Belgium is hardly first in anyone’s mind when it comes to the question of secession. The small lowlands nation boasts a higher per capita GDP than Britain or Japan and serves as the seat of the European Union. But Belgium’s unassuming appearance masks a more complex picture. Its three-month-old government—which filled a nine-month-long governmental vacuum—collapsed in July, and with it went the hope for a political settlement in the near future. Moreover, the constitutional crisis has revived talks of secession, with the Dutch-speaking northern region of Flanders estranged from French-speaking Wallonia in the south. Certainly, nothing like the bitter secessionism of Kosovo or South Ossetia is ever likely to surface in Belgium. But the nation’s current troubles highlight the lingering cultural and linguistic divides in a Europe currently pelting toward integration.

The reasons for the current crisis derive from Belgium’s patchwork origins. Originally united with the present-day Netherlands as a single region, Belgium grew distinct in the wake of the Reformation as a rural Catholic area, in contrast to the Protestant, industrialized northern Netherlands. But the modern state was not created until 1830, when the Congress of Europe annexed portions of the Netherlands and Luxembourg to Belgium, forming a sort of federalized bilingual hodgepodge. Brussels, which is located in southern Flanders and was thus originally Dutch-speaking, came under French influence beginning in the 18th century. It now serves as the flashpoint of Belgian linguistic tension: a predominantly French-speaking enclave in Dutch Flanders, just miles away from French-speaking Wallonia.

The political developments of the past two centuries have also exacerbated the linguistic divide in Belgium. Belgium has long been dominated by a French-speaking establishment, which, when the country began to democratize in the 20th century, granted French Wallonia a veto over all major decisions. It also guaranteed the Walloons at least half of the seats in Parliament, despite the fact that the Flemish represent 60 percent of the population. Moreover, the socialist policies of the south, where once-vibrant coal and steel industries are now flagging, have left Wallonia dependent on transfers of US$7 billion per year. Increasing tensions between the Flemish and the Walloons over the past several decades derives largely from Flemish resentment of Wallonia’s welfare status.

The current paralysis dates from June 2007, when, after an inconclusive election, King Albert II directed the longest government-formation process in Belgian history. The transitional period ended in March 2008 with the inauguration of Prime Minister Yves Leterme, but by July Leterme had attempted to resign. The disagreement revolves around the desire of Leterme’s Flemish parties to enact constitutional reform and bring the question of secession to a referendum. Francophone parties, fearing secession, have attempted to block such a vote. Leterme’s coalition, which consists of both Flemish and Francophone parties, has fractured over this constitutional reform, and the task has fallen to King Albert II to force a resolution. In the most likely scenario, the impasse will continue until regional elections in 2009.

What then? Legislation allowing the partition of Belgium would require a two-thirds majority in Parliament, which the Flemish cannot reach without Walloon support. But negotiating a split with the Walloons would require much debate. First is the question of Brussels, which after Flemish secession would remain a predominantly French enclave in Dutch Flanders. Thus the Walloons have demanded that a corridor through Flemish territory to Flanders be included in any partition. Moreover, ballooning Belgian debt—now US$432 billion, or nearly the GDP of Belgium itself—would require a divided Flanders and Wallonia to somehow share debt payments. Finally, it’s possible that Wallonia itself could split up after Flemish independence, since large parts of its territory are annexed sections of Luxembourg and, to a lesser extent, Germany. Belgium’s existence may be untenable, but its dissolution seems impossible.

Despite what may appear to be an unsolvable political quandary, Belgium has maintained its impressive social and economic stability. This paradox raises the question: to what extent is national government necessary within the European Union? In other words, would Belgians see meaningful changes if Flanders, independent from a reduced Belgium, were to become an EU member? Proponents of this belief argue that the EU umbrella—providing centralized monetary, economic, diplomatic and military policy—abrogates the need for strong national government. Critics charge that secession in Belgium would set a dangerous precedent legitimizing separatism anywhere it occurs, whether in Catalonia or in Scotland. The Balkanization of Europe, they believe, would make an already unwieldy European Union even more difficult to manage, given the different statuses of different states within the Union. Negotiating Flanders’ status, within this complex network of EU members, might prove difficult. Moreover, it is unlikely that a British or Spanish prime minister—each of whom would have a veto on the question of Flanders’ entrance into the European Union—would give credence to a separatist state which might inspire the Catalonians or Scots.

What the Belgians decide to do, and what the Europeans let them do, will inevitably tell us something about Europe itself. Europe invented the modern concept of the nation-state. Will it be the first to willfully jettison it, when those states run into irreconcilable borders of language and ethnicity? If Belgium ever makes up its mind, we may find out.