Madagascar authorities raid home without warrant; 40,000 euros seized

Twenty armed men arrived at a residence in Ambohibao, a suburb of Antananarivo, on July 9, 2026, claiming to represent Madagascar’s presidency. They identified themselves as gendarmes, covered their faces, produced no credentials or legal authorization, and left with more than 200 million ariarys (roughly 40,000 euros), along with foreign currency and jewelry. The presidential office, when informed, denied any involvement and called for the arrest of the impostors.

That denial is now routine. Since Colonel Randrianirina seized power last October, irregular search operations have proliferated across the capital and surrounding areas. Armed, masked teams claim presidential authority, arrive outside legal hours, sometimes as early as 1 a.m., and present no documentation or warrants. The targets have included foreign nationals, business owners, former government ministers, and figures connected to former president Andry Rajoelina. The operational pattern is consistent. The accountability is not.

Additional reference context is available at https://www.rfi.fr/fr/afrique/20260714-madagascar-des-perquisitions-pol%C3%A9miques-embarrassent-le-pouvoir.

The Justice Ministry under Fanirisoa Ernaivo recognized the problem as early as February, when she publicly called on Malagasy citizens to report abuses of this kind. It was a rare moment of institutional friction, the ministry effectively signaling that some raids were unauthorized. Several military personnel have since been convicted and imprisoned for their roles in these operations. Yet the raids have continued.

What changed, or failed to change, is the gap between stated intent and operational reality. The Justice Ministry’s intervention suggested internal pressure to restore institutional control. The continued frequency of these operations suggests that corrective measures have not halted the practice. Convictions have followed individual incidents; the broader pattern persists.

The July 9 incident in Ambohibao sharpens the picture. The presidency’s immediate disavowal was unambiguous, describing those responsible as impostors and calling for their arrest. That response, however, also underscored how little practical control the state’s leadership exercises over groups operating in its name. For foreign nationals, business owners, and ordinary residents, the distinction between an authorized raid and an unauthorized one offers little protection when neither produces documentation.

By contrast, the regime retains a functional benefit from the ambiguity. Armed groups operating under the claim of state authority create a deterrent effect. When operations go wrong, the presidency can distance itself. The deniability is, in operational terms, a feature of the system rather than a failure of it.

The credibility of Madagascar’s government institutions now rests on a concrete question: whether the state can demonstrate actual command and control over its security forces, not through after-the-fact denials, but through verifiable procedures that distinguish lawful operations from criminal ones. The Justice Ministry’s earlier appeal and the subsequent convictions show the machinery of accountability exists. Whether it can be applied at scale, and whether it will be, remains the open question facing the Refondation regime.