In the bustling neighborhoods of Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar, the mood is a curious mix of hope, frustration, and uncertainty. Just days after Colonel Michael Randrianirina was sworn in as president on October 17, 2025, following a dramatic military coup, the city’s youth—who played a pivotal role in the protests that toppled the previous regime—are still waiting for tangible change in their daily lives.
It all began on September 25, 2025, when young people in Antananarivo took to the streets to protest chronic water and electricity shortages. Their grievances quickly broadened, encompassing high unemployment, deepening poverty, and what they saw as government mismanagement and corruption under President Andry Rajoelina. According to The Associated Press, these protests were largely leaderless, drawing thousands and sparking a harsh government crackdown. The United Nations reported that 22 people were killed and more than 100 injured during the unrest, though the government disputed those figures.
As the demonstrations intensified, the powerful CAPSAT unit of the Malagasy army—historically influential in the nation's politics—made a decisive move. On October 11, CAPSAT sided with the protesters, assuming control of all military forces. The following day, the paramilitary gendarmerie announced on national television, “All use of force and any improper behaviour towards our fellow citizens are prohibited, as the gendarmerie is a force meant to protect people and not to defend the interests of a few individuals.” This public statement signaled a clear shift in allegiance to the protesters’ cause.
President Rajoelina, who had himself come to power in a 2009 military coup, realized he had lost control. He fled the country, reportedly evacuated by a French military plane, and denounced the coup as illegal. On October 17, Colonel Randrianirina was sworn in as president at Madagascar’s High Constitutional Court. The military takeover was swiftly condemned by the African Union and the United Nations as unconstitutional, but on the ground, many Madagascans celebrated the regime change—much as they had when Rajoelina first rose to power.
For youth like Donah Falia, a 20-year-old accounting student whose days are still marked by hours-long waits for water and bleak job prospects, the coup has brought little immediate comfort. “For us, personally, there is no answer here yet. I still don’t see any hope for us,” Falia told The Associated Press the day after Randrianirina took office. His words echo the broader sentiment among young protesters, who remain wary even as they acknowledge gratitude to the military for toppling the unpopular president. “Our demands have not been met, because we are still without electricity. Water is still not available,” Falia added, describing the daily grind of life in his Anosimahavelona neighborhood.
These frustrations are not new. Madagascar, a sprawling island nation of roughly 30 million people, has experienced repeated cycles of political upheaval since the end of French colonial rule in 1960. The World Bank estimates that three-quarters of the population live in poverty, and the cost of living remains stubbornly high. The conditions that led to the recent protests—youth unemployment, utility outages, and a lack of basic services—are deeply entrenched.
Yet the protesters’ resolve has not wavered. Many, like 22-year-old Tsantsa Fiderana Rakotoarison, remain hopeful that their voices will continue to be heard by the new regime. “Even though the CAPSAT group took responsibility after the whole change, they know that young people are able to speak up again,” Rakotoarison said. The protesters had rallied around images of the “One Piece” Jolly Roger—a symbol that has featured in so-called Gen Z protests elsewhere in the world—signaling a sense of generational solidarity and determination.
Randrianirina, for his part, has sought to reassure the youth that their concerns will not be ignored. In his first address to the nation after being sworn in, he declared, “We must take the opinion of the youth to the politicians and all the power groups.” He has promised to lead a military government for 18 to 24 months before transitioning to civilian rule and holding elections within two years. However, skepticism remains high, particularly given the track record of other African nations that have experienced military coups in recent years.
According to Kaajal Ramjathan-Keogh, an expert with the International Commission of Jurists, “Military governments have never been able to govern in a way as to address corruption and serious social issues. Soldiers do not make good long-term leaders.” She also noted that the prime minister appointed by Randrianirina, businessman Herintsalama Rajaonarivelo, hasn’t been well received by the protesters. The pattern is familiar: in Mali, Guinea, Burkina Faso, Gabon, and Niger—countries that have seen successful coups since 2020—the leaders who seized power remain in charge, often long after promising a return to civilian rule.
The youth are acutely aware of this history. Some, including labor unions and civic groups that joined the demonstrations, have vowed to hold the new government accountable if conditions do not improve soon. “The youth have already said that they will rise again at May 13th Square if their demands are not met,” warned protester Farasoa Rakotomanana, referencing the central square in Antananarivo that has become a symbolic gathering place for dissent. Rakotomanana, who recalled the destruction and looting that accompanied the 2009 coup, expressed relief that such violence had so far been avoided this time around.
Madagascar’s youth-led revolt is part of a broader global wave of Gen Z protests demanding political change. Over the past year, similar movements have erupted in Kenya, Nepal, Morocco, Peru, and elsewhere, each with its own unique triggers but united by a shared sense of frustration with existing political systems. In Madagascar, the initial spark was water and electricity shortages; in Kenya, it was tax law changes; in Nepal, corruption. Despite increased “Electoral Democracy” scores in these countries, persistent issues with electoral fairness, corruption, and respect for civil rights have left many young people feeling that traditional democratic mechanisms are failing them.
Political science research suggests that while protests in semi-democratic or non-democratic countries can yield quick changes in leadership, they often do not lead to lasting reform. As Bakary Sambe of the Timbuktu Institute for Peace Studies observed, “Young people and civil society saw the military takeover as a sort of democratization from the bottom-up, but it is unclear how long this will last.” The challenge now is whether Randrianirina’s government can deliver on its promises—or whether the cycle of protest and disappointment will continue.
For now, the youth of Madagascar remain vigilant. Their sacrifices and determination have reshaped the nation’s political landscape, but the road ahead is uncertain. If their demands for jobs, basic services, and genuine political participation go unmet, they have made it clear: they are ready to rise again.