Tales From Madagascar

​ 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...

​ Today, we stand in solidarity with the people of Madagascar as the nation observes a day of mourning. Our thoughts are with the families and communities who have suffered the loss of loved ones to recent violence. May this day of reflection bring a collective resolve toward safety, justice, and peace for all. The government of Madagascar declared this day of national mourning in response to the growing public outcry over a series of disappearances, abductions, and violent crimes that have unsettled the country.  By designating this day, the authorities are formally acknowledging the severity of the situation and the grief felt by the public. As part of this observance:      Flags are at half-mast across the country as a sign of respect.      Public festivities are suspended to reflect the somber nature of the day.      Alcohol venues are closed, emphasizing a period of sobriety and reflection. This move is also tied to the government's recent anno...

In my recent discussions about the state of Madagascar’s economy, I have frequently highlighted the systemic challenges facing our teachers and healthcare workers—those who often wait months for their modest salaries. But to understand why reform feels so elusive, we must look at the other end of the spectrum: the compensation structure for those in power. Recently, a breakdown of ministerial "perks" was shared with me, and the numbers are as telling as they are sobering. Beyond a base salary of 10 million Ariary, a minister’s monthly package includes: *   Housing Allowance: 5 million Ariary *   Fuel Allowance: 12 million Ariary *   Communication/Credit: 8 million Ariary That is 25 million Ariary in allowances alone every single month. When you add the base salary, we are looking at a guaranteed monthly income that sits in a stratosphere far removed from the average citizen—or even the average civil servant. To put this into perspective, a teacher or nurse, who is the bac...

In my recent deep dives into Madagascar’s economy, I’ve often looked at the "big numbers"—the budget deficits, the IMF loans, and the weight of our national debt. But behind those cold, hard statistics lies a human story that is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore: the state of our public-sector pay. When I look at the numbers, Madagascar isn't an outlier compared to other low-income countries. The wage bill, at roughly 5% of GDP, sits right where you’d expect for an economy of Madagascars size. But look under the hood, and the picture changes. When you measure that same wage bill against our tax revenue, it’s a different story—one that explains why so many of our essential workers, particularly teachers and healthcare staff, face persistent delays in payment. The Balancing Act In 2022, the government’s compensation bill reached nearly 60% of total tax revenue. When more than half of every Ariary collected in taxes goes straight to salaries, there is precious little...

My recent blog series navigated the complex terrain of Madagascar’s economy. It dissected the budget deficits, scrutinised the impact of IMF loans, traced the flow of remittances, and confronted the corrosive reality of corruption. Yet, last week’s news—the Coface downgrade of Madagascar’s country risk from C to D—feels like a culmination of these individual threads. It is a signal that the press has largely misread, focusing on the static "business climate" rating while ignoring the darker reality of the country risk downgrade.  A Convergence of Risk When we look at the fiscal instability I have documented in earlier posts—the chronic cash flow problems, the delayed payments to teachers and healthcare workers, and the reliance on debt—the Coface downgrade is not a surprise; it is a confirmation.  To understand why this matters, it helps to know who these entities are. Coface is a global leader in trade credit insurance. They provide the insurance that allows companies to tra...

​ This series of twenty blogs has been an exploration of the complex, often contradictory, economic landscape of Madagascar. From the mechanics of remittances and the weight of international debt to the granular realities of tax reform and the corrosive impact of corruption, we have looked at the country not just as a set of statistics, but as a living, breathing system struggling to find its footing. As I conclude this series, three central themes have emerged as the pillars upon which the future of Madagascar’s economy rests: 1. Corruption as a Structural Tax The analysis consistently returned to the idea that corruption is not merely a moral failing; it is an economic barrier. When domestic revenues are siphoned away or mismanaged, it acts as a regressive tax on the most vulnerable. It creates a "cash flow" crisis that prevents the state from meeting its most basic obligations—most notably, the timely payment of teachers and healthcare workers. Eliminating this is not just...