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Grégoire Canlorbe

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A conversation with Joël Rubinfeld, for Gatestone Institute

A conversation with Joël Rubinfeld, for Gatestone Institute

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Août 30, 2026

Joël Rubinfeld (center) helps carry a banner at a march against anti-Semitism in Brussels on December 10, 2023. Photo by Simon Wohlfahrt/AFP via Getty Images

Joël Rubinfeld is a founding member and president of the Belgian League Against Antisemitism. He is also president of the Jewish Coalition for Kurdistan. He was president of the Coordinating Committee of Jewish Organizations in Belgium, vice-president of the European Jewish Congress, and co-chairman of the European Jewish Parliament.

  Canlorbe: You have described Israel as the « Dreyfus of nations. » What does that mean?

  Rubinfeld: Since October 7, 2023, we have been living through a kind of endless « Dreyfus trial, » but with one major difference: the state has replaced the person. In the past, Dreyfus stood on trial; today, the Jewish state has taken his place.

  The « prosecutors » in this permanent trial are UN agencies, « rapporteurs, » Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Oxfam, the Human Rights League—which, ironically, was founded in 1901 in the wake of the Dreyfus Affair. There is also a whole ecosystem of organizations claiming to speak in the name of human rights, along with their relays in the newsrooms, in academia, in activist and cultural circles, and on the street.

  When I see these so-called « pro-Palestinian » demonstrators, it seems as if many of them could not care less about the Palestinians. If they were truly pro-Palestinian, they would first call for the eradication of Hamas, which is the poison and the nightmare first of all of the Palestinian people. The poison, unfortunately, was widely embraced by Hamas’s absolute majority (56%) in the last Palestinian legislative elections in 2006.

  These demonstrations in Europe—300,000 people in London, 100,000 in Brussels, and hundreds of thousands in France—remind me, of the marches in the early 1930s in Germany. Of course, it is not an exact historical equivalence, but there seems a resemblance in the occupation of public space, crowd dynamics, and the pressure exerted on political life. There are also the hateful slogans, yesterday targeting Jews; today the Jewish state and its supporters: « Death to the Jews » becomes « Death to Israel, » « Boycott the Jews » becomes « Boycott the Zionists, » the new polite, « politically correct » word for hating Jews.

  This fever in the streets weighs on political leaders. The great problem is that many of them think in purely arithmetical terms. They tend to hold a simplistic, and therefore racist, view of communities: « Jews » equals « Israel, » and « Muslims » equals « Palestine. » Once they do the math, conclusions follow.

  In Belgium, there are about 30,000 Jews and 900,000 Muslims—a ratio of one to thirty. Cynics conclude: « I have everything to lose by defending Jews or Israel, and everything to gain by supporting ‘Palestine’—by riding the wave of what Hamas has become in the activist imagination—because it wins me votes. »

  In Brussels, given its specific demographics, antisemitism has become an electoral asset. Not the « old » antisemitism of those nostalgic for Auschwitz, but a revised, contemporary form—one that equates Gaza with Auschwitz.

  For months, I have been warning that we may be living through the last time there is a « significant » Jewish community in Belgium. It is already tiny: 0.25% of the Belgian population. Possibly, by 2050 it will no longer be 30,000, but under 10,000. The exodus is already underway—and accelerating.

  Canlorbe: How do you explain those Jews who join the prosecutors in this « Dreyfus trial » against Israel?

  Rubinfeld: It is an intriguing question. My interpretation of « Jewish self-hatred »—a concept popularized a century ago by Theodor Lessing in Der jüdische Selbsthaß (Jewish Self-Hatred)—is that the history of the Jewish people is anything but quiet. To be a Jew has meant, for 4,000 years, being confronted with the most delirious accusations: causing famines, poisoning wells, desecrating the host, spreading epidemics, « ritual murder, » controlling the world… However deranged they may be, any accusations, it seems, can find an audience, at times even a majority one. As someone put it: « The problem is not what Jews are, but what you are ready to believe they are. »

  To live as a Jew in an environment where one is blamed for everything requires resilience, self-denial, and a spirit of resistance. Not everyone is capable of that. Rather than holding firm, some might hope, out of terror and a wish to survive, that if they are just nice to their tormentor, he will soon come around and see how « good » they are. They can even convince themselves that if they agree with their tormentor, he will appreciate and admire them – then they will no longer be in danger. They might even adopt his point of view, like a child whose parent is angry with him. It is easier for him to think that the parent is right and the problem must be with himself. It is an attempt to cope with, or somehow get through, a terrifying situation — and it usually does not work. Tormentors torment; it is what they like to do. As the psychiatrist Dr. Kenneth Levin noted in his important book, The Oslo Syndrome: The Delusions of a People Under Siege, a child is dependent on his parent, and wants to feel safe. « If I just stop wetting my bed, » the child might think, « then maybe he will like me. » It is too terrifying to see that, say, the bed-wetting may not be the problem, just a pretext. We saw in World War II that people can rationalize anything.

