Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / Belgium's Forgotten Slave Ships and the Antwerp Connection
Transcript
- Lucas: When we talk about Belgium’s colonial past, the shadow of Leopold II and the Congo Free State looms so large that it obscures almost everything else. But if we look further back, to the seventeenth century, we find a different kind of entanglement—one rooted in the bustling port city of Antwerp. Luna: Wait, really? I thought Belgium didn’t have any colonies until the late 1800s. Lucas: It’s a common misconception because the modern state of Belgium wasn’t formed until 1830, but the region that became it—particularly the Southern Netherlands—was deeply embedded in global trade networks long before that. Antwerp was once the commercial capital of Europe, and its merchants were actively involved in the emerging Transatlantic Slave Trade decades before the major empires solidified their grip. Lucas: One figure who stands out in this obscure chapter is Jan de la Haye, an Antwerp-based trader who tried to carve out a niche in West Africa around the 1640s. He wasn’t working for a king or a massive state apparatus; he was part of a loose network known as the Society of Antwerp Merchants, trying to navigate the complex political landscape of the Guinea coast. Luna: So they were operating without royal backing? Lucas: Exactly. Unlike the English or French, who had chartered companies backed by the crown, de la Haye and his colleagues were private entrepreneurs taking huge risks. They wanted to bypass the traditional Iberian routes and establish direct trade links for gold, ivory, and, inevitably, enslaved people. It was a bold but ultimately fragile attempt to insert themselves into a market dominated by Portuguese and Dutch interests. Lucas: The challenge wasn’t just financial; it was diplomatic. To operate on the African coast, European traders had to negotiate with local rulers and chiefs who controlled access to the interior. De la Haye spent years trying to secure treaties, offering goods like textiles and metalware in exchange for permission to trade. But the power dynamics were rarely equal, and trust was hard to maintain across such vast distances and cultural divides. Luna: Did they manage to establish any lasting presence there? Lucas: Not really. Most of their ventures collapsed under the weight of disease, conflict with rival European powers, and the inherent instability of relying on informal agreements with local leaders. However, their attempts reveal a lot about the mindset of the time. These merchants saw Africa not just as a source of wealth but as a frontier to be conquered through commerce, a mindset that would later evolve into the more aggressive imperialism of the nineteenth century. Lucas: Another interesting angle is the Ostend Company, which emerged later in the eighteenth century. Although it’s often remembered for its attempts to trade with India and China, it also dabbled in African ventures. The company was granted a charter by the Habsburg monarchy, which ruled the Austrian Netherlands at the time, giving it a semblance of official status that de la Haye never had. Luna: How did the Habsburgs view these colonial ambitions? Lucas: They viewed them with a mix of interest and caution. The Habsburgs were primarily concerned with maintaining balance of power in Europe, and colonial ventures were seen as expensive distractions. Yet, the potential profits from the slave trade and other commodities were too tempting to ignore completely. The Ostend Company became a pawn in international diplomacy, eventually shut down by treaties between Britain, France, and Spain, who couldn’t allow a new competitor to enter their established markets. Lucas: What’s striking about these early efforts is how little they are remembered today. In Antwerp, the grand architecture of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries tells a story of wealth and artistry, but it rarely mentions the blood money that helped fund it. The Society of Antwerp Merchants operated in the shadows, their failures erased from mainstream historical narratives, leaving only fragments in archives and private correspondence. Luna: It feels like their silence says something about how Belgium remembers its past. Lucas: It does. There’s a tendency to focus on the Congo Free State because it’s so visceral and undeniable, but ignoring the earlier chapters creates an incomplete picture. The roots of Belgium’s involvement in global exploitation run deeper than Leopold II. They’re tied to the same mercantilist impulses that drove the rest of Europe, even if those impulses were expressed through smaller, less successful enterprises. Lucas: We can also look at the material culture left behind. Some artifacts from these early trade missions have ended up in museums across Europe, including collections in Brussels. Items like carved ivories, beadwork, and even ship logs offer clues about the interactions between European traders and African communities. They remind us that these weren’t just abstract economic transactions but real human encounters, often fraught with tension and misunderstanding. Luna: Do we know what happened to the people enslaved by these traders? Lucas: It’s difficult to trace individual stories because records were sparse and often biased. However, we know that many of those taken from the Guinea coast were transported to the Americas, where they entered the brutal system of plantation slavery. Their lives were erased by the very economies that profited from their captivity, leaving historians to piece together their fates from shipping manifests and court documents rather than personal narratives. Lucas: This erasure is part of why this history remains hidden. The victims of the Transatlantic Slave Trade were denied voice and agency, while the perpetrators, whether large empires or small merchant groups, were often celebrated for their enterprise. It wasn’t until recent decades that scholars began to dig into these lesser-known corners of colonial history, challenging the dominant narratives that focused