ANTANANARIVO – In a dramatic escalation of Madagascar’s ongoing political crisis, the island nation’s new military-backed government has officially revoked the Malagasy nationality of former President Andry Rajoelina, effectively barring him from any future political role in the country. The decree, published in the official gazette on Friday, October 25, 2025, comes just ten days after Rajoelina was forcibly removed from power following a military intervention amid widespread protests.
The document, signed by newly appointed Prime Minister Herintsalama Rajaonarivelo, cites Rajoelina’s voluntary acquisition of French citizenship in 2014 as the legal basis for the revocation. Under Article 42 of Madagascar’s Nationality Code, any Malagasy citizen who willingly obtains foreign nationality automatically forfeits their original citizenship unless explicitly authorized by the state—a provision that has rarely been enforced against high-profile figures until now.
“This is not retribution; this is the law,” Prime Minister Rajaonarivelo stated in a brief address to the press outside the prime minister’s office in Antananarivo. “The former president knowingly violated constitutional norms by maintaining dual nationality while serving as head of state. The decree restores legal integrity to our institutions.”
French international broadcaster RFI confirmed the authenticity of the decree after obtaining verification from Rajaonarivelo’s office. Within hours of publication, scanned images of the official document began circulating on social media platforms, including WhatsApp groups and local news pages, triggering intense public debate. Many citizens expressed shock, while others—particularly among the youth protest movement that precipitated Rajoelina’s downfall—celebrated the move as a symbolic victory.
The 51-year-old former leader, once a media mogul turned populist politician, had long been a polarizing figure in Malagasy politics. His dual nationality first emerged as a major scandal in June 2023, when investigative journalists revealed that he had obtained French citizenship nearly a decade earlier through naturalization. At the time, opposition parties, including the influential Tiako i Madagasikara (TIM) and the Movement for the Progress of Madagascar (MFM), filed legal challenges arguing that Rajoelina was constitutionally ineligible to run for president.
Article 46 of the Malagasy Constitution explicitly requires the president to hold “exclusively Malagasy nationality.” Despite these objections, the High Constitutional Court (HCC) allowed Rajoelina to stand in the November 2023 elections, citing insufficient evidence of voluntary renunciation of French citizenship. He went on to win with 58.96% of the vote in a contest marred by an opposition boycott and allegations of voter intimidation and electoral fraud.
The citizenship controversy now returns with decisive consequences. Legal experts say the revocation not only strips Rajoelina of political rights but also complicates his personal status. “Without Malagasy nationality, he cannot own property, vote, or even reside permanently in Madagascar without a visa,” explained Professor Jean Rakotomalala, a constitutional scholar at the University of Antananarivo. “This is unprecedented for a former head of state.”
Rajoelina’s ouster began unfolding on October 11, 2025, when Colonel Michael Randrianirina, commander of the elite CAPSAT (Corps d’Action et de Préparation Spéciale de l’Armée Terrestre) unit, issued a televised statement declaring that his forces would no longer follow orders to suppress anti-government protests. The demonstrations, led primarily by university students and urban youth, had been raging for weeks in major cities including Antananarivo, Toamasina, and Fianarantsoa. Protesters accused Rajoelina’s administration of rampant corruption, economic mismanagement, and violent crackdowns on dissent.
Security forces loyal to the president had previously used tear gas, rubber bullets, and live ammunition against demonstrators, resulting in at least 14 confirmed deaths and over 200 injuries, according to the Malagasy Human Rights Commission. Colonel Randrianirina’s defection proved decisive. By October 13, key military units across the country had pledged neutrality or support for the protesters, leaving Rajoelina isolated.
Facing imminent arrest, the president fled the capital under cover of night. In a voice message circulated to supporters via encrypted apps, Rajoelina claimed he had gone into hiding “to protect my family and avoid further bloodshed.” His exact whereabouts remain unknown, though unconfirmed reports suggest he may have sought refuge in France, where he holds full citizenship and owns property in Paris.
On October 14, parliament—now dominated by opposition lawmakers and independent deputies—voted 112 to 38 to impeach Rajoelina on charges of high treason, abuse of power, and violation of the constitution. Hours later, Colonel Randrianirina was sworn in as interim president in a ceremony attended by military brass, civil society leaders, and foreign diplomats. In his inaugural address, the new leader pledged to “heal the wounds of division” and organize “free, fair, and inclusive” elections within 24 months.
The international community has responded with cautious concern. The African Union suspended Madagascar’s membership pending the restoration of constitutional order, while the United States and European Union called for restraint and dialogue. France, Madagascar’s former colonial power, issued a neutral statement urging all parties to respect democratic principles.
Domestically, the citizenship revocation has deepened divisions. Supporters of Rajoelina, concentrated in coastal regions and among his core Antandroy ethnic base, denounced the decree as “vindictive persecution.” In the southern city of Toliara, hundreds rallied on Saturday, burning tires and demanding the former president’s return. “They can take his passport, but not his place in history,” said one protester, Marie-Claire Razafindrabe, 44.
Conversely, in Antananarivo’s bustling Analakely district, young activists distributed flyers celebrating the decision. “This is justice,” said 22-year-old student leader Fanantenana Andriamiharisoa. “He lied to the people for years. Now the truth has caught up with him.”
The new government faces immense challenges ahead. Madagascar, one of the world’s poorest nations despite vast mineral and vanilla resources, grapples with 80% poverty rates, chronic malnutrition, and vulnerability to climate shocks. Cyclone seasons regularly devastate infrastructure, while illegal rosewood trafficking and foreign fishing fleets deplete natural resources.
President Randrianirina has announced plans to audit state contracts signed under Rajoelina, particularly those involving Chinese and French firms in mining and infrastructure. He also promised to reform the electoral system and strengthen judicial independence—moves that could either stabilize the transition or provoke further unrest if perceived as partisan.
As Madagascar navigates this turbulent chapter, the fate of Andry Rajoelina symbolizes broader questions about accountability, national identity, and the fragility of democratic institutions in post-colonial states. Once hailed as a youthful reformer who seized power in a 2009 coup at age 34, Rajoelina’s political career now hangs in legal limbo. Whether he attempts a comeback from exile or fades into wealthy obscurity abroad remains to be seen.
For now, the decree published on October 25 stands as a stark reminder: in Madagascar’s volatile political landscape, even presidents are not above the law—or beneath its reach.
