Madagascar’s new president has already been ousted once. But, reports Helen Meintjes, Admiral Didier Ratsiraka is for many a devil they know
IN true Malagasy style, it’s been “mora mora” – slowly slowly – in choosing a new president. The local maxim was coined for a palpable reason. But finally, a full three months since first voting in national elections, the “red island” (so named for its vivid soil) again has a president.
Admiral Didier Ratsiraka, scraping together a mere 50,72% of the votes, late last week sneaked an exceptionally slim victory over his only remaining competitor, Dr Albert Zafy.
Its been a long, confusing haul. The first attempt at voting, in November 1996, failed to achieve the absolute majority required by the Constitution but led to the elimination of 13 of the 15 presidential candidates.
The two remaining nominees presented a puzzling paradox: Ratsiraka and Zafy are both previous presidents, both deposed from power in the past. The former was ousted after 17 years by public dissatisfaction at his damaging regime, the latter impeached by his Parliament in September 1996 on the grounds of contraventions of the Constitution. He was accused of money-laundering, exceeding his powers, and not enacting his promises to institute more democratic government structures.
Madagascar went to the polls on December 29, and the 50% turnout, a month long in the counting, places Ratsiraka back in the presidential hotseat. This is the man under whose self-designed regime of “Christian Marxism”, the island’s economy first began its devastating decline; the same man who blew $300-million on Soviet arms in the early 1980s, while there wasn’t sufficient money to keep national roads negotiable, health services effectively operating or plumbing up and running; the man whose guards shot at unarmed protesters during 1991 pro-democracy demonstrations (led by Zafy) outside his palatial residence, an event which finally led to his displacement from government by an enraged populace.
Now only four years later, the selfsame public have voted to have him back. Its an incongruous decision to any outsider.
But at a rally in Ambalavao in December, where Ratsiraka briefly had the tiny town waving flags and bopping to local pop, a few supporters explained their attitudes.
“Poverty increased with Zafy. Ratsiraka promises better things,” a rally organiser asserted. She was not certain what these better things might be. She remembered that he promised to build hospitals.
“Ratsiraka has foreign donors on his side,” another rally supporter believed. Conveniently for his campaign, Ratsiraka’s return in October 1996 from exile in France coincided with promises of foreign aid shortly after.
Aid from the International Monetary Fund and World Bank, confirmed in December after lengthy and turbulent negotiations, is expected by many to be the life-belt that will haul Madagascar out of its current economic crisis.
Madagascar’s economic collapse lost Zafy much of his popular support. Under his rule, international debt rose to $4-billion (equivalent to $340 per person) and inflation skyrocketed (it is currently pinned at around 40%).
For the four years he was in power, not one cent of international aid came into the impoverished country.
For much of the Malagasy population. the island’s politics do little to quicken heart beats. Midway through the national elections, there was minimal sense of anything one might label election fever. At the Ambalavao rally, political cynics were numerous. They were there for the music and to check out Ratsiraka the “criminal”.
He’s corrupt, a few concurred, criticising Ratsiraka for indulging in gross capitalism – exactly what he claimed to oppose in his version of Marxism.
“Look at his rings,” one pointed, “and have you seen his palace?”
“People are simply voting for him because they know him,” spat another. “Malagasies are scared to take risks.”
It’s yet another “better the devil you know” scenario for many. Besides, a young medical student from Antananarivo suggested, “People have forgotton. They compare his time to that of Zafy, under whom the cost of living soared even more.” Heads nodded in agreement.
These men did not bother to vote again. “What’s the use?” asked Lolo Rakotonirina, a local tour guide. “Our politicians are like the Malagasy kestrel. They’re greedy. They circle, looking for opportunities that will feather their own nests. Nobody is rich here except the politicians.”
Indeed Malagasy politicians are notorious among their electorate for the backstabbing, bickering wrangles they indulge in. Likewise the frivolous fashion of shifting their loyalties and ideologies in order to stay hip and in power.
Understandably then, for many there was no justification for election excitement. That the final election contest was between these two men – rather than any fresh faces – and that it then produced such ambivalent results, is surely an indication of people’s disillusionment in politics and their lack of faith in any politician’s ability to brighten the island’s future. Most Malagasies seem resigned to living with their kestrels …