Land Tenure for Women: Reflections on Madagascan Realities
Sylvia Marie Hanta smiles at the camera as she holds the branch of one of her over-mature robusta coffee bushes, planted by her father some 30 years ago. The bushes cover one of four small plots that he bestowed to her; on one of the others, she grows cassava, and on another, vanilla. The fourth is uncultivated.
Sylvia lives in the commune of Doany in the Sava region of northeast Madagascar, and she belongs to the Tsimihety ethnic group. This group is exceptional in Madagascar in that both daughters and sons inherit land; amongst other groups in the country, patrilineal inheritance is the norm.
Sylvia’s partner, Ismael Ben (they are not officially married) is a non-Tsimihety man who gains an income from his carpentry skills. He has no land, so their family of five only has Sylvia’s inheritance — which is not yet truly an inheritance since her father is still alive. To talk of what might happen after his death is fady — taboo. In Madagascar, you disregard fady at your peril.
Sylvia thus uses the land that she expects to claim eventually without making any significant investment in it. If she did, one of her four siblings just might try to obtain it for themselves. This is not an unusual situation; parents (who are often only 15-25 years older than their children) may distribute use rights well before they die, while retaining oversight and receiving part of the production. These are simply spoken arrangements; like others in the village, her father has no official land ownership document.
With population growth, land is in ever shorter supply and conflicts over land ownership are multiplying. What is locally considered “ownership” can rest on who first cleared an area of forest, who has a slip of paper showing that he (sometimes she) bought it from someone else who cleared it, or who has the physical or political power to claim it.
Ironically, under national law, Tsimihety women may even be discriminated against by the fact that they often do not officially marry. Thus, if the relationship fails, they have no legal claim to household assets. Land disputes are especially critical in Doany, which lies close to the border of the COMATSA Protected Area, leaving little possibility to expand cultivated land. The Deputy Mayor, Rodrigue Lambohery, claims that trying to resolve land conflicts takes up nearly 90% of his and other administrators’ time. They all agree that securing land tenure would both reduce conflicts and encourage investment in sustainable land management.
International recognition
Globally, the importance of land tenure security for small-holder farmers — and especially women — is widely recognized. Women are more likely than men to focus their farming efforts on food production for the family (men tend to be more interested in commercial crops). They are also more likely to practice sustainable farming methods.
Unlike Sylvia, most women farmers have no claim to land at all; land generally passes solely down the male line. So, in the event of death, divorce or separation, a woman can be left with nothing. United Nations agencies and wider international development agencies have placed huge emphasis on securing land tenure for women. For example, this is identified as one of nine pathways towards halting land degradation (specifically, achieving land degradation neutrality) by the Food and Agriculture Organization and the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification.
How to secure land tenure in Madagascar
The most secure form of land tenure in Madagascar is land title, which can only be granted at the national, or sometimes regional, level. Alternatively, it is possible to apply for a land certificate at the municipal level — if the municipality has a guichet de foncier, known locally by its Malagasy acronym of BIF. Under a project known as CASEF, the World Bank loaned the Madagascar government millions to set up such BIF in many parts of the country. This was a substantial, costly task since each BIF must be equipped with appropriate technology and have staff trained in its use in places that often struggle simply to maintain electricity supplies.
Although many land certificates were issued during the project’s years of operation, it terminated last year and only covered selected municipalities. Doany was not one of them. The neighboring municipalities of Ambalamanasy II and Ambodiangezoka did get a BIF, but unfortunately it was relatively late in project operations, without adequate time to integrate the system into municipal functioning. In both cases, the BIF is not currently operational.
In the absence of a BIF, the only option is to apply for a land title. This is a more complicated procedure, and for individual claimants, extremely expensive and bureaucratic. The regional government has taken steps to render the process a little more accessible by opening windows of opportunity for applications in specific municipalities over a limited period. This allows the administration to deal with requests in a concerted manner. However, full payment in advance is required, and people are hesitant. The final option is a group application by individuals who have some external support to negotiate the system. Such a group application is what the Helvetas-implemented cocoa project in the Samirano valley is facilitating. It is also what the Mirieka project, of which one of us is Team Leader, is hoping to support in Doany — if practicalities allow.
Societal hurdles and historical records
For Sylvia to join a group land title application, she would first have to convince her father to agree — a sensitive matter, and one that might also damage relations with her siblings. One can understand that parents might hesitate to relinquish all claim to their land if they still expect to live many years. Nevertheless, Silvia is in a better position than most women, who would need their husband to give up rights to land that they consider to be wholly theirs. A lot of convincing is often needed for a man to concede one small plot, although this has been done in other parts of Madagascar where there is a BIF.
A further complication is the history of land use, especially during the colonial period when companies or individuals may have registered a land title or began such proceedings without ever completing them. Unknown to local people, mining or other concessions may have also been awarded at the national level, but not yet implemented. All this renders the securing of land tenure complicated and risky, especially if conflicting claims are discovered. Given the high risk of false information and cheating, it is not surprising that trusted external backing is needed to convince people to join a group land title application. For Helvetas, providing such backing is not a sustainable solution — but it represents a means to promote local learning of the process, clarifying it for others who might wish to try.
Bundles of rights
The above concerns the de jure securing of land tenure as recognized by the state. Where state facilities are largely inaccessible, de facto understandings of tenure prevail until or unless challenged. As Sylvia’s situation shows, the meaning of land tenure is not limited to ownership, but is better seen as a bundle of rights — of access and of use, including the share of any production, over potentially varied time periods (a more detailed discussion of such matters can be read here).
Managing conflicts, building a more women-friendly understanding of land tenure
Decisions over land tenure at the local level are managed as far as possible by the local authorities. If neighbors or family members start a land dispute, it is first the fokantany (village) chief who is called to intervene. Partly for cultural reasons, and partly because of poor remuneration, this position is usually occupied by an elderly man. If he cannot mediate successfully, the dispute passes to the municipal level. If the disputing parties are still dissatisfied, the conflict can go to the district, regional — or ultimately national court, but this is such an expensive procedure that it is very rare. Clearly it is better if conflicts are resolved quickly and fairly at the fokantany level.
Unfortunately, fokantany chiefs are often poorly aware of the law and tend to favor men over women. This is even the case among the Tsimihety, who in terms of gender are considered one of the most egalitarian ethnic groups in Madagascar. The Mirieka project is thus organizing training for fokantany and commune authorities on the precise provisions of the law and on the need to consider the position of women carefully, both regarding their individual rights and the needs of their children.
As a further step towards empowering women to speak out and be represented at the municipal level, the project is also supporting training in women’s leadership and the formation of “collèges de femmes” — groups of women who act together (collegially) for women’s rights. Combined with support for village savings and loan groups, these activities serve to build women’s confidence and economic security.
Ultimately, the aim is to build greater community recognition of women’s important role in society — not as competitors to men, but as people working together towards a common goal of better livelihoods and sustainable land management.
Thank you to the Irene Margaret Staelin Stiftung Foundation for their financial support for the Mirieka project.
About the Authors
Jane Carter is the Senior Adviser in Natural Resource Governance at Helvetas. Mirieka is one of the projects that she advises.
Christelle Soanirina is the Project Manager of the Mirieka Project “Les femmes collaborent pour la nature” (Women who collaborate for nature) which operates in three communes of Andapa District, Sava region in northeast Madagascar.
