Ten days after a dramatic military takeover in Madagascar, the nation’s political landscape has shifted in ways few could have predicted. The ousted president, Andry Rajoelina, has not only lost his grip on power but has also been stripped of his Malagasy nationality, in a move that underscores the country’s turbulent history with both democracy and its own constitution. The decision, announced by the new government, comes after it was revealed that Rajoelina secretly obtained French citizenship in 2014—a fact that had simmered beneath the surface of Madagascar’s political life until now.
According to the Associated Press, the decree to strip Rajoelina of his citizenship was signed by the newly appointed prime minister, Herintsalama Rajaonarivelo. The decree invokes laws that bar dual nationality, effectively revoking citizenship from any Madagascan who holds citizenship of another country. This legal lever was pulled just over a week after the military ousted Rajoelina, who has since fled the country. His current whereabouts remain unknown, adding another layer of intrigue to an already volatile situation.
The backdrop to these events is a nation grappling with deep-seated frustration. Mass protests erupted across several cities, fueled by anger over constant water and electricity cuts, widespread poverty, and soaring unemployment. These demonstrations, led largely by the youth, quickly escalated from peaceful protest to open revolt, drawing thousands into the streets and culminating in a harsh crackdown by security forces. At least 22 people lost their lives, and more than 100 were injured, according to United Nations reports cited by the Associated Press. As the unrest intensified, soldiers began siding with the demonstrators, a turning point that set the stage for the military's decisive intervention.
Rajoelina’s fall from grace is a dramatic reversal for a leader who first rose to prominence in 2009, when he led a coup that forced then-President Marc Ravalomanana into exile. That episode ushered in a transitional government with Rajoelina at the helm, and it set the tone for a decade and a half marked by political instability, allegations of corruption, and persistent accusations of authoritarianism. Critics have long accused Rajoelina of being too close to France, Madagascar’s former colonial power, and of using the levers of state to entrench his own rule.
The revelation that Rajoelina had quietly secured French citizenship in 2014 only added fuel to the fire. The issue of dual nationality had already sparked heated debate during the 2023 presidential election, which Rajoelina won amid allegations of irregularities and questions about his eligibility. Under Malagasy law, dual citizenship is not permitted for the nation’s highest office, a provision designed to safeguard national sovereignty and prevent conflicts of interest—especially in a country where the shadow of colonial history still looms large.
When the protests reached their peak, Rajoelina fled Madagascar, citing fears for his life. Days before the military takeover, he addressed the nation from an undisclosed location, attempting to assuage concerns but ultimately failing to stem the tide of public anger. As the situation spiraled, Colonel Michael Randrianirina emerged as the new face of power, being sworn in as president after the military seized control. The swift transition underscored the fragility of Madagascar’s democratic institutions and the ever-present risk of abrupt, extra-constitutional change.
The events of October 2025 are just the latest chapter in a long saga of political upheaval. Since gaining independence from France in 1960, Madagascar has experienced a series of coups and crises, each one leaving deep scars on its political and social fabric. The cycle of instability has often been fueled by economic hardship, with ordinary citizens bearing the brunt of leadership failures and policy missteps. The most recent protests were no exception: what began as outrage over basic services—water, electricity, jobs—quickly evolved into a broader condemnation of corruption and unresponsive governance.
“The people of Madagascar have suffered for too long from broken promises and unmet needs,” said one opposition leader, echoing the frustrations voiced by thousands who took to the streets. For many, the ouster of Rajoelina and the revocation of his citizenship represent both a reckoning and a warning: leaders who fail to address the needs of their people, or who appear to put personal interests above national ones, risk being swept aside by the very forces they seek to control.
The new government’s decision to enforce the ban on dual nationality is as much about politics as it is about law. By stripping Rajoelina of his Malagasy citizenship, the authorities have sent a clear message that questions of loyalty and national identity are not merely academic. The move also highlights the enduring sensitivity around Madagascar’s relationship with France—a relationship marked by both cooperation and suspicion, and one that continues to shape the country’s political discourse.
Yet, for all the drama of recent weeks, the path ahead remains uncertain. Colonel Randrianirina’s ascension to the presidency may have brought a measure of stability, but it has also raised fresh questions about the future of democracy in Madagascar. Will the new leadership deliver on the demands for reform and accountability that fueled the protests? Or will the cycle of crisis and coup continue to repeat itself, leaving ordinary Malagasy citizens once again caught in the crossfire?
As the dust settles, the legacy of Andry Rajoelina serves as both a cautionary tale and a reflection of Madagascar’s ongoing struggle to define its own destiny. The interplay of law, power, and public will remains as complex as ever, and the stakes—for a country still searching for lasting peace and prosperity—could hardly be higher.
Madagascar’s latest upheaval is a stark reminder that, in politics as in life, the ground can shift in an instant. For now, the nation waits to see whether its new leaders will seize the moment to forge a different path, or whether the familiar patterns of the past will once again prevail.
