Meeting exceptionally this Thursday for an exchange of views with the Minister of the Interior, Bernard Quintin, the Chamber's Interior Committee examined the fires in the High Fens. Mayor of Jalhay and federal MP, Victoria Vandeberg gave testimony drawn from her experience at the provincial crisis centre in Vottem and on the ground. She paid tribute to those mobilised and firmly denounced those who “stage political theatre” while the crisis is not yet over.
Since Friday, I have lived through this crisis from the inside. As mayor of Jalhay, a municipality directly affected by the fire, but also at the provincial crisis centre in Vottem and on the ground, where I saw the chain of command being set up, decisions being made and resources arriving.
I have seen what it means to fight a fire of this scale: the peat that keeps smouldering, the wind that shifts and can reignite a hotspot, terrain that is difficult to access, sometimes impossible, forcing teams to constantly adapt.
I saw farmers arrive with their own water tanks to take part in the collective effort. I saw women and men take turns, sleep a few hours, then head back out.
A provincial phase was declared. The services coordinated their efforts. Villages were evacuated as a precaution and populations were put in safety. Despite nearly 3,000 hectares burned by the fire, no homes were destroyed and there were no casualties.
This result is above all thanks to those who mobilised.
To the firefighters who came from every corner of the country and to the foreign reinforcements. To the military, Civil Protection, the police and the officers of the Nature and Forestry Department. To the farmers, entrepreneurs and volunteers. To the Red Cross, emergency medical services, CORTEX, the psychosocial services, SWDE, SPW dams department and all the mobilised services.
I also think of the municipal teams, of those present at the crisis centre, and of those who ensure coordination, logistics and supplies. Of all those who make decisions, anticipate, monitor and organise.
But for several days now, I have also been watching something else.
I am watching a Fen burning. Our Fen. My Fen.
Hour after hour, a landscape we know, walk through, love and protect went up in smoke before our eyes. I won't pretend: it is hard, it is violent. There is something deeply painful about seeing part of a heritage we hold so dear go up in flames.
But I also saw the response take shape. Quickly.
Resources were deployed, reinforcements arrived, and the response was adapted to shifting winds and the evolving fire fronts. When ground resources were no longer sufficient, Belgian and European air resources came to support the teams on the ground.
Yes, Belgium called on European solidarity. This is not an admission of weakness: it is precisely the purpose of the European mechanism, which allows available resources to be quickly pooled in the face of a major disaster.
The Minister of the Interior also went to the site. This is not a partisan argument, but a fact: the federal authorities were present and resources were mobilised to support the crisis management.
Are we invulnerable? No.
But did we lack foresight? Not either.
Because preparation obviously cannot prevent every crisis.
But what is perhaps missing from this debate today is a bit of realism. The Fen was particularly dry. It is a vast, specific and peaty environment, where in certain places neither vehicles nor even people can intervene.
This is the reality to keep in mind when hearing so many certainties today.
The Canadairs. The F-35s, which have become a sort of unit of measurement against which everything is now compared. “The Fens should have been closed a month ago.” “With us, it would have gone differently.”
At some point, this has to stop.
The debate has turned into a circus, with everyone arriving with their miracle solution several days after the fact. Some seem to have discovered the Fens this weekend, on a map or through images shared on social media. Armchair commentators are explaining what should have been done to those who know this territory, who work there daily and who were on site when the fire broke out.
There is a form of indecency in already demanding definitive inquiries and accountability while the crisis is not yet over and teams are still on the ground. There will be a time for questions and analysis. These are legitimate and necessary. But wanting to judge everything immediately confuses democratic oversight with the political exploitation of an event still unfolding.
Hearing some claim that with a different political colour, firefighters would have been better, farmers would have arrived sooner or the drought would have disappeared: what disgrace.
This is insulting to all those who were on the ground and to those who took on their responsibilities.
We will of course need to discuss our aerial capabilities, prevention, the management of our natural areas and our level of preparedness. These questions deserve serious analysis, based on the experience of those who actually managed this crisis. All the lessons must be drawn from facts, not from certainties reconstructed after the event.
So yes, I too am angry. I saw our Fen burn.
But my anger is not directed at those who were on the ground or who took on their responsibilities. It is directed at those who use this crisis to stage political theatre, at those who are already campaigning on still-warm ashes.
Because, for several days, despite the fire, despite the drought and despite terrain that cannot be tamed, they held the line.
To them, thank you.