Opinion | Op-eds
The Red Island drowning in a wave of orange
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By Frank Vassen / Courtesy of Wikimedia CommonsBy Anonymous • December 7, 2023 at 2:26 AM
By Anonymous • December 7, 2023 at 2:26 AM
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
Likewise, if another African country falls prey to authoritarianism, does it call our attention?
The predominant discourse on Columbia’s campus too often ignores the political issues in Africa. The Core Curriculum centered on Eurocentric thought has created an echo chamber in our intellectual discussions at Columbia that suppresses African political discourse unless tainted by colonial overtones.
As conversations about censorship embroil campus, we must use this unique moment to platform a variety of voices that are subject to suppression, both at Columbia and abroad. This article aims to strengthen the African narrative and foster discussion of the diverse political landscapes in Africa by bringing visibility to the current political crisis in Madagascar. It is a testimony to the unique and complex political landscape of the island to demystify the fictionalized image of Africa as a monolith of conflict and poverty. Unfortunately, this article had to be written anonymously in light of censorship and limits on freedom of speech in Madagascar. Nevertheless, the situation in Madagascar necessitates our attention.
As African politics appear so infrequently in American headlines, the latest news that most probably comes to mind are the military coup d’états that occured in Niger and Gabon this summer.
And as the French say, jamais deux sans trois—“never two without three.”
Amid political tension and election boycotts, could Madagascar face the third African coup d’état in 2023?
Perhaps using a French saying commits an indiscretion. The common thread among Niger, Gabon, and Madagascar is their French colonial history.
While it may be torn with scandal by political elites, entrenched corruption, and dysfunctional governance, Madagascar’s stagnant political landscape faces wholly different challenges to the violence-stricken West African region. As the Malagasy President Andry Rajoleina won his third mandate in the highly contentious presidential elections on November 16, Madagascar progresses toward an executive coup rather than a military one.
With a 46.36 percent voter turnout, the unrepresentative primary elections, tainted by vote-buying, unsurprisingly saw Rajoelina’s nearly 60 percent majority win. A week prior to the elections, the president of the National Assembly Christine Razanamahasoa issued a statement demanding the suspension of the presidential election, accusing these elections of being underprepared and not apt for the politically unstable environment. While the opposition refuses to recognize this election, Rajoelina’s cronyism, his close circle of influential elites, and his grip on the military lock into place his current regime.
On the Great Red Island off the east coast of Africa, megalomaniac politician after politician has found ways to numb the population, suffocating its people under grand unrealistic promises and faulty illusions of democracy, all the while robbing them of their rights and dignity. Former DJ and newly-elected Rajoelina, notorious for flying in his helicopter and distributing orange T-shirts across the island, embodies the paradox that is Madagascar.
In his presidential campaign, Rajoelina stood against a coalition of 10 politicians and former presidents boycotting the fraudulent electoral system and opposing what they claim to be an institutional coup by Rajoelina. Their attempts at peaceful protests have been met with violence by the military and their demands for electoral integrity have been unheard and ignored. Rajoelina kept his distance, innocently proclaiming to uphold democracy and transparency by adhering to the electoral process that he tipped in his favor. Having stacked political institutions with his allies, Rajoelina affirmed his popularity. And yet, how popular could he really be when the majority of citizens feel their country is heading in the “wrong direction” and deplore their living conditions, the worsening economic situation, and the ever-widening socioeconomic gap?
Malagasy politics are simply a game of power, wealth, and manipulation. Rajoleina has fixed the rhythm to which his opponents must dance. His vulgar demonstrations of wealth, denounced by Transparency International for opaque funding, easily surpassed his previous contenders. No one candidate could match the flagrant fireworks, numerous helicopters, and concerts that accompanied Rajoelina on his campaign. These expensive campaign events drew in hundreds of monetarily incentivized supporters vested in orange. These supporters lined up in the capital several days after the elections, demanding a retribution of 350,000 ariary, equal to about $77, which they believed they had been promised by Rajeolina’s party in exchange for their votes.
Rajoelina’s delusionary actions do not come as a surprise. When Madagascar comes to mind, most people will unsurprisingly and perhaps a little shamefully bring up Marty or King Julien from the cartoon movie. The global perspective on the island too often reduces it to its cartoon paradise. And yet, Rajoelina, dwelling far from Madagascar’s dire reality, adheres to the plotline of the cartoon movie by promising an importation of giraffes, elephants, and zebras to boost Madagascar’s economy. Such ludicrous words fall flat in a country whose people deserve to be lifted out of poverty through a strong rule of law, educational reforms, tangible social protection plans, and foreign investment—not the promotion of zoo animals.
The Malagasy political arena, however, is not the place to formulate a concrete developmental plan for the country; rather, it is a playing field for Rajoelina to set up his defense and position his orange pawns. Accusations of Rajoelina’s stranglehold on the judiciary—the Haute Cour Constitutionnelle—and the supposedly independent electoral commission have been strengthened by Rajoelina’s alleged reshuffling of the senate. The scandalous resignation of the former President of the Senate Herimanana Razafimahefa the day before taking on the role of interim president left the executive position open for Rajoelina’s close circle. Although his honesty remains doubtful, Razafimahefa claimed his resignation was coerced by death threats from senators. Conveniently, military loyalist Richard Ravalomanana stepped up. Rather than seizing the government through a military takedown, Rajoelina incrementally rolled back democracy from within by promoting defense hawks and those dedicated to his regime. The exertion of Rajoelina’s cronyistic influence over fragile political institutions and his control of a narrow narrative through intimidation of independent journalists stifles not only the rights and freedom of the opposition, but those of the entire population.
As the country spirals downward, France keeps its distance, having very few geopolitical interests in the region and avoiding getting its hands bloodied by yet another political crisis. However, it bears the responsibility of planting the seeds of defective democracy and political instability. In its imposition of an archaic, hierarchical political system favoring the concentration of power in the hands of elites during colonial times, France ignored the strength of the bonds of kinship and solidarity ingrained in Malagasy tradition. This created a chimera of a state, illegitimate in the eyes of the mass rural population. Today, adhering to a historical trend of personalizing the regime to maintain power, the incumbent remains blind to the needs of the masses, conforming to an inapt and unresponsive political system.
The country’s trajectory, having cyclically endured four political crises, has time and time again proven the inevitable downfall of an all-powerful president suffocating the opposition and the restless population. Rajoelina, however, bypassed the democratic process, instrumentalizing the deeply distraught and fatalistic population struggling to keep their heads above water and increasingly indifferent to the politics bent on their exclusion.
Will history repeat itself and plunge Madagascar into yet another political crisis? Or will President Rajoelina’s executive coup and careful erosion of democracy and freedom sink the island to a point of no return?
As the youngest generation of voters, we cannot stand as mere observers of the rise of authoritarianism and democratic backsliding in yet another country. It is up to us to bring visibility to the violation of civil and political rights in Madagascar before it is too late.
The author is a junior at Columbia College who was granted anonymity due to safety and legal concerns.
To respond to this op-ed, or to submit your own, contact opinion@columbiaspectator.com.
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