Ons Erfdeel. Jaargang 14

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the flemish question: an english view

frank e. huggett

Educated Wadham College, Oxford. Former Fleet Street journalist and magazine editor, and former visiting lecturer in journalism at the Polytechnic, Regent Street, London. Has lectured extensively in Europe on international affairs. Author of many articles and twelve books mainly on modern history, including Modern Belgium (Pall Mall Press, London, 1969). Has just finished writing a companion volume for the same Publishers on The Modern Netherlands.

Address: Flat 6, 40 Shepherds Hill, Highgate, London, N. 6.

Belgium is not the only country in the world to be suffering from the problem of a clash between distinctive linguistic or racial groups. Since the end of the war a number of groups in various countries in the western world have been trying with varying degrees of success to reassert their rights and their individualities. Such attempts have been made in Canada by the French-speaking population of Quebec; in the United States by the Negroes; in Britain by the Welsh, the Scots and the catholic population of northern Ireland. Many other examples could be cited, too. It is important for understanding of the Flemings' case to realise that the clash between the linguistic communities in Belgium is not a unique phenomenon, but part of a current global tendency. All these groups have one characteristic in common: they are all making efforts to re-establish their own identity after years or centuries of submergence in an imposed unitary or alien constitutional structure. But the Flemings are different from all the other groups in so far as they alone since the end of the war have been an actual majority of the population of their country, even though they are treated in certain ways as if they were still a minority. This fact alone gives their case a validity, a strength, and a uniqueness, which those of the other groups do not possess, whatever greater or lesser degree of sympathy we might have for them. There seems to be little doubt that if the Flemings had been coloured and not white, their case would have been one of the most passionately and vociferously debated in the international councils of the world and that it would have aroused widespread sympathy in almost all civilised countries. What has prevented this is the failure, in spite of the worthy efforts of some Flemish propagandists, to make all the facts sufficiently well-known abroad; the insignificant size of the country; the feelings that the repercussions can be only domestic, and not international; and a general indifference abroad to what appears to be a relatively insignificant quarrel over matters which are not understood or appreciated abroad, in comparison to some of the other more pressing global problems. For many casual visitors to Belgium the problem arouses no greater feelings than a certain irritation on finding road signs in Dutch, where they, in their ignorance, had expected them to be in French. Even some more percipient observers feel a certain irritation over a struggle to reassert the use of what is a ‘minority’ language in a world which is turning increasingly towards English as an international tongue. Yet these criticisms, though understandable to a certain extent, are somewhat superficial. What is involved is something far deeper and has connections with the true nature of democracy, the rule of the majority, and the balance that should be maintained between the needs of man to identify himself culturally and his

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needs to identify himself with larger and larger political and economic units. A cursory dismissal of the problem is helpful neither to the Flemings, who have a reasonable case, nor to the cause of truth and historical understanding.

The basic cause of the Belgian problem is historical: the failure throughout history from the time of the Emperor Lothair in the ninth century to create a viable middle kingdom to act as a buffer state between the more powerful, and eventually more united, powers in Germany and in France. Numerous attempts were made, the last being that made under British pressures after the defeat of Napoleon, to create a stronger united Kingdom of the Netherlands out of the former Austrian provinces of Belgium and the former Dutch republic. If Britain had not eventually lost its enthusiasm for what was primarily its own creation, and if the Dutch king had been less of an eighteenth-century benevolent despot, not only the history of Belgium, but the history of Europe as a whole might have been radically altered for the better. But this attempt proved to be no more succesful than its many predecessors. King William I of the Netherlands was challenged and finally defeated by a combination of Catholics and the manufacturing classes in Belgium, most of whom were orientated in manners, thought, culture and speech towards France rather than their Dutch-speaking northern neighbours. It was from this point that the problems of modern Belgium commenced: the present contradictions were attendant at the nation's birth. Independence and recognition as a nation (though not immediately by the Dutch) had been achieved by means of a primarily middle- and upper-class revolution, supported by the French, against a Dutch king who, nevertheless, shared a language with the inhabitants of the northern part of Belgium. But a sense of being a nation, of having some traditions, characteristics and attitudes in common, cannot be created overnight. Although Belgium became an officially constituted state in 1831, it is doubtful if it ever became near to being a nation, not even entirely in the traumatic experiences of the First World War, and its aftermath. This development was in marked contrast to that of its northern neighbour, the Netherlands, which had been forced by the pressure of events in the 80-year-long struggle against Spain, and then against England and France, to act as a nation long before it became an officially-constituted state. To a certain extent this explains why the Dutch have been so much better able to deal with, and to contain, their own much smaller minority problem with the Frisians, and their greater problem of conflicting religions. A Dutch sense of nationhood was established before such problems could become too acute; moreover, the treatment of minorities there has on the whole been somewhat fairer. In contrast, the Flemish question has become of increasingly greater significance throughout the history of Belgium, until today it is the major problem which intrudes into practically all aspects of life.

