In Belgium, even the Smurfs are confused

[TK-421]

Don Murray - CBC News

In Belgium, even the Smurfs are confused

Nov. 6, 2007


Watch Don Murray's report on Belgium on the National on Wed., Nov. 7.

Belgium and Canada have similar positions. Each sits on its continent, incontournable as the French say, undeniably there, but largely ignored by its larger neighbours.

Consider Belgium today. It is in the midst of a major political crisis. You haven't noticed? Neither has most of Europe.

As of Nov. 5, the country achieved an unenviable record — 148 days without a real government, 148 days since a general election produced a stalemate. The previous record was in 1988 and the cause was the same and one that will be familiar to Canadians — language.

There are not two, but three official languages in Belgium, a lot for a country of 10 million inhabitants. But only two count, French and Dutch. The Flemish speak Dutch in the province of Flanders and they are the majority, making up somewhere between 56 and 58 per cent of the country's population. The Walloons speak French and live in the south next to France. To complicate matters, Brussels, the capital, is largely French-speaking but it lies in Flanders.

What would Tintin do?
Curiously, few outside the political class in Belgium seem to be taking this crisis too seriously. There is a reason for that. Belgium is known for … well, what is Belgium known for? Beer, of course. There seem to be almost as many of those as Belgians, and moules et frites, mussels and french fries, and chocolate, and … comics.

Yes, tiny Belgium is a world leader in the production of comics and comic book heroes, starting with the boy reporter Tintin.

The comic approach appeals to Belgians. Listen to Rik Torfs, a Flemish professor of government and religion: "We only produce useless things such as beer and chocolates. So we are an absolute centre of mediocrity.
"And that's a good reason to be in favour of the survival of Belgium. As we are a centre of mediocrity, nobody envies us, nobody hates us. And that's nice."

Torfs is famous in Flanders, not because of his intellectual prowess as a professor but because he moonlights on a TV quiz show called The Cleverest Person in the World. It has one million viewers. That's one-sixth of Flanders.
Torfs is a sort of prosecuting judge, insulting the contestants so that they like it, as he puts it. He uses the same technique on his country.

His guide to Belgian politics is pithy: "Anything serious coming from Belgium, don't trust it."

What national anthem?
It's a motto Belgium's embattled prime minister-designate seems to be taking, if not seriously, then conscientiously. Yves Leterme is a Flemish politician, leading the largest coalition of parties trying to form a government.

On Belgium's national holiday, July 21, he was asked what the day was commemorating. He didn't know. (The correct answer was the swearing in as head of state of Belgium's first king in 1830.) Then Leterme was asked whether he knew Belgium's national anthem. Of course, he said, and began singing La Marseillaise, the national anthem of France. It's perhaps not surprising he's having trouble forming a government.

There are more serious reasons for Belgium's political crisis. For one, the country no longer has any national parties.

Four decades ago, the leaders of Belgium tried to clarify the vexed language issue by drawing a line through the belly of the country.

To the north, in Flanders, every official word spoken and written — in government departments, municipal city halls, schools, universities — would be Dutch.

To the south, in Wallonia, French would be official. (In a small eastern enclave tucked up against Germany, German would be the official language of about 75,000 Belgians). Brussels, situated in Flanders, would be bilingual.

Surgery required
This led to some drastic changes. The university of Louvain was a jewel of French-language learning, founded in 1425. But after the drawing of the language line, the university found itself in the Flemish sector. And so, in the 1970s, everything and everyone — books, faculties, professors, students — all were moved south. Not far south, just 30 kilometres and just across the language line. A new university — indeed a new town, Louvain La Neuve — was built. And the old one became the University of Leuven, where everything would be in Dutch.

The drastic surgery offered only temporary remission. By the 1980s, the national parties were splitting apart. Where once there was a national Christian Democrat party, now there are two — one Flemish and one Wallon. And the Flemish Christian Democrats did a deal with a small separatist party, the NVA, with the goal of forming the largest block in the Belgian parliament. The NVA wants Flanders to declare its independence from Belgium.

The Christian Democrat-NVA block achieved its electoral goal. But, thanks to the constitutional tradition that there should be a government with an equal number of Dutch- and French-speaking ministers, this has led to surreal political negotiations. Imagine the Bloc Québécois as part of a negotiating team to form a federal coalition government.