  Sometimes one finds individuals born Jewish who break with their heritage, decide to « no longer be Jewish, » and become antisemites to prove their « good faith. »

  Deep down, I think they know that this break amounts to a surrender: they leave Judaism to escape the pressure, to gain social respectability, sometimes to protect their descendants. But from that point on, the Jews who remain—those who continue to embrace their identity despite the attacks—become an unbearable mirror for them.

  Every Jew who stands firm reflects back to them an uncomfortable image: « I stay, I take the blows, but I remain what I am. » The one who has broken away sees himself as a coward. That tension turns into aggression: he gives way to antisemitism, adopting a scorched-earth policy. He has left Judaism—so now turns against the Jews to show everyone else. « See? I am not like them. I am good! Now do you like me? »

  This pattern appears in several historical examples: Nicholas Donin (13th century), a convert from Judaism and the instigator of the trial that led to the burning of the Talmud in Paris; Pablo Christiani (Paul Christian), a converted Jew who became a Dominican and took part in religious campaigns against the Jews in the 13th century, persuading Louis IX to restore the use of the rouelle—the precursor of the yellow star; Bernard Lazare, an interesting case: he authored an antisemitic work before the Dreyfus Affair, but later became one of the earliest and most steadfast defenders of the Jewish captain, stating that the affair had « saved his life »; Gilad Atzmon, a British pro-Palestinian jazz musician born in Israel and a virulent antisemite who later claimed to have converted to Christianity—without this preventing him from continuing his attacks; Karl Kraus, an Austrian anti-Dreyfusard writer who broke with Judaism and developed an obsessive critique of what he called the « Jewish press. »

  At bottom, all of this points to a simple idea: it is not easy to be Jewish. Some experience their identity as a burden. In the 19th century, even after emancipation and access to citizenship, strong social barriers remained. Many chose conversion not out of hostility, but out of a longing to get along, to be « like everyone else »—like the child, to be loved.

  For me, to be clear, leaving Judaism is not reprehensible. I take a liberal view of the matter: one may enter, leave, choose—everyone does as they wish with their life. That being said, leaving Judaism is one thing; sliding into antisemitism is another. At that point, it becomes my problem: we are no longer dealing with a personal choice, but one has crossed over into active, sometimes fierce hostility directed at others—in this instance, against what one once was before.

  Canlorbe: With the rise of antisemitism in Europe, what has been the result? Has there been an exodus of Jews from Belgium, and if so, what has been its scale?

  Rubinfeld: Yes, there has been, although there is no precise data. We might turn to the statistics of the Jewish Agency for Israel, which records how many Jews from different countries who settle in Israel under the Law of Return, the right to come « home »—called Aliyah, to go up. These figures make it possible to tell how many Belgian Jews move to Israel each year but do not include those moving to other countries.

  Many of these new arrivals are closely linked to the resurgence of antisemitism in Europe, which has unfolded in two main phases.

  The first phase began in late September 2000, with the outbreak of the Second Intifada. The months that followed saw a re-emergence of unabashed antisemitism here in Belgium, mainly driven mainly by political and activist circles on the left. Since then, the spectrum has broadened.

  From 2000, the numbers rose from around 60 departures a year to more than a fivefold increase over 15 years.

  Before this century, departures were generally driven by ideological or identity-based choices, such as idealism or Zionism, without any sense of urgency. From 2000 onward, a different dynamic emerged: whenever a conflict broke out in the Middle East, antisemitism spiked in Belgium. This happened during the Second Intifada, which began in 2000; then during the war with Hezbollah in 2006, then on four occasions during conflicts with Hamas (2008–2009, 2012, 2014, 2021). Events taking place thousands of kilometers away had a direct impact on the daily lives of Jews in Belgium.

  The second phase took place in the last two-and-a-half years, starting with Hamas’s invasion of Israel on October 7, 2023—but with a change in nature. One might have expected that the jihadist invasion of October 7, would trigger a wave of solidarity and empathy toward Israel. It did—for maybe two hours. On the very day of the attack—days before the IDF retaliated—the antisemites you see today came out of the woodwork. They exploited the war in Gaza to advance their narrative and swell their ranks—to the point of turning the debate into a form of institutional hostility.

  This is also what took place in Belgium in most political parties. They began accusing Israel of committing « genocide » in Gaza, calling for economic sanctions or even a boycott of the Jewish state.

  The latest example was the twelve-point anti-Israel plan pushed by Foreign Minister Maxime Prévot, a leading figure and former president of the centrist party Les Engagés, The Committed Ones. The plan includes discriminatory measures targeting not only Israel, but also Belgian Jews.