Yet, there was no absolute inevitability - as there never is in history - that the issue should have become as inflamed as it has. It is true that there have always been, and still are, enormous differences between the Flemish north and the Walloon south in culture, views of history, religion, and other matters, but these differences alone, as the history of other countries illustrates, are not entirely inimical to two peoples living together in tolerant acceptance of differences, if not in actual harmony. Even differences in language

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are not in themselves sufficient to create disharmony if there is fair treatment of both; when there is not, however, they provide a cause around which feelings of resentment can easily coalesce. This is what happened in Belgium.

In spite of the article in 1831 constitution stating that the use of language should be optional, French was the official language of the state, of the law courts, of higher education, and of society in general. Paris exerted a great attraction as a cultural and artistic centre. Even children from Flemish middle-class homes, received their education in French, spoke French at home, and were absorbed into the long and distinctive traditions of French culture. Those with any literary or artistic aspirations looked towards Paris - as did artists of other nations, including Britain - as a cultural home. The cultural path to Paris was well-trodden by both Flemings and Walloons. But this immersion in French culture was not total. Flanders, too, had a long cultural tradition, which had provided in certain ways a harbinger of that spectacular artistic blossoming in the Dutch republic in the seventeenth century, whose development also benefited from the influx of wealthy immigrants from Flanders and points south during the eighty years' struggle against Spain. In the nineteenth century a handful of Flemings looked back to this great period of their history and drew their inspiration from it. Jans Frans Willems, an archivist and philologist, first made the Flemings aware of the possibilities of describing their not inconsiderable past in their own language. But curiously enough, it was Henri Conscience, the son of a Frenchman, who was to create out of the romantic epics of Flemish history, such stories as provided an emotive sub-stratum of nationalistic appeal. In 1846, he and other writers formed the Heilig Verbond, whose philosophical basis, however, was somewhat too emotive, impractical and florid, to have much appeal except to fellow-artists and intellectuals. Yet as can be seen in the history of other linguistic movements, such stages are a very necessary part of the total development.

What was far more crucial in attracting a more general sympathy for the early nineteenth-century Flemish demands for more equality were the administrative and legal injustices brought about by the imposition of the French language. The most notorious case occurred in 1864 when two Flemish workmen were condemned to death for a murder which, it was later proved, they did not commit, after having been tried in French, a language they did not understand, and defended by a lawyer who spoke no Flemish. Before the First World War, there were some piecemeal reforms, including the use of Flemish (or Dutch as it should now be known) in some lower courts, and in some schools; but by the outbreak of the war, very few of the Flemish demands had been granted.

It was the First World War which did the Flemish cause untold harm abroad, and left a legend of sizeable Flemish collaboration with the Germans, which has persisted even among some reputable British historians to this day. There was, of course, some collaboration among some members of the Activist movement, but the extent of it was greatly exaggerated both in Belgium and in other countries. Curiously enough we owe our knowledge of just how exaggerated some of these claims were to the research of a brilliant German historian, Fritz Fischer, who has shown that the members of the Young Flanders group in particular were by no means the willing collaborators that some of their fellow countrymen and some foreign observers believed. What most of the Flemings wanted was

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independence not only from the French-speaking élite in their country, but also from the German occupiers, and the turmoil of war provided an opportunity for them to advance their cause which they eagerly, if perhaps misguidedly, seized. At least one high official in the German occupation forces had no doubts himself that the Flemings were too profoundly democratic ever to become the mere tools of a policy serving foreign interests.

