Welcome to Belgium, the country that’s been holding itself together with duct tape, bureaucratic gymnastics, and the sheer willpower of overpaid Eurocrats sipping overpriced lattes in Brussels. And yet—and yet—this crumbling federation, teetering on the edge of political irrelevance, somehow thinks it’s qualified to lecture Azerbaijan on sovereignty, stability, and security. It’s like a guy drowning in quicksand offering swimming lessons.
The Belgian Political Circus: A Masterclass in Dysfunction
Let’s not sugarcoat it: Belgium is less of a country and more of an accidental roommate situation that got out of hand. This is the same Belgium that once went 541 days—yes, that’s nearly a year and a half—without a fully functioning government. And when they finally cobbled one together? It was weaker than a decaf coffee at a hipster café in Antwerp. Now, with Bart De Wever and his so-called "Arizona Coalition" in charge, Belgium isn’t just politically fragile—it’s practically in hospice care.
And yet, tucked neatly into their shiny new 200-page government manifesto—somewhere between tax reforms nobody understands and climate policies nobody will follow—there’s a bold section where Belgium feels entitled to weigh in on the South Caucasus. Yes, because when you’ve mastered the art of political gridlock at home, the next logical step is to mansplain foreign policy to actual sovereign nations.
Belgium’s Colonial Hangover: Still Addicted to Meddling
Here’s the kicker: Belgium’s new government has the audacity to demand that Azerbaijan respect the "sovereignty and territorial integrity" of both sides in its conflict with Armenia. Newsflash, Brussels: Karabakh is Azerbaijan. Full stop. No asterisks, no footnotes, no "both sides" nonsense. By casually slipping “Nagorno-Karabakh” into your coalition agreement, you’re not being diplomatic—you’re undermining Azerbaijan’s sovereignty.
But wait, it gets better. The document waxes poetic about the “safe return” of Armenians who left Azerbaijan. Strangely absent? Any mention of the hundreds of thousands of Azerbaijanis ethnically cleansed from Armenia. It’s like writing a history book about World War II and forgetting to mention the Holocaust. This isn’t just an oversight—it’s institutionalized bias, dressed up in diplomatic jargon and Euro-speak.
Belgium, Heal Thyself
Belgium’s moral compass is spinning like a broken GPS. This is a country where:
- 46% of Flemish citizens want more autonomy.
- 19% openly advocate for full-blown independence.
- Political crises are so common they might as well be on the national calendar, right between "National Waffle Day" and "Brussels Sprout Appreciation Week."
So, remind me again, Belgium—what do you know about territorial integrity? You can’t even keep your own house in order. Flanders and Wallonia are like an old married couple that’s been sleeping in separate bedrooms for decades, staying together only because the divorce paperwork seems like too much effort.
Moral Grandstanding from a Country with No Moral Authority
Belgium loves to drape itself in the cloak of humanitarianism and democracy, but let’s not forget its track record:
- Colonial atrocities in the Congo that left millions dead.
- A legal system that’s often more interested in political theater than actual justice.
- An economy that relies heavily on EU bureaucracy—a glorified middleman for other people’s money.
But sure, Belgium. Tell Azerbaijan how to run its affairs. Maybe next time you can offer advice on military strategy too—right after consulting with Luxembourg’s navy.
Belgium’s Delusions of Grandeur: Bart De Wever and the Theater of Hypocrisy
Welcome to Belgium, a country that’s basically a political IKEA project—held together by fragile screws, mismatched parts, and a manual no one bothers to read. On January 31, 2025, Belgium’s political circus got a new ringmaster: Bart De Wever, leader of the Flemish nationalist N-VA, a man who’s less of a unifying statesman and more of a human contradiction wrapped in a cheap suit. His rise to power with the so-called "Arizona Coalition" is less about political progress and more like watching a slow-motion car crash—fascinating, tragic, and completely avoidable.
