For as long as I can remember, Flemish and Walloons have never gotten along. Even during something as simple as a soccer game, two distinct teams would form: Walloons versus Flemish. I never knew which side to join. Though my family came from Flanders, we spoke French at home, and I had never actually lived in Belgium. From my perspective as an outsider looking in, the divide felt almost absurd.

          What I once saw on the playground reflects deeper, long-standing divisions within Belgian society. For a small country, Belgium is home to three official languages, three regions, and multiple layers of government, a system designed to give each community its voice, but which often emphasizes differences over unity. The northern region, called Flanders, speaks Dutch; the southern region, Wallonia, speaks French; and Brussels, though officially bilingual, functions largely in French in day-to-day life, with the greater part of the population being francophone. Over time, these linguistic boundaries have evolved into political ones, which gave rise to a different party system for each community and framed debates over autonomy, representation, and national identity.

          Outside Belgium, these dynamics are often misunderstood. I have come across articles and commentary, sometimes written with great confidence, predicting that Belgium will soon split, with Flanders joining the Netherlands and Wallonia uniting with France. Having followed Belgian politics closely and spoken with people across regions, I find such claims quite inaccurate and inappropriate for the current situation; it saddens me that people distort reality in order to attract attention.

          Nevertheless, the question of Belgium’s cohesion remains central to its politics. When Bart De Wever, leader of the New Flemish Alliance (N-VA) and Prime Minister since February 2025, declared that he wished to “die a Dutchman,” his statement reflected a sentiment among some in Flanders who view their region’s identity and economic strength as distinct from the rest of the country. It is these remarks that have once again raised concerns that increasing demands for autonomy could one day result in separation. Yet, despite the visibility of nationalist parties like N-VA and Vlaams Belang, most Belgians do not share this aspiration. For many of us, the idea of Belgium as one complex, multilingual nation is not a problem to be solved, but an image of who we are. Our diversity is reflected in our institutions, our culture, and especially our capital. Brussels, which is the headquarters of NATO and the capital of the European Union, is a living symbol of coexistence; officially bilingual, practically multilingual, with the multitude of immigrants and EU commissioners hailing from all parts of Europe, and globally significant. To fracture Belgium would not only risk dividing its people but weaken a country that, though small in size, plays a crucial role on the international scene.

          Belgium remains a country defined by compromise, between languages, regions, and political traditions. Its divisions are real, but its capacity to adapt has kept it united where others might have fractured. From the local to the international level, Belgium continues to show that cooperation, though difficult, can be more enduring than division. Predictions of collapse may surface time and again, but the reality on the ground suggests otherwise: Belgium endures, not in spite of its complexity, but because of it.