The N-VA party has executed something of a political earthquake in Flanders, writes Arthur Beesleyin Brussels
THEY REVVED up the volume as Bart De Wever, his right thumb in the air, entered a noisy Brussels nightclub to declare victory for his New Flemish Alliance (N-VA) in the Belgian election.
A hardline separatist who says Dutch-speaking people of Flanders in the north of the country are hopelessly mismatched with the French-speakers of Wallonia to the south, De Wever advocates a gradual division of the country into two autonomous states.
It’s not going to happen tomorrow – French-speakers recoil in horror at the notion – but De Wever has executed something of a political earthquake by overturning decades-long Christian Democrat supremacy in Flanders.
Although most people in Flanders tell pollsters they do not want outright independence, Flemish nationalism is in vogue as never before. While the prospect of an alignment between Francophone and Flemish socialists means De Wever is unlikely to become prime minister, he is now in a position to advance fundamental reform of the unitary Belgian state.
“Dank u Bart,” roared De Wever’s supporters as he entered the room, cheering a simple “thank you” for a result has taken them from the fringes to the fore in a short span of years.
De Wever, a burly 39-year-old, was quick to allude to this achievement as he took to the podium, standing before a blue backdrop with yellow stars that bore a remarkable similarity to the EU flag.
“Less than 10 years ago this party was formed. In 2003 we had one parliamentarian and the others that was it. Today the N-VA wins the election.” Yellow flags embossed with the black Flemish lion shot up from the crowds below as he spoke. “We have to change things to put things financially and institutionally straight . . .Flanders has decided to choose for change and we will not disappoint.” N-VA activists were full of jovial camaraderie last evening as they waited for De Wever’s arrival, sipping beer and wine as favourable election results came through on large TV screens. When De Wever’s rivals appeared on screen, they booed and hissed.
At the root of the N-VA’s popularity is the sense that prosperous Flanders is paying well over the odds for the upkeep of Wallonia, which is poorer and has more unemployment. De Waver has exploited this with considerable success.
“Bart De Wever, he speaks the same language with the same words as the guy in the street. That’s why people like him. They understand what he wants to say,” said Anneleen Van Den Houte (34), who owns a bookshop on the outskirts of Brussels. Johan Dewolfs (55), a local councillor in the north of the country, argued that Flemish people think differently to their French-speaking compatriots. “The south is much more socialist,” he said. “In the northern side the socialist party only represents 15 per cent, in the south more than 30. So we have different views on the economy, on the budgets, on our priorities to govern.
“The northern part of the country is paying yearly more than €12 billion to the south. Unemployment there is more than 17 per cent, here it is 7 per cent . . . There is a problem with foreigners coming into the country. It’s the whole culture, the way of thinking economically.”
Difficult talks now lie ahead. De Wever wants more and more powers devolved to the regions, leading the core state in charge of the army and handful of other portfolios. But such questions have dogged Belgian politics for decades, leading to rampant instability.
“The big problem with the Belgian federal state is that it’s a federal state which consists of two member states,” said Matthias Edward Storme, a barrister in his fifties, as he waited for De Wever.
“That is the most difficult form of federalism to survive because if you are two you always have to agree with all.”