If Parliamentary politics is the art of compromise, Belgium is at once Europe’s most virtuous painter and its most inviting canvas. A country known for its linguistic and identitarian divisions, Belgium has, over time, developed a political system that both reflects and perpetuates them. The governance of Belgium, a federal democracy with seven parliaments—one federal, three regional, and three community parliaments—and often overlapping powers, is a task that oscillates between Herculean and Kafkaesque. Adding to the complexity of this painting, even a single colour is used in two different hues, depending on which half of the canvas it is applied to. Political parties are divided along linguistic lines, which oftentimes trump ideological similarities between them, leading to seemingly absurd—but actually rather usual—situations such as the Flemish-speaking socialists being part of a coalition with Flemish nationalists and French-speaking liberals in opposition to Francophone socialists and Flemish liberals. It is, perhaps, unsurprising that one of the leading exponents of Surrealism, René Magritte, was a Belgian. It might be somewhat more surprising that, since last month, the Prime Minister of Belgium has been a Flemish nationalist who had once stated he’d rather see Flanders join the Netherlands than remain a part of Belgium.

Belgium’s present-day Federal system is the result of six so-called State Reforms over the course of the 20th century, through which the country abandoned its previous, French-inspired unitary State structure in favour of one that acknowledged the country’s linguistic, cultural, and economic divisions. In most State reforms, Flanders, and the Flemish Movement in particular, played a prominent role, demanding—and obtaining—greater regional oversight over key competencies ranging from education to environmental policies, as well as more tutelage over the use of the Flemish language in public life. A mostly agricultural region until the 1950s, with industry concentrated in and around Antwerp and a handful of other cities, Flanders became Belgium’s economic and demographic powerhouse in the aftermath of the Second World War after over a century of Francophone dominance.

The Flemish Movement, though political in its goals and methods, encompasses a large number of cultural, intellectual, folkloristic, and social organizations broadly united around a vaguely defined goal of defending, promoting, and upholding Flemish traditions. Some of these organizations trace their roots as far back as the fin-de-siècle and the Interwar years when Flemish national consciousness was being written into the European literary canon by the genius of Hendrik Conscience and forged by the camaraderie of Flemish-speaking brothers-in-arms at the service of King Albert I of the Belgians.

‘Originally a conservative party, the Volksunie evolved to become a catch-all, community-based party’

The Flemish Movement’s main political iteration throughout most of the 20th century was the ideologically amorphous Volksunie, an ethnic party that advocated for greater autonomy for Flanders—and, as such, for a more decentralized Belgium. Originally a conservative party, the Volksunie evolved to become a catch-all, community-based party. This earned the party the trust of the centre but lost much of its right-nationalist hardcore, which, in the 1970s, moved to the Vlaams Blok, a new party with a clear separatist line and strongly ethnolinguistic ideological foundations.

Since the 1990s, the political wing of the Flemish Movement became pronouncedly right-wing. The Vlaams Blok, for its tolerance of extremist elements within its structures, which have, on several occasions, sought to justify World War II-era Flemish collaborationism, was banned by the court in 2004. It was subsequently refounded, shedding its extremist politicians and ideas and changing its name to Vlaams Belang—a name it retains to this day.

In 2001, the Volksunie split into two parties: the right-leaning New Flemish Alliance, better known as the N-VA, and the left-leaning Spirit. The latter was as ephemeral as its name might suggest. The N-VA, on the other hand, eclipsed even its predecessor as it combined its advocacy of Flemish causes with strong support for economic liberalism, a strong law-and-order discourse on migration and security, and a position on social issues that oscillates between soft libertarianism and a moderate form of conservatism. Above all else, for most Belgians, Flemish or Walloon, it is the party of Bart De Wever.

