Fear and Loathing in Madagascar … 2001/2002

All friends of the Indian Ocean Island of Madagascar were horrified at what unfolded there from December 2001, with virtually no detailed coverage in the UK or international media and very little apparent diplomatic attention by Western governments preoccupied with Afghanistan, the Middle East, Zimbabwe and French elections.

For those who don’t know it, here is a precis of the story so far. First, some history to give context.

Madagascar was unified during the 19th century by the Merina kings and queens from the highlands, based in the capital Antananarivo. The urban areas, with assistance from Victorian Britain, had achieved a relatively high level of education and industrial development.

The island was colonised by the French in 1897, exiling the last Queen Ranavalona III, and remained as such until independence in 1960. The familiar colonial “divide and rule” tactic had been employed, so that when a major and bloody independence uprising took place in 1947, the political groupings associated with the coastal regions sided with the French as they were encouraged to believe that independence would mean a return to Merina domination of political life. The uprising was quelled with the use of black African troops by the French (demonised thereafter as ‘Senegalese’) and around 100,000 Malagasy died, mostly in the highlands.

After independence, Madagascar democratically elected a president, Philibert Tsiranana, but eventually the military took over in 1972. In 1975, Admiral Didier Ratsiraka (whose father had been prominent in the coastal-based party which had opposed the uprising in 1947) had become the leader, turning the country into a Marxist republic allied with North Korea, Russia and Libya among others. The economy ran down and by the mid 1980s it had become one of the poorest countries in the world.

Ratsiraka changed tack, opening up the economy to the West. In 1991, the country went on a 9-month general strike to depose him: he finally lost control after ordering his presidential guard to fire on a peaceful demonstration, killing at least 100. He lost the subsequent election, but the new president Albert Zafy proved incompetent. In the 1996 election, apathy was so high that Ratsiraka was returned to power on just over 50% of a 10% turnout. One of the last of the old-style African dictators, he continued to enrich his family through widespread corruption and intimidation.

In December 2001 there was another election in Madagascar (size: bigger than France; population 15 million; strategic and resource importance to the West – nil). All independent observers agreed the election was widely fraudulent and that the main opposition candidate Marc Ravalomanana, previously the mayor of the capital Antananarivo, defeated Ratsiraka by a clear majority, more than 50%. Even Ratsiraka’s own election results, counted by a personally installed High Constitutional Court, conceded that Ravalomanana had outvoted him. However, they claimed it was not by quite enough to avoid a second round, fully expected to be marred by even wider fraud, bribery and intimidation than the first.

The population went on general strike. Sometimes over a million demonstrated daily, peacefully, in the capital. The churches, judiciary and civil organisations joined together in support of the demonstrators. The army refused to intervene. The people declared Ravalomanana as their new President and swore him in. Ratsiraka declared martial law and a curfew, but the people ignored it and sang and danced in the streets all night. The army and police stood aside. Ravalomanana appointed new ministers and the people swept them into their offices. The army and police still stood aside in all but one instance (when there was a massacre at the Prime Minister’s offices, barely 400 metres from where my family there live).

This was no longer simply barricades erected to try to force Ravalomanana’s new government to back down, and meanwhile earn some bribery money by letting black marketeers pass. Instead, it developed into wholesale, major damage to the Madagascar infrastructure. Ratsiraka must have known he’d lost, so he seemed to be trying to take the whole country down with him for revenge. He was also responsible for fermenting inter-ethnic strife, continuing the old colonial policy, attempting to get the coastal tribes to blame everything on the Merina and Betsileo from the highlands. Local media started to use ominous phrases like ‘ethnic cleansing’. Meanwhile he ranted on about being the saviour of the nation and called the new government ‘fascists’.

The central highlands – 4 million people or more – became devoid of petrol and fast ran out of medical supplies and many staples. Already poor families had no income for months as businesses ground to a halt and the banking system virtually shut down (earlier, before the Ratsiraka clan fled Antananarivo, his daughter Sophie was reported to have used trucks to clear millions of pounds worth of cash from the central banks, some of it apparently used to pay the gangs to cause trouble). The only thing Antananarivo had in its favour – apart from the unity of its people – was that its power supply is hydro-electric. And its people, who joined together to set up their own system of barricades to keep the terrorists out of the city, and foil plots to kidnap or kill their new leaders.

Virtually all the deaths and injuries in the crisis came about as a result of activities by Ratsirakistes. Whatever misgivings one may have about new president Ravalomanana’s close links with the church, at least this means his majority supporters were almost exclusively non-violent.

My involvement with Madagascar has first and foremost been with its music, and a family there by marriage. When I first went there 12 years ago I was shocked by the levels of poverty of the worst off in its society, who had living standards far lower than anything I’d seen in Africa. It was glaringly obvious that the single most important thing which would help Madagascar develop a viable economy was to first build an infrastructure of roads and communications in this vast island.

To quote another report, diplomatic sources became concerned that the political situation in the country was threatening to undo six years of development and foreign investment which had created more than 100,000 jobs. The World Bank had earlier estimated that the dispute was costing the already poor island nation US $12 million a day – a huge chunk of its gross domestic product. After what the Ratsirakistes did, this is now doomed to be long term rather than short term. By April, the spectre of humanitarian disaster and need for food aid was being raised.

