History on Loop: Why Coups in Madagascar Never Really End

The latest coup—if anyone still bothers to count—feels like a rerun of every previous one, writes Akhil Bakshi.

To understand why this Indian Ocean nation of immense natural wealth remains one of the world’s poorest, one need only look at its chronic political instability. 

(Photo: Altered by Aroop Mishra/The Quint)

If déjà vu had a capital, it would be Antananarivo. In Madagascar, coups are not rare historical aberrations—they are a national pastime. The island’s politics resemble a tired soap opera, recycling the same cast of ex-presidents, opportunists, and generals, each promising reform but leaving behind only corruption, poverty, and disillusionment.

The latest coup—if anyone still bothers to count—feels like a rerun of every previous one. The faces have aged, the slogans have faded, and the people remain as poor as ever.

To understand why this Indian Ocean nation of immense natural wealth remains one of the world’s poorest, one need only look at its chronic political instability. In Madagascar, democracy is elastic—stretched and twisted by whoever happens to hold power, or snatch it.

In August 2018, I witnessed the presidential campaign firsthand and glimpsed yet another chapter in Madagascar’s thick volume of political tragedies. To understand the present, we must rewind to 2009.

A Mayor’s Coup, a President’s Fall

The events of March 2009 read like a dark political farce. Marc Ravalomanana, the self-made dairy tycoon turned president, declared he would fight to the death rather than resign - and hours later, he did just that. He handed power to a trio of generals of his choosing, who were promptly “persuaded”—after being arrested—to transfer power to Andry Rajoelina, the youthful mayor of Antananarivo.

Not a shot was fired. No tanks rolled through the streets. Yet it was unmistakably a coup. “All done quite legally,” insisted Rajoelina’s camp, in a display of constitutional creativity that would make any lawyer blush.

The Constitutional Court quickly “validated” the takeover, crowning the 34-year-old former disc jockey as “President of the Transitional High Authority.” He now ruled a nation twice the size of England—and twice as chaotic.

Ravalomanana’s fall had been inevitable. After coming to power in 2002 with promises of modern governance, he soon displayed autocratic tendencies—rewriting the constitution, muzzling media, and treating state institutions as extensions of his business empire. When he shut down Rajoelina’s TV and radio stations, protests erupted. In January 2009, over a hundred demonstrators were shot dead by his guard. As soldiers mutinied and allies defected, the palace fell without resistance. Madagascar had a new ruler - and another sorrowful chapter in its long chronicle of upheavals.

The Revolving Door of Power

The years that followed brought little relief. Rajoelina’s rule as “President of the Transition” (2009–2014) was marked by economic collapse, donor flight, and spreading poverty. Aid was frozen, tourism vanished, and ordinary Malagasy, already surviving on less than two dollars a day, sank deeper into despair.

Pressed by the international community, Rajoelina eventually held elections in 2013. The result: a new president, Hery Rajaonarimampianina, who promised reform but delivered another crisis. By 2018, protesters once again filled Antananarivo’s streets, accusing him of manipulating electoral laws to sideline—ironically—Rajoelina and Ravalomanana.

The Constitutional Court stepped in, as it always does, to “restore order” with a coalition government. Same men, same methods, same promises.

Corruption as Governance

Behind every protest and coup lies a single enduring truth - corruption. Madagascar’s wealth is legendary: gemstones, rosewood, fertile land, and rich seas. Yet its rulers have plundered these gifts for personal enrichment.

Ravalomanana’s 2008 plan to lease 1.3 million hectares to a South Korean conglomerate sparked outrage. Rajoelina, too, was dogged by allegations of backroom deals and shady alliances with tycoons accused of money laundering.

Corruption in Madagascar is systemic. Politicians reward loyalists, judges rubber-stamp coups, soldiers switch sides for profit, and the same businessmen bankroll every regime. Meanwhile, the Malagasy people remain perpetually outside the circle - hungry, weary, and disillusioned.

Rajoelina Rises and Falls - Again

In the 2018 election, Rajoelina defeated Ravalomanana with 55.66 percent of the vote. Five years later, in 2023, he was re-elected with 58.95 percent—though amid opposition boycotts and allegations of fraud. The victory felt hollow; enthusiasm had been replaced by resignation.

Once hailed as a youthful reformer, Rajoelina gradually fell into familiar habits—centralising power, favouring cronies, and turning opaque. By 2025, the discontent that had been simmering for years boiled over.

Antananarivo and other cities erupted in youth-led protests. What began as anger over power cuts and water shortages soon became a broader revolt against corruption, inequality, and privilege. Social media amplified the outrage, mocking the president’s opulent lifestyle and his family’s European luxuries while citizens queued for water.

When elite army units—especially the CAPSAT—refused orders to suppress demonstrators and joined them instead, the end came swiftly. Parliament voted to impeach Rajoelina. He attempted, from hiding, to dissolve the legislature by decree, but was ignored. Eventually, he fled the country on a French military aircraft. The CAPSAT commander, Colonel Michael Randrianirina, declared himself interim president.

Thus, the populist hero of 2009 became the vanquished ruler of 2025—undone by the street, the soldiers, and his own arrogance.

Been There Before

As history threatens to repeat itself yet again, one wonders whether Madagascar will ever escape its political purgatory. Its coups have become ritualistic—bloodless, bureaucratically “validated,” and swiftly forgotten by the world.

But for the Malagasy people, the consequences are not forgettable. Each political crisis deepens poverty; each promise of reform ends in betrayal. Every election merely reshuffles the same deck of elites who never learn.

When the next coup inevitably comes, it will not surprise anyone in Antananarivo. They’ve been there before.

(The author is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society and Explorers Club USA, and Editor of ‘Indian Mountaineer’. He is also the founder of Bharatiya Yuva Shakti, an organisation that ensures good leadership at the village level. He tweets @AkhilBakshi1. This is an opinion piece, and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)