Separatist, Mayor, Prime Minister

De Wever has led the N-VA for the past 20 years, shaping the party almost as much as the party has shaped his political views and personality. On the one hand, this explains the shock and fear that took hold of many Francophones upon his accession to the 16 Rue de la Loi, popularly known in Belgium as le seize, the Prime Minister’s official residence. On the day the coalition agreement was signed, La Libre, a centrist, historically Catholic Francophone newspaper, ran a frontpage with a picture of De Wever shaking hands with the King, with the sole caption ‘Bart De Wever, Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Belgium’. Those words, even two years ago, would be unthinkable on the front page of a non-satirical newspaper. And yet, they were true. After almost a year of gruelling negotiations marred by a seemingly permanent lack of trust amongst coalition partners—at this point, inter-party mistrust is almost a Belgicum in itself—the Antwerpian had succeeded in the mission entrusted to him on 9 June. De Wever, for 20 years the face of Flemish regionalism and stubbornness, was now at the helm of the Kingdom, answering to all its citizens—Flemish, Walloon, and Bruxellois.

Politically, Bart De Wever is not a Flemish separatist. The N-VA, despite its regionalism, its track record of calling for the downsizing of the Federal institutions in favour of the Regions and Communities, and its unyielding defence of the Flemish movement and causes, does not call for immediate secession. What it defends is, instead, a gradual granting of further autonomy to the regions and/or communities, which would eventually lead to the establishment of ‘an independent Flanders as a European Member State’. This position is the result of two decades of political struggle within Flanders and Belgium and the accruing of political experience by De Wever and other political leaders, who sought to learn from but not repeat the erstwhile Volksunie’s path.

The N-VA’s official position on so-called communitarian issues is in favour of a confederal, Swiss-style model, with most competencies granted to subnational authorities and the central government being responsible for foreign and defence matters, as well as enjoying some residual powers. Culturally, linguistically, and symbolically, the N-VA remains a strongly Flemish party. It only campaigns in Flanders and Brussels; it is uncompromising in the exclusive use of Flemish in its communications; its members fly the historical Flemish flag rather than the modern, official one and celebrate Flemish holidays such as the 11 July commemoration of the Battle of the Golden Spurs with great fanfare. De Wever himself is often regarded as a sort of political personification of the Flemish Movement itself—alongside his more ‘radical’ counterpart, Vlaams Belang leader Tom van Grieken.

‘By most accounts, De Wever’s political path—and that of the N-VA’s—has been a success story’

Oftentimes, the N-VA, despite its origins in the Flemish movement, would place such matters on the electoral backburner, focusing instead on more immediate concerns of its mostly conservative voter base, such as immigration, security, and taxation. The N-VA’s cautious approach to regionalism and broadening of its political identity to a moderate conservative force allowed it to increase its voter base beyond the traditional electorate of Flemish regionalist parties, including the Volksunie. This pivot to the centre on Flemish issues—and, later on, the party’s willingness to compromise and work with centre-left forces—cost the N-VA much of the separatist and hard-right electorate, which moved to Vlaams Belang. While both parties identify the problems afflicting Flanders similarly, their solutions thereto are different, with Vlaams Belang taking a much harder line on most topics—notably immigration and security, but also social issues, in which the N-VA takes a more libertarian approach. Crucially, Vlaams Belang, due to its association with the former Vlaams Blok, its support for Flemish independence and many of its policies being regarded as ‘far-right’ by the Belgian mainstream, is subjected to a cordon sanitaire by all parties, including the N-VA.

By most accounts, De Wever’s political path—and that of the N-VA’s—has been a success story. The N-VA’s cautious approach to Flemish regionalism and its adoption of a moderate conservative platform made it the largest force in the Flemish parliament since X and in the Federal Parliament since 2014. It was De Wever’s pragmatism, political acumen, and upholding of the cordon sanitaire that made him Mayor of Antwerp in 2013 after forging a coalition with the liberal Open VLD and the Christian democrats, ending three decades of Socialist rule in the port city.