  One point, particularly troubling, is a case that came to us recently: Belgian citizens in the eastern part of Jerusalem and in Judea and Samaria are denied access to Belgian consular services. A family of Belgian Jews living in Ma’aleh Adumim, in Judea, went to the Belgian consulate in Jerusalem the other day to renew their passports and were turned away. They then turned to the embassy in Tel Aviv and were refused as well. The message being sent was: « If you want a passport, move to the internationally recognized areas of Israel. »

  One must grasp the symbolic meaning of this: Judea is where the name « Jew » originated. Yet today, Belgian citizens of Jewish faith are being discriminated against for living on their own ancestral land.

  The Belgian authorities try to defend themselves by claiming that this is not an ethnic specification, but a geographic one. In practice, however, this measure applies only to « Belgians residing in the settlements »—that is, Jews living in the Old City of Jerusalem or in Judea and Samaria. What is ironic is that a Belgian residing in Ramallah, for example, would face no obstacle in renewing their documents. Does this also mean that a Belgian living in East Jerusalem would receive consular services—provided they were not Jewish?

  I actually put this question to the Foreign Ministry spokesperson; he dodged it. He claimed not to know the answer. The question, though, is simple: what is done for Belgians living in other disputed or occupied territories—Taiwan, Northern Cyprus, Crimea, Nagorno-Karabakh, and so on? There, one does not see exceptional treatment. This is clearly a double standard, like the special « legal status » imposed on Jews during the Second World War.

  Belgium has also banned the overflight of aircraft carrying materials that could be used by Israel for military purposes. That is how my country treats the only democracy in the region, which is currently fighting an existential war on seven fronts–not just to defend itself but to defend Western civilization. Belgium and other countries in Europe are trying to prevent Israel from defending itself—and Europe!

  Canlorbe: How do you and other Jews view the various antisemitic acts that have occurred in Belgium since October 7? Was October 7 a catalyst?

  Rubinfeld: We witnessed not just a simple increase in antisemitic acts, but an explosion.

  According to figures from Unia—the inter-federal body responsible for monitoring racism and discrimination—in the three months after October 7, 2023, reported antisemitic acts rose by 1,000% — ten times higher than for the same period the previous year.

  Another organization, Antisemitisme.be, recently published its figures for 2025, recording 232 antisemitic incidents—which may not seem all that many, but these figures remain far below the reality. They are just, as the saying goes, « the tip of the iceberg. »

  In Brussels, for instance, there is a « pro-Palestinian » demonstration in the city center every day. It is not authorized, but it is tolerated by the city’s mayor. During these gatherings, participants openly chant the 2.0 slogan of the « Final Solution »— »From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free »—yet such incidents are not included in the statistics. If these daily occurrences alone were added, they would already exceed all official totals.

  The problem is the trend. The official figures represent an 80% increase compared to 2024, which was already an abnormally high year after October 7, 2023, when levels were high.

  Canlorbe: Are the French different from the Belgians in their attitude toward antisemitism?

  Rubinfeld: Belgium broadly faces the same problems as France. The reactions, however, differ.

  In France, when an antisemitic act takes place, it often triggers a clear public response: statements from political leaders, media coverage, and condemnations from public figures. This was seen again recently when the names of Jews were mangled by the leader of the French far left, Jean-Luc Mélenchon. The incident sparked an uproar and was denounced by many political, intellectual, and media figures.

  In Belgium, this kind of mobilization is rare. Yes, there are people of integrity, but they remain the exception. In the political sphere, the most notable example is Georges-Louis Bouchez, president of the Mouvement Réformateur (« Reformist Movement, » a center-right party), who regularly speaks out against antisemitism and defends pro-Israel positions.

  Of the twelve Belgian political parties, eight have embraced what is currently the central antisemitic theme: falsely accusing Israel of « genocide » in Gaza. Three of the five parties are in the governing coalition—the foreign minister himself speaks that way.

  At its core, there seems to be a historic, ancient hatred that changes its vocabulary according to the era. Two thousand years ago, Jews were accused of « deicide »; today, of « genocide. » Antisemitism, like a virus, adapts to its environment. In Western societies, where religion is less important, the accusation is recast in the dominant language of the moment—that of human rights.

  In addition, there seems to be a linguistic drift: Israel means Zionist means Jew. By conflation, what begins as criticism of a state gradually turns into targeting people—a « domino effect »—in France and Belgium and other places as well.

  Canlorbe: Unless I am mistaken, your family on both sides, had to flee countries where there was antisemitic persecution. Morocco joined the Abraham Accords. In Russia, Federal Law No. 128-FZ of May 5, 2014 criminalizes Holocaust denial and the approval of Nazi crimes. In your view, are Morocco and Russia fallback options for Jews?

  Rubinfeld: Yes, the last three generations of my father’s family had to flee antisemitic persecution, first from Russian pogroms, then from Poland, then, in 1939, from Austria, after which, they found refuge in Belgium.