Meanwhile, there were no long-haul flights to Madagascar: Air Madagascar’s planes were grounded in Paris, Air France stopped flying because of safety issues and the imposibility of refueling. We were unable to send any assistance from Europe, either physically or financially. Just about the only thing any of us could do was put pressure on our media to report this situation properly, and so put pressure on our governments to intervene. This has not so far born and notable fruit.

The situation deteriorated fast. For the first time since independence in 1960, units of the Malagasy armed forces with conflicting loyalties started fighting against each other, bringing a rising toll of deaths and injuries, including of innocent foreign bystanders. What had been a largely peaceful revolution on the side of Ravalomanana’s supporters began to turn violent through frustration caused by the penury in Antananarivo. Petrol that was 4,000 FMG per litre now cost 40,000 on black market – that’s £4.50 a litre ($US 6.30), meaning it cost £140 (US $200) to fill the tank of a small Renault 4. Salt that was 250 FMG a packet became 7,000; charcoal which most ordinary people use for cooking was 6,500 FMG for a sack which lasts a family a week, rose to 70,000. But supplies became virtually non-existent, and this in a country where the average salary is 250,000 FMG (£30) and wages had not been paid for months.

By this time, Madagascar’s third city of Fianarantsoa had a pro-Ravalomana governer installed by popular uprising. The north west city of Mahajanga was known to have returned a Ravalomana majority in the December election, though Ravalomanana’s designated governor Pierre Tsiranana (the son of Madagascar’s first post-independence president, before the military took over) had yet to be installed. In spite of bellicose noises made by Ratsiraka’s regional “governors”, it appeared that without fraud and intimidation only one of the six regions of Madagascar could possibly produce a Ratsiraka majority in an election, his stronghold of Toamasina.

Shortly before the Dakar agreement, the Madagascar Supreme Court had finally anulled the December election results, ordered a recount, and reverted the High Constitutional Court to its previous line-up before Ratsiraka had packed it with appointees just prior to the election.

Meanwhile, there were no long-haul flights to Madagascar: Air Madagascar’s planes were grounded in Paris, Air France stopped flying because of safety issues and the imposibility of refueling. We were unable to send any assistance from Europe, either physically or financially. Just about the only thing any of us could do was put pressure on our media to report this situation properly, and so put pressure on our governments to intervene. This has not so far born and notable fruit.

The situation deteriorated fast. For the first time since independence in 1960, units of the Malagasy armed forces with conflicting loyalties started fighting against each other, bringing a rising toll of deaths and injuries, including of innocent foreign bystanders. What had been a largely peaceful revolution on the side of Ravalomanana’s supporters began to turn violent through frustration caused by the penury in Antananarivo. Petrol that was 4,000 FMG per litre now cost 40,000 on black market – that’s £4.50 a litre ($US 6.30), meaning it cost £140 (US $200) to fill the tank of a small Renault 4. Salt that was 250 FMG a packet became 7,000; charcoal which most ordinary people use for cooking was 6,500 FMG for a sack which lasts a family a week, rose to 70,000. But supplies became virtually non-existent, and this in a country where the average salary is 250,000 FMG (£30) and wages had not been paid for months.

After I wrote the above, there was a period of worsening blockades, bridge destruction, regional ethnic strife and another inconclusive Dakar meeting. Finally, President Ravalomanana decided that he had no choice but to use the army which by this time had nearly all swung to him, with the exception of Ratsiraka’s crack French-trained private guard force. Although under-equipped, by opening up several fronts simultaneously government forces made enormous gains within a week. Ratsiraka suddenly left for France with his wife and daughter, after which resistance crumbled. Two provinces, Toliara and Mahajanga were liberated almost immediately by government forces. Roland Ratsiraka (nephew), the mayor of Tamatave, announced that there would be no armed resistance there to government troops, and that no weapons had been distributed to the Ratsirakiste youth gangs known as the ‘zatovo’ (in Toliara they were called the ‘bagdad’, and sacked the house of the fleeing Ratsirakiste governor as they hadn’t been paid).

On June 16th, Ravalomanana dissolved his government in order to appoint a fresh one of national reconciliation that would include former Ratsiraka supporters, though in the event he made only a few cosmetic changes. Shortly after this, further evidence of atrocities was uncovered in the north, and on June 19th a plane full of French mercenaries hired by Ratsiraka was turned back en route to Madagascar. The OAU met in Addis Abeba and decided to continue pressing for fresh elections, freezing Madagascar’s seat in the organisation. Ratsiraka returned to Tamatave. All of these events appeared to simply stiffen the resolve of the Ravalomanana government to end the crisis, and a previous suggestion of granting amnesty to Ratsiraka was withdrawn.

On Madagascar’s Independence Day, June 26th, the long awaited international recognition came from the USA. This also served to free up Madagascar’s currency reserves which had been frozen in Washington, making it possible to recommence imports of oil, medicines etc. Less than a week later, the French (having seen that they were going to get sidelined if they didn’t do something fast) recognised the new government and sent their Minister of Foreign Affairs Dominique de Villepin on a flying visit to shake Ravalomanana’s hand, call him Mr President, offer wads of aid and pointedly ignore Ratsiraka. Two days later, the entire Ratsiraka clan fled to the Seychelles in a plane from son Xavier’s company, and several other plane and ship loads of cronies ran for Mauritius. Within two days, Ratsiraka had ended up back in France, the Brickaville barricade had vanished and Tamatave had hoisted the white flag. The UK, China and most other major countries joined in recognition of the new government.