Madagascar, an island nation long known for its political volatility, has once again found itself at the center of a storm. Just over a week ago, a military takeover swept away President Andry Rajoelina’s administration, sending shockwaves through the country and beyond. In a move that has deepened the crisis, the new military-led government has officially stripped Rajoelina, 51, of his Malagasy citizenship, citing laws that revoke nationality from those holding foreign passports. The fallout from this dramatic turn is reverberating through the nation’s institutions and stirring debate about identity, legitimacy, and the future of democracy in Madagascar.
According to the Associated Press, Rajoelina’s fate was sealed by a decree signed by the new prime minister, Herintsalama Rajaonarivelo. The decree invoked a legal provision that strips all Malagasy citizens of their nationality if they acquire another citizenship—a law that had hovered over Rajoelina ever since it was revealed he’d obtained French citizenship about a decade ago. The dual nationality issue had simmered beneath the surface for years, erupting into public outrage and legal wrangling during the 2023 presidential election, which Rajoelina ultimately won despite calls for his disqualification.
The controversy over Rajoelina’s French citizenship was more than a technicality. For many in Madagascar, it was a question of loyalty and belonging. As reported by Devdiscourse, the revelation of his dual nationality amplified debates about national identity and leadership accountability. Rajoelina argued that he acquired French citizenship for his children’s education, but this explanation rang hollow for a population weary of inequality and corruption. The issue became a lightning rod for broader frustrations that had been building across the country.
The immediate trigger for the latest upheaval was a wave of youth-led protests that swept Madagascar’s cities. The demonstrations, organized by a movement called Gen Z Mada and inspired by similar youth uprisings in Nepal and elsewhere, began as a response to constant water and electricity cuts. But as the days wore on and the government failed to address the grievances, the protests grew in size and scope, morphing into a broader expression of anger over poverty, unemployment, and a lack of government accountability. The United Nations reported that security forces responded harshly, with at least 22 people killed and more than 100 injured in the crackdown.
As the protests intensified, Rajoelina attempted to stem the tide by firing his energy minister and eventually his entire government. But these moves failed to restore order. Instead, the unrest culminated in a military takeover led by Colonel Michael Randrianirina, commander of Madagascar’s elite security forces. In a swift transition of power, Randrianirina was sworn in as the new president, pledging to form a transitional government and to hold elections within two years. The promise of a return to democratic rule has done little to quell the uncertainty that now grips the nation.
Rajoelina’s whereabouts remain unknown. He fled Madagascar at the height of the protests, reportedly fearing for his life. In his last public address, delivered from an undisclosed location just days before the military took control, he tried to justify his actions and reassure his supporters. But the tide had turned. The new administration wasted little time in moving against him, stripping him of his citizenship and signaling an end to his political career—at least for now.
The significance of these events is not lost on observers across Africa. As noted by BBC and other international outlets, Madagascar’s crisis highlights a growing trend of youth-led political mobilization across the continent. From Nairobi to Niamey, young people are demanding accountability, transparency, and economic reform. In Madagascar, their persistence has forced a reckoning with a political system long plagued by coups, corruption, and fragile institutions.
Madagascar’s history is replete with episodes of political instability. Since gaining independence from France in 1960, the country has seen several leaders removed in coups. Rajoelina himself first rose to prominence as the leader of a transitional government following the 2009 coup that ousted then-President Marc Ravalomanana. At the time, Rajoelina was hailed as a young visionary, a symbol of change. But over the years, his administration became associated with the very issues—inequality, corruption, and lack of transparency—that he once vowed to address.
The recent protests and subsequent military takeover reflect both the deep frustrations of Madagascar’s youth and the enduring challenges facing its democracy. As reported by the Associated Press, the protests began with basic grievances—water and electricity shortages—but quickly evolved into a broader movement demanding systemic change. The government’s heavy-handed response only fueled the anger, leading to a spiral of violence and, ultimately, a change in leadership.
For many, the stripping of Rajoelina’s citizenship is more than a legal maneuver. It is a symbolic break with the past and a signal that the new government is seeking to assert its authority and legitimacy. But the path forward is uncertain. Colonel Randrianirina has pledged to hold elections and return the country to civilian rule, but the timeline is vague, and the challenges are immense. Restoring trust in government, addressing the root causes of the unrest, and navigating the complex questions of national identity will require more than promises.
International observers are watching closely. The United Nations and African Union have both called for restraint and a return to constitutional order. The involvement of young protesters and the promise of future elections offer a glimmer of hope that Madagascar can turn crisis into correction. But the road ahead is fraught with risk. The country’s history of coups and political crises suggests that stability will not come easily.
In the end, Madagascar’s current turmoil is a stark reminder that political legitimacy depends not just on elections, but on governance that delivers trust and results. The events of the past weeks have exposed deep fissures in Malagasy society, but they have also opened the door to the possibility of renewal. If the transitional government can harness the energy of the youth movement and deliver on its promises, Madagascar may yet chart a new course—one that breaks with its troubled past and builds a more inclusive and accountable political order.
For now, the nation waits. The fate of Andry Rajoelina, the future of Madagascar’s democracy, and the aspirations of its restless youth all hang in the balance.