  On my mother’s side, the story is different. She was born in Morocco and had to leave her country in 1960 amid a growing climate of insecurity for Jews. Further back, her family descends from Jews expelled from Spain at the time of the Inquisition—under Isabella the Catholic and Torquemada—who found refuge in Morocco in 1492. Life there was not always idyllic, but my mother’s family were able to remain on the same land for nearly five centuries.

  Today, as his ancestors did before him, the King of Morocco protects the Jews, but very few remain. When my mother was born in 1943, there were nearly 300,000 Jews in Morocco; today, the number is estimated at 2,000 to 3,000. Despite this, I feel a bond with the country. I do not feel a bond with Austria. I feel somewhat at home in Morocco. In fact, I feel safer walking around in Morocco than in many neighborhoods in Brussels.

  I know Russian Jews living in Moscow, and they seem to live there normally. However, Russia does not really seem like a fallback option, not least because of local practices when it comes to democracy and freedom of expression.

  Canlorbe: Trump is probably the most pro-Israel president America has ever had. Do you have any concerns that the MAGA movement, despite Trump’s support for Israel, could become a springboard for a new generation of right-wing antisemites?

  Rubinfeld: Antisemitic tendencies can be found in every camp. On the radical fringe of the MAGA movement and the American far right, influencers such as Tucker Carlson, Candace Owens, and Nick Fuentes are injecting the antisemitic poison into the minds of millions of young people online. It is a real problem that needs to be confronted with the utmost determination.

  On the Republican side, this type of discourse is relatively recent and has mainly developed around purveyors of hate active on social media. But over the past twenty years, it is above all within the Democratic camp that antisemitism has gained ground through its radical wing, such as the « Squad. »

  One must fully grasp the significance of certain political signals, such as the election of Zohran Mamdani as mayor of New York. His election may herald a national trend, in two, six, or ten years. This is all the more striking given that New York is, outside Israel, the city with the world’s largest Jewish population.

  Antisemitism is universal. It can be found on the left and on the right. Herbert Pagani in Plea for My Land (Plaidoyer pour ma terre) summed it up: the left-wing antisemite blames the Jews for being capitalists, while the right-wing antisemite blames them for being revolutionaries.

  Canlorbe: In Belgium and France, where socialism and anti-Zionism have risen simultaneously, do you see any connection?

  Rubinfeld: Antisemitism fits nicely with the views of the far left. Some authors regarded as foundational have made explicitly antisemitic statements. Karl Marx, for instance, in On the Jewish Question (1843), evidently innocent of the psychological device known as projection—attributing to others aspects of yourself of which you feel ashamed— »What is the secular basis of Judaism? Practical need, self-interest. What is the secular cult of the Jew? Huckstering. What is his secular God? Money. Very well then! In emancipating itself from huckstering and money, and thus from real and practical Judaism, our age would emancipate itself. »

  This passage contains a line of thinking still present in certain minds: the idea that « the Jew » embodies money, calculation, enslavement, and that, in order to be « free », one must « emancipate oneself » from Jews. This twisted rhetoric culminated in the industrial-scale mass-extermination of Jews carried out by Nazi Germany.

  Pierre-Joseph Proudhon also expresses a rather raw antisemitism: « The Jew is the enemy of the human race. This race must be sent back to Asia, or exterminated. » « Rothschild, Crémieux, Marx, Fould—malicious, bilious, envious, acrid beings (…) The Jew must disappear: by iron, by fire, or by expulsion. »

  Proudhon even includes Marx, although he was not, strictly speaking, Jewish: his grandfathers were indeed rabbis, but his parents had converted to Protestantism, and Marx was baptized at the age of six. Yet beyond personal rivalries and sectarian quarrels, the central idea remains: the Jew—or the presumed Jew—is portrayed as the incarnation of evil.

  The same interpretive lens is at work today among certain frameworks: whether one calls it wokism, intersectionality, or Islamo-leftism, one often finds a Marxist worldview divided between oppressors and oppressed. The designated enemy is « the white person, » and even more so « the white male »; within a Marxian or Proudhonian logic, « the Jew » ends up being portrayed as a kind of « super-white »—the ultimate enemy.

  Antisemitism: it reaches levels of verbal and physical violence rarely seen in other forms of hatred, because it does not merely target an individual or a group; it constructs a totalizing myth—that of a supposedly omnipresent, corrupting force responsible for all evils.

  Canlorbe: Although Bart De Wever condemned the October 7 attack, he refused to support Israel in the war in Gaza; moreover, he conditionally recognized the Palestinian state. Is that really a policy worthy of someone claiming to support Israel?

  Rubinfeld: The reality is more complex.

