Belgium’s Flemings and Walloons cannot form a government, and some say the regions are ready for divorce. But who would get Brussels, the national debt and the football team?
BELGIUM’S FRAGILE POLITICAL system is in turmoil, its leaders unable form a government after months of fruitless talks. The stalemate has revived questions about the country’s viability as a sovereign entity. But could Belgium really break up? Opinion polls suggest that’s not what most Belgians want. In addition, the technical obstacles are huge. Yet still the question lingers, ringing louder and louder as political gridlock worsens.
At the root of Belgium’s problem is the linguistic, cultural, financial and political gulf between the two communities that share the country: Dutch-speakers to the prosperous north, in the Flanders region; and French-speakers in the less prosperous southern region of Wallonia. In the middle stands the capital, Brussels, officially bilingual but dominated by French-speakers.
Some Belgians are gruff, but they are a friendly bunch in the main, even if the two communities do not see eye to eye. But their differences do not find their expression in violence. It is a small mercy. In jest, weary Belgians say the tension between the Flemings and Walloons are akin to the squabbles of a long-married couple whose days of bliss are far behind them. They annoy each other no end but have neither the will nor the means to separate. Arguments are testy, reconciliations temporary.
Whether this is enough, in theory, to bring 179 years of statehood to an end is one question. Doing the deed is quite another, for dissolving Belgium would be frightfully difficult, with complex questions at every turn.
What to do about King Albert II? How to divide the €340 billion national debt? Who gets Brussels? And what of the national football team, one of the few symbols of unity in a deeply divided country?
Albert would have to abdicate, although to dim the pain it is likely that he and his family would receive a pot of money to fund their relocation from the palace in Laeken to the south of France.
Deciding how to allocate the national debt is another matter. Should the burden be shouldered by Wallonia, which spent most of the money, or should it be assumed by Flanders, which is best able to repay it?
Then there is Brussels, home of the core EU institutions, a prestigious global metropolis and an abundant source of tax revenue. For obvious reasons, neither side could countenance dissolution of the country without control of the city.
Another suggestion, however, is that Brussels becomes a self-governing city-state that serves as capital of the EU. In such a scenario a senior EU official would assume political control over Brussels.
Should that person be Herman Van Rompuy, the former Belgian prime minister who now presides over the European Council? Should it be José Manuel Barroso, the former Portuguese prime minister who leads the European Commission? Or should there be a new post for appointment by EU leaders at a late-night summit? Take your pick.
Internal tensions in the regions are also likely. If Brussels went solo, it is an open question whether Antwerp or Ghent would become capital of an independent Flanders. The same problem arises in the event of Wallonian independence, with Liège and Namur certain to compete for the prize.
Or would Wallonia simply be subsumed into France? An opinion poll earlier this year – on an admittedly small scale – suggested that two-thirds of French people favoured incorporating the Walloon region into their country. Quite what the Walloons themselves think of that – or the Germans indeed – is unknown.
There would have to be answers in political real time to each of these notional questions in the event of dissolution. This is doubly tricky given the severity of Belgium’s political schism.
And severe it is. After the 2007 election there was no government for nearly 300 days. The coalition was bedevilled by instability and collapsed in acrimony last April in a row over voting districts around Brussels.
Hardline separatists from the right-leaning New Flemish Alliance (N-VA) seized victory in the election in June, fully 12 weeks ago. Their 37-year-old leader, Bart De Wever, has been unable thus far to find an accommodation with the French-speaking Socialist leader, Elio di Rupo, who prevailed in Wallonia.
Di Rupo resigned the chairmanship of coalition talks for a second time last weekend, prompting renewed hand-wringing over the country’s status.
“We must start preparing for the end of Belgium,” the leading French-speaking Socialist Laurette Onkelinx told one newspaper. Her remarks were considered over-boiled – somewhat – but they sum up a sense of grave disquiet at the interminable political bickering. The negotiators soldier on, however.
“At the moment they’re into extra time, but I don’t think there will be penalties,” says a well-placed observer of the talks. If there is a breakthrough, however, any new coalition risks inherent instability. That is a sine qua non of Belgian politics these days.
Difficult as it would be to execute a dissolution of the country, break-up talk seems likely to persist for as long as the two communities move in opposite directions.
