Like every Saturday, our philosopher tackles social issues that may brush against politics, and vice versa, but always without overthinking. After all, it's the weekend! Welcome, friend of Saturday. For his fifth weekly consultation, our cabinet today examines a patient who stubbornly refuses any cure: one afflicted with masobe tsy mahita—willful blindness. It exists in several versions, multiple formats, and countless variations across many domains. One common trait unites them. They have adopted the slogan of the famous monkeys of wisdom: I see nothing. I hear nothing. I say nothing. Take the judicial sphere as an example. We learned days ago that it was an investigation by American police that dismantled a network of Chinese cybercriminals operating in Madagascar. Malagasy investigators saw nothing. Masobe tsy mahita. It took Mauritian judges to expose the schemes of the "CEO." Malagasy investigators saw nothing. Masobe tsy mahita. It took British judges to dare tackle an act of corruption perpetrated by the cabinet director of the President of the Republic at the time. Malagasy investigators saw nothing. Masobe tsy mahita. How can this be explained? What rendered these magistrates, gendarmes, and police deaf, blind, and mute? In other words, what transformed their wide-open eyes into masobe tsy mahita? Their protruding ears into sofinabe tsy mandre? Their big mouths into vavabe mikombona? Careerism—Corruption—Intimidation—Self-interest—Incompetence? Strike out the unnecessary. In certain extreme cases, "I see nothing" boils down to "I am worth nothing." Because when an institution dares not or will not play its role, it becomes useless. "i" for independence. What did Bianco, the Independent Anti-Corruption Bureau, do with it? What did Ceni, the Independent National Electoral Commission, do with it? And even without the "i," one could speak of Pac. Of Samfin. Of IGE. Etc. "Azo raisina fa tsy mitombona," the HCC sings before electoral petitions. "Tsy what" Rajoelina must have said to his two corrupt former ministers recycled as deputies. "Avohay ny porofo," Mamy Ravatomanga boasted when journalists he paid to ask him questions demanded his version of his tarnished image. Why did Mamy Ravatomanga always benefit from the complicit indulgence of Malagasy Justice when he was still in Madagascar? And now, this same Malagasy Justice stirs to claim it takes the matter seriously and wants to pursue him. Laugh out loudly. Imagine for a moment that Mauritian Justice suffers amnesia over the Carlos Ghosn case and agrees to transfer him to Antananarivo. How many hours or days would it take for the network of masobe tsy mahita to reactivate? Even Raïssa Razaivola, whose fortune is far less than Ravatomanga's, had miraculously found an "arrangement" to leave prison and be seen alongside a member of the Refoundation government. In full view of everyone. Without shame and without scruples. It is true that our valiant investigators are mainly occupied fomenting accusations of threats to state security. So we should not expect to see them open their eyes in all domains. Masobe tsy mahita is a disease whose cure is miraculous. The masobe tsy mahita of the Rajoelina era suddenly opened their eyes after his flight into exile to discover the misdeeds of him and his clan. Some of his deputies even rushed with their tails between their legs to join the camp of the moment's victor. We speak only of tails, because testicles, which are in principle their attribute, are reserved only for men who have courage. While we're at it... We therefore hope that the visually handicapped of the Malagasy judicial system of the Rajoelina era are now cured. Unless the disease of masobe tsy mahita is contagious and has now spread for the benefit of the current power. If that were the case, the Refoundation's herbal tea would have as much effectiveness as CVO. Finally, it must be noted that the disease of masobe tsy mahita also contaminates ordinary citizens. The symptoms are limitless solelakism. One does not see the slip-ups. One does not hear the nonsense. One does not worry about the lies. But one applauds. One says bravo. One sits on one's dignity. One disregards one's lucidity. And one accuses those who attempt to use their brain of being "mpamendrofendro." As if only masobe tsy mahita and kabeso tsisy betro deserved to be considered patriots. Consultation ended. Prescription issued free of charge, but without illusions about incurable diseases. Thus speaks the philosopher of "that tells me something." Who will take a break from his consultations.