Gen Z, Digital Activism, and Regime Change in Madagascar

From 25 September to 14 October 2025, Madagascar experienced a three-week nationwide protest that culminated in the exile of President Andry Rajoelina and the installation of a military-led transitional government. As the first Gen Z-led revolution to topple a regime in Africa, its effectiveness illustrates a deeper generational shift in activism. Structural political and economic failures may have fuelled anger across society, including among the military, but the catalyst lay in the young protesters’ widespread adoption and use of digital tools such as social media platforms, encrypted messaging apps, and open-source intelligence networks. Madagascar’s Gen Z activists deployed three digital strategies that proved decisive: leaderless coordination; hybrid mobilization with transnational amplification; and challenging information control. These tactics penetrated the state’s hidden power structures and generated pressure faster than the political apparatus could react, turning digital media into precision instruments that exploited the regime’s vulnerabilities and accelerated its downfall.

Drivers and Key Actors of the Protest

The protests were sparked by frustrations over water and electricity outages in the capital, Antananarivo, and across the whole country, before quickly embracing a broader range of grievances about governance, unemployment, and the cost of living. Crowds were initially dominated by urban youth and students before workers’ unions and residents in provincial towns began to join. Only 36 per cent of Madagascar’s population has access to electricity. Even in urban areas, the outages over the last two years have sometimes lasted more than 12 hours a day. Beyond these immediate grievances, the protests escalated into broader demands for Rajoelina’s resignation, with deep frustrations over corruption, social mismanagement, and lack of basic services, all against the backdrop of long-term economic decline, with GDP per capita in the 2020s being 45 per cent lower than in the 1960s, ranking it 120th of 123 on the 2025 Global Hunger Index, and 183rd of 193 on the Human Development Index. 

The rapidity of the regime’s collapse stands in stark contrast to Rajoelina’s rise to power. In 2009, he led protests for three months before receiving the backing of the military, which enabled him to seize power. Sixteen years later, his own regime fell in less than three weeks. This cannot be explained by military intervention alone.

The Media’s Role, Then and Now

The youth of Madagascar’s Gen Z population have spent their formative years under Rajoelina’s rule (2009–2014, 2019–2025). With a median age of just 19.2 years and approximately one-third of the population aged 10–24, they represent a demographic majority that has experienced ever worsening infrastructure failures, limited economic opportunities, and persistent corruption as the status quo when compared to their parents. However, this generation possesses digital literacy and smartphone access, which their predecessors lacked, fundamentally altering their capacity for collective action.

Yet, as a radio-DJ-turned-TV-owner, Rajoelina’s rise to power in 2009 relied heavily on control over traditional broadcast media. Throughout each of his presidencies, Rajoelina utilized state television as his primary communication channel, and his limited engagement on social media was gradually overwhelmed by oppositional content as a result. His final address to the nation – delayed several hours because dissident military forces attempted to seize the public television station – symbolized the obsolescence of his media strategy. A president who rose to power using television found himself deposed by the smartphone generation.

The Regime’s Fatal Miscalculation

Although digital activism is not new globally, the Malagasy authorities were ill-prepared to confront it. Their established playbook involved mainly identifying, harassing, and arresting the leaders from the previous protests, who were mostly high-profile political figures. The protests this time, however, were deliberately leaderless, with coordinated action emerging organically from decentralized online networks. The regime had no central figures to target and possessed neither the technical nor institutional capacities to effectively censor social media. Most of all, they failed to anticipate the power of open-source intelligence (OSINT) to expose elite wealth and track secretive operations in a contest over information control. In contexts where traditional authoritarian control depends on secrecy and a monopoly over information, the regime found itself outmanoeuvred by a generation that could weaponize transparency.

Digital Strategy I: Leaderless Coordination

Inspired by peers in Nepal and Indonesia, a Facebook page called “Gen Z Madagascar” had gained more than 100,000 followers ahead of the protest. Events were coordinated through Discord servers, rendering the regime’s traditional suppression tactics meaningless. By early October, participants were encouraged to download BitChat – a Bluetooth-based offline messenger – to ensure coordination could survive any internet shutdown.

When protesters occupied the May 13 Square (Square of Democracy) in Antananarivo on 12 October, the movement became even more multi-centred. Rather than a leader directing the show, as in Rajoelina’s 2009 coup, various social groups spontaneously organized public speeches, prayers, and concerts on the square. The mutinous military forces also took the opportunity to engage in dialogue with Gen Z, sought their recognition, and held a funeral for a soldier who died during the protest. 

Digital Strategy II: Hybrid Mobilization

According to Afrobarometer data, Madagascar had extremely low protest participation rates in the past. The Gen Z revolution reversed this pattern through unprecedented social mobilization that took control of physical and digital spaces simultaneously.

The Square of Democracy has the greatest symbolic importance in Madagascar’s political history. Whoever controlled it ultimately seized power. This tradition was reinterpreted digitally. Live broadcasts transformed the physical occupation into a powerful event that resonated with online users and the global Malagasy diaspora. Messages calling for an uprising inundated social media. Malagasy people in Europe and North America responded with displays of solidarity while chanting “Mitsangana ry tanora” (the song of resistance) together with the onsite protesters. They jointly created and reinforced a powerful message of inevitability that reshaped the political calculus for elites and security forces, making continued loyalty to the regime look like a losing bet.

This hybrid mobilization also connected Malagasy youth with transnational protest networks. Young activists directly consulted Nepalese peers through Discord servers seeking tactical advice. These same networks connected them to Indonesia and Morocco. This transnational solidarity demonstrated that their movement was part of a broader, digitally enabled wave of global resistance that challenged traditional regimes – not only through confrontation but also by demanding accountability, transparency, and inclusion.