  Within the coalition, there are five parties, three of which follow an anti-Israel line: the Flemish Christian Democrats, the Flemish socialists, and the French-speaking centrists. On the other side are the government’s two heavyweight parties: the Flemish nationalists—De Wever’s party—and the French-speaking center-right party led by Georges-Louis Bouchez.

  Bart De Wever is neither an outspoken critic of Israel nor an unwavering supporter; yet most likely, if left to his own judgment, he would stand on Israel’s side rather than oppose it.

  The problem is that he has to hold the coalition together. The three anti-Israel parties are smaller, but each could bring down the majority by leaving the government. And for those parties, the Palestinian cause has become a central electoral issue—in a sense, a matter of political survival. So De Wever is not hostile to Israel; he is above all constrained by the internal balance of his coalition.

  On the question of recognizing Palestine, Bart De Wever accepted a conditional formula: the anti-Israel parties wanted immediate recognition, as Ireland, Spain, Slovenia, and others did—and as France later put on the agenda. De Wever and Bouchez did not want to go that far.

  In the end, it is a « Belgian compromise »: no one is happy, but no one is entirely losing either.

  Canlorbe: What hopes do you place in conservative [in French: libéral] politician Georges-Louis Bouchez?

  Rubinfeld: He represents the main political shield for Belgium’s Jews. And I do mean the man, more than the party: if he were replaced tomorrow by someone more lukewarm, it is not unthinkable that the Reformist Movement, too, could end up on the wrong side of history.

  What makes the difference is his personality. Bouchez is a straight-talker, someone who is neither impressed nor intimidated. In a context where media, activist, and electoral pressure push many politicians into making concessions, this ability to stand firm makes all the difference. Georges-Louis Bouchez may not have Winston Churchill’s composure, but he does have his resolve.

  Canlorbe: In your view, is Trump’s Board of Peace a viable alternative to the UN, one that could also put an end to the unfair, demonizing treatment of Israel?

  Rubinfeld: When I look at the composition of the « Board of Peace, » I am skeptical.

  What is paradoxical is that the founding idea of the UN is fascinating: to bring everyone to the table and try to resolve conflicts through diplomacy. In principle, it is even admirable and carried promise.

  In practice, however, the UN has become something quite different. Charles de Gaulle called it « the thingamajig »; I would add: « the antisemitic thingamajig. » Today, the UN serves as the world’s leading international sounding-board for contemporary antisemitism.

  Why? Because the balance of power works against the ideal.

  Take the example of the General Assembly. Of its 193 member states, a majority are dictatorships or authoritarian regimes. Although the General Assembly does not « make » law in the strict sense—its resolutions are not binding—it still gives a sense of the overall climate: one of structural hostility toward the Jewish state. As Abba Eban, Israel’s foreign minister at the time, remarked in the 1970s: « If Algeria introduced a resolution declaring that the earth was flat and that Israel had flattened it, it would pass by a vote of 164 to 13 with 26 abstentions. »

  To return to the Board of Peace: in principle, yes, the idea is appealing. President Trump has said that he is not trying to replace the UN — and most likely he is not, as that would completely abandon it to the dictatorships. He may be trying to make peace among countries that have a history of hostilities with both Israel and one another.

  President Trump, however, may be making a fundamental mistake. He may believe that most people can be made into an ally through doing business. He does not seem to appreciate that this may not be true for countries that place religion as a priority, especially if they already have enough money through oil or are bent on global conquest, such as China

  When one looks at the composition of the « Board of Peace »—with countries such as Turkey or Qatar—one thinks: this is not off to a good start. The risk is that it will reproduce the same problems as before. Now there is a boss—Trump—steering the whole thing. Fair enough. But he may not be involved forever. What happens after that?

  If tomorrow the « Board of Peace » shifts to a system in which each country has equal weight, why would the whole operation not fall back into the same structural bias as the UN—the one that favors dictatorships and authoritarian regimes?

  Sadly, this « Board of Peace » does not seem to solve the underlying problem we face at the UN: it risks merely shifting it elsewhere without correcting it.

  Canlorbe: How do you assess American policy regarding Kurdistan, the UN and Palestinians?

  Rubinfeld: Since the Lausanne Conference in 1923, nations have betrayed the Kurds again and again. The result is that the Kurdish people—the largest stateless people in the world—now number some 40 million, strangers on their own land. Yet despite being fragmented across four countries—Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran—they remain one people, with a shared history, culture, and identity.

  What strikes me is the contrast with the Palestinian cause, which mobilizes international opinion so feverishly. The Kurds have existed as a people since time immemorial, yet their legitimate aspiration to self-determination attracts virtually no attention and the free world remains unmoved.

  The Kurds are a valiant people who have repeatedly stood by the West. This was evident in the role of the Peshmerga in the fight against the Islamic State. Whenever they were called upon, they answered. Then, every time the crisis had passed, they were abandoned again to their fate.

