Menu Back
issues About
Diabolic Digest
Deconstructing
Belgium
Even after 173 years of nationhood, the Belgian state appears as implausible as ever. In a country united by pragmatism and divided by language, Khaled Diab asks whether Belgium will be torn apart by the force of words or be held together with the power of good sense.
July 2003
Belgium celebrated its national day on Monday
21 July. As the nation kicked back its heels to enjoy the festivities, the
royal family clocked in for their most important day’s work of the year. While
the strain of public life showed on some of the more obscure royals who snoozed
in the aisles, King Albert II delivered his tenth anniversary address.
As is the custom, the easy-going Albert spoke
in both French and Dutch. On the occasion of his 10 years on the throne, the
king took the opportunity to express national pride and unity. But with no
common language, no national newspapers or broadcasters, and an increasingly
powerless federal government, the oneness of Belgium he sought to exalt was an
extremely complex creature to pin down.
In fact, the royal family are one of the few
threads holding the country’s complex identity in place. Groping around for
another symbol, he turned to sport. He referred to two rising Belgian icons –
Kim Clijsters and Justine Henin-Hardenne – as symbols of national unity, and
wished both of them luck as they battled for Belgium in the Fed Cup.
The sports-mad king was perhaps not just waxing
lyrical because of Juju and Kimmy’s historic moment – if lacklustre hour and a half
–on the Roland Garros centre court in Paris, delivering him the first
all-Belgian grand slam final (and title), exclusive access to the royal box and
the opportunity to hand out the trophy.
I’m no monarchist and I certainly don’t think
that an elegant backhand or a killer serve should personify national identity.
However, I can see the beautifully parallel careers of the tennis wonders – one
a Fleming, the other a Walloon – both playing under the tricolours can raise
the spirits, if not the essence, of modern Belgium.
Although the two enjoy a friendly rivalry and
have such contrasting personalities, they have got on well since childhood. And
the fact that they are tied so closely – Kim is the world’s number two and
Justine is number three – does not give a chance for regional envy or gloating
to surface.
Nevertheless, the two young icons are daughters
of their time and are living manifestations of the language fault line along
which the country is slowly drifting apart: in public, Justine speaks French or
English and does not speak Dutch, while Kim speaks Dutch or English, and
prefers not to speak French. In fact, English is increasingly becoming the
lingua franca in Belgium.
To my eyes, Belgium, as a nation, can only be described
as post-modern. The once central state apparatus is gradually being
deconstructed and its competencies slowly devolved to the regions.
This devolution has resulted in a unique
parallel system of government where power is divided geographically into
regions and linguistically into communities. ‘Regions’ satisfied Walloon
ambitions for greater regional economic power while ‘communities’ met Flemish
aspirations for greater cultural autonomy.
The latter innovation came into existence to
resolve the thorny issue of bilingual Brussels, which is predominantly French
speaking but is historically and geographically Flemish. The settling of the
status and borders of Brussels was the most ambitious constitutional reform
Belgium had undergone since it was established in 1830.
And, just as a revolt at the unlikely venue of
the opera house paved the way for Belgian independence in the 19th
Century, the tiny village of Voeren/Fouron brought about the collapse of the
national government in 1987 and sparked the reforms that would turn Belgium
into a federal state.
‘Federal’ in Belgium has a special meaning.
Whereas in most countries it means increasing centralisation of power, here it
has meant the exact reverse. However, the most radical reform was to exclude the
ultimate supremacy of national over regional government. This decoupling of
hierarchies has led to the rather surreal situation of each region setting its
own foreign policy.
It’s hard to miss the apparent paradox of
Belgium, while being one of the founder members of the European Union and home
to most of its institutions, is concurrently dismantling its own instruments of
state.
However, it can be argued, that, in a unifying
Europe, national boundaries are becoming less relevant. Strangely enough, the
very fact that Belgium is at the heart of a larger evolving animal could be
facilitating its own devolution.
One should not necessarily lament the passing
away of the centralised Belgian state. This gradual devolution was born of a
pragmatic awareness – a Belgian compromise, no less – that nationalistic
tensions could quickly flare up into violence if they were not effectively
dissipated.
Like a couple whose marriage was on the rocks,
Belgium decided to go to counselling and reinvent their relationship. Now the
two sides have more breathing space and are increasingly able to do their own
thing. But this has led to a growing level of estrangement.
Now crunch time is approaching, and the disgruntled
spouses have to decide whether they are willing to give union another chance
under new terms or whether they should start proceedings for a divorce.
On the face of it, divorce might be the best
option to end this weird union. But language is not everything. For historic
and cultural reasons, Flemings are not willing to countenance becoming part of
the Dutch-speaking Netherlands and, similarly, Walloons do not want to join
France. In fact, although language divides Belgians, it also unites them in
their respective distrust of their linguistic cousins across the border.
Since Belgians do not want to become part of
another country and each region is too small to survive effectively on its own
in the big, bad world, it is in the interest of Flemings and Walloons to stick
it out together.
For the marriage to work, Belgians need more to
bind them than a royal family, a passion for sport and a taste for beer,
chocolate and fries. Apart from Brussels and its environs, people living in one
region have very little awareness of what’s going on in the other and very
little contact with its people and culture – in fact, it’s almost like being in
two different countries.
In order to help overcome this in the short
term, the regional media needs to give more attention to issues in the other
part of the country. But the biggest barrier to greater mixing and
understanding is language. Belgians need some way to bridge the language divide
in order to make Belgium feel more like a single country.
One effective way to ensure that future
generations move closer together is to introduce a system of bilingual
education in which children receive instruction in a mix of their mother tongue
and the other language.
Canada has successfully implemented bilingual
education for years. In addition to promoting better social cohesion between
communities, such a system has actually been shown to improve the academic and
linguistic aptitude of students.
With the language barrier penetrated, a new
generation of bilingual Belgians will move around the country more and intermix
to a greater degree, enhancing the sense of shared nationhood.
Although the musical variety performance under
the Justice Palace on 21 July underscored the cultural schism separating
Belgians, it, nonetheless, demonstrated how joint cultural events can do their
little bit to bring people closer – as was exhibited by a group of teenage
Walloons who were delighted to discover that Hooverphonic was a Flemish rather
than English band!
Perhaps Belgium should follow the example of
some of its musicians. Urban Trad nearly stole the show in the kitsch world of
Eurovision by demonstrating, with their wordless song, to Europeans – who are
also divided by language – that people share something beyond words.
Through bilingual education and more
intermixing as cultural equals, Belgians can make this bicultural marriage work
by putting language in the backseat.
This article appeared on
Expatica in July 2003.
ã2004 K. Diab. Unless otherwise stated, all the content on this website
is the copyright of Khaled Diab.