Madagascar Uprising

M A Hossain,

History rarely gives a nation the same test twice. Yet Madagascar, the island that once bled for its freedom from the French colony in 1947, experienced the same upheaval in 2025. But this time it was not against the colonizer; it was against its own dysfunctions. The uprising in 2025 was born of humiliation. The reason behind this was not political or economic, but moral. In both moments, ordinary Malagasy citizens rose to say: enough.

The parallels are uncanny. In 1947, peasants armed with machetes challenged one of Europe’s strongest colonial powers, demanding dignity. They were met with a massacre. Nearly one-third of the island fell under the control of the rebels. Afterward, the French rulers committed atrocities against the native population to crush the resistance. But it must be remembered that any rebellion for justice never dies; it only lies dormant.

In 2025, that memory awoke in a new form — young, restless, connected, and furious. The revolt began with blackouts and dry taps in Antananarivo. Water and electricity — the two simplest signs of modern life — became symbols of betrayal. The government’s neglect of these basics exposed something deeper: a regime rotting from corruption, choking under its own indifference.

It started small. Angry citizens banged pots and pans in the dark streets of the capital. Then came the arrests of local politicians who dared to complain. Within days, the protests spread like wildfire. But this was no ordinary uprising — it was engineered not from party offices or trade unions, but from phone screens.

“Gen Z Mada,” a digital movement of young Malagasy, took the lead. They used Facebook, TikTok, and encrypted messaging to coordinate rallies, livestream police crackdowns, and rally support from every corner of the island. They had no clear leader — and that was their strength. You cannot jail a movement that has no head. You cannot silence an entire generation.

These were not rebels in the traditional sense. They wore sneakers, not uniforms; they fought with hashtags, not rifles. But their fury was unmistakably political. They wanted accountability, jobs, functioning power grids — and above all, the resignation of President Andry Rajoelina, whose promises of reform had long since curdled into farce.

Then came the moment every autocrat dreads. An elite army unit, CAPSAT, refused to fire on protesters. Instead, they joined them. For Rajoelina, that was the breaking point. When a ruler loses the loyalty of his guns, he loses everything.

Within days, the president fled the country aboard a French military aircraft — a scene dripping with irony. Seventy-six years after France crushed Madagascar’s anti-colonial rebellion, it was again a French plane that carried away a defeated leader. France’s President Emmanuel Macron claimed he was acting to preserve “constitutional order.” Many Malagasy heard something else: history repeating itself in the worst way possible.

France’s involvement in Madagascar’s politics has always walked a fine line between guidance and interference. The 2025 evacuation deepened that suspicion. To some, it was an act of humanitarian rescue. To others, a symbol of neocolonial entanglement that the island has never truly escaped.

Macron’s delicate phrasing — supporting order while sympathizing with protesters — captured the ambivalence of France’s role in its former colonies. Too detached, Paris looks indifferent; too involved, it looks imperial. Madagascar’s uprising exposed this dilemma anew: Can a nation once colonized ever fully reclaim its autonomy when its fate is still flown out on foreign wings?

If the French once fought Malagasy rebels in the jungles, this time the battlefield was digital. The uprising’s real weapon was connectivity. A TikTok video of soldiers joining protesters went viral within minutes. Livestreams of tear gas and police beatings drew outrage far beyond the island. In the past, a dictatorship could hide its sins in darkness; now, every injustice is a broadcast event.

This is the paradox of modern revolts: they move faster than governments can comprehend. Where the old revolutions were orchestrated from secret hideouts, this one unfolded in public view — chaotic, decentralized, and emotionally charged. Social media gave the movement energy, but also volatility. Every rumor, every post, every live video could alter the course of events.

And where was Africa during all this? The African Union and the Southern African Development Community watched in near silence, issuing cautious statements but avoiding mediation. It was the same hesitation that has marked too many African crises — an unwillingness to intervene until the fire spreads too far.

Yet the world could not ignore Madagascar for long. Flights were grounded, tourists stranded, ports disrupted. The uprising sent ripples across global supply chains — particularly in the textile and mining sectors that feed into international markets. More importantly, it spotlighted a growing global pattern: a generation tired of being polite to power.

From Nepal to Morocco, from Tunisia to Tehran, young people are confronting their governments with a blunt message — we are not waiting for another generation for change. Madagascar’s revolt, then, is part of a larger moral rebellion of youth against systems that have failed them economically and spiritually.

The tragedy of 1947 was that the Malagasy fought for independence only to inherit fragility. The tragedy of 2025 may be that they fought for dignity within a democracy that never matured. But there’s also a chance — a slender but real one — that this uprising could become Madagascar’s second liberation: not from empire, but from apathy.

The struggle of 1947 ended in silence and mass graves. The struggle of 2025 is unfolding in pixels and protest songs. Yet both are chapters of the same story — a nation’s long, unfinished quest to be heard.

Madagascar’s young protesters have been able to draw attention from their elders and global leaders. They may not know what kind of future they want, but they are defined by what they reject — corruption, poverty, and the hypocrisy of leaders. These corrupt politicians preach democracy while living like monarchs.

The change in Madagascar may soon fade away, but the reckoning has only just begun. The generation that took to the streets in 2025 may one day tell their children: we didn’t overthrow a regime for lights and water; we did it for dignity.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

This article published at :

1. The Nation, Pak : 24 October, 25