To add spice to the constitutional stew, there is a second, much bigger separatist party, not in the poorer, smaller section of the country, Wallonia, but also in Flanders. The Vlaams Belang, which calls for independence for Flanders and is accused of being rabidly right-wing by its opponents, takes 25 per cent of the votes and seats in the Flanders provincial parliament.
The Flemish have a long and well-developed sense of grievance. For decades they and their and their language were considered backward by the French-speaking elite. Now that Flanders is the rich part of the country, they resent paying subsidies to struggling Wallonia. A recent opinion poll suggested support for Flanders' independence had risen to 46 per cent.

Think of it in Canadian terms: it's as if the support for separation was being driven by Ontario and the West, not by Quebec.

Asking the Big Smurf
But not to worry, says Torfs. This is Belgium.

"It's like asking questions on divorce immediately after the quarrel. The bottles are still on the floor, the wine glasses on the table. At that moment everybody wants to divorce, to separate. But a few days, weeks, months later, we are very happy to be with our old enemies again."

Maybe, but the rot is so deep it has so soaked into the comics. Along with Tintin, Belgium has given the world the Smurfs. And these tiny blue creatures, like bigger Belgians, have managed, in one of their albums, to get themselves into a linguistic tangle.

It begins when a Smurf asks another for a bottle opener, a "bottle-Smurfer" in his parlance. His neighbour insists it's called a "Smurf-opener." They can't agree; the quarrel escalates.

And here Willem de Graeve, deputy director of the Belgian Museum of Comic Art, takes up the story: "So they go to the Big Smurf and ask him who is right. The Big Smurf says, I can't say because both are right, but they're not satisfied with this answer. It goes further and further. They decide one day to split the village in two and they make a border. You can't pass the border because you have two camps of Smurfs, speaking two languages. Now it's obvious that this is a real allusion to the situation in Belgium."

If the Big Smurf can't solve that one, who can save Belgium?

[TK-421]

The report last night added the following
-If it were not for the presence of the European Union in Brussels, Flanders would of likely broken off long ago.
-If and when seperation comes, there will be a fight for Brussels with the Wallonians claiming it because it is mainly French-speaking and the Flemish claiming because of geography and it is within Flanders. Another Jerusalem (although without the bombs)
- the report ended by saying that it is now 150 days and counting since Belgium has had a functional government. I would of never thought in a modern western democracy.

I have been to Belgium and have good friends who live there in the Flemish part. I remember the first time I visited, we driving down the highway on our way from the airport to their town near the Dutch border. All along the signs were pointing towards a town called Luik. I had never heard of this town but didn't ask. Then it seemed like all the signs suddenly changed in French and I instantly recognized where we were going because the signs said Liège, which I knew of. Then all of a sudden they changed back and Luik reappeared. I asked my friends where is this Luik because I had never heard of it. They said that yes I had because it's in fact Liège but said in Flemish. I then asked why they needed to change the names of the towns, especially since it's in Wallonie. They said: "welcome to Belgium".

Being Canadian and living right on the border between Ontario and Quebec, I know all about language issues and signage, etc. But the Belgians seem to have perfected the art of segregation of the Flemish and Wallonians that they don't seem to need a central government anymore. While, federations like Canada can be tenuous and delicate at times, its the spirit of multiculturalism that helps keep us together (and the realization that our southern neighbour would swallow us up pretty fast).

But at least they still have that true hero that all Belgians, Wallonian and Flemish, can claim as theirs and portray onto whatever qualities they want: Tintin (and Milou).

[iansales]

And Liège/Luik is also known as Lüttich in German, so if you approach it from the border with Germany that's what the signs say...

[Vladd67]

I suppose we tend to think of Brussels in term of the EU and forget about Belgium's own internal problems.

[Delvo]

Originally Posted by TK-421

His neighbour insists it's called a "Smurf-opener."

It's gone so far they're considering vivisection?!

[dustinzgirl]

THat was the most confusing article I have ever read.

I thought Papa Smurf was in charge of the governance?

[TK-421]

Confusing as in the writing style or confusing as in the ideas in it?

If it's the later, for a person who lives in a country with a dual linguistc and cultural history and reality, the article is not confusing in the least. I would assume that it would be more so for a person who lives in a melting pot (although one that refuses to recognize the fact that it is indeed become more of a dual lingustic and cultural society).
Also, if you have ever been to Belgium, the article makes more sense.

If it's the former, I can't really help you there except to say that the Big Smurf is Papa Smurf and was in charge of the commune the Smurfs lived in (in fact the Smurfs are communists while Gargamel represents the evil capitalist imperialist... ).