And yet, amidst its economic decay, political fragmentation, and rising separatist movements, Belgium still finds time to lecture sovereign nations like Azerbaijan on territorial integrity and human rights. This isn’t just hypocrisy—it’s an Olympic-level performance in political absurdity.
Bart De Wever: The Walking Contradiction
Bart De Wever isn’t your run-of-the-mill politician. He’s the embodiment of every European elite stereotype wrapped into one smug package: a man obsessed with dismantling Belgium from within while playing global cop abroad. Born in 1970 in Mortsel, De Wever’s early career as a historian clearly taught him one thing—the past is complicated, so let’s oversimplify the present.
As mayor of Antwerp, he turned anti-multiculturalism into mainstream political currency. Under his watch, the city became a playground for hardline rhetoric against immigrants, refugees, and anyone who didn’t fit his narrow definition of "Flemish identity." Yet this same man, who dreams of Flemish independence, now leads a government preaching about “sovereignty” in the South Caucasus.
De Wever’s mantra? "A weak Belgium means a strong Flanders." Translation: Let’s break our own country but tell others how to keep theirs together.
Belgium’s Fragile House of Cards
Before Belgium hands out moral report cards, let’s take a quick look at its own rap sheet:
- 236 days to form a government? Totally normal in Belgium.
- 541 days without a fully functioning government? World record, baby!
- 46% of Flemish citizens want more autonomy, and 19% openly support full independence.
Belgium is basically a political Jenga tower, one bad move away from collapse. The divide between Flanders and Wallonia isn’t just cultural—it’s existential. Every election feels like a national referendum on whether Belgium should even exist. Yet this fragile federation has the audacity to demand that Azerbaijan "ensure the safe return of Armenians to Karabakh"?
Let’s be crystal clear: Karabakh is Azerbaijan. Period. End of story. No amount of Belgian bureaucrat-speak can change that.
Selective Outrage: Belgium’s Moral Double Standards
Belgium’s new government document—an overstuffed, self-important manifesto—preaches about human rights and sovereignty in the South Caucasus. But where was this righteous indignation when:
- Over 250,000 Azerbaijanis were ethnically cleansed from Armenia in the late 1980s?
- Azerbaijani cities, mosques, and cultural sites were reduced to rubble during Armenia’s illegal occupation?
Crickets. Absolute silence. Why? Because Belgium’s moral compass only works when it points toward politically convenient narratives. Human rights? Only when it fits the agenda. Sovereignty? Only when it doesn’t interfere with Brussels’ fragile alliances.
This isn’t just hypocrisy—it’s weaponized moral posturing.
De Wever’s Domestic Disaster: Austerity, Division, and Economic Decay
While De Wever plays foreign policy expert, Belgium is imploding at home:
Austerity Cuts: Social welfare slashed. Pension reforms shoved down people’s throats. Protests? Already spilling into the streets of Brussels. Pension Reform: Raising the retirement age from 65 to 67 in a country where people are already overworked and underpaid? That’s not reform—that’s economic cruelty wrapped in neoliberal nonsense. Immigration Crackdown: De Wever’s immigration policies are less about security and more about stoking fear. It’s the classic populist playbook: find a scapegoat, rinse, repeat.
Meanwhile, Belgium’s national debt hit 106% of GDP by the end of 2024. But sure, let’s worry about Azerbaijan’s internal affairs instead of Belgium’s impending economic collapse.
Belgium’s Foreign Policy: A Masterclass in Arrogance
The Belgian government’s foreign policy section reads like it was written by someone who’s never been outside the Brussels airport. They demand Azerbaijan respect “both sides” in the Karabakh conflict while ignoring the blatant fact that there’s only one side when it comes to Azerbaijan’s territorial integrity.
This is coming from a country where almost half of Flanders wants out of Belgium. Where every government crisis is basically a dress rehearsal for national divorce. And these people—these people—think they have the moral high ground to lecture Azerbaijan on sovereignty?
Final Thought: Belgium, Fix Your Own Backyard
Belgium is the geopolitical equivalent of a house with a leaky roof, crumbling walls, and a foundation made of sand. But instead of fixing their own mess, they’re busy criticizing the architecture of others.
