Tales From Madagascar

It has been a little while since I last shared an update here. In the time I have been away, I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the work I’ve been doing—specifically, the deep dives into Madagascar’s economy, the challenges of tax reform, and the frustrating reality of how structural issues often stall progress. While writing about budget deficits and remittances is vital, I found myself constantly hitting a wall: the question of why. Why do certain reforms that seem so logical on paper fail to take root in practice? Why does the system seem to prioritize certain outcomes over others, regardless of the economic data? I realized that to truly understand the economic challenges I’ve been documenting, I needed to zoom out. I needed to look at the "plumbing" of the political systems themselves.  That is why I am starting a new series. We are going to move beyond the usual political labels—which often feel like they are built for Western contexts and don't quite fit the ...

In discussions about the future of Madagascar, a common refrain often emerges: "We need a strong leader to fix this." I recently had a fascinating conversation with the president of a local association here in Antananarivo, and my friend argued that, given the current state of affairs, the country might be better off under a dictatorship. It is a sentiment born of frustration—a reaction to the persistent inability of our current structures to deliver basic services, from reliable infrastructure to the timely payment of public servants. But I find myself disagreeing. A "strongman" model assumes that the rot is only at the top, and that a firm hand can simply sweep away systemic inefficiencies. I believe the opposite is true: the failure of the presidential model is a symptom of a deeper, structural disconnect. The real, sustainable change this country needs cannot be handed down from a palace; it must be built upward, like a pyramid, starting at the neighbourhood lev...

In the world of international relations, we are often fed a diet of "great power" politics—a chess game played by giants. But if you look closely at the nations that find themselves under the scrutiny of the International Criminal Court (ICC), a different, more sombre pattern emerges. It isn't just about ideology; it is about the quiet, steady erosion of domestic stability. I’ve been tracking the economic health of Madagascar —the budget deficits, the struggle to pay teachers and healthcare workers, and the systemic drag of corruption. These are not just dry statistics; they are the early warning signs of a state losing its grip.  The Mirror of International Law Take a look at the table of ICC warrant statuses below. It serves as a grim barometer of global friction.  ICC Warrant Status: A Global Snapshot What links these disparate cases?  Often, it is the breakdown of the internal social contract. When a state can no longer provide for its citizens, when it relies on repr...

​ 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...