  In that respect, Trump is doing nothing different from his predecessors: no one cares about the Kurds unless they are needed.

  Take the example of the 2017 referendum in Iraqi Kurdistan: 92.7% of voters cast their ballots in favor of independence. Yet only one country publicly backed the result: Israel. In Erbil, Israeli flags could be seen in the streets—not burned but proudly waved. In the eyes of many Kurds, Israel embodies what they aspire to become: people, against all odds, who are finally masters of their own destiny.

  I hope that one day the dream of a free Kurdistan will come true. If it does, it will not emerge by consensus, but probably in the wake of regional chaos.

  In the meantime, since the dismantling of the Ottoman Empire, the Kurds have been paying the price of the international community’s broken promises for more than a century.

  Canlorbe: Should the U.S.-Israel military operation have been carried out with a view to liberating Iran? Would such a goal be beneficial for Iran, for Israel, and more generally for the world?

  Rubinfeld: For 47 years, since the Khomeinist Islamic Revolution of 1979, Iran has been the main destabilizing factor in the region—particularly in terms of support for terrorism. It is this regime that established the « Shiite crescent » to surround Israel and that the mullahs called the « Axis of Resistance »: a constellation of militias and terrorist groups used by Iran as proxies: Hezbollah in Lebanon, Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria, Shiite militias in Iraq, the Houthis in Yemen, and Hamas and Islamic Jihad in Gaza, Judea and Samaria. Already in 1979, Khomeini was calling for « Death to Israel, » the « Little Satan, » and « Death to America, » the « Great Satan. »

  Under the Iranian presidency of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who called Israel a « dead fish » and a « stinking corpse » to be « wiped » off the map, the regime became known for an even more rabid antisemitism. The international conference he organized in Tehran in 2006 brought together leading Holocaust deniers, including Robert Faurisson and David Duke, a former leader of the Ku Klux Klan. At official gatherings and during Friday prayers, « Death to Israel » and « Death to America » are still routinely chanted (here, here and here). Iran’s late Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei stated that « ‘Death to America’ is not a slogan, it is a policy. »

  Apart from words, there are means. Iran has been seeking to develop nuclear weapons for more than 40 years. A signatory to the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, Iran claims to be pursuing nuclear power for civilian purposes, but the level of enrichment, and the recent admission to US Special Envoy Steve Witkoff that Iran had enough enriched uranium for 11 nuclear bombs, inside of two weeks, tell a very different story. For civilian use, uranium enrichment is typically around 4%. Yet IAEA data and statements by the Iranian regime point to a current stockpile of more than 440 kilograms of uranium enriched to 60%. When the US negotiators repeatedly offered (here and here) to supply Iran with all the energy it would need for civilian use long-term and cost-free, Iran repeatedly declined. One would have to be incredibly naive to believe that Iran is not seeking to build nuclear weapons.

  The joint Israeli-American military intervention was therefore necessary. It is a response to a genuine immediate existential threat—two weeks to a nuclear breakout are a clear and present danger. The Iranian population, massacred by the thousands—more than 40,000 in January alone—aspires to free itself from a regime that has ruthlessly oppressed it for nearly half a century. In Iran, it is crucial to note, the people are not the same as the regime. Senator John Fetterman (D-PA) has called Iran a « 47-year-old war crime. » Those who invoke international law to denounce the ongoing war against the regime of the mullahs are, in fact, pleading for the survival of a regime that has crushed its people for 47 years.

  International law, a noble concept in itself, is today being perverted—serving as a shield for some of the worst executioners on the planet. Have the West’s useful idiots of the Islamic Republic of Iran already forgotten the tens of thousands of unarmed Iranian citizens massacred by their own horrific government in just two days, on January 8 and 9? Men such as Spain’s Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, French politician Jean-Luc Mélenchon, and, in Belgium, Paul Magnette and Raoul Hedebouw belong to that old political tradition of moralizers whom history invariably consigns to oblivion.

  There is another, deeper dimension: the relationship between the Jewish people and the Persian people, rooted in their histories.

  We must go back 2,500 years — to the conquest of the Kingdom of Judah by the Babylonians and the exile that followed. Persia defeated Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to their homeland and rebuild their Temple in Jerusalem, which had been destroyed fifty years earlier during the invasion. That memory has created a historical debt.

  The names chosen by Israel for its military operations, both in last June’s strikes and in the current war, the « lion » is given pride of place — »Operation Rising Lion » and « Operation Roaring Lion » – means of course the Lion of Judah, the emblem of one of the twelve tribes of Israel. The lion, however, is also a central symbol of the Persian people. It appeared on Iran’s flag before being replaced after Khomeini’s rise to power. It is precisely this historic emblem—the Lion and Sun—that is now being waved in the streets of Iran, as well as at gatherings of the Iranian diaspora—where Israeli and American flags can also be seen flying.

