In the United States, Donald J. Trump and Joe Biden can barely agree to share the stage for a debate.
In Belgium, politicians facing off Sunday in the country’s closest general election in years have agreed to a four-episode reality show filmed over a weekend and set in a castle, moat and all.
The show, a political version of “The Bachelor,” called “The Conclave,” paralyzed Belgians in the run-up to voting for the country’s national and regional parliaments. The elections coincide with those of the European Parliament this weekend, in which 27 countries of the European Union will vote.
As in many other European countries, the dominant political establishment in Belgium has been reduced electorally. The far right has emerged.
But for Belgium, that dynamic is further complicated by the divide between the country’s French-speaking south, Wallonia, and its Dutch-speaking north, Flanders.
The show’s conceit centers on the personal dynamics between politicians who are rivals but who ultimately must work together to manage the rise of the far right. Maybe by getting them together for a few days they can resolve some of their differences.
At least the program managed to air the grievances that have made a far-right, anti-immigrant Flemish secessionist party, Vlaams Belang, the favorite in the elections. A victory for the party could precipitate a crisis for Belgium by putting the issue of Flemish independence at the top of the political agenda and threatening to split the country in two.
Whether the program succeeded in facilitating real-world cooperation is another question. Mainstream political parties have long struggled to come together at key moments, and Belgium has become famous for taking record time to form unstable multiparty coalitions.
The meteoric rise of Vlaams Belang has made that task more urgent and daunting.
Against the backdrop of the impressive grounds and grand interiors of Jemeppe Castle, a medieval castle, journalist Eric Goens presents seven prominent politicians from the Dutch-speaking Belgian region of Flanders in “The Conclave”.
They go for a walk in the forest. They cook. They eat together. And they get into arguments.
There are moments of conflict and reconciliation; awkward silences and barely concealed disgust; even solo confessional interviews in a chapel.
Among the seven are Tom Van Grieken, leader of Vlaams Belang; the incumbent prime minister, Alexander De Croo, a liberal; and Petra De Sutter, a member of the Green Party, one of the country’s deputy prime ministers and the highest-ranking trans politician in the European Union.
Bedmates are politicians.
Vlaams Belang, which translates as Flemish Interest, was among the first of a wave of European far-right parties to capitalize on anti-immigrant sentiment across Europe. Originally called Vlaams Blok, the party promoted the return of second- and third-generation Belgians of migrant descent to their ancestral countries.
In 2004, the party was found guilty of violating Belgium’s anti-racism law and was banned from standing in elections.
Since then, the party has changed its name and image, but, critics say, little else. Belgium, a prosperous northern European country of 11 million people, is home to significant immigrant communities, including Muslims with North African roots, who remain the party’s main target.
This has led all other Belgian political parties to make a long-standing promise to never govern with Vlaams Belang. The question is whether they can deliver on that promise if, as projected, Vlaams Belang comes first in Sunday’s elections.
Equally pressing is that the party wants Flanders – the northern region that is home to around 60 percent of the Belgian population – to secede from the federal state of Belgium and form its own country.
The question of how to manage Van Grieken’s popularity is perhaps the most pressing for Bart De Wever, who heads the New Flemish Alliance, a conservative Flemish nationalist party. He was also among the politicians who participated in “The Conclave.”
Van Grieken would like to see the two parties join forces, form a Flemish government and use it as a launching pad to ultimately force Flemish independence.
De Wever also wants Flemish independence, but calls the secessionist plan “a fantasy.” He describes himself as a pragmatist and is running on a platform that would instead transfer even more powers from Belgium’s federal government to its regions, including Flanders.
The tension between the two men boils over in a fireside scene that oozes reality TV drama.
It is night and a relaxed Mr. Van Grieken is sitting by an outdoor campfire when Mr. De Wever comes out.
“Did you just start a campfire here?” asks Mr. De Wever.
“Yeah, with these woke books I want to ban, Bart,” Mr. Van Grieken laughs.
“It seems like everyone has gone to bed,” De Wever says, looking around awkwardly.
“They don’t want to go out with us, Bart,” says Mr. Van Grieken. “Your destiny is that you always end up with me in the future.”
That is the scenario that the entire Belgian political establishment would like to avoid. And while De Wever shares that disdain for Vlaams Belang, he has long been vague about whether he will honor his promise to never govern with the party.
In another scene, a fellow politician confronts Mr. De Wever: Will he really sleep with Vlaams Belang?
“I just told you it’s a no,” Mr. De Wever finally admits. “I cannot associate with someone who does not respect democracy. Sorry, that’s pretty fundamental.”
The conversation foreshadows the intense negotiations that are sure to follow Sunday’s election. For the audience, the show offers a rare and fleeting glimpse into the country’s messy politics.
“Maybe you’ll start to understand why things are so difficult between leader one and leader two,” Goens, the show’s host, said in an interview. “It’s very deep and you never see that in normal debate.”
Bad blood
“The Conclave” shows how these differences between leaders go far beyond ideology in Belgium. The notoriously protracted post-election negotiations of the past have also left deep scars.
Both supporters of liberal economic policies, one would expect current Prime Minister De Croo and De Wever to be natural political partners.
But the two fell out during the latest coalition negotiations, in which De Wever accused De Croo of cleverly undermining him.
“I’m not really looking forward to this, because there is bad blood between us,” De Wever says to the camera before confronting De Croo.
When the two men finally sit together, Mr. De Croo tries to convince him that they can join forces this time, but the conversation returns to old grievances.
“Working together requires a certain trust and reliability,” De Wever tells De Croo. “That’s completely missing.”
Mr. De Croo finally gives up. “You know, let’s leave it at that.”
“I think we’re getting to the point where we’re going to say things we’re going to regret,” De Wever says.
Mr De Croo tries to end on a positive note.
“I’m not a vindictive person,” he says, “and if it’s about strengthening our country for all Belgians and not dividing it, then we can work together.”
That remains to be seen.