Between the two wars, there was some progress in granting the Flemings the merited reforms that they had been demanding for so long a time, including in 1932 the right to be educated in their own language at both the school and university level. This long-overdue reform has had profound consequences in the post-war years. For the first time ever there is now an increasingly large number of highly-educated men and women who have not had to switch to the language of the establishment before they could receive education at the highest level. There was also a growth of specifically Flemish political parties in the inter-war years, and although some members of these movements had ideological sympathies with the Fascists, it seems fair to say that in a number of ways, Fascism affected Flanders no more, and probably less, than it did Brussels the south in the years immediately before the outbreak of the Second World War.

Up to 1945, the Flemish movement had followed a similar course to those of other linguistic and racial movements in foreign countries. It is only in the post-war period that it has achieved its greatest successes and acquired characteristics which distinguish it from all others. The main changes have been the transformation since 1947 of the Flemish minority into an actual majority of the population, and of Flanders into the area which contains the most thriving and advanced industrial region centred on the industrial-port complex of Antwerp. These two changes have made it impossible for the establishment to ignore completely all the legitimate demands of the Flemings or to dismiss them as nothing but the aspirations of a handful of agitators, as was being done not so long ago by some members of the French-speaking establishment. In the postwar years the Flemings have won some notable victories, including the establishment of the definitive linguistic frontier between the two regions in 1962 to 1963. The establishment of this frontier left the bilingual University of Louvain in an anomalous position to the north of the language border. It was not long before student demands that the French-speaking section should be moved south brought about a series of demonstrations that eventually led to the fall of the Vanden Boeynants government in 1968 - the first time that the language question had brought about the downfall of a government in Belgium. Since then it has been decided to move the French-speaking sections to Ottignies, south of the border, a move which is due to take place between 1972 and 1977. It has now also been agreed to split off an autonomous Flemish section from the Free University in Brussels.

Although these have been decisive and legitimate victories for the Flemings, there is still a great residual feeling among many of them that the concessions that have been made do not go far enough. For example, in a five-language broadsheet, ‘Do You Know the Flemings?’, published recently in Gent, it was claimed that great discrimination against the Flemings still persists. At the end of 1969, the pamphlet claimed, 60 per cent of the Belgian population were Dutch-speaking and yet 55 per cent of those in universities, 77 per

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cent of generals and colonels, and 80 per cent of the members of the highest Court of Appeal, were French-speaking. In the public hospitals of Brussels, it was said that there were 706 French-speaking doctors against 11 Dutch-speaking. It is true that this disparity has been caused partly by the fact that Flemish education at the highest level was not possible until comparatively recently and that even now some of the wealthier families in Flanders are francophones, but it is easy to see why statistics such as these are sufficient to cause great ire among even moderate-minded Flemings who want real equality to be accorded to their language in what is, after all, meant to be an officially-bilingual capital. Dual street signs in Brussels and dual place names on railway stations can become nothing more than mere trappings of equality, if linguistic discrimination on the scale alleged still persists. This is even more so if it is true, as the broadsheet claims, that sixty Flemish schools should have been built in Brussels in the last six years, whereas in fact there have only been 14.

In spite of some earlier hopes that increases in general wealth and prosperity would tend to heal wounds caused by the linguistic battle, this has not happened, and a contrary development has taken place. Belgium provides a very clear example of the tendency for an increase in general prosperity to inflame the situation even further, by making what were once seemingly incredible aspirations, capable of fulfilment. After all, the problem for most Flemings a century or so ago was not getting secondary education in their own language, but getting any secondary education at all. Each success is almost bound to escalate the nature of future demands.

