Tales From Madagascar

​ In the first two parts of this series, we explored how AI could bridge our infrastructure gap and serve as a "force multiplier" for our teachers and healthcare workers. But all these technical solutions share a common vulnerability: the integrity of the system in which they operate. As we have seen in Madagascar, the most brilliant policy can be hollowed out by corruption, and the most necessary funds can disappear before they ever reach the people who need them. In his Economist interview, Elon Musk discussed the potential for AI to reshape society. If we are to apply that vision to Madagascar, we must confront the most difficult hurdle of all: governance. If the government won't reform, can technology force it? The Transparency Engine Corruption thrives in the dark. It relies on opaque budgets, complex procurement processes, and a lack of real-time oversight. AI offers a new, radical form of accountability: automated auditing. By mandating that all government procurem...

In his recent interview with The Economist, Elon Musk spoke of a future where AI might render most human work unnecessary, ushering in an age of automated abundance. While that global vision is provocative, it can feel profoundly disconnected from the daily struggle of a teacher in a rural Malagasy classroom or a nurse at a remote health center. For them, the challenge isn't the end of work—it is the impossibility of performing their work effectively with the limited tools they have. When we speak of a "shortage" in Madagascar's healthcare and education sectors, we aren't referring to a lack of willing hands or dedicated hearts. We are referring to a chronic deficit in trained, supported, and fairly compensated professional capacity. Many of our teachers and healthcare workers are profoundly dedicated, yet they are trapped in a system that fails to provide them with the training, the tools, or even the timely pay they need to function. They are forced to operate i...

The promise of Artificial Intelligence often sounds like a Silicon Valley fairy tale: an "age of amazing abundance" where productivity skyrockets, costs plummet, and human labour is liberated from drudgery. In his recent interview with The Economist, Elon Musk painted a vision of a future where AI becomes an unstoppable, transformative force, potentially making most human work unnecessary and ushering in unprecedented global wealth. For those of us living in Antananarivo, however, that vision feels less like a coming revolution and more like a distant, alien broadcast.  When you spend your days navigating a city where consistent electricity is a luxury and high-speed data is priced for the elite, the "AI-driven future" doesn't feel like a solution—it feels like another barrier. If we aren't careful, AI risks becoming a "luxury good," a tool that further concentrates wealth and power in the hands of the few, while widening the chasm between the conn...

​This appeared in my feed and I was a somewhat surprised and I was spurred on to write this post.  In the face of mounting national challenges—from the persistent budget deficits and the non-payment of public servants to the recent climate of instability in Antananarivo—the response from the highest levels of authority has taken a turn toward the spiritual. Recent statements by Colonel Michaël Randrianirina, suggesting that "public authorities cannot solve the country’s challenges alone" and calling for a return to God, have sparked significant debate. While faith is a cornerstone of Malagasy society, there is a dangerous line between personal belief and state administration. When leaders frame national crises as spiritual failings rather than policy failures, they are not just expressing piety—they are engaging in a calculated deflection of accountability. The Rhetoric of Moralization By shifting the burden of reform from tangible institutional changes to abstract personal m...

For many Malagasy professionals, the dream of working abroad represents more than just a job—it is a path toward a brighter future. Scammers understand this ambition perfectly. They no longer rely on sloppy, error-ridden emails; today, they operate with sophisticated, professional-looking websites, polished interviewers, and offer letters that look indistinguishable from the real thing.  But behind this veneer of legitimacy lies a dangerous trap. When a "dream job" requires you to pay upfront fees for processing, visas, or travel, you aren't being hired—you are being targeted. The "Professional" Facade: Why Sophistication is the Trap Scammers now invest significant time in building a convincing persona. They create high-quality websites, use branding identical to well-known global corporations, conduct formal video interviews, and provide detailed offer letters. Remember: a professional interview and a formal document are not proof of a legitimate job. These are...

​ After a year of living here in Antananarivo, I have learned that the most common conversation in our neighbourhoods is not about the latest government policy or international loan. It is about the "exit." In the quiet corners of our city, parents ask me the same painful question: "How do I get my child out of here?" As a British national who has made this country my home, I have watched this desperation grow. It is a feeling born of love and a very real, gnawing fear. When you see the instability in our streets, the disappearances, and the daily struggle to make ends meet, the "exit" feels like the only rational act of protection. A plane ticket to Europe or the Gulf is viewed as a lifeline—a way to secure a future that feels increasingly impossible to build here. But I have to share a hard, uncomfortable truth I have witnessed firsthand: the "exit" is often a mirage, and the path to it is paved with predators. The Predators in the Shadows I ha...