Mamy Ravatomanga, the power broker behind Madagascar’s ousted president, is facing arrest warrants, financial freezes and investigations in the wake of a military takeover that has upended the country’s elite networks.
In Antananarivo, the dramatic collapse of the political and economic patronage network that once underpinned President Andry Rajoelina’s rule has flattened one of Madagascar’s most influential business figures: Mamy Ravatomanga.
Until just weeks ago, Ravatomanga—nicknamed “Blue Stone” in the local press—reigned as the behind-the-scenes kingmaker. His Sodiat Group, a sprawling enterprise active in lychees, vanilla, transport, real estate and security, dominated not just the economy but the corridors of power.
When youth-led protests erupted on 25 September in response to chronic power cuts, water shortages and the cost of living, the movement’s ire extended beyond the presidency to those who wielded economic clout with political cover. Ravatomanga’s name emerged repeatedly in chants and placards demanding accountability. “Before, we were very afraid of him … now, there’s a bit more freedom,” said one Antananarivo call-centre worker, pointing to Sodiat’s shuttered headquarters.
The coup that followed—led by the elite CAPSAT military unit and culminating in Rajoelina’s removal on 14 October—provided the catalyst for a reversal of fortunes. Soldiers were deployed around Sodiat’s red-and-glass tower; some report guards stationed every thirty metres.
Mauritian authorities, responding to money-laundering concerns, froze Ravatomanga’s funds and began investigations into large transfers out of the country. An international arrest warrant is reportedly sought via Interpol, while Madagascar’s judiciary has opened its own case.
Several past actions now carry new scrutiny: in 2023 a former minister was jailed for slander after testifying against Ravatomanga over rosewood trafficking; whistle-blowers who exposed malfeasance in the lychee sector likewise faced arrests and intimidation. Local watchdogs say the institutional culture of impunity now faces a test.
With elections pledged in 18 to 24 months by the new military-led regime, the question is whether Ravatomanga will play a fading role in Madagascar’s elite network—or become a cautionary tale of what happens when power shifts and business elites fall out of favour. As one analyst put it, the “wheel has turned” in Madagascar’s political economy.