Does the Belgian Monarchy turn a blind eye to crime?

The Belgian royal family: Queen Mathilde and King Philippe.

 

“If the world agrees there should be no statue honoring Hitler for the murder of six million Jews, why should there be a statue for a king responsible for the deaths of ten million Africans?” This is the truth that has made me public enemy number one in Belgium; however, I love it because I can face it.

 

“It takes a million people to build up a good reputation, but it takes one stupid fool to destroy everything they have done,” sings the late Lucky Dube, South Africa’s reggae legend.

 

This line captures the dilemma facing the Belgian Royal Family, whose legacy remains overshadowed by one of its ancestors: King Leopold II, a ruler whose greed and brutality left an indelible stain on history.

 

Some women have given birth to men who became monsters. Alongside Adolf Hitler, Idi Amin, Pol Pot, Josef Stalin, and Saddam Hussein stands another figure whose crimes against humanity shocked the world: King Leopold II of Belgium.

 

Born on 17 December 1865 in Brussels, Leopold’s atrocities were long swept under the carpet. Yet history has a way of revealing what is hidden, and the hump beneath that carpet has now risen high enough for the world to see the truth.

 

In the 1880s, during Europe’s scramble for Africa, Congo became the personal property of King Leopold II. The vast rainforest, 905,000 square miles, was seventy‑six times larger than Belgium and was rich in natural resources, especially rubber, which was in high demand in industrializing Europe.

 

Under Leopold’s rule, an estimated 10 million Congolese people were killed or mutilated. From his throne in Brussels, he issued orders to his officers to “cut off the heads of the men and hang them on the village palisades, also their sexual members, and to hang the women and the children on the palisade in the form of a cross.”

His reign of terror extended far beyond beheadings and amputations. Congolese people were flogged to death, starved into forced labor, had their children held hostage, and saw their villages burned for failing to meet rubber quotas imposed by Belgian officers.

 

What makes this history even more disturbing is what followed. After Leopold II’s death, his successors, the Belgian Royal Family, did not confront or condemn his crimes. Instead, he celebrated. Streets were named after him, and statues were erected in his honor.

 

This is where the Royal Family faltered. The dead cannot be mocked without consequence. Many believe that restless souls linger where injustice was committed, and there are homes people refuse to live in because of the horrors that once took place there.

 

Germany removed streets named after Adolf Hitler. Belgium, however, continues to honor Leopold II. His name marks streets across the country, and his statues still stand tall.

 

A nation that rejects crime does not glorify those who commit it. This contradiction raises a painful question about Belgium’s relationship with its past, and whether its institutions have truly distanced themselves from the atrocities committed in their name.