Digital Strategy III: Contesting Information Control

The Gen Z protesters resorted to crowd sleuthing and OSINT against the regime’s authority and control over information, turning its last line of defence into its most vulnerable point. This evolved into three escalatory phases: viral storytelling, digital deterrence, and the destruction of secrecy.

At the forefront was the potent psychological pressure generated through viral storytelling that amplified fear, outrage, and collective anticipation. A rumour that a Nepal-like revolution could happen in Madagascar preceded the protest, forcing some high-ranking officials to relocate their families abroad. The public delegitimization of Senate President Richard Ravalomanana, who fled from the protest site, and the images of looted luxury residences shocked the elite class. This dramatic development directly threatened their personal security and eroded their confidence in the regime’s ability to protect them. The viral juxtaposition of the Rajoelina family’s extravagant lifestyle against widespread poverty and service failures further shattered the regime’s facade, fuelled public anger, and deprived it of any credible counter-narrative.

Second, activists used OSINT to identify masked gendarmes accused of firing on protesters. Within hours, names circulated online, fracturing loyalty within security forces and deterring further violence. Crowd sleuthing also led to revelations that the same Senate President Ravalomanana had been disseminating false information on Facebook using multiple fake accounts. Disgraced, this close friend of Rajoelina’s eventually resigned.

The contest reached its dramatic apex during the regime’s collapse. When a private jet linked to the former prime minister and a Rajoelina-aligned tycoon departed on 11 October, activists used Flightradar24 to monitor its path to Mauritius. So many people watched the flight’s path online that the aircraft became the most tracked globally that night. This openness publicly pressured the Mauritian government to respond. The same digital sleuths also detected and publicly tracked Rajoelina’s escape from the palace by helicopter, and later a French military plane to La Réunion. This exposure stripped the regime of its last crucial advantage in a political crisis: information control. Operationally paralysed, the regime’s leadership could not flee, hide, or lie, leaving them with no strategic options as their power drained away under widespread digital scrutiny.

Aftermath and the Military’s Role

Initially, the protesters welcomed the intervention of the military, which justified its move as an act to protect the civilians and escorted them to occupy the Square of Democracy. The leader of the protesters, now President of the Refoundation, Colonel Michael Randrianirina, had been known as a dissident in the toppled regime. The young protesters reciprocated, openly recognizing his legitimacy. The online community further amplified this reciprocation by circulating images of Randrianirina and information about his and his wife’s humble origins from Madagascar’s most impoverished region in the south and framing him as a hero rather than as a usurper. At present, Malagasy youth have high expectations of him and are angry at the African Union’s sanctions. They believe that this was not a coup but rather the military’s alignment with the people’s cause.

Despite their digital proficiency, the protesters lacked a unified political agenda. Their immediate goal was Rajoelina’s removal and the appointment of a technocratic prime minister to stabilize the economy. Some have already expressed criticism regarding the new prime minister, who has many links to the old regime. This reveals a fundamental shortcoming of such a revolution, as the movement may be captured by powerful political players. The military-led transition faces the same structural constraints that had brought about the downfall of all previous governments on the island – entrenched poverty, collapsing infrastructure, and reversal in development, in addition to the immediate challenge of restoring essential utilities. Controversial projects – such as the France-funded cable car, now a relic of Rajoelina’s vanity, which was vandalised by looters and carries problematic future repayment obligations – vividly illustrate the challenges that the new government and the country face.

Gen Z Becoming a New Force: Is Africa Ready?

The events in Madagascar are not isolated phenomena. Across the continent and globally, Gen Z has emerged with methods and values that traditional regimes are demonstrably ill-equipped to counter. These movements are also increasingly interconnected through a transnational digital culture, open-source networks, and encrypted communication. 

Africa’s youth bulge amplifies this shift: 70 per cent of the sub-Saharan African population is under the age of 30. This generation is also the most digitally connected cohort in history. Smartphone penetration in sub-Saharan Africa is reaching 50 per cent, and social media usage continues to grow, despite economic challenges. The convergence of a demographic bulge with digital fluency has created a latent political power that many governments still underestimate.

The implications extend beyond policy-making. Madagascar’s experience raises critical questions about how digital fluency may reshape the fragility of democracy in Africa. Digital tools may lower the barriers to toppling entrenched regimes, but they do not guarantee democratic consolidation, especially when the youth who are revolting have no clear agenda for institutional reforms. Without reforms, online mobilization can just as easily usher in new types of illiberal rule or digital surveillance. The outcome depends on the contexts and whether these emerging networks can gain sufficient civic space, whether states will tolerate dissent rather than shut down the internet, and to what extent transnational solidarity and support from the diaspora can help promote domestic demands. Madagascar’s mix of a large youth population, relatively accessible internet service among the urban youth, active diasporic support, and an unsophisticated regime made this digital revolution possible. Yet, replicating it elsewhere would depend on how these conditions align.

Governments must treat the youth of Gen Z not as a threat to stability but as stakeholders in governance. Incorporating their voices through digital platforms they are familiar with and open policy-making can transform confrontation into participation, which remains challenging in Madagascar’s (or in any new regime’s) ongoing political reconstruction. Exclusion, by contrast, guarantees recurring crises because in many countries, Gen Z “has nothing to lose”.

Dr Xuefei Shi is a development policy specialist based in Bergen, Norway. He conducts research and consultancy on ocean governance in the West Indian Ocean and East Africa region. His research experience in Madagascar involves a broad cross-section of Malagasy society, including both grassroots communities and the elite class.