Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / The 1960 Flight of the Belgians: Congo's Great Departure
Transcript
- Lucas: So, Luna, we've talked a lot about the Congo in the run-up to independence, but today I want to focus on something that happened right after the flag came down — the massive flight of Belgians out of the country in the summer of 1960. It's often called 'le grand départ' — the great departure. Luna: Oh, I've heard that term. But how many people actually left? Lucas: Roughly eighty thousand Belgians, out of a community of about a hundred thousand, packed up and left within a matter of weeks. It wasn't a planned withdrawal — it was a panicked scramble. The trigger, as you might remember from our episode on the Force Publique mutiny, was the mutiny itself, starting at Camp Hardy near Thysville on July 8, 1960. Luna: That's just a couple of weeks after independence day on June 30, right? Lucas: Exactly. Independence was declared on June 30, and within days, the army mutinied against its Belgian officers. The violence spread quickly to other cities, and the Belgian population felt threatened — rightly so in many cases. There were attacks on European neighborhoods, and some people were killed. So the flight began almost immediately. Lucas: The evacuation was chaotic. The Belgian government, under Prime Minister Gaston Eyskens, initially hesitated to send troops without an official request from the Congolese government, but as the situation deteriorated, they launched a massive rescue operation. Sabena, the national airline, flew countless flights out of Ndjili airport in Léopoldville, and the Belgian navy sent ships to Matadi and other ports. Luna: Was it just the settlers, or also the administrators and soldiers? Lucas: It was everyone. Colonial administrators, businessmen, planters, teachers, even some missionaries. Many of them had been born in the Congo and had never known another home. They left behind their houses, their cars, just about everything. Some even left with just the clothes on their backs. Governor Hendrik Cornelis, who was the last governor-general of the Belgian Congo, stayed behind to coordinate the departure. Lucas: Cornelis is a fascinating figure. He was a career colonial administrator, and he felt a deep responsibility to both the Belgians and the Congolese. He worked closely with the new government of Patrice Lumumba to try to maintain order, but it was an impossible task. Luna: What did the Congolese people think about all this? Were they just watching? Lucas: It's complicated. Many were relieved to see the Belgians go, seeing it as the end of colonial domination. But others were worried, because the Belgians were running everything — the administration, the economy, the infrastructure. When they left, things started to fall apart quickly. The new Congolese government had to step in, but they lacked experienced personnel. Lucas: The flight also had a huge impact on Belgium itself. Tens of thousands of refugees arrived, often with nothing. They were called 'repatriates' and had to be housed, fed, and given jobs. It was a huge social and economic burden, but also a psychological one — it was the end of an era. Luna: I've read that the flight was called 'the great departure' but it was more of a rout, wasn't it? Lucas: You're right. It was a rout. There were harrowing stories of families lining up for hours at Ndjili airport, waiting for any plane that could take them. Some were even evacuated by Belgian army helicopters from remote areas. The port of Matadi was clogged with people trying to get on ships. Lucas: And then there were the soldiers — the Force Publique mutinies. The Belgian officers were the first to be targeted. Many were killed or beaten. The mutiny was a violent uprising that had been brewing for a long time, and it finally exploded. The Belgian government sent paratroopers to protect its citizens, but that only increased the tension with the Congolese government. Luna: So how did the Congolese government react to the Belgian military intervention? Lucas: Lumumba and his government saw it as a violation of their sovereignty. They appealed to the United Nations, which led to the famous UN intervention that eventually replaced the Belgian forces. But by then, the damage was done — many Belgians had already left. Lucas: The story of the flight is not just about the big picture, but about the individuals. Take the example of a Belgian engineer who had spent twenty years building roads in the Congo. He had a Congolese wife and children, but in the panic, he was forced to leave them behind. He didn't see them again for years. Luna: Oh, that's heartbreaking. Was it common for Belgians to have Congolese families? Lucas: It happened, but it was not something that was openly acknowledged. When the flight occurred, these mixed families were often separated, with the Belgian part leaving and the Congolese part staying behind. It added to the tragedy. Lucas: We should also mention that not all Belgians left. Some stayed, mostly missionaries and a few administrators who felt they had a calling to remain. They had to adapt to a new reality, sometimes with difficulty. Luna: It sounds like this was a defining moment for both Belgium and the Congo. How did it affect the relationship between the two countries afterward? Lucas: It created a lasting trauma. On the Belgian side, there was a sense of loss and resentment — they had built a 'civilization' that was taken away from them. On the Congolese side, there was a feeling of betrayal — the Belgians had left them in chaos, and then the economic and political ties were broken. It took decades for any kind of diplomatic and cultural relationship to be rebuilt. Lucas: And by the way, if you're enjoying these deep dives into history, we keep this show free of ads because of listeners like you. You can support us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo if you want to keep it that way. Luna: Yeah, it really helps. Thanks for that. Lucas: So, to bring it back to the flight — one of the most poignant symbols of the departure is the statue of the 'Bula Matari' — the breaker of rocks — which was a nickname for the first governor of the Congo Free State, Henry Morton Stanley. After independence, it was torn down in a moment of symbolic defiance. Luna: That must have been a powerful image. Lucas: It was. That statue, which had stood in Léopoldville for decades, represented the oppressive colonial regime. Its toppling marked the end of an era. But it also captured the mixed feelings of the flight — for Belgians, it was the fall of their colonial empire; for Congolese, it was the beginning of their own story. Lucas: In the end, the flight of the Belgians was not just a physical movement of people, but a seismic shift in the relationship between Europe and Africa. It was a clear signal that the colonial era was over, and that a new, uncertain future was beginning. Luna: It's amazing how a single event can change so much. Thanks for telling this story, Lucas.