Mayotte: A Need to Rethink Urban Development
On December 14, 2024, Mayotte was hit by Tropical Cyclone Chido, with a death toll that remains difficult to estimate. This natural disaster cannot be separated from vulnerabilities linked to social organization. Risk factors linked to population explosion and unplanned urbanization must be analyzed to better plan for reconstruction. President Macron has announced a special law and states that he no longer wants slums. Is his approach the right one?
Anthony Goreau-Ponceaud, University of Bordeaux; Fahad Idaroussi Tsimanda, University of Montpellier and Olivier Chadoin, ENSAP Bordeaux
The concepts of vulnerability and risk are closely linked: they stem from the threat of cyclones and the fragility of Mayotte’s social structure. While the media often draw comparisons between Cyclone Chido and the 1934 Cyclone Dicel, the wind speeds and the damage caused are by no means comparable. Between 1934 and today, the landscape of Mayotte has changed considerably: it has become urbanized, developed, coastalized, and densified. In less than forty years, the island’s population has more than quintupled. Thus, the island’s geographical vulnerability in this region of the Indian Ocean is compounded by a constructed social vulnerability: social adaptations to climatic and demographic changes have had significant effects on the landscape and natural resources (soils, plantations, urbanization, water, forests…), which, combined with the government’s limited commitment to addressing the ecological and demographic crisis, have led to a general increase in vulnerability that makes it impossible to draw a clear distinction between natural and non-natural disasters.
From a rural landscape to an urban landscape
As recently as fifty years ago, the landscape of Mayotte was rural. Homes were primarily built of wood and/or earth, with roofs made of coconut leaves or raffia. The island’s few permanent structures were found in a handful of towns such as Dzaoudzi and Pamandzi. The huts built using natural materials (earth and plant fibers) and their banga (traditional outbuildings) were gradually replaced by permanent housing with the creation of the Société Immobilière de Mayotte (SIM) and the SIM housing project, initially designed to address the elimination of substandard housing and the arrival of numerous civil servants. Over the past three decades, given the sharp increase in population and the rise in the standard of living, a new form of multi-story housing has emerged, constructed with imported materials (concrete blocks, cement, sheet metal).
Despite this trend toward modernization, beginning in the 1990s, other types of precarious housing—often described as informal or irregular—spread across the entire island, developing primarily on the outskirts of village and urban centers. Slums that form the outlines of distinct neighborhoods, each with its own history and sense of time, where narrow alleys open onto public spaces. Neighborhoods that are home to populations that are administratively diverse and too poor to qualify for public housing.
In 2017,INSEE estimated that these fragile structures (mostly sheet-metal houses) accounted for nearly four in ten homes. Foreigners are much more likely to live in them: 65% of them live in a tin-roofed house, compared to 25% of French nationals born on the island. During the alert, it seemed unlikely that nearly 100,000 people could be sheltered in the 71 evacuation centers. Especially since the vast majority of them, due to the irregular nature of their stay on the island, were wary of going there. In this post-disaster assessment, one might wonder where these people have gone.
These precarious dwellings are often built on the steep slopes that characterize the island’s terrain, with nearly 56% of the territory exposed to at least one high-level natural hazard. More broadly, due to intense land and population pressure—whether from agricultural development or urban expansion—areas with gentle slopes are rare, and building on slopes has become a necessity. Directly linked to the shortcomings of housing policy, these elevated areas constantly create precarious conditions that a meteorological hazard can quickly turn into a humanitarian disaster. This issue has already been widely highlighted and studied, revealing the failures of a makeshift state, a state in disarray.
To consider the role of these housing units on the island and stabilize land tenure, we must move beyond a prescriptive, repressive, and security-focused approach (as exemplified by Wuambushu) and transform neighborhoods “from the ground up”—by making them safer, providing water and electricity infrastructure, and establishing secure pathways that stabilize the slopes.
The issue of land use planning in Mayotte will soon come to the fore, as residents are already beginning to rebuild their makeshift homes in the aftermath of Chido, and others will likely be forced to abandon the places where they lived due to new zoning regulations imposed by the authorities, which classify their former neighborhoods as dangerous.
In this regard, President Macron’s recent statements regarding the enactment of a special law and his assertion that the reconstruction of the bangas must be avoided are likely to clash with the current reality. Indeed, of the estimated 100,000 residents in these areas, not only were not all of them undocumented, but they must now find alternative housing immediately. It should also be noted that the hurricane season is not over and that rain and wind are common in January.
Thinking about "what comes next"
Vulnerability is the combination of the severity of the foreseeable impacts of climate change and a society’s capacity to respond to a potential crisis. It is precisely this capacity to respond that is problematic in Mayotte.
In situations of intense crisis, individuals move beyond their usual social attitudes and relationships to develop specific interactions centered on mutual aid and rescue efforts… However, this adaptation requires, on the one hand, the ability to align with the assistance provided, and on the other hand, a certain degree of homogeneity among the social groups involved. In Mayotte, a territory marked by stark inequalities and social and spatial boundaries, this is clearly not the case. For example, comments quickly focused on the presence of looters and other “dakous,” often defined as “Anjouanese criminals,” with calls for reinforcements from law enforcement and a state of emergency. While this is not to downplay the incidents of looting, these remain very much in the minority compared to acts of solidarity and reveal biases in the interpretation of the disaster.
This is a critical issue, as the perception of the event and its political interpretation determine whether this disaster is defined as a public problem. This definition will undoubtedly be the key factor in addressing the devastating effects of Chido and its aftermath. Indeed, while precarious housing was the first to be devastated by the cyclone, it is also where the majority of marginalized and stigmatized migrant populations are concentrated. Consequently, it is highly likely that the management of this disaster will be influenced by perceptions of the island’s social dynamics, such as those circulating in French political circles.
Once the initial shock has subsided, the search for political culprits begins. It has evidently already started, as evidenced by the remarksof Anchya Bamana and Jean-Luc Mélenchon, for example. Others will surely follow. This blame game and the reduction of the disaster to a matter of culpability risk imposing a narrative designed to justify political choices for emerging from the crisis. However, if the dysfunctions and vulnerabilities, the hierarchies and social divisions that existed before the crisis are reestablished, it is highly likely that they will produce the same decision-making logic and the same results. The risk here is once again that Mayotte will be trapped and unable to shape its own destiny, incapable of mobilizing itself, despite the public assistance provided.
The crisis facing Mayotte presents an opportunity to rethink a number of issues, such as the growing scarcity of resources, environmental degradation, and the demographic crisis. Envisioning the “aftermath” also means making Mayotte a key player in a project and a narrative, in a collective memory, and in shaping experiences and attitudes toward risk.
Anthony Goreau-Ponceaud, Geographer, Professor, UMR 5115 LAM, University of Bordeaux; Fahad Idaroussi Tsimanda, Geographer, University of Montpellier and Olivier Chadoin, Professor of Sociology, Pave – Emile Durkheim Center CNRS 5116, ENSAP Bordeaux
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