By Muchira Gachenge
Prosecutions against constitutional judges, investigations under the banner of “state security”, and a growing number of corruption indictments have made Madagascar’s judicial system a central pillar of the transition regime’s strategy.
In Antananarivo, the proceedings initiated against four judges of the High Constitutional Court (HCC) mark a significant turning point. The Public Prosecutor requested, and obtained, authorisation to prosecute four senior constitutional judges for “conspiracy to destabilise the state”, on the grounds that they had deemed admissible a petition seeking the removal of the President of the Refoundation.
Justice Minister Fanirisoa Ernaivo, who had just returned from an official visit to Russia, accused them of “abuse of power” and violations of procedural rules governing referrals to the Court. In practical terms, the country’s highest judicial authority now faces criminal prosecution for having agreed to examine a challenge to executive power. It is worth noting that if questions are to be raised regarding procedural admissibility, the process that led to the removal of President Andry Rajoelina in October 2025 was no more procedurally sound.
The case comes amid an already tense atmosphere within the HCC. A few days earlier, two judges, William Noelson and Georges Merlin Rasolo Randrasana, publicly denounced what they described as their “arbitrary replacement”, arguing that their terms had been prematurely terminated without any legal basis and that new members had been hastily installed in their place.
At the end of 2025, a first controversy had already emerged over the alleged “resignation” of several senior constitutional judges, who maintained that they had never submitted resignation letters before being replaced. For a court entrusted with overseeing electoral integrity and constitutional review, this succession of forced reshuffles followed by criminal proceedings suggests a gradual subordination of the institution and represents a troubling erosion of the rule of law.
“State security”: An all-purpose offence
The case involving the four judges is merely the latest in a series of investigations pursued under allegations relating to “state security” or “destabilisation”. Members of Generation Z were among the first targets. In April, several activists from the movement were arrested or summoned following demonstrations openly critical of the junta.
Widely viewed as an attempt by the authorities to intimidate dissenting voices, these arrests were condemned by dozens of Malagasy civil society organisations, which explicitly observed “a significant setback in commitments made regarding civil and political rights. We are witnessing the increasingly frequent use of charges relating to threats against state security.”
Amnesty International also expressed concern, accusing the Malagasy authorities of “using deliberately vague accusations of criminal conspiracy, threats to national security or destabilisation of the state to silence Gen Z activists and members of civil society.” Since these events, social media accounts affiliated with Generation Z have experienced a resurgence in activity, often sharply critical of the transition authorities. The shift observed over just a few weeks has been striking.
Within the security apparatus itself, Colonel Patrick Rakotomamonjy has become a particularly emblematic case. The officer, who had publicly criticised alleged corruption and internal abuses within the transition regime, was arrested in mid-April and accused of plotting a coup d’état alongside thirteen other alleged conspirators against President Michaël Randrianirina.
More remarkably, on 12 April, Justice Minister Fanirisoa Ernaivo publicly linked the arrest of Generation Z activists to their supposed connections with Colonel Rakotomamonjy. Such allegations carry considerable weight in an already highly charged political climate.
Former Education Minister Paul Rabary, leader of the Antoko ny Fireneko party, has likewise been prosecuted for an alleged “attempted coup” following statements deemed subversive by the authorities. He was placed in pre-trial detention in mid-May. According to the Antananarivo Court, he is suspected of having “planned and prepared actions intended to disrupt public order, leading to the assassination of senior state officials and deadly clashes among Malagasy citizens”.
Yet Rabary had primarily been a vocal critic of the transition, repeatedly denouncing what he described as “confusion and disillusionment”. In March, he stated that “we do not intend to join the government during this transition”. In his case, the boundary between political expression and criminal liability appears particularly blurred.
Anti-corruption as another instrument of the transition
Alongside these cases, anti-corruption efforts have emerged as the second major pillar of the Refoundation government’s judicial agenda. Officially, Justice Minister Fanirisoa Ernaivo maintains that her objective is to address past misconduct. In practice, however, the overwhelming majority of investigations have targeted political figures closely associated with former President Andry Rajoelina.
Still enjoying significant support among segments of the population, Rajoelina is regarded by the junta as its principal political rival. Yet such selective targeting is striking in a country where corruption remains a deeply entrenched problem cutting across all political affiliations.
Most recently, MP Naivo Raholdina, a prominent figure of the previous majority, was placed in pre-trial detention in connection with a series of land disputes. Former Education Minister Marie Michelle Sahondrarimalala was indicted for the alleged embezzlement of public funds and serious management failures before being imprisoned. Investigations have also been announced against former executives of state-owned enterprises, governors and senior civil servants.
Examples could easily be multiplied. According to the French newspaper Le Monde, “around twenty figures from the former regime are currently in the sights of the judiciary, mainly over financial crimes or alleged acts hostile to the junta”.
Similar observations have appeared elsewhere in the African press. As early as January, Financial Afrik was warning of “a hardening political climate” and describing what it called a “palace revolution running counter to the principles of a peaceful transition”.
Arrests have multiplied since the beginning of 2026. Former minister Augustin Andriamananoro, a close ally of Andry Rajoelina, saw his home searched after the lifting of his parliamentary immunity, while Vy Vato Rakotovao, another former ally of the deposed president, was placed in police custody on charges of “destabilisation” and “threats to state security”.
At the same time, opposition figure Rinah Rakotomanga was transferred to Manjakandriana prison. On 3 March, General Richard Ravalomanana, former President of the Senate, and Valéry Ramonjavelo, former Minister of Transport and Meteorology, were formally implicated in alleged corruption cases.
Against this backdrop, concern is growing across the Great Island. On 15 May, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference explicitly condemned “the arrest of those who do not share the views of those in power” and warned against repeating “the mistakes of the past”.
When activists, military officers, former ministers and now constitutional judges all find themselves targeted by the same categories of accusations, a broader fear begins to crystallise: that the transition may be entrenching a system in which judges, rather than protecting citizens from abuses of state power, are increasingly called upon to protect the state from any form of political challenge.