  This sequence therefore transcends a mere military operation. It combines the urgency of the present—neutralizing the nuclear threat—with the echo of a 2,500-year-old bond.

  One of the major differences with the Iraq War is that, here, there exists a credible alternative to the regime in place: Reza Pahlavi. His name is chanted in the streets of Iran. In Los Angeles, New York, London, Berlin, Paris, Brussels, and elsewhere, the same symbols recur: portraits of Reza Pahlavi and the « Lion and Sun » emblem.

  Imagine the day the regime falls: Reza Pahlavi lands in Tehran on an American plane—echoing Khomeini’s arrival there, 47 years earlier, on an Air France flight. The closing shot: Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu in Tehran, presiding over the reopening of the U.S. embassy and the inauguration of Israel’s.

  Yet the recent developments in the US–Israel–Iran war suggest that such an outcome is becoming increasingly distant.

  Canlorbe: On February 16, the American ambassador to Belgium, Bill White, raised the issue of antisemitism in Belgium and denounced the prosecutions brought against two mohels from Antwerp, accused of performing circumcisions without being doctors. In your view, was the ambassador acting within his proper role?

  Rubinfeld: What he said—even if it did not conform to diplomatic standards—was fully legitimate. It may not be enough to solve the problem, but at least Bill White had the moral clarity to name it. People speak of « interference, » but sometimes the absence of interference amounts to a moral failure.

  When you see Jewish graves desecrated, Jewish artists, intellectuals, athletes and businesses boycotted, incitement to violence against Jews, demonstrations where thousands chant for the destruction of the Jewish state or glorify the « martyrs » Sinwar and Nasrallah—and where leading political figures join these marches—you realize there is a serious problem in my country: a country where increasing numbers of Jews conceal their Star of David, remove mezuzahs from their doorways, hide their kippahs beneath hats, and change their names on apps such as Uber and on social media.

  Let us return to the case of the circumcisers. In May 2025, Belgian police carried out raids on Jewish homes in Antwerp, targeting two rabbis who perform ritual circumcision. In Judaism, male circumcision is performed on the eighth day by a mohel, a practitioner rigorously trained in this three-thousand-year-old tradition. The reality is that circumcision performed by a mohel is the safest way to carry out the procedure—King Charles III, who was circumcised by Jacob Snowman, then the mohel to the British royal family, is a case in point.

  In Belgium, to the best of my knowledge, there have never been any accidents during circumcisions performed by a mohel. The problem lies elsewhere—with the man who filed the complaint against them and branded them « butchers »: the « rabbi » Moshe Friedman.

  Friedman belongs to an ultra-Orthodox Jewish sect, the Neturei Karta, known for its radical anti-Zionism. For them, the State of Israel is an « imposture » that must be wiped off the map, as the restoration of the Jewish people to the Promised Land should be the work of the Messiah, not man—whether Theodor Herzl or David Ben-Gurion.

  In 2006, Friedman took part in the Holocaust denial conference organized in Tehran. At that conference, he challenged the figure of six million Jewish victims, reducing it, falsely, to « about one million. »

  There are such things as Jewish antisemites – such as « rabbis » who claim that circumcisions performed by mohels have led to death or severe complications, the public tends to take such claims at face value—unaware that they are being deceived by closet antisemites.

  A quick computer search turns up several cases of drowning deaths after the baptism of Christian children or adults—in the United States, Romania, Moldova, South Africa, and elsewhere. These are tragedies, but they have not called into question the practice of a two-thousand-year-old rite. No one has said: « From now on, baptisms must be performed by lifeguards, » or « this sacrament should be taken away from priests. » It is easy to see how absurd this would be.

  What this dispute actually highlights is the disproportionate response of the Belgian judicial system when it comes to Jews.

  On one side, on the basis of a complaint filed by an alleged antisemite, the judicial apparatus is set in motion: searches, the seizure of equipment, and a request for a list of children circumcised in recent years. One must fully grasp the repercussions of that act: the judicial authorities demand a list of Jewish children.

  On the other side, when it comes to antisemitism—explicit, documented, undeniable—the response is most often inadequate or nonexistent. On October 7, 2024, exactly one year after the October 7 jihad, pro-Palestinian demonstration took place in Brussels, in the heart of the capital. From the stage, a speaker intoned in Arabic: « O Allah, burn the Jews »—and the crowd responded in unison, « Ameen. » We filed a complaint with the Brussels public prosecutor’s office, together with video evidence. To this day, there has been no response—not even an acknowledgment of receipt.

  The absurd epilogue to this story is that, after denouncing these facts on Belgian and French television, I was summoned by the police after a complaint lodged by the organizer of that demonstration, who accused me of endangering him by describing the event as antisemitic.

