Madagascar: How Crime Is Exposing the Fault Lines of Military Rule

By Muchira Gachenge

For weeks, Madagascar’s capital has been gripped by shock. Children have disappeared, bodies have been discovered, and public anger has reached a breaking point.

In response, Colonel Randrianirina’s junta has deployed the rhetoric of war and alleged a political conspiracy—without producing a shred of evidence. As civil society, trade unions, and the Catholic Church demand concrete action, the crisis has exposed deepening fractures between the regime and its people.

The fear took hold across Antananarivo’s neighborhoods as the summer began. The first reports of missing children emerged in May, but the crisis took a far darker turn following Independence Day on June 26. Minors began vanishing almost daily, and mutilated bodies were recovered. In a single day, 13 fresh disappearances were recorded.

Official figures released by the National Police Directorate-General on July 8 starkly illustrate the scale: 172 disappearances reported since January 1, 2026, with 164 people still missing and eight children found dead. A striking 119 of these cases are concentrated in the Analamanga region alone.

Public anxiety has devolved into vigilante justice. On July 6, an enraged crowd brutally lynched a woman suspected of attempting to abduct a child in the streets of the capital. When the state fails to guarantee safety, public order rapidly unravels.

Confronted with mounting distress, Colonel Randrianirina escalated his rhetoric. On July 8, he labeled the murders “terrorism.” Two days later in Toamasina, during the inauguration of the Independent Anti-Corruption Bureau’s new headquarters, he adopted a combative tone: “I warn whoever is behind this that I will destroy them.”

He then issued an extraordinary challenge: “Why not kill me instead, if I am the one standing in your way? Kill me, but do not kill Madagascar’s children. Kill me if you are men. I am saying this here, clearly.”

His Prime Minister echoed the sentiment, declaring a “war” against those allegedly seeking to “undermine the Refoundation.” On the ground, the regime deployed 400 security personnel, established an operational coordination center, and authorized the blocking of several websites.

Yet, the conspiracy narrative rests on no publicly verifiable evidence. No masterminds or organized networks have been identified, and no tangible proof has been presented beyond a cryptic reference to cryptocurrency allegedly used to “spread unrest.”

This narrative emerged days after an alleged drone incident involving the presidential convoy, claimed by the shadowy group Sampana Tsikilo Madagasikara. While authorities have not explicitly linked the events, both rely on the same framing: an invisible enemy engaging in clandestine destabilization.

Civil Society Pushes Back

Citizens are no longer convinced. Writing in L’Express Madagascar, legal scholar Omar Abderman Ramadany issued a restrained but clear warning: “In the face of this security crisis, citizens expect neither speculation nor unsubstantiated accusations.”

The trade union movement quickly followed. The Antananarivo branch of the Union of Lecturers and Researchers (Seces) urged authorities not to “content themselves with declarations about the supposed objectives of those allegedly responsible.” The union noted that the public expects a military government—which seized power by force claiming it would refound the nation—to eradicate crime at its source, “rather than merely arresting the small fry.”

Meanwhile, a coalition of civil society organizations is pushing to restore elections for Fokontany (local community) chiefs, whose appointments are currently controlled by the regime. Restoring local governance serves as a direct test of the junta’s political sincerity.

The strongest intervention came from the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Madagascar. Speaking through Vice-President Bishop Jean Pascal Andriantsoavina, the bishops declared they “could no longer remain silent” regarding homicides “whose perpetrators remain unknown”—a direct contradiction of the government’s claim that political conspirators are responsible.

“Actions must speak louder than words, lest evil be allowed to spread further,” the bishops warned, issuing a direct rebuke to the junta.

An Increasingly Isolated Regime

This religious opposition is part of a broader trend. In May 2026, the Bishops’ Conference condemned the arrest of political dissidents and called for a clear roadmap toward credible elections. The July intervention signals that the Church views the surge in violent crime as a symptom of a deeper political malaise.

Disillusionment with the junta has grown steadily since the coup. In April, six members of the Generation Z movement were arrested during nighttime raids on vague charges of “undermining state security.” Colonel Patrick Rakotomamonjy, who handled public grievances within the presidency, was imprisoned over an alleged assassination plot shortly after publicly denouncing corruption. Former Education Minister Paul Rabary was targeted based on WhatsApp messages, while MP Rajerison had his parliamentary immunity lifted for exercising constitutional rights.

The July security crisis has ultimately refocused attention on the regime’s broader vulnerabilities: four High Constitutional Court members facing prosecution for allegedly “destabilizing the regime,” the Southern African Development Community’s demands for an end to arbitrary arrests, and the indefinite postponement of a national dialogue.

While the people of Antananarivo fear for their children’s safety, the junta remains preoccupied with consolidating power. The widening gulf between those two realities presents the clearest picture yet of military rule in Madagascar.

Muchira Gachenge is a writer based in Nairobi, Kenya. He can be reached at: muchiragachenge186@gmail.com