The Notorious Red Stamp

There is sometimes a system of bureaucracy that becomes so imbedded in a people that it eventually takes root in the very culture, perpetuating itself far beyond any practical or even traditional utilization and seeping itself so deeply into what I can only refer to as the arbitrariness of some methods of governance. What I mean by this is that sometimes there are things so commonly and widely accepted but which provide little or no benefit in the process of governance that one is left wondering, “where did this come from anyways? How did such a system even appear like this?” That is exactly how I feel about red stamps in Madagascar. Let me explain.

I can only assume that it is a remanent of the Communist era in Madagascar. Everything in this country requires a red stamp for it to be official. Every document, every receipt, every shred of anything that could possibly be considered legal. I didn’t know it at the time, but the little red stamp of approval on my visa in Washington D.C. would be the first of a sea of red ink staining every paper I own.

In order for anything to be legal or official in this country it requires a red stamp. I’m not entirely sure what the stamp does, or why it has to be red for that matter, but it’s absolutely necessary for anything to get done. For example, rather than carry my passport with me as a form of ID, I am allowed to carry a copy, which is more comforting in the case that maybe I lose it. Nonetheless, in order for it to be an official and certified copy, I need that sweet, sweet red stamp.

So, I head down to a building where they photocopy pages and print them. After I get a whole bunch of copies of my passport and other documents I need for literally everything, I head upstairs to a room filled with desks and windows. Here, these government workers’ sole job is to look at photocopies of official documents, verify that they’re real (don’t ask me how because there seems to be no standard method), and then bestow upon them the blessed red stamp of Malagasy national authority. The whole process costs about $10 and takes about 30min-1hr, less if you’re willing to slip someone 10,000MGA ($2.50) to expediate the process. Don’t ask why I know that.

It’s not even like it’s just one stamp. There’s a stamp for the government, a stamp for that building, a stamp for the date, and a stamp to approve the signature. That’s four stamps for just one document. Multiply that by the 15 documents I had to get certified and that already puts me at 60 stamps.

Here is a photo of a receipt where they mistook my middle name for my last name. Notice how it has 4 red stamps and a signature.

Nonetheless, after my copies received those red stamps of approval, they became legal documents that I can use for anything. And it’s good that I got more than a dozen because every institution wants a copy of something. I had to bring a certified copy to the fokotany (local government building which actually gets its name from the traditional village council of elders system pre-republic era) for my residence registration. I had to bring a certified copy to the police prefecture when I registered as a foreign residence. I had to bring one to the ministry of foreign affairs for my visa renewal. Not only my original passport, but an official and certified (which means red stamp) copy to give them. It’s the same with all my other documents. Some places want more kinds of documents than other places. There’s really no telling which documents they want, so I just bring copies of anything that could be useful. And what surprises me more is that this isn’t just a government procedure. It’s a universally accepted and followed practice everywhere.

For instance, when I go to the bookstore, there are four counters. Three of which act as an intermediary step in actually getting a book. In order to buy a book, I select one, bring it to one of these three desks where they total everything together and then hand me a slip. I take this slip to the head desk where I pay. The person at the head desk then stamps the slip signifying that I paid and then stamps it again with the date. And for good measure, they stamp it again with the seal of the store. I then take this official and red stamped slip BACK TO THE FIRST DESK WHERE I STARTED THE WHOLE PROCESS. There, the person then hands me the books so I can be on my merry way. Again, that process involved three people, two vendors and a customer, as well as two locations, 4 slips of paper, an exchange of money, and three stamps, all just to buy a book or two. I’ll give you one good guess at what color the stamps are. It’s the same process at any local store.

Schedules on the school walls need red stamps. Official announcements need red stamps. Flyers need red stamps. Letters need red stamps. Checks need red stamps. I could go on for hours. I surprised my toilet paper doesn’t need a red stamp.

Red stamps are so common that they literally have street vendors selling them by the droves in the markets. They’ll even have a specific one made for you if you give them the design and dimensions. Don’t ask me how they know a guy. They just do. I’m actually going to buy one of the random stamps as an ironic gift for myself.

The roots of this red stamp obsession are so deep that us vazaha have jokes about it. “Oh, did you get that done? Well does it have a red stamp on it?” If the answer is no, the proper response is to shake one’s head in disappointment and repeat, “It’s not official. Gotta have that red stamp.”

The upside to this whole ridiculous process is that I can have a red stamp on anything and it’s virtually accepted as if it came from the mouth of Andriamanitra (God) himself. It comes in handy sometimes when you just flash a document with a red stamp on it. No questions asked because it’s certified.

It makes you wonder about the systems we create and why we maintain them. The Malagasy culture is obsessed with things like this: paperwork, procedure, approval, and, of course, red stamps. I wonder where it comes from and why it lingers so potently. Is it a need to feel important? Is it a way of expressing power? Is it a safety and security thing? Is it residue from the colonial period followed by the Communist period? What is the deal with all the red stamps? No one has been able to give me an answer. So I am left here pondering and muttering to myself. Bah! As always, know that you are in my prayers each morning. All I ask is that you do the same for me.

May God be praised.