Madagascar: radio in the eye of the storm
by Annelie Rozeboom
Madagascar’s journalists have never worked in an impartial climate. But the island, the world’s fourth largest and exposed to tropical cyclones, experienced a political tornado in March 2009 when the military staged a coup, toppled the democratically elected Marc Ravalomanana and replaced him with a disk jockey, Andry Rajoelina.
Mr Rajoelina’s rule heralded the complete collapse of an already frail democratic system. Checks and balances disappeared when he dismissed the parliament. Judicial independence deteriorated. He silenced many critical voices in the press, radio and television.
The communication ministry has routinely ignored or selectively applied laws protecting freedom of the press since 2009, according to Reporters Without Borders. In the year of the coup, Madagascar’s position in their press freedom index plummeted from 94th to 134th out of 179 countries. The 2013 press freedom index lists Madagascar at 88th out of 179 countries, a drop of 4 places compared to the previous year. Freedom House, another independent watchdog, has listed the island’s media as “not free”.
During its first year in power, Mr Rajoelina’s interim government, the High Transitional Authority (HAT), ordered the closure of approximately 80 broadcasters, most of them radio stations, and froze all licences for new channels, according to Freedom House. Government soldiers violently broke up live broadcasts and assaulted members of the editorial staff. Large- scale destruction of equipment
forced other stations to close.
The government arrested station employees and journalists and charged them with not respecting “journalistic ethics, resulting in a threat to state security and incitement of violence and rebellion”. Other, older opposition stations were ordered to cease broadcasting with no reason given for their suspension.
Madagascar’s 22m people are poor and uneducated. More than two-thirds live on less than $1.25 a day and its literacy rate is 64.5%, according to the UN Development Programme. This makes radio stations the island’s most-followed media. About 250 radio stations and 39 television stations share Madagascar’s airwaves. Readership is limited to 13 private daily newspapers and others that appear less frequently.
“Newspapers in Madagascar are only read by a small elite in the cities, while the majority of people listen to the radio,” says Lalatiana Rakotondrazafy, a journalist with Free FM, based in the capital, Antananarivo. “This is why most crackdowns were against radio stations.”
Ms Rakotondrazafy did not escape the government crackdown and in January 2013 was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment for organising an illegal demonstration. It was the latest in a long line of intimidation attempts and convictions which began in May 2012. “I was opposed to Marc Ravalomanana’s rule because I didn’t think he was a good leader,” she says. “At that time it wasn’t easy…to be in the opposition as there were threats against our station. But it was never personal, like it is now. Nobody ever tried to put me in jail.”
Rocco Andrianomenjanahary, director of the daily La Nation newspaper, agrees. “During Ravalomanana, I think we were sued about ten times, but now it is much worse. I’ve never seen this kind of oppression,” he says.
The 2009 political takeover started with a fight over Mr Rajoelina’s Viva radio station. Then-president Ravalomanana closed it down after it broadcast a speech of a former president and rival, Didier Ratsiraka.
Ms Rakotondrazafy joined Viva as one of the hosts of a talk show called “Anao ny Fitenenana” (You have the word). But just a few months after the HAT’s formation, the team of presenters disbanded. Some joined the opposition. Others allied themselves to Mr Rajoelina’s government, including the communications minister, who is behind the current radio station crackdown. “I told Rajoelina that the people around him were involved in illegal rosewood trade, but he wouldn’t do anything about it,” Ms Rakotondrazafy says. “So we put our accusations on air. Rajoelina summoned us to the palace and told us to stop attacking him.”
Ms Rakotondrazafy continued to criticise the HAT in daily two-hour broadcasts at her own radio station. Then in early May 2012, the gendarmes arrested her and a colleague, Fidel Razara Pierre. They were accused of defaming the character of a businessman close to Mr Rajoelina. “They put us in a cell and questioned us. But since there was no ground to keep us and our supporters were outside protesting our arrest, they had to let us go after 24 hours,” she says.
When authorities threatened to close down the station, Free FM appealed to its listeners. On May 19th 2012, between 3,000 and 5,000 people filled the capital’s Ambohijatovo Park, a place that Mr Rajoelina once christened “Democracy Place” when he was leading demonstrations against Mr Ravalomanana. The park has since been closed to demonstrators.