In the post-war years, the problem has been greatly exacerbated by the uneven economic development of the two regions, with many of the modern developments being concentrated in Flanders, with its new industrial sites and factories, financed in part by foreign capital, and with Wallonia and its declining coal industry and ageing population, becoming increasingly fearful of its future economic viability. In both parts of the country there have been for a number of years sizeable elements who have felt that the only solution that would do justice to them both is some form of confederation or federation. But the greatest difficulty with a solution of this kind is the role of Brussels, which has a major share of the country's education, culture, industry, wealth, and administration. Brussels is the last and the most major of the anomalies left in the Belgian state, a capital, officially bilingual, yet still orientated linguistically, culturally and socially towards the French; situated to the north of the linguistic frontier, yet containing only a minority of the major part of the country's population, the Flemings, who feel that they are treated as a social minority in what should be a meeting place for the two nations, the two cultures. The situation is complicated even further by the fact that Brussels is also the heart of the unitary state and of those attitudes that still seek to perpetuate it, and that, owing to the small size of the country and the long-established tradition of commuting, it exercises a pervasive and diurnal influence over practically all regions of the country. People commute into Brussels every day from about 90 per cent of the 2,500 communes or so into which the country is divided. Thus the attitudes of the French-speaking establishment are for many people not something remote and rarely encountered, but something that impinges on them every working day. Brussels, with its newly-enchanced status as a centre for the European Community,

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Nato, and European centre for foreign industrial concerns, is now the key problem in the Belgian situation and one that is exceedingly difficult to solve.

Since I wrote my book, ‘Modern Belgium’ (Pall Mall Press, London; Praeger, New York, 1969), the linguistic problem has become even more inflamed and intransigent. To an even greater degree than two years ago, it now seems to be involved in every decision, every question, whether it is the development of a port in the north or the strikes among the coal miners of Limburg. No traditional political party has not been split by this question; the Church has been divided; and the protests, which once came primarily from the Flemish side, now come too, as I predicted, in increasing measure from the French-speakers, as they feel their status as a minority of the population, under greater challenge. Meanwhile, many of the French-speaking population in Brussels, who have always been something special in the country and somewhat aloof from both Flanders and Wallonia, now feel threatened by the irresistible force of numbers which threatens the francophone hold upon what was still in 1800 predominantly a Flemish city.

Although the government of Gaston Eyskens, much to many people's surprise, came near to working out a compromise solution, his recent attempt to solve the problem has had to be abandoned, as have so many others in the post-war period. It foundered on the rocks of Brussels, and the Flemish insistence that the boundaries of the capital should be fixed at their present limits, and that, in return for according parity to the French-speaking population in the government of the country as a whole, the Flemings should be given parity in the administration of Brussels, where they are in a minority. On the face of it, this demand seems reasonable enough.

Perhaps the one good thing that has come out of the latest failure is a greater sense of realism among politicians. Only a few years ago some of them still subscribed to the myth of the unitary state, even though separate provision had already been made for the two communities in education, culture and economic development. Now, the present prime minister, Eyskens, and the older statesman, Paul-Henri Spaak, have both publicly acknowledged that the straightforward unitary principle can no longer be retained, that it is no longer in accordance with the realities of the situation, as, in fact, it has not been for a number of years. These admissions do something at least to introduce a much-needed note of realism into what has become an increasingly intolerable and unworkable situation for both sides. Yet in themselves, these changes of attitudes bring a solution no nearer, as Eyskens has found. Passions are too inflamed, too much goodwill has been eroded, and the linguistic question has become too intertwined with socio-economic issues, for a simple solution to be quickly found. The only rapid solution might be obtained if there could be some generous gestures instead of the rather grudging concessions that have been made in the past. This does not seem likely to happen. Instead, it would appear that the fight is going to be long drawn-out and perhaps increasingly acrimonious, but with the almost certain result that eventually the Flemings are going to achieve their aims, for it seems impossible that in a supposedly democratic age the wishes of what is now an increasingly prosperous and educated majority of the population can ultimately be ignored.