against demonstrators, reflecting both anger and a desire for accountability.
The roots of the crisis, experts say, run deep. Nearly 75 percent of Madagascar’s 32 million citizens lived below the poverty line in 2022, according to World Bank data. The country’s per capita GDP has dropped from $812 in 1960 to just $461 in 2025. Hery Ramiarison, a professor of economics at the University of Antananarivo, explained to BBC that the crisis is the result of decades of poor economic planning, persistent political instability, and a lack of inclusive growth. “There is a huge employment problem among young people. It stems from very low levels of education in the labor force, serious deficiencies in the education system both in quantity and quality, widespread school dropouts, and a near-total absence of training opportunities adapted for them,” Ramiarison said. He noted that after 64 years of independence, three-quarters of the population have an education level below primary school, and only 3% have attained higher education.
For many young Malagasy, daily life is a struggle. One young woman selling sweet doughnuts by the roadside told BBC she earns just $2.30 a week to feed her four-year-old child. Access to water remains a daily challenge, with families often forced to wash clothes in paddy fields or walk miles to reach a well. “To be a young person in Madagascar, you have to be tough,” one protest organizer said, describing the constant fear of crime and insecurity that pervades daily life.
President Rajoelina has asked the Malagasy people to give him one year to address the problems driving the protests, promising to resign if he fails. But skepticism abounds. As Ramiarison put it, breaking free from the country’s poverty trap will require tackling the root causes of weak economic growth and political instability—no small feat in a nation that has experienced repeated political turmoil since independence. “Once they’re in power, they forget us. It’s always the same,” said Brenda, the phone repairman, summing up the disillusionment felt by many.
With the world watching and the future uncertain, Madagascar’s youth continue to demand not just relief from daily hardships but a radical transformation of their country’s political and economic landscape. The coming months will test whether the government can deliver on its promises—or whether the unrest will deepen, with consequences for generations to come.