Last weekend, my wife and I went “history hunting” in south-eastern Belgium’s Burg-Reuland region. Off the beaten path, we found it in spades.
For point of reference, if you look at the map of the area we chose to explore, there’s what looks like a single finger of Belgian territory that’s trying to ‘worry away’ the north-eastern corner of Luxembourg from Germany with the tiny hamlet of Ouren at the tip of the finger near the Dreiländereck where the three countries converge. What looks like a cartographic quirk is actually a living example of European integration at its most intimate. Here, Belgian beer meets German order and Luxembourgish affluence all in one place and where free movement enabled by Schengen Zone fluidity shapes everyday life.
This corner of Belgium functions almost like a microstate within a state—quietly thriving, often overlooked even by Belgians themselves. Families speak German at home, commute to Luxembourg for work, and shop wherever is most convenient. Their identity is not tied tightly to any one country, but rather to the region. It is a subtle, lived example of the post-national European spirit.
Linguistically and culturally, however, this area is an outlier. German is an official language in Belgium, but the country is largely French and Flemish-speaking. Architecturally too, the region reflects its Germanic heritage more than Belgian convention. That difference is part of what makes it special.
This quiet borderland has witnessed centuries of upheaval. Once part of the Duchy of Luxembourg, then Prussia, it was annexed by Belgium after the Treaty of Versailles, taken by Nazi Germany during WWII, and returned in 1945. That layered past has forged a strong regional identity—neither fully Belgian nor fully German. Medieval origins only add to the complexity: borders shaped by dynastic marriages, monastic land rights, and ancient feudal bargains rather than neat geography.
Belgium’s post-WWI interest in this territory was primarily strategic. It wanted access to railway lines and a defensible border. The “finger” of land exists because the Our River provided a natural boundary, and avoiding the establishment of an enclave required a continuous road corridor to Ouren to be established. While the shape may seem awkward, it has been left untouched since 1945—its strategic importance long-faded, its beauty enduring.
And what beauty. Rolling hills, dense forests, and winding rivers surround Ouren—it is postcard Europe without the Instagram crowds. It is fitting, then, that this spot was chosen in 1977 for the Europe Monument, erected where the borders of three nations meet. Five megaliths, each from a different country, stand at the confluence of the Our and Ribbach rivers. They symbolize peace, unity, and the power of reconciliation after centuries of war. The monument is a tribute to peace as well as a quiet but powerful statement against nationalism and war, echoing the ideals behind the formation of the European Union—and the reasons why it was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2012.
For those that seek to criticize or undermine the European Union and even for those perhaps aiming to curate its break-up, it is worth recalling, for all its real and perceived faults, what the organization has achieved for Europe and, more worrisome, what might happen if it is rent asunder. For all its flaws and frustrations, the EU has helped preserve peace and foster cooperation in a region once torn apart by conflict.
Forged not, as some would have you believe, to become a trade foe and an obstacle to the unilateral power of some nations, the EU’s genesis lay primarily in promoting peace, stability, and economic cooperation in Europe following the devastation of two world wars. The EU’s roots lie in pragmatism and peace. The European Coal and Steel Community, founded in 1951, aimed to integrate the coal and steel industries considered most essential to war making, making future conflict not only undesirable but logistically impossible. Former enemies—France and Germany—became partners. Central European nations cast adrift following the collapse of the Soviet Union were also offered the opportunity to stabilize, helping prevent further political chaos and conflict.
In short, the nationalist, economic and strategic grievances held by some against the EU fundamentally overlook the key role the organization has played in transforming a historically war-torn continent into one of the most peaceful regions in the world that has presided over the longest period of sustained peace on the continent throughout history.
As one stands in the glade where the monument rests, with only the sound of the river and rustling trees to disturb the visitor, it is hard not to reflect on how fragile that peace might be. Rising nationalism, global uncertainty, and the erosion of shared institutions all echo past mistakes. The memorial is both a tribute and a warning: integration is hard-won—and easily lost.
That message feels even more poignant in this very valley, which saw heavy fighting during the Ardennes Offensive in December 1944. Two companies of the 3rd Battalion of the U.S. 112th Infantry Regiment from the 28th Division defended Ouren against overwhelming German forces. Outnumbered and under-supplied, they delayed the advance, trading vital space for critical time to allow the counter-offensive to begin.
Three minutes’ drive to the west of Ouren, another memorial honors the crews of two Lancaster bombers—ME596 and HK564—shot down on the night of 12th/13th August, 1944, after a raid on the Opel armaments factory at Rüsselsheim. One Canadian airman, Flying Officer John Meek, survived. The memorial fittingly thanks those mainly Canadian and New Zealand aircrews who gave their lives in the fight to bring “peace and freedom” to a continent far from their own.
Ouren’s history stretches further still, into the realm of legend. A local tale tells of a knight who eloped with a noblewoman from across the border. To throw off pursuit, he reversed his horse’s shoes. Some versions say he succeeded and imprisoned her in his castle; others claim he was struck by lightning after he failed to fulfil his promise to build a shrine on the sight of a swollen river forge he was able to spur his ill-shod steed across as the pursuit closed in upon him. Either way, the story represents – in a symbolic or folkloric sense – how a horseshoe nailed on back to front or upside down represents misfortune or a reversal of luck, turning away protection or, satirically, indicating a false sense of security that challenges fate.
With the world facing growing uncertainty and a potentially volatile global environment, it seems that challenging fate may not be the wisest course of action particularly if we ignore the lessons of the past. Undermining hard-won unity and ignoring lessons from the past may be, in the end, just another way of nailing our horseshoes on backwards. As inscribed on the Europe Monument:
“Qui oublie son passé, ne mérite pas son avenir.”
He who forgets his past does not deserve his future.