At the regional level, the N-VA has governed Flanders for the past decade and a half, and at the Federal level, it was part of the ruling coalition between 2014 and 2019. The party has succeeded in shaping the political narrative in Belgium in a way few other forces had before it, not least thanks to De Wever’s popularity. His Premiership is, in many ways, a culmination of these efforts, even if he might, himself, have rather wished to have been the governor of Flanders in a united State with the Netherlands—something De Wever himself has expressed in a past interview.

Voor Vlaanderen (en België?)

An avid student of Roman antiquity, De Wever is fond of using Latin maxims in his speeches and interviews. As he settles in the sèize, there is one thing that would be wise to keep in mind: ‘Cui prodest?’ If, on the one hand, the N-VA is now theoretically at the helm of the nation, on the other hand, its confederalist pursuits seem as elusive as ever. No Belgian government is formed without broad inter-party negotiations, with several players vying for positions at the Federal and regional levels. Power often comes at the price of one’s ideals and the fulfilment of campaign promises at the expense of coherence. And although Belgian voters are familiar with their country’s chaotic style of governance, one always risks losing the more ideologically-minded electorate—inasmuch as that party has one—in the smoke and mirrors of Brussels’ neoclassical Parliament building. De Wever’s acceptance of the Premiership allowed him to insert key tenets of the N-VA’s programme into the coalition agreement. Concurrently, the Flemish leader had to strike painful compromises to ensure that his ‘Arizona’ coalition would see the light of day, especially on communitarian issues and on matters of migration and security. Within certain circles in the Flemish Movement and the broader Flemish population, questions regarding his ideological integrity and even the N-VA’s commitment to its original cause arose and are unlikely to fade away anytime soon.

‘Is the N-VA still a Flemish nationalist party? And, ideologically, is the N-VA (still) a conservative party?’

These many questions can be summarized in two: Is the N-VA still a Flemish nationalist party? And, ideologically, is the N-VA (still) a conservative party? Lato sensu, one might ask: can one be, at the same time, the Prime Minister of Belgium and an ideologue? The answer to these questions, as is often the case, lies in the roots of their subject. The N-VA was born as a Flemish, liberal-conservative party—in this order—and, to a great extent, it has remained thus. It was born out of the ashes of the Volksunie, a strictly ethno-regional party with a malleable ideology that harkened back to the post-War Germanic Volkspartei, applied on a subnational scale, similar to the case of South Tyrol in Italy. The N-VA sought to give more ideological clarity to the Volksunie and to diversify its political scope, even at the expense of its focus on communitarian issues. It was constrained, to the left, by the established Flemish Christian democrats—the party’s main ally and rival for much of its existence—and, to the right, by Vlaams Belang. Its solution was the adoption of a conservative-infused form of what can be described as ‘national pragmatism’. On the State Reforms, De Wever is faced with a wall of Francophone resistance to the idea, which, in varying degrees, is present from the left-leaning opposition to De Wever’s coalition partners. Leader of the centrist Les Engagés party and De Wever’s Foreign Minister Maxime Prévot vowed to resist any ‘excesses’ by the N-VA on the subject despite remaining open to discussions on a State Reform. Liberal leader Georges-Louis Bouchez, whose Mouvement Reformateur is De Wever’s main Francophone partner, holds similar views. On the opposition, Vlaams Belang accuses the Prime Minister of having chosen power over Flanders.

From an ideology-based Flemish nationalist party, the N-VA gradually evolved into a party purely based on its Flemish identity. Ideological considerations became secondary, with pragmatic calculations regarding regional and cultural Flemish matters taking precedence. At the local level, the party has entered coalitions with parties as far to the left as the Greens. At the regional and Federal levels, it has worked with the socialists and liberals, often forcing it to adapt its own rhetoric and positions. In nuce, the N-VA, whether by choice or by force, evolved into a more clearly right-leaning, 21st-century version of the Volksunie. It has remained Flemish—in an intra-party sense, perhaps even more so than before—but it has done so through the adoption of identity-based pragmatism. This model has functioned well for as long as the party was mostly concentrated on Flemish affairs, and during the N-VA’s participation in the Federal government, it allowed the party to position itself as the one defender of Flemish autonomy.

