Madagascar stuck in political limbo

ANTANANARIVO, Madagascar — Six months after the president of this impoverished island nation was forced to resign, Madagascar continues to struggle with political strife and economic uncertainty.

The world’s fourth largest island still has no internationally recognized government and is regularly rocked by protests orchestrated by supporters of former President Marc Ravalomanana and other opposition movements. Many international donors have suspended critical monetary aid as a result of the political stalemate and foreign visitors — scared off by travel warnings and televised images of chaos — have largely stopped coming.

Mamy Tiana Ramaherisoa, a taxi driver in Antananarivo, the country’s capital, said that he doesn’t get involved in politics but he complained that “the crisis” has caused a 70 percent drop in business for him and his vehicle rental company compared to last year. He said he will miss out on a lucrative opportunity as a family of six tourists just dropped their plan to hire him for a two-week trip around the country after watching violent clashes between rival political factions on television.

“I have no more work because of this political crisis,” he said.

Weeks of protests that started at the end of last year culminated in March when Ravalomanana, who had been Madagascar’s president since 2002, was left with no options but to hand his resignation to the military after scores of protesters were killed in front of the presidential palace. An army council then transmitted power to Andry Rajoelina, the youthful Antananarivo mayor who had spearheaded the protests. Rajoelina, 35 but looking much younger, took advantage of the mounting anger of the population toward Ravalomanana. The businessman-turned-president, himself a former mayor of the capital, was credited with vastly improving the country’s infrastructure and for overseeing a period of economic growth but he was also accused of steering much of that growth toward his own enterprises and drastically expanding his own executive power.

Madagascar’s history is littered with undemocratic takeovers. Since Madagascar gained independence from France in 1960, the country has experienced one assassination, one impeachment and numerous coup attempts — some of them successful. Even Ravalomanana’s first election victory was fiercely contested by his opponent, and he was not recognized internationally as Madagascar’s leader until a year after the election.

“The solution is to have a national debate to find the real problem at the source of all these cyclical movements,” said Pierre Houlder, a Rajoelina adviser, in an interview.

And this is pretty much what the international community forced Rajoelina to do. Neither the African Union nor the Southern African Development Community, a regional body, has recognized his legitimacy. To resolve the impasse, a series of talks were set up in Maputo, Mozambique’s capital, between Rajoelina’s camp and those of not only Ravalomanana but of two other former presidents as well.

With four rival factions at odds, negotiations went nowhere, and Rajoelina formed his own transitional government unilaterally. While he was invited to the United Nations’ General Assembly in New York this month, he was prevented from speaking by other members and international recognition is by no means assured in the near future.

But time is running out. Madagascar — a country where as much as 85 percent of the population lives on less than $2 a day — is highly dependent on foreign aid, but most non-humanitarian funding has been suspended pending resolution of the political crisis.

To add to economic woes, attacks on Tiko, Ravalomanana’s dairy company, have led to shortages in staple products including butter, and the vanilla industry — a key economic sector in the country’s northeastern region — is going through a severe slump. The country’s gross domestic product, which grew from $4.6 billion in 2002 to an estimated $9.3 billion in 2008, is expected to shrink to $8.6 billion this year, according to the International Monetary Fund. One industry that had provided direct benefits to Madagascar’s population is tourism. Madagascar possesses numerous attractions, from endless white sand beaches to rainforests populated with the island’s unique lemurs. But the political upheavals have left beaches even more deserted than usual, however, and parks are receiving fewer visitors.

Andasibe National Park, located just three hours from the capital and home to the island’s largest lemurs, saw only 5,023 visitors from January until the end of August compared with 11,892 for the same period last year.

“Neither guides nor hotels have enough clients,” said Fanja Olga Randriamanantena, who is responsible for ecotourism at the park. “Everybody has been affected by the crisis.”

Raymond Rabarison Rasolonirina, who heads an association of local guides to the park, said 10 groups have canceled tours recently. Rasolonirina, 55, said several guides have had to take up jobs at a nearby nickel mine for lack of work at the park.

“I have a group of French tourists who canceled at the last minute,” he said. “So it creates big money problems for me.”

One hopeful sign is that SADC mediators are expected to visit Madagascar on Oct. 6 in another attempt to secure a power-sharing deal between Rajoelina’s government and the various opposition movements.

But one thing is certain, until a stable government with international recognition is in place, Madagascar will continue in an unstable limbo that will erode the positive economic gains the country has made in recent years.