Mayotte: rethinking urbanization
On December 14, 2024, Mayotte was swept by tropical cyclone Chido, with a human toll that is still difficult to estimate. This natural disaster cannot be separated from vulnerabilities linked to social organization. The risk factors linked to population explosion and disorderly urbanization must be analyzed in order to better plan for reconstruction. President Macron has announced a special law and says 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 are the result of cyclonic hazards and the fragility of Mayotte's social organization. Although the media often compare Cyclone Chido to Dicel in 1934, the strength of the winds and the damage caused are not at all comparable. Between 1934 and today, the landscape of Mayotte has changed considerably: it has become urbanized, artificialized, coastalized, and densified. In less than forty years, the island's population has more than quintupled. The island's geographical vulnerability in this area of the Indian Ocean is therefore compounded by a constructed social vulnerability: social adaptations to climatic and demographic variations have had a significant impact on the landscape and natural resources (soil, plantations, urbanization, water, forests, etc.), which, combined with the lack of commitment by public authorities to resolving the ecological and demographic crisis, have led to a general vulnerability that makes it impossible to distinguish between natural and non-natural disasters.
From a rural landscape to an urbanized landscape
Fifty years ago, Mayotte was still a rural landscape. Houses were mainly built of wood and/or earth, with roofs made of coconut leaves or raffia. The few permanent buildings on the island were located in a handful of towns such as Dzaoudzi and Pamandzi. Huts built using natural materials (earth and plant fibers) and their banga were gradually replaced by solid dwellings with the creation of the Société Immobilière de Mayotte (SIM) and the SIM hut project, initially to address the issue of substandard housing and the arrival of many civil servants. Over the past three decades, given the strong population growth and rising standard of living, a new form of multi-story housing has emerged, built with imported materials (concrete blocks, cement, sheet metal).
Despite this trend toward modernization, starting in the 1990s, other types of precarious housing, often referred to as informal or irregular, spread across the island, developing primarily on the outskirts of villages and urban centers. These slums form the outlines of real neighborhoods, each with its own history and temporality, where narrow alleys open onto public spaces. These neighborhoods are home to populations that are administratively heterogeneous and too poor to have access to social housing.
In 2017,INSEE estimated that these fragile structures (mostly tin houses) accounted for nearly four out of ten homes. Foreigners are much more likely to live in them: 65% of them live in tin houses, compared with 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 accommodation centers. This was especially true since the vast majority of them, due to their irregular status on the island, were wary of going there. In this post-disaster assessment, one wonders where these people went.
These precarious dwellings are often built on the steep slopes that make up the island's terrain, with nearly 56% of the territory exposed to at least one high-level natural hazard. More generally, due to intense land and demographic pressure, whether for agricultural development or building expansion, areas with low gradients are rare and the occupation of slopes has become a necessity. Directly linked to the shortcomings of housing policy, the hillsides continue to create precarious living conditions that a single weather event can quickly turn into a humanitarian disaster. This issue has already been widely highlighted and studied, revealing the failings of a cobbled-together state, a magnégné state.
To consider the place of these dwellings on the island and stabilize the land, we must break out of the rut of a normative, repressive, and security-focused vision (as exemplified by Wuambushu) and transform neighborhoods "from the bottom up" by making them safer, providing them with water and electricity networks, and establishing secure pathways that stabilize slopes.
The issue of land use planning in Mayotte will soon arise, as residents are already rebuilding their precarious homes in the aftermath of Chido, and others will likely be forced to mourn the loss of their homes due to the political authorities' decision to reclassify their former neighborhoods as dangerous.
In this regard, President Macron's recent statements on the introduction of a special law and the assertion that it is necessary to avoid rebuilding the bangas are likely to clash with the current reality. Indeed, of the estimated 100,000 inhabitants of these areas, not only were they not all irregular, but they must now find new housing. It should also be remembered that the hurricane season is not over and that rain and wind are frequent in January.
Thinking about "the aftermath"
Vulnerability is the combination of the degree of foreseeable consequences of climate change-related phenomena and a society's capacity to respond to a potential crisis. It is this capacity to respond that is problematic in Mayotte.
In situations of intense crisis, individuals depart from their usual attitudes and social relationships to develop specific interactions of mutual aid, rescue, etc. However, this adaptation requires, on the one hand, an ability to converge with the aid provided and, on the other hand, a certain homogeneity among the social groups concerned. 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 the acts of looting should not be minimized, they remain very much in the minority compared to acts of solidarity and reveal a bias in the interpretation of the disaster.
This is a major issue because the perception of the event and its political interpretation determine how this disaster is defined as a public problem. This definition will undoubtedly be the main issue in considering how to deal with 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 precarious and stigmatized migrant populations are concentrated. In fact, it is highly likely that the management of this disaster will be affected by representations of the island's social functioning, such as those circulating in the French political arena.
Once the shock has passed, the search for political culprits begins. It has clearly already started, with commentsfrom Anchya Bamana and Jean-Luc Melenchon, for example. Others are sure to follow. This blame game and reduction of the disaster to questions of guilt risks imposing a narrative that justifies political choices to end the crisis. However, if the dysfunctions and vulnerabilities, 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 that Mayotte will once again be trapped and unable to control its own destiny, unable to mobilize itself in addition to the public assistance provided.
The crisis affecting Mayotte is an opportunity to rethink a number of issues such as the scarcity of resources, environmental degradation, and the demographic crisis. Envisioning the "aftermath" also means making Mayotte a player in a project and a narrative, a collective memory, experience, and attitude in the face of 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 CNRS Center 5116, ENSAP Bordeaux
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