EireannGoddess
December 6th, 2007, 12:28 PM
Hoeilaart is a disarmingly picturesque suburb just a few miles south of Brussels, complete with a multi-turreted town hall resembling a fairytale chateau, an annual wine festival, and a rich history featuring prehistoric hunters, Roman armies, Augustinian monks and medieval dukes. But as Belgian politics finds itself paralyzed by the schism between the country's competing identities, tranquil Hoeilaart leaves no doubt as to its preference. Just last week, the town council voted to make proficiency in the Flemish language (a dialect of Dutch) a precondition for the purchase of land.
"We are part of the Flemish region, and we want to keep our culture," says Mayor Tim Vandenput. "It is part of our history and it is part of our future."
His concern is driven by the fact that in recent years, Hoeilaart has attracted commuters from Brussels: mostly French-speakers, but also Brits, Americans and Germans. Around 35% of Hoeilaart's 10,000 or so citizens do not count Dutch as their mother tongue. And that has unsettled local elders, who jealously guard the town's Flemish heritage.
And safeguarding Flemish interests is the issue at the center of a national political storm that has left the country without a government six months after it went to the polls. None of Belgium's main political parties span the difference between the more prosperous Fleming majority and the French-speaking Walloons, in the south, who comprise some 40% of the population. And the political deadlock comes after the French-speaking parties, fearful of being cut out of economic subsidies, opposed plans by the Flemish to seek greater autonomy for the Flanders region.
Last weekend, prime minister-designate Yves Leterme abandoned his efforts to forge a federal coalition administration. Leterme's Flemish Christian Democrat party was the biggest winner in Belgium's June 10 general election, but he has failed to forge a coalition government agreement among the squabbling Flemish and French-speaking parties. That failure marks a break with the Belgian tradition of politicians cobbling together ever more complex compromises, using cordiality and compromise to bridge the divide of communal grievances. Now, the Belgian model of give-and-take no longer seems to be working.
The stasis has fueled speculation about whether Belgium can overcome its split personality — since its creation in 1830, its Flemish and French-speaking have never truly merged into a single Belgian identity — and survive as a country, or whether it is heading for the sort of divorce that in 1993 turned Czechoslovakia into Slovakia and the Czech Republic.
Despite the absence of a government, Belgium gets on with everyday life: The trains run on time; the beer remains sharp and fresh; and the Belgian national soccer team still can't score. But the political stalemate has prompted a bout of soul searching about the future of this fragile country in which the European Union and NATO have long been headquartered.
Frustrated by the political wrangles, a crowd of about 35,000 people marched through Brussels last month to show their commitment to the unity of the country. But others are asking what exactly holds Belgium together. Last year, Leterme himself described Belgium "an accident of history" with "no intrinsic value", and branded the country's French-speakers too stupid to learn Dutch. In September, a cheeky teacher put Belgium up for sale on eBay, describing it as, "A Kingdom in three parts." It was pulled by eBay after receiving a bid of ten million euros ($15 million).
If a common economy, territory, culture and language are some of the typical features of a nation, it's easy to see where Belgium falls apart. Although they live side-by-side in some parts of the country, whole regions are largely French or Flemish. The two populations speak different languages, and have different attitudes, cultures and economies.
In Belgium's early years, when French-speaking Wallonia in the south was in an industrial whirl and Flanders was considered a backwater, French was imposed as the country's only language of government. Now, Wallonia is in a slump while Flanders is one of Europe's richest and most dynamic regions. And many Flemish resent having to subsidize Wallonia's stagnant economy with an annual handout estimated at around 6 billion euros ($9 billion), equivalent to about 2,000 euros ($3,000) for each Walloon.
Leterme won the June elections after promising more self-rule for Flanders in areas such as taxation, social security, economic policy, immigration and nationality. But Leterme, like any other prospective prime minister, still needs the support of French-speaking parties to form a federal government, and they baulked at his demands.
King Albert II has now asked the country's caretaker prime minister, Flemish Liberal Guy Verhofstadt, to see if a solution can be found to Belgium's existential crisis. That may seem a tall order, but if he fails, and Belgium's fraying communities do drift apart, it would represent sad end to a country once hailed as a model for ethnic compromise and coexistence. But the elders of Hoeilaart, whose concern is preserving their town's Flemish identity, would shed few tears at Belgium's funeral.
And, in a related article: Of course, the jew President of France weighs heavily on the future of Flanders.
Ethnic Politics in Belgium
By LEON CENDROWICZ/BRUSSELS
Belgium may appear to outsiders as a good example of ethnic power sharing, but the last time the French-speaking Walloons supplied the country's Prime Minister was in 1978. So, in Sunday's national elections, they are itching to smash the Flemish grip on the top job.
A victory by the leading French-speaking candidate, Elio di Rupo, would make history not only because of his language, but as Europe's first openly gay Prime Minister. As leader of the Socialist Party (PS) in Wallonia — and also the region's minister-president —
Di Rupo, 55, is the heavyweight of Francophone politics. And the fact that his origins are Italian, Belgium's second-largest immigrant community after Moroccans, adds a third dimension to the identity challenge represented by his candidacy. But the dapper, bow-tied Di Rupo is handicapped by recurrent scandals in his Socialist Party, and has been criticized for his poor command of the Flemish language.
