Youth and the Fragile Promise of Democracy: Madagascar’s Unrest

Protestors rally in Antananarivo, their posters and raised fists symbolizing Madagascar’s growing youth resistance and demand for democratic change. Courtesy of The Wall Street Journal.

On September 25, 2025, young Malagasy protestors gathered in Madagascar’s capital, Antananviro’s Ambhoijatovo Square under a slogan: “Leo Délestage” (Fed Up with Load Shedding). What started as a cry against relentless electricity and water outages soon morphed into a full-blown rejection of President Andry Rajoelina’s governance. Within weeks, the movement branded itself as “Gen Z Madagascar” shaking the island’s political order. This confronted one of Africa' s most enduring governance paradoxes: a youthful population yearning for democratic agency in a system that continues to betrays it. 

Madagascar has for a long time suffered from infrastructural deficit with rolling blackout hours, intermittent water rationing and dilapidated utility systems. Over 75% of the population lives below the poverty line and only a fraction have reliable access to basic services. Water and electricity have become so unpredictable that citizens see this not as just a technical failure but as a government failure. 

In recent months, these grievances found clear expression. The protests started due to power outages and water cuts but escalated into demands for Rajoelina’s resignation, calls for reform, and challenges to the structural legitimacy of his regime. What makes this movement different from prior waves of demonstrations is the generational lens. Those in their late teens and twenties have few personal memories of past democratic interludes and many see protest not as a fallback but as the only credible path to democratic accountability. 

Madagascar is a very young nation with over 60% of its population under 25 but many of these young people feel politically blocked. Universities and state institutions often reflect elitist hierarchy, and political patronage disincentivizes grassroots mobilization. In this vacuum, spontaneous protest becomes the default arena of agency. 

A 21-year-old law student, Angie Rakoto declared “he has to quit immediately!” but when asked who should lead next, she shrugged saying she has no idea. This uncertainty is telling. It is clear that the youth-led movement is more of a mass discontent than a coherent party platform.

Despite this, the movement's strength lies in its fluidity and digital roots. Organizing often occurs through social media spaces and the Gen Z Madagascar page reportedly amassed over 100,000 followers in days. Protest symbols have blended local motifs with global youth protest iconography such as the Malagasy-style straw hat twist on the Jolly Roger flag from the Japanese manga, One Piece. Mobilization is evidently horizontal, decentralized, and visibly impatient with traditional elite bargains. 

But, the youth confront a dual paradox as they have the energy and visibility to unsettle regimes but at the same time, lack the institutional muscle to reshape them. Many young protestors admit they lack a plan beyond removing Rajoelina. This fragility demonstrates how precarious “youth-led democracy” can be in practice. 

What transformed protests into a constitutional crisis was the decision of an elite military unit, CAPSAT, to side with demonstrators. This unit was crucial in Rajoelina’s 2009 rise and announced it would refuse orders to fire on protestors and later declared control over military command. On October 12, CAPSAT formally mutinied and appointed a new army chief which also signaled a break in the regime’s very coercive foundation. Two days later, the National Assembly impeached Rajoelina after he attempted to dissolve parliament, the president fled the country a day before he was impeached. 

Essentially, a youthful protest movement catalyzed military dissent and put the presidency on trial. That confluence is rare in Madagascar’s modern history but it also underscores a much deeper truth: the youth alone rarely overthrows regimes and they need fissures among elites or security sectors to tip the scales. Madagascar’s 2025 unrest offers inspiration and caution for youth-centered democratization. It shows that youth are no longer content to play spectators. In many countries, young people still have a path to democracy, but in Madagascar they created it. This echoes global movements in Kenya, Nepal, and Latin America where Gen Z voices joined a rising wave against structural inequality and elite stagnation.

Momentum without structure can falter or be co-opted. The absence of a clear succession plan leaves a lot of room for opportunistic elites or military actors to fill the void which is exactly what CAPSAT did. The movement’s legitimacy depends on translating protest energy into institutional architecture.  

At the same time, youth participation does not guarantee democratic deepening. Since independence, Madagascar has repeatedly cycled through coups, regime changes, and weak civilian rule. Youth-led upheaval could merely be the latest twist in this cycle unless accompanied by serious institutional reform. 

Global neglect also matters. Madagascar rarely features in headlines until some kind of crisis erupts;this opacity allows authoritarian slippage until popular pressure forces exposure. Without external support such outbreaks remain reactive rather than sustained. 

As of October 2025, with the military in control and Rajoeline in exile, Madagascar’s future remains uncertain. The questions that remain are not only who will rule but whether youths will ever command the “how” and whether they will be agitators or architects. 

In many ways, Gen Z Madagascar follows a cycle of disillusionment, disruption, collapse and a recurrent failure to rebuild. But this time, the rupture came much early, the youth louder and the stakes clearer. Whether the fragile promise of democracy endures or fractures under new pressure will depend on whether a new political architecture gives room for the young to shape the rules, not just shout them.