Divisions could lead to a partition in Belgium

(10-12) 04:00 PDT Rhode-St.-Genese, Belgium -- Stitched from a revolution and secured through compromise, Belgium's fragile fabric is unraveling and the impossible - the country's partition - is suddenly becoming imaginable.

The most immediate cause is a political deadlock among squabbling parties that have yet to form a new government, more than four months after general elections.

But the roots of the standoff stretch back decades, nourished by growing language, cultural and economic differences between Dutch-speaking Flanders in the north and French-speaking Wallonia in the south.

"We live in an artificial state," said Philip Dewinter, head of the far-right Vlaams Belang, or Flemish Bloc, which champions an independent Flanders and a referendum on dissolution. "One hundred eighty-seven years after our creation, we've come to the conclusion that we don't have anything in common anymore. Well, maybe the king, the beer and chocolate. But it would be better for us to split up."

Many Flemings appear to agree. A September poll released this month found nearly half back an independent Flanders.

Coming at a time when Europe is struggling to speak with one voice and eventually embrace a common Constitution, the identity crisis at its very heart - Brussels, Belgium's capital and the seat of the European Union - is an irony lost on no one.

"The good news is that European integration makes it possible for a member country to split up - a sort of velvet divorce within the union without a major shock," said Antonio Missiroli, head of the European Policy Center, a Brussels think tank. "The bad news is a split may fuel other autonomous sentiments."

Few believe Belgium will divide in the immediate future. But if it ever does, the biggest turf battle will be waged over Brussels and leafy, affluent suburbs like Rhode-St.-Genese, one of the few places where Flemings and Walloons live side by side, if not happily.

"For me, a split would be good," said Flemish shopkeeper Wim Kockart, as he rang up customers in Rhode-St.-Genese's sleepy downtown Tuesday morning. "We Flemish would know what to do with our own country. It's the French speakers who will have problems - but it will be too late for them."

A legacy of being treated as second-class citizens has fed Flemish grudges. Until the 20th century, Belgium was dominated by the wealthier Francophones. The Dutch language was shunned. But the tables turned after World War II. Flanders became the economic powerhouse.

Today, the country's Flemings, representing about 60 percent of its 10.6 million people, resent bankrolling economically struggling Wallonia, where the unemployment rate is twice is high. But economics is only part of the story. Flemings and Walloons have separate schools, governments, media and sports teams. Hapless Walloons driving through Flanders might look in vain for road signs to the Francophone city of Lille - posted locally as Rijsel, its Dutch name.

Other signs also are bleak.

Intermarriage is rare, and young Flemings and Walloons are increasingly learning English, not each other's tongues, as their second language.

"I don't see French- and Flemish-speaking citizens finding new ways to interact," said Pascal del Wit, a political scientist at the Free University of Brussels. "We are growing apart."

In June elections, the Flanders' Christian Democratic Party, advocating greater decentralization, captured the largest slice of the vote. But negotiations to form a new government remain stalemated over Flemish demands for greater local governance and welfare changes resisted by the Walloons.

This week, French-speaking lawmakers walked out of talks on redrafting the nation's political map over another bone of contention: the possible redistricting of key bilingual regions around Brussels such as Rhode-St.-Genese, Euro News reported. Nonetheless, Belgium embassies have been instructed to deny questions about a permanent divorce between the two sides.

"Is this country splitting up? No," said Pieter de Crem, speaker for the Flemish Christian Democrats in the national parliament. "But the federal state is now rethinking its future."

To be sure, Belgium's crisis has its comic touches.

Asked to sing the country's national anthem in July, Flemish Christian Democratic leader Yves Leterme instead belted out France's "La Marseillaise." Last week, a frustrated citizen posted his country for sale on eBay.

And last year, a fake television newscast showed photos of what appeared to be King Albert II and Queen Paola fleeing the country on a military plane after Flanders had proclaimed its independence. Callers jammed the French-language station that aired the broadcast, and Belgium diplomats reportedly called home asking whether the nation had been partitioned.

Even Walloons who largely support a united Belgium offer arguments of reason - a shared economy and foreign policy - rather than of the heart.

"Are these enough to keep us together?" asked Olivier Maingain, head of the leftist Francophone Democratic Front party, who supports a united Belgium. "That's another question."

Others dismiss the country's crisis as mere partisan hype.

"It's only the politicians that can't get along," said Rhode-St.-Genese resident Liliane Sansons, a Walloon. "With the people, there's no problem."

Should the separationists win out, both Flemings and Walloons would likely claim the wealthy and international Brussels region as their own, analysts say. Another possibility - for Brussels to become an independent Washington, D.C.-like entity - is dismissed as unlikely.

Still, the battle over the capital may, paradoxically, be the glue holding the country together. And so might ambivalence.

"The good thing about a split is that each side can follow its own program," said 78-year-old Rogers Tande, a Fleming, as he waited for a bus at Rhode-St.-Genese. "On the other hand, we undoubtedly are stronger together."

This article appeared on page A - 14 of the San Francisco Chronicle