Discussions on Belgian confederalism aside, what the coalition agreement laid bare is that De Wever’s accession to power came at the cost of much of the party’s (liberal-)conservative identity. In the Hungarian sense, the N-VA was never a true conservative party. Apart from common positions on migration and certain fiscal policies, an N-VA politician and his or her Fidesz counterpart would find little to agree on. De Wever’s ‘conservatism’ draws much more on the Anglo–American idea of liberal conservatism. It is thus based on tenets of individual freedom, reduction of the State’s role in the economy, lower taxes, and the promotion of free enterprise—although stopping short of advocating for laissez-faire capitalism. The N-VA is ‘conservative’ insofar as conservatism is understood as it was in 1980s Britain rather than in 2020s Continental Europe. Crucially, unlike the mid-century Flemish Movement, the N-VA’s conservatism is not based on Flanders’ Catholic heritage but on a secularized, sociocultural understanding of Flemish identity—a further difference from Vlaams Belang, which takes an ethno-cultural stance. In practice, De Wever’s understanding of Flemish nationalism is close to 20th-century British civic nationalism, with strong emphasis placed on attachment to the local culture, language, and traditions rather than to any religious or ethnic bonds, as earlier incarnations of Flemish nationalism tended to be. The party’s position on Hungary, which alternated between timid support for some of its migration policies to open hostility towards the Orbán government, especially by N-VA Members of the European Parliament, on social matters, serves as a further indication of the feebleness of De Wever’s ideological conservatism.

‘The former Mayor of Antwerp must be at once the defender of Flanders and the enforcer of Belgian unity’

For a party with a regional nationalist leitmotif, the absence of a concrete ideology is not a significant issue. In a political culture such as Belgium’s, the primacy of pragmatism is the only way into the corridors of power. One must remain wary of allowing the temptation of pragmatism to overshadow a party’s—or a movement’s—raison d’être, particularly in a competitive environment such as Flanders’. What De Wever cannot afford to lose is his perception of himself and his party as Flemish politicians despite their federal role. So far, the party has been able to navigate this complex dichotomy well. Despite the absence of concrete movements towards State reform, the topic remains in the headlines, partly thanks to Francophone fears. In other areas, following a pragmatically conservative course may be perceived by most Flemish voters as being in line with their own interests. When counted as a region, Flanders is one of the European regions with the most right-leaning electorates. Last year’s elections were held in Flanders, which was akin to defending the region’s interests.

Bart De Wever’s accession to the Premiership has put the internal logic of this model—and of the entire N-VA’s modus operandi—to test. The former Mayor of Antwerp must be at once the defender of Flanders and the enforcer of Belgian unity. His political loyalty, unquestionably bequeathed to his Flemish voters, is now in contrast with his constitutional duties towards Belgium as a single Federal entity. The following months and years will show whether he succeeds in preserving his Flemish nationalist electorate, either by enacting a State Reform—an elusive outcome, given the two-thirds majority needed to even start one—or simply through the pursuit of moderately conservative policies on key areas that are broadly popular in Flanders. Successes in reducing and contrasting illegal migration; tackling the security crisis afflicting Brussels, where shootouts between mostly foreign gangs have become commonplace, and other major cities; strengthening Belgian defence capabilities, long underfunded and understaffed; and in increasing the efficiency of the byzantine Belgian bureaucracy, while demonstrating at least an effort towards greater Flemish autonomy in coordination with the Flemish government, may just as well suffice. What the new Prime Minister cannot afford is to be seen as favouring his Francophone citizens more than his Flemish electorate, nor can he afford to abandon the remaining conservative tenets that the N-VA upholds. In typical Belgian surrealism, if the N-VA is to succeed as the new Volksunie, the new broad church party of the Flemings, it must succeed at the Federal government. In the solitude of the richly decorated sèize, De Wever is, at once, Damocles and the hanging sword.

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