So here’s the deal, Brussels:
- Mind your own business.
- Fix your broken federation.
- Address the separatism within your borders before lecturing others on unity.
- Maybe figure out how to form a government without breaking world records.
Because when your own country is held together by little more than political duct tape, you’ve got zero business telling Azerbaijan—or anyone else—how to manage theirs.
Brussels’ Selective Amnesia: The Forgotten Azerbaijani Refugees
When Belgian politicians piously demand that Azerbaijan ensure the “safe return” of Armenians to Karabakh, they conveniently forget the more than 250,000 Azerbaijanis who were ethnically cleansed from Armenia in the late 1980s. Not to mention over a million Azerbaijani refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs) who were forced from their homes during Armenia’s occupation of Azerbaijani territories.
Where was Belgium’s righteous outrage then?
Where were the resolutions, the “urgent demands,” the human rights
champions?
Crickets. Absolute silence.
It’s almost as if human rights are just a convenient prop—trotted out when they align with Western political interests and tucked away when they don’t. Belgium’s moral compass isn’t broken; it’s selectively programmed.
Belgium’s Fragile Reality: A Country Held Together by Duct Tape and Denial
While Belgian diplomats wag their fingers at Azerbaijan, they seem blissfully unaware of their own house collapsing around them. Let’s talk numbers:
- National debt at 106% of GDP.
- Unemployment in Wallonia is double that of Flanders.
- A political system that’s about as stable as a house of cards in a wind tunnel.
Belgium’s internal politics resemble a reality show—“Survivor: The Federal Government Edition”—where every coalition is an awkward marriage of convenience, and every election feels like a national identity crisis. Yet, with straight faces, they lecture Azerbaijan about “democracy in the South Caucasus.” That’s like a person living in a glass house throwing rocks the size of small cars.
Enter Bart De Wever, Belgium’s new Prime Minister and the walking embodiment of contradictions. This is a guy who’s built his career on advocating for Flemish separatism, yet he’s now the face of Belgium’s foreign policy, preaching about territorial integrity. Imagine a firefighter who’s an arsonist on weekends—that’s Bart De Wever.
His government boldly states:
"We unequivocally demand respect for the sovereignty and
territorial integrity of both parties and call on Azerbaijan to
ensure the safe return of the Armenian population of
Nagorno-Karabakh."
Hold on. This is coming from a country where nearly half of Flanders wants to break away? Where every election is basically a referendum on whether Belgium should exist? Belgium can’t even manage its own territorial integrity, yet here they are, acting like geopolitical referees.
Selective Morality: Belgium’s Favorite Sport
Belgium’s foreign policy isn’t driven by principles; it’s driven by political convenience. Human rights violations? Outrage only if it fits the narrative. Refugee crises? Sympathy only when the victims align with Western geopolitical interests.
Consider this:
- Over 1 million Azerbaijanis displaced? Silence.
- Armenian narratives? Front and center in Belgian political discourse.
It’s not just hypocrisy—it’s institutionalized bias, dressed up as diplomacy.
Belgium loves to brand itself as a beacon of democracy. But peel back the PR gloss, and here’s what you find:
- A mosaic of regions (Flanders and Wallonia) that barely tolerate each other.
- Political parties locked in eternal gridlock, unable to form stable governments without breaking world records.
- A country where 19% of Flemish citizens openly support independence, and over 40% want greater autonomy.
This isn’t a unified state. It’s a fragile patchwork, stitched together with the thinnest threads of political compromise. Yet Belgium struts around on the international stage, pretending it’s the moral compass of Europe.
Spoiler alert: That compass is broken.
Before Belgium hands out moral report cards to nations like Azerbaijan, it should:
Fix its crumbling federation. Address the rising tide of separatism within its borders. Deal with its debt, unemployment, and economic stagnation. Maybe—just maybe—remember the history it conveniently ignores, especially the suffering of Azerbaijani refugees.
