Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / Belgium's Congo Statue Removals and the Fight for Memory
Transcript
- Lucas: We’ve spent the last twenty episodes walking through the brutal mechanics of the Congo Free State and the early Belgian colony—the rubber quotas, the Force Publique, the chicotte. But today I want to step away from the raw violence of the 19th century and look at what remains of it in present-day Belgium. Specifically, we’re looking at the statues. Luna: The ones people have been demanding come down? Lucas: Exactly. For over a decade, there has been a fierce, emotional debate across Belgium about whether statues of King Leopold II should remain in public spaces or be moved into museums. It’s no longer just a historical question; it’s a living political one. In Antwerp, they finally removed his equestrian statue in 2020 after years of vandalism and protest, while in Brussels, the debate is even more intense because the city itself was shaped by his vision. Lucas: If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, you know this isn't just about stone and bronze—it's about whose pain is visible and whose glory is celebrated. If today was actually useful to you, the way these stay ad-free is listener support — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Luna: I appreciate that. Lucas: So let’s start with Antwerp, because their experience offers the clearest roadmap. The statue there wasn’t just any monument; it was a massive bronze equestrian piece created by Charles van der Stappen in 1930. It stood in front of the Cathedral of Our Lady, towering over the square. The argument for keeping it was always about 'artistic value'—that the craftsmanship was masterful, regardless of the subject. Luna: But the subject was the problem. Lucas: Right. And for decades, the city council resisted removal, citing the aesthetic importance. But the pressure mounted not just from anti-colonial activists, but also from many Belgians who felt uncomfortable honoring a man associated with such horrific human rights abuses. The turning point came when the statue became a focal point for global protests in 2020, leading to its eventual relocation to the Plantin-Moretus Museum, where it’s now contextualized rather than glorified. Luna: That sounds like a compromise, but still heavy. Lucas: It is heavy, and it’s controversial. Some critics argue that moving the statue doesn’t erase the violence; it just hides it. Others say that leaving it in a public square sends a message that the state endorses Leopold’s legacy. In Brussels, the situation is messier because there are dozens of smaller monuments, street names, and buildings tied to the colonial era. The debate here isn’t just about one statue; it’s about the entire urban landscape. Luna: Does the government have a plan for all of them? Lucas: Not really a unified one, which makes it frustrating. The federal government has been slow to act, often deferring to local municipalities. In 2021, a commission was formed to study the presence of colonial figures in public space, but their recommendations were vague. They suggested 'contextualization'—adding plaques or information panels—but many activists argued that’s insufficient. They want removal or relocation, not just an explanation. Luna: Contextualization feels like putting a bandage on a wound. Lucas: That’s a common sentiment. One of the most poignant moments in this debate was the response from the Congolese community in Belgium. Many expressed that seeing Leopold’s statue in their daily lives, especially in a country that profited from their exploitation, was a form of psychological violence. They pointed out that while Belgian children learn about the glory of the explorers, Congolese-Belgians are reminded of the atrocities every time they pass the monument. Luna: That must be exhausting to carry around. Lucas: It is. And it ties back to something we discussed earlier with the Tervuren Museum. The Royal Museum for Central Africa in Tervuren has been trying to reform its exhibits to include the Congolese perspective, moving away from the ethnographic displays that treated Africans as specimens. But the physical presence of Leopold’s image outside, in the streets, contradicts those internal efforts. You can’t decolonize the museum if the city center still worships the colonizer. Luna: So the buildings don't match the message inside. Lucas: Precisely. There’s also the issue of street names. Brussels has many avenues named after colonial administrators and soldiers. Recently, some of these have been renamed, but slowly. The resistance comes from traditionalists who claim it’s 'erasing history.' But historians push back, saying that renaming a street doesn’t erase history; it changes who gets honored by it. We can still teach the history of the Force Publique without having a street named after a commander who used the chicotte. Luna: Why do people fear erasure so much? Lucas: It’s a deep-seated anxiety. For many Belgians, their national identity is built on a narrative of neutrality and benevolence, not imperialism. Acknowledging the brutality of the Congo Free State shatters that self-image. So when people talk about 'erasing history,' they’re often protecting their own sense of moral innocence. They fear that if they remove the statue, they’re admitting they are complicit, and that’s a hard pill to swallow. Luna: Complicity is a heavy word. Lucas: It is, but it’s accurate. The economy of Belgium in the late 19th and early 20th century was deeply tied to Congo. Banks, shipping companies, insurance firms—they all profited. The general public may not have known the details of the rubber terror until later, but the wealth flowed into the country. So the statues aren’t just about one king; they’re about a whole system that benefited millions of Belgians, directly or indirectly. Luna: So removing them feels like losing part of your heritage. Lucas: For some, yes. But others argue that heritage isn’t just about what’s old; it’s about what values you want to preserve. If you value human dignity, then a statue of a man who cut off hands doesn’t fit that value. The debate in Antwerp showed that you can keep the art—move it to a museum, add context, explain the history—but you don’t have to give it a place of honor on a pedestal in the town square. Luna: Is there a model other countries use? Lucas: Well, Germany has dealt with Nazi monuments, though the context is different. South Africa has been very aggressive in removing statues of colonial figures, like Cecil Rhodes in Cape Town. The difference is that in South Africa, the majority population was directly oppressed by those symbols. In Belgium, it’s a minority group—Congolese-Belgians—who are demanding change, while the majority population is often hesitant. That power dynamic makes the negotiation harder. Luna: It’s not their land to decide alone. Lucas: Exactly. And that’s why the voice of the Congolese diaspora is so crucial. Activists like Edith Lucie Balya, whom we mentioned in the previous episode regarding reparations, are central to this movement. She argues that the silence around colonial crimes is a continuation of the violence. For her, removing the statues is a necessary step toward justice, not just aesthetics. Luna: Justice before beauty. Lucas: That’s the core of it. And we’re seeing shifts. In 2022, the city of Ghent announced it would review its colonial monuments. In Liège, there have been campaigns to rename streets. It’s not uniform, and it’s slow, but the momentum is there. The idea that these statues are permanent fixtures of our landscape is fading. Luna: Do you think the statues will ever all be gone? Lucas: Probably not all of them, but most major ones will likely be relocated or heavily contextualized. The real change is happening in how we talk about them. Twenty years ago, nobody questioned Leopold’s statue. Today, it’s the first thing people ask about. That shift in consciousness is more important than the bronze itself. It means the next generation won’t take these narratives for granted. Luna: That’s progress, even if it’s messy. Lucas: It is. And it reminds us that history isn’t static. It’s not just what happened; it’s how we choose to remember it. As Belgium continues to reckon with its past, the statues are becoming mirrors—reflecting not just who we were, but who we want to be. Luna: A difficult mirror to look into. Lucas: Very. But perhaps the only honest one.