solely on the high-profile cases. Luna: It must be frustrating to see those stories come to light now. Lucas: There’s frustration, but also hope. Every new discovery adds another layer to our understanding of how global systems of oppression were built. By acknowledging these earlier, smaller-scale involvements, we can better understand the continuity of colonial thinking. It shows that the drive to exploit distant lands wasn’t unique to one era or one ruler but was a pervasive feature of European expansion. Lucas: Jan de la Haye’s story is particularly poignant because he represents the individual actor caught in these larger forces. He wasn’t a tyrant like Leopold II, but he was still complicit in a system that dehumanized millions. His failures don’t absolve him; they just highlight the precariousness of these early ventures and the resilience of the African societies that resisted them. Luna: I hadn’t realized how much of this history was already buried. Lucas: That’s the nature of colonial history—it’s often written by the victors, and when the ventures fail, the records disappear. But archaeology, archival research, and oral traditions are slowly bringing these silenced voices back into the light. For listeners interested in this period, looking at the holdings of the Royal Museum for Central Africa might yield some unexpected finds related to these earlier trade networks. Lucas: As we wrap up this segment, it’s worth considering how these early experiences shaped later Belgian colonial policy. The lessons learned—or ignored—by merchants like de la Haye influenced how subsequent generations approached empire building. The failure of private enterprise may have pushed Belgium toward more centralized, state-led colonial projects in the nineteenth century, creating the conditions for the atrocities of the Congo Free State. Luna: So the ghosts of Antwerp’s past are still here. Lucas: In a way, yes. The structures of power and inequality established in those early centuries didn’t vanish; they evolved. Understanding this continuity helps us make sense of the present-day debates about reparations and restitution that we’ve touched on in previous episodes. It reminds us that the debt isn’t just financial but moral, spanning centuries of exploitation. Lucas: Before we move on to our next topic, I want to take a brief moment to acknowledge something important. If you’ve been stepping into history with us episode by episode, finding value in these deep dives into forgotten corners of the past, your support is what keeps this show independent and ad-free. It allows us to continue researching and sharing these stories without corporate interference. If you feel this work is useful to you, consider supporting us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It’s a small gesture that makes a big difference in sustaining this project. Luna: Yeah, it really helps keep the research going. Lucas: Thank you. Now, let’s pivot slightly to look at how these early trade networks influenced the architectural landscape of Antwerp itself, and how the wealth generated from these ambiguous sources manifested in the city’s built environment. Luna: Does that mean the old buildings tell a similar story? Lucas: It does. Many of the merchant houses and guildhalls in Antwerp were funded by profits from global trade, including the slave trade. While the architecture is celebrated for its beauty, the foundations are built on a complicated economic reality. Examining these buildings through a critical lens reveals the interconnectedness of art, commerce, and exploitation in the early modern period. Lucas: For instance, the ornate facades of the Guild of Saint Luke, which housed painters and sculptors, were supported by patrons who invested in overseas ventures. These artists created works that depicted exotic lands and peoples, often romanticizing the very processes that led to enslavement. The art itself becomes a document of colonial ideology, reflecting the worldview of a society eager to expand its horizons. Luna: So the art isn’t just decoration; it’s propaganda. Lucas: In many cases, yes. It served to normalize the idea of European superiority and the right to dominate other cultures. By visualizing distant lands and their inhabitants as subjects to be explored or exploited, artists played a role in legitimizing colonial expansion. This visual culture laid the groundwork for the scientific racism that would emerge later, providing a aesthetic justification for inequality. Lucas: Studying these artworks alongside trade records gives us a fuller picture of how colonialism was experienced in daily life. It wasn’t just a political or economic project; it was a cultural one, shaping how people imagined the world and their place in it. For listeners in Antwerp or planning a visit, paying attention to these details in museums and historic sites can transform a simple tour into a deeper engagement with history. Luna: It changes how you look at the city entirely. Lucas: Absolutely. And it raises questions about how we curate and interpret these spaces today. Should museums explicitly link these artworks to the slave trade? Should they provide context that challenges the traditional narrative of progress and enlightenment? These are difficult conversations, but they’re necessary for a honest reckoning with the past. Lucas: As we close this episode, I leave you with this thought: history is not just about what happened, but how we choose to remember it. By shining a light on figures like Jan de la Haye and the Society of Antwerp Merchants, we’re not just filling in gaps; we’re challenging the comfortable myths that have shaped national identity. It’s a reminder that every nation’s past is complex, contradictory, and full of stories waiting to be told. Luna: And maybe that’s the most important part of learning history. Lucas: Indeed. It’s about asking hard questions and being willing to listen to the answers, even when they’re uncomfortable. Thank you for joining us on this journey through Belgium’s hidden colonial legacy. Until next time, keep looking closer.