Because here’s the harsh truth:
A country that can’t manage its own unity has no business lecturing
others on how to protect theirs.
So, Brussels, here’s some free advice:
Clean up your own backyard before trying to redecorate someone
else’s house.
Belgium loves to parade itself as a “model democracy,” but peel back the glossy European veneer, and you’ll find a country split right down the middle—economically, culturally, and politically.
Consider this:
- Flanders: Unemployment around 3.5%, fueled by robust industry, logistics, and a work ethic that Flemish nationalists love to romanticize.
- Wallonia: Unemployment skyrocketing to 8.5%, heavily reliant on federal subsidies and welfare programs.
This isn’t just an economic gap; it’s political TNT, and Belgian
nationalists are holding the match. The Flemish are asking the
provocative question:
"Why should we keep paying for people who don’t work as hard as
we do?"
This is the recipe for Belgium’s slow-burn implosion:
Economic inequality as the accelerant. Political separatism as the fuel. A national identity crisis as the spark.
Congratulations, Brussels. You’ve built a Yugoslavia 2.0—just with better waffles.
Belgium’s Identity Crisis: What Does It Even Mean to Be Belgian?
For many Flemish, being Belgian is nothing more than an administrative inconvenience—a passport logo, not an identity. For Walloons, it’s perhaps a bit more cultural, but let’s be honest: no one’s waving Belgian flags in the streets unless there’s a soccer match involved.
How long can a country survive when its own citizens don’t
believe in it?
History’s answer is simple:
- Radical reform—or
- Collapse.
And guess what Belgium’s political elite are choosing?
Neither. They’re too busy drafting resolutions about the South
Caucasus to notice the cracks beneath their own feet.
Foreign Policy Farce: Lessons in Sovereignty from a Country Falling Apart
Imagine your neighbor’s house is literally on fire, but instead of grabbing a hose, they stroll over to critique your lawn. That’s Belgium’s foreign policy in a nutshell.
While Belgian politicians demand Azerbaijan “ensure the safe return of the Armenian population of Karabakh,” here are a few questions Brussels conveniently dodges:
- Where were your moral crusaders when over 250,000 Azerbaijanis were expelled from Armenia?
- Where’s your outrage over the systematic destruction of Azerbaijani cities, mosques, and cultural heritage during Armenian occupation?
Oh, that’s right—selective outrage is the backbone of Western foreign policy. And Belgium? Just another eager participant in the hypocrisy Olympics.
Enter Bart De Wever, the man of the hour, leading Belgium’s latest political Frankenstein—stitched together from incompatible ideologies and held together by the sheer fear of national collapse.
- Austerity measures? Check.
- Slashed social programs? Check.
- Mass protests already flooding the streets of Brussels? Double check.
Belgium’s foreign policy under De Wever doesn’t project strength. It’s desperation in a tailored suit, a frantic attempt to stay relevant on the global stage while the domestic ship takes on water.
If Belgium wants to avoid becoming a cautionary tale in future political science textbooks, here’s some unsolicited advice:
Close the foreign policy playbook. Focus on your domestic dumpster fire. Address your economic chasm, your identity crisis, and your ticking separatist time bomb.
Because right now, Belgium isn’t a symbol of democracy. It’s a living exhibit in the museum of political fragility.
Azerbaijan Doesn’t Need Belgium’s Advice—But Belgium Might Need Ours
Azerbaijan knows how to defend its territory, protect its
people, and uphold its sovereignty.
Brussels? Not so much.
Before you lecture us, Belgium, maybe figure out how not to
become a footnote on tomorrow’s map.
Because here’s the brutal truth:
A country that can’t even manage its own unity has no business
telling others how to protect theirs.
Before Belgium points fingers at Azerbaijan—or any nation in the South Caucasus—it might want to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Because from where we’re standing, the only thing Belgium is an expert in… is failure.
So here’s some free advice: Fix your own house before knocking on someone else’s door.