Then on July 22nd 2012 Free FM broadcast a declaration of an army general claiming that a coup was underway. The authorities issued yet another arrest warrant for Ms Rakotondrazafy and Mr Pierre. The two journalists took refuge in the South African embassy. Two months later, after negotiations with the international community, the authorities promised to stop all harassment and the broadcasters left the embassy.
Since leaving the embassy in September 2012 and her January 2013 conviction for organising the illegal May 2012 demonstration, Ms Rakotondrazafy has kept herself off the airwaves. The journalist has not been put behind bars, but is intimidated by the verdict. “They use this verdict to frighten me,” she says. “If I start my broadcasts, they can execute it. If I stay quiet, they might let me be.”
Mr Andrianomenjanahary has had similar experiences. “I was held at the police station two times,” he says. “Both times we had written something in our paper that was said in a public press conference. The first time, we quoted someone who accused an adviser of Rajoelina of being involved in rosewood trade. The police interrogated me for three days.”
Newspapers are not under the same threat of closure as radio stations, but their journalists are still in danger, Mr Andrianomenjanahary says. “If I publish something they don’t like, the gendarmes can come and get me tomorrow and put me in prison. But I have decided that I’m not going to be scared.”
Besides the government suppression, the uncertain political climate in Madagascar has led many journalists to exercise self-censorship, according to Freedom House. Television and radio stations have altered their formats, airing live call-in shows to avoid editorial responsibility for the content. According to Ms Rakotondrazafy, journalists in Madagascar now know better than to criticise the regime. “Only those who work for the written press can write about politics, because they don’t have a big impact,” she says. “The radio stations all have to keep their mouths closed.”
The authorities are not alone in curtailing press freedom. Many media outlets are owned by political figures who make it clear which political views they want their journalists to express. “Reporters are afraid to be fired if they broadcast something that goes against the view of the owner,” Ms Rakotondrazafy says.
Instead, many Malagasy journalists have started to see the profession as an easy way to make money. Interested parties, such as companies, pay reporters to write negative articles about their competition, accusing them of exploiting Malagasy workers or not following the law. Other journalists resort to blackmail, threatening companies with negative articles unless they are paid off. Like almost everyone in Madagascar, journalists are paid poorly, earning an average income of $200–300 a month, which is what most educated people earn in other jobs.
“Many journalists are not trained to do this job. They don’t understand what their work is all about and they don’t know the rules. They just want to survive, and don’t think about the duty and the rights of a journalist,” Ms Rakotondrazafy says.
The solution to many of these problems lies with training journalists, says Lalatiana Rakotondranaivo, a journalist at Search for Common Ground (SFCG), an NGO concentrating on conflict resolution and based in Washington, D.C. “I often ask them, ‘Do you want to be considered someone who plays an important role in society, or do you want to be seen as a robot, someone people can just pay to write whatever they want?,’” she says. “As soon as journalists start to do their work correctly, their bosses will see that there’s value in it.”
On visits to radio stations, Ms Rakotondranaivo has encountered many journalists who do very little investigative reporting and practise self-censorship. “In Morombe, they have a problem with youngsters who go out at night, drink too much alcohol and prostitute themselves. But the local journalists didn’t want to make a programme about this. They told us, ‘People don’t want to talk about these issues,’ which turned out to be untrue. Often, journalists wait for information to come to them, while it’s us who have to take the first step.”
This last year, SFCG has trained 52 reporters from six regions. They come to the capital to learn about journalism in conflict situations and to discuss ways to approach problems with a focus on finding solutions. “The media here are too concentrated on Ravalomanana and Rajoelina,” Ms Rakotondranaivo says. “We try to encourage the journalists to interview others. There are people out there who are living through this crisis, and they need a voice. It shouldn’t only be about what the people in power have to say.”
The NGO is also establishing an impartial journalism network, something that is currently lacking. The capital’s two journalists’ associations are not independent from political influence and are divided into camps favouring either Mr Ravalomanana or Mr Rajoelina. SFCG hopes to create an independent association that will raise its voice when the government infringes freedom of speech. Mr Andrianomenjanahary of La Nation is trying to do the same thing. He is in the process of creating a journalists’ union. “We really lack solidarity. If we worked together, we could be an important force in society.”
Search for Common Ground also produces and broadcasts programmes that bring underreported social and political problems into the open. With this, it hopes to create a climate of free expression, political and social tolerance, and one that protects human rights. “In our programmes, we try to keep the discussion going,” Ms Rakotondranaivo says. “Good journalism doesn’t always have to criticise the government. You need to be sure both sides are heard.”
