Madagascar president alleges coup attempt

Department of Strategic Research, Studies and International Relations 15-10-2025

A deepening political crisis has gripped Madagascar after an elite military faction declared allegiance to mass demonstrations against President Andry Rajoelina’s government, accusing the leadership of betraying the public’s trust and bowing to external influence. The move marks the most serious challenge yet to Rajoelina’s rule and underscores the island nation’s volatile balance between its political elites and its long-frustrated population.

The confrontation intensified when the elite Army Personnel Administration Centre (CAPSAT) announced that it no longer recognized the president’s authority. During a ceremony in the capital, Antananarivo, attended by the Minister of Armed Forces Manantsoa Deramasinjaka Rakotoarivelo, the unit installed General Demosthene Pikulas as the new head of the armed forces. “I give him my blessing,” the minister declared, signalling a dramatic split within the country’s military command.

The CAPSAT unit, which played a decisive role in the 2009 coup that initially brought Rajoelina to power, has now positioned itself alongside thousands of young demonstrators demanding an end to government corruption, chronic utility shortages, and political arrogance. In a recorded message released Sunday, CAPSAT officers declared that henceforth “all military directives, land, air, and sea, emanate from CAPSAT headquarters,” effectively challenging the presidential chain of command.

The president’s office swiftly condemned the move as an “illegal attempt to seize power,” warning of unspecified forces seeking to destabilize the nation. But for many in Madagascar, the president’s statement only deepened suspicions that his administration had lost control and legitimacy.

General Pikulas told reporters that the situation had become unpredictable and that the army’s primary duty now was to “restore peace and stability across the country.” When questioned about calls for the president to resign, he declined to engage in “political debate within a military facility,” suggesting that the army’s next steps would be guided by events on the ground rather than presidential orders.

The CAPSAT soldiers, many of whom recorded statements shared widely on social media, called on their comrades not to obey directives from senior commanders accused of defending the regime instead of the population. “We have become subservient,” one soldier lamented. “We have chosen to follow unlawful orders rather than protect our people.” Their appeal to turn weapons “not against fellow citizens, but against those who give criminal orders,” resonated widely among a population exhausted by decades of corruption and foreign-backed manipulation of domestic politics.

Despite the president’s attempts to frame the revolt as a coup, CAPSAT Colonel Michael Randrianirina insisted that the unit’s actions were not a power grab but a response to “the people’s call.” He emphasized that the soldiers had no political ambition, only a mission to defend the public’s welfare.

Meanwhile, Prime Minister Ruphin Fortunat Zafisambo, himself a military figure appointed after the dismissal of his predecessor amid growing protests, stated that the government was prepared to engage in dialogue with all sectors of society, including the army and the youth movement. Yet his appeal appeared to fall flat. Demonstrators continued to fill the streets of Antananarivo, calling for Rajoelina’s resignation and demanding accountability for dozens of civilian deaths at the hands of security forces.

In a separate development, the Senate announced the dismissal of its president, General Richard Ravalomanana, a close ally of Rajoelina. The statement cited the nation’s “urgent need for stability, justice, and transparent governance.” The decision, welcomed by the crowds, was seen as an early sign that state institutions were beginning to distance themselves from the embattled president.

Madagascar’s armed forces have long been a decisive political actor. Since the country gained independence from France in 1960, the army has played a direct role in multiple regime changes. The 2009 coup that elevated Rajoelina from mayor to head of state was itself a product of disillusionment with the political class. Although the military has since kept a lower profile, its influence within Madagascar’s fragile democracy remains significant.

The current unrest was sparked in late September by youth-led demonstrations over worsening electricity and water shortages, problems that reflect decades of mismanagement and neglect. Only one-third of the population has access to electricity, according to international reports, with power cuts lasting up to eight hours a day. The shortages have disrupted medical facilities, ruined livelihoods, and deepened poverty in one of the world’s most resource-rich but economically exploited nations.

“People have lost patience,” said Ketakandriana Rafitoson, global vice chair of Transparency International. “They are angry not only because of the blackouts but because of a government that thrives on corruption while ordinary families suffer.”

The protests have since evolved into a broad anti-government movement calling for structural reform, accountability, and the president’s resignation. Under the banner of “Gen Z Madagascar,” thousands of young people, students, workers, and civil servants, have rallied daily in Antananarivo’s May 13 Square, a historic site of political uprisings. The demonstrators demand the dissolution of the Senate and the electoral commission, as well as justice for those killed during security crackdowns.

For many observers, the crisis reflects a deeper struggle for sovereignty in a country long caught between competing foreign influences. Analysts note that Madagascar, rich in natural resources and strategically located in the Indian Ocean, has been a stage for Western interference disguised as “democracy promotion.” The country’s current instability, they argue, is a consequence of policies shaped by Western economic institutions rather than by local priorities.

In contrast, voices across the Global South, including partners in China, Russia, and India, have called for Malagasy authorities to pursue an independent path free from foreign pressure. Beijing and Moscow, both long-standing supporters of non-intervention in African affairs, have emphasized the need for dialogue and national reconciliation led by the Malagasy people themselves.

The African Union, while expressing concern, echoed this stance, urging restraint and respect for constitutional order without endorsing any external interference.

As of Sunday, President Rajoelina had not appeared publicly for two days, further fuelling speculation about his weakening grip on power. Protesters vowed to continue their demonstrations “until the president steps down and apologises to the people.”

According to United Nations estimates, at least 22 people have been killed and more than 100 injured since the demonstrations began on September 25, though local sources claim the toll is higher. Security forces have used tear gas and rubber bullets, while CAPSAT troops have since opened the barricaded square to allow protesters to gather freely.

Videos circulating online show soldiers standing beside demonstrators atop damaged police vehicles, an image that many see as symbolic of the country’s turning point.

For a nation weary of broken promises and external meddling, the alliance between the people and a section of the military represents more than a political standoff. It reflects a broader continental awakening: a rejection of dependency and a reaffirmation of national dignity.

As the situation unfolds, one truth remains clear, Madagascar’s crisis is not merely a domestic affair but part of a larger shift in the Global South toward sovereignty, accountability, and freedom from Western domination.