Related Article:
His main rival from Wallonia is Didier Reynders, the head of the liberal Reform Movement (MR), a 48-year-old energetic business-oriented conservative who hopes to catch some of the bounce from Nicolas Sarkozy's recent victory in France. Reynders, who is also Finance Minister, was even in Paris on May 6 to celebrate Sarkozy's triumph.
Source: Time Magasine, CNN International
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1630964,00.html?iid=sphere-inline-sidebar
"We are part of the Flemish region, and we want to keep our culture," says Mayor Tim Vandenput. "It is part of our history and it is part of our future."
His concern is driven by the fact that in recent years, Hoeilaart has attracted commuters from Brussels: mostly French-speakers, but also Brits, Americans and Germans. Around 35% of Hoeilaart's 10,000 or so citizens do not count Dutch as their mother tongue. And that has unsettled local elders, who jealously guard the town's Flemish heritage.
And safeguarding Flemish interests is the issue at the center of a national political storm that has left the country without a government six months after it went to the polls. None of Belgium's main political parties span the difference between the more prosperous Fleming majority and the French-speaking Walloons, in the south, who comprise some 40% of the population. And the political deadlock comes after the French-speaking parties, fearful of being cut out of economic subsidies, opposed plans by the Flemish to seek greater autonomy for the Flanders region.
Last weekend, prime minister-designate Yves Leterme abandoned his efforts to forge a federal coalition administration. Leterme's Flemish Christian Democrat party was the biggest winner in Belgium's June 10 general election, but he has failed to forge a coalition government agreement among the squabbling Flemish and French-speaking parties. That failure marks a break with the Belgian tradition of politicians cobbling together ever more complex compromises, using cordiality and compromise to bridge the divide of communal grievances. Now, the Belgian model of give-and-take no longer seems to be working.
The stasis has fueled speculation about whether Belgium can overcome its split personality — since its creation in 1830, its Flemish and French-speaking have never truly merged into a single Belgian identity — and survive as a country, or whether it is heading for the sort of divorce that in 1993 turned Czechoslovakia into Slovakia and the Czech Republic.
Despite the absence of a government, Belgium gets on with everyday life: The trains run on time; the beer remains sharp and fresh; and the Belgian national soccer team still can't score. But the political stalemate has prompted a bout of soul searching about the future of this fragile country in which the European Union and NATO have long been headquartered.
Frustrated by the political wrangles, a crowd of about 35,000 people marched through Brussels last month to show their commitment to the unity of the country. But others are asking what exactly holds Belgium together. Last year, Leterme himself described Belgium "an accident of history" with "no intrinsic value", and branded the country's French-speakers too stupid to learn Dutch. In September, a cheeky teacher put Belgium up for sale on eBay, describing it as, "A Kingdom in three parts." It was pulled by eBay after receiving a bid of ten million euros ($15 million).
If a common economy, territory, culture and language are some of the typical features of a nation, it's easy to see where Belgium falls apart. Although they live side-by-side in some parts of the country, whole regions are largely French or Flemish. The two populations speak different languages, and have different attitudes, cultures and economies.
In Belgium's early years, when French-speaking Wallonia in the south was in an industrial whirl and Flanders was considered a backwater, French was imposed as the country's only language of government. Now, Wallonia is in a slump while Flanders is one of Europe's richest and most dynamic regions. And many Flemish resent having to subsidize Wallonia's stagnant economy with an annual handout estimated at around 6 billion euros ($9 billion), equivalent to about 2,000 euros ($3,000) for each Walloon.
Leterme won the June elections after promising more self-rule for Flanders in areas such as taxation, social security, economic policy, immigration and nationality. But Leterme, like any other prospective prime minister, still needs the support of French-speaking parties to form a federal government, and they baulked at his demands.
King Albert II has now asked the country's caretaker prime minister, Flemish Liberal Guy Verhofstadt, to see if a solution can be found to Belgium's existential crisis. That may seem a tall order, but if he fails, and Belgium's fraying communities do drift apart, it would represent sad end to a country once hailed as a model for ethnic compromise and coexistence. But the elders of Hoeilaart, whose concern is preserving their town's Flemish identity, would shed few tears at Belgium's funeral.
And, in a related article: Of course, the jew President of France weighs heavily on the future of Flanders.
Ethnic Politics in Belgium
By LEON CENDROWICZ/BRUSSELS
Belgium may appear to outsiders as a good example of ethnic power sharing, but the last time the French-speaking Walloons supplied the country's Prime Minister was in 1978. So, in Sunday's national elections, they are itching to smash the Flemish grip on the top job.
A victory by the leading French-speaking candidate, Elio di Rupo, would make history not only because of his language, but as Europe's first openly gay Prime Minister. As leader of the Socialist Party (PS) in Wallonia — and also the region's minister-president —
Di Rupo, 55, is the heavyweight of Francophone politics. And the fact that his origins are Italian, Belgium's second-largest immigrant community after Moroccans, adds a third dimension to the identity challenge represented by his candidacy. But the dapper, bow-tied Di Rupo is handicapped by recurrent scandals in his Socialist Party, and has been criticized for his poor command of the Flemish language.
Related Article:
His main rival from Wallonia is Didier Reynders, the head of the liberal Reform Movement (MR), a 48-year-old energetic business-oriented conservative who hopes to catch some of the bounce from Nicolas Sarkozy's recent victory in France. Reynders, who is also Finance Minister, was even in Paris on May 6 to celebrate Sarkozy's triumph.
Source: Time Magasine, CNN International
http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1630964,00.html?iid=sphere-inline-sidebar