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Hundreds of migrants hold hunger strike in Brussels church

More than 200 migrants inside a church in the Belgian capital are nearly 60 days into a hunger strike, a situation that could collapse the national government

La Croix International

More than 200 undocumented migrants who have been staging a hunger strike inside a 17th century baroque church in central Brussels since mid-May have told Belgian officials they will not leave the premises until they are given valid residence permits.

"No vacation until regularization," reads the banner that is stretched across the facade of the Church of St. John the Baptist at the Béguinage.

The message alludes to the Belgian government’s summer vacation (or recess), which begins with the country’s July 21 national holiday.

The occupied church is located just a few steps from a particularly busy street in Brussels and seems quite peaceful.

But another banner just above the church’s half-open door indicates that all is not well. 

"Undocumented migrants on hunger strike since May 23," it says.

For the past few days, some of those inside have also been on a thirst strike.

Unused water bottles have been placed on the square, forming the words "HELP" and "SOS".

Inside St. John about 200 men and 40 women are lying on mattresses in an atmosphere marked by silence and darkness. 

"A symbol of the Church's compassionate face"

"Some are on a partial hunger strike, others total," explains Father Daniel Alliët, head of this church.

"A few risk, if not death, at least lifelong consequences," he says.

The priest has spent more than three decades at St. John the Baptist at the Béguinage, during which time he has seen his vocation totally intertwined with the plight of the undocumented.

"Over the past twenty-three years, there have been a total of seven years of church occupations and 14 months of hunger strikes," he points out.

"The purpose of our church is to give a voice to those who have none," Alliët insists.

He is not annoyed by these movements; quite the contrary.  

"I am here because the Gospel of today is here," he tells us.

He also seems satisfied that his church is "the church of the poor, as a symbol of the compassionate face of the Church, in the heart of Europe".

There has long been talk of turning the baroque building into a museum, something Father Alliët  also always vigorously opposed. 

"That represents the death of Christianity," he exclaims.

"I'm not going to walk away while this cry of desperation is being raised" 

The priest does not want to tell these voiceless people what to say or how to act.

"I'm not for hunger strikes," he emphasizes.

"But I'm not going to walk away while this cry of desperation is being raised. While I am not in favor of this form of action, I understand it," he says. 

Our conversation is regularly interrupted by the sirens of an ambulance coming to the aid of a hunger striker, a reminder that the situation is serious. 

Some have already been infused several times. 

"Their condition is currently critical. Every day without a solution brings them closer to death. This situation is dramatic," said Cardinal Jozef de Kesel, archbishop of Brussels-Malines, in a July 9 message. 

Most of these undocumented migrants have been in Belgium for several years and are determined to keep up their fight for legal recognition.

"For them, it's a question of dignity," explains Father Alliët.

"They don't want to die, they want to be recognized," he points out.

The Belgian government has been inflexible up to this point, categorically refusing a massive regularization and refusing to study the requests other than on a case by case basis. 

But now the situation could turn into a political crisis. 

The socialist deputy prime minister Pierre-Yves Dermargne warned last Monday that if a hunger striker were to die, "the socialist ministers and secretaries of state would tender their resignation within an hour".

This is a serious threat to the Belgian government, which was painstakingly formed last October, 16 months after the legislative elections. If the socialists were to withdraw, the government would be in danger of collapsing.

Prime Minister Alexander De Croo is well aware of this risk.

"The last thing our battered country needs right now is a political crisis," he said on Monday.