âA strong sense of dĂ©jĂ vu comes over me today when I look at Rue de la Loiâ, writes Fons Van Dyck. âSoaring government deficits. Budget negotiations that keep dragging on. A Prime Minister who repeatedly pulls the emergency brake. And coalition partners who mainly keep explaining what is not possible for them. It feels as though someone has put on an old film.â
A strong sense of déjà vu comes over me today when I look at Rue de la Loi. Soaring government deficits. Budget negotiations that keep dragging on. A Prime Minister who repeatedly pulls the emergency brake. And coalition partners who mainly keep explaining what is not possible for them. It feels as though someone has put on an old film. That film took place half a century ago, in the mid-1970s. The oil crises brought an end to the progress optimism of the post-war generation. The impact went far beyond the energy bill. Entire sectors were dismantled (steel, coal, textiles), unemployment rose, and fear of the future was widespread. What initially seemed like a temporary cyclical downturn later turned out to be a structural rupture. The world had changed. Policymakers continued to hope for the return of yesterday, relying on outdated remedies.
At the head of the government in those years was Leo Tindemans, immensely popular in Flanders. But popularity proved no guarantee of political decisiveness. Back then too, there was a wide gap between confidence in the individual and the ability of a coalition to take painful decisions. Early elections were supposed to untie the political knot. In vain.
The political elite of the time (also referred to as the âjunta of party chairmenâ) desperately searched for a lifeline in the form of community negotiations. The Egmont Pact promised a new institutional balance. State reform was necessary, but it also became a refuge from economic choices. Tindemans later described how spending cuts were linked to the approval of the pact. As though a different arrangement of the house would automatically clear the unpaid bills.
ââThose who keep postponing decisions fuel the desire for exceptional powersââ
Denial found a face in Guy Mathot. It was this PS Minister of the Budget who made the bold statement that the government deficit (âthe hole in the budgetâ) had arisen by itself and would disappear by itself. Acquired rights were not to be touched. AprĂšs nous le dĂ©luge.
That is where the strongest parallel with today lies. Everyone defends their own constituency, achievements and electoral position. The tyranny of the immediate governs. But who connects those conflicting interests to a shared project for the future? Citizens are asking for protection as well as perspective, as thorough research shows. Reforms without a credible distribution of the burden run into distrust.
In the end, the turnaround came only five years later with Martens V, formed at the end of 1981. Special powers, the devaluation of the Belgian franc by 8.5 per cent in February 1982, and the suspension of indexation made a drastic recovery policy possible. After years of hesitation, the intervention was abrupt. That is the price of delay: freedom of choice shrinks and the shock becomes greater. Gentle healers make festering wounds in the long run.
I know that today is not a copy of then. The world has changed profoundly. New political actors have emerged, and even new parties. But old political reflexes remain recognisable. Those who keep postponing decisions (or, if necessary, seek salvation in the community-based path) fuel the desire for exceptional powers. Even today, there is a latent breeding ground for a government with special powers. In a Knack survey on attitudes towards democracy, 32 per cent of Flemings found that there is a need for a strong leader who does not have to concern himself with parliament and elections. The door to a new âPoupehanâ stands ajar.
Lâhistoire ne se rĂ©pĂšte pas, lâhomme le fait toujours is a thought often attributed to Voltaire. History does not repeat itself of its own accord, but political leaders do. Here and now, in the Wetstraat.
To be continued.
Note for younger readers: Poupehan is a village in the Province of Luxembourg where the then Deputy Chief of Staff to Prime Minister Martens, Fons Verplaetse (later Governor of the National Bank), had a second home and where, over the course of a weekend, he and the leadership of the Christian trade union and its union bank decided on drastic austerity measures. Since then, Poupehan has become a symbol of backroom politics.
BIO
Fons Van Dyck is a society observer, guest professor at the VUB, and author of the books "The Future Is Back" (Pelckmans) and "Marketing in the Age of Trump" (LannooCampus).