  Another time, a restaurateur put up a sign in his window reading: « Dogs welcome, Jews forbidden. » The violation of Belgian anti-racism law is pretty clear-cut. Yet the Liège public prosecutor’s office proposed mediation—which we refused—and then dropped the case two years later. In yet another case, a columnist at one of the country’s leading Flemish weeklies wrote that he « felt like plunging a knife into the throat of every Jew [he] meets in the street. » A complaint was filed, followed by an acquittal by the Ghent court. In still another case, when the leader of a political party made openly antisemitic remarks and defended Hamas, the complaint was dismissed by the Brussels public prosecutor’s office.

  One can discuss complex and nuanced cases, where intention and context may be debated. But when statements are as explicit as « Jews forbidden, » « Burn the Jews, » « I feel like plunging a knife into the throat of every Jew, » or « Jews are real psychopaths, serial killers, » a judge—even a novice—should, without question, condemn such remarks as violations of Belgium’s 1981 law against racism and xenophobia.

  That is where the contrast becomes unacceptable: a complaint filed by an antisemite triggers an investigation, while antisemitic acts and statements themselves go unpunished.

  We are not in 1933. But there are echoes that recall the darker chapters of history: antisemitic agitation in the streets, attacks on religious practices, physical assaults on Jews, political and media incitement, boycotts of Jewish figures and businesses, the need for Jews to conceal their identity, and the failure of the justice system to protect them.

  For all these reasons, I thank Ambassador White for shaking things up. This will not solve the problem of antisemitism in Belgium, but he deserves credit for bringing the issue into the spotlight.

  In the Western world, over the past 25 years, only two countries have drawn millions into the streets to burn their flags and vilify them: Israel and the United States.

  Ironically, that part of Western public opinion—the part that takes to the streets—echoes the very same themes as the Iranian regime: « Down with the Little Satan and the Great Satan. »

  When I see people joining the pack, it seems sad that the concept of « self-hatred, » which one finds among certain Jews and Westerners, does not spare youths either—youths who may well end up in a « socialist » country that strips them of the liberties they appear to take so for granted.  This Marxist and Islamist indoctrination calls into question the future of Western civilization. As the author Jaime Semprun noted, « When the eco-citizen claims to raise the most disturbing question by asking ‘What world are we going to leave to our children?’ he avoids asking the other, truly disturbing question: ‘To what children are we going to leave the world?' »


That conversation was originally published on Gatestone Institute, in three parts, in May 2026, in June 2026, and in July 2026

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Alfred Dreyfus, antisemitism, Bill White, Board of Peace, Brussels, Grégoire Canlorbe, Herbert Pagani, Iran, Joël Rubinfeld, Karl Marx, Kenneth Levin, Kurdistan, Moshe Friedman, Reza Pahlavi, Theodor Lessing

A conversation with Pierre Rehov, for Gatestone Institute

A conversation with Pierre Rehov, for Gatestone Institute

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Mai 1, 2026

Pierre Rehov — Source: Wikimedia Commons

Pierre Rehov is a French–Israeli documentary filmmaker, director, and novelist. He is notably known for his movies about the Arab–Israeli conflict and Israeli–Palestinian conflict, its treatment in the media, and about terrorism.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Are Iran’s and Hamas’s October 7, 2023 jihadi attacks on Israel responses to what they claim, that Israel is on their land?

  Pierre Rehov: Jews have lived on that land for nearly 4,000 years. Palestinians, by contrast, contrary to myth, actually do not exist. As the late PLO senior official Zoheir Mohsen openly stated in an interview with the Dutch daily Trouw on March 31, 1977: “The Palestinian people does not exist. The creation of a Palestinian state is only a means for continuing our struggle against the state of Israel for our Arab unity. In reality, today there is no difference between Jordanians, Palestinians, Syrians and Lebanese. Only for political and tactical reasons do we speak today about the existence of a Palestinian people, since Arab national interests demand that we posit the existence of a distinct Palestinian people to oppose Zionism.”

  In modern times, the Palestinians are really just assorted Arabs who happened to be in Israel in 1948. They chose to leave after five Arab armies invaded the new nation on the day of its birth, either to avoid being in the middle of a war, or often at the urging of their fellow Arabs, who told them to get out of the way to make it easier to kill the Jews. When these often self-exiled Arabs tried to return to Israel after the Arabs lost the war—an event in Arabic called the nakba, the catastrophe—Israel refused to admit them based on their earlier disloyalty. Arabs who did not leave Israel now make up just over 20% of Israel’s population of nearly 10 million, are called Israeli Arabs, and have equal rights with the Jews, except for not being required to serve in the Israeli army unless they so choose.

  After losing the war, to pressure Israel, Arab countries refused to admit their approximately roughly 700,000 Arab brethren as well, even though Israel, the size of New Jersey, made room for a commensurate number of Jews who had fled Arab countries.

  In short, the Palestinian attacks on Israel on October 7, 2023 were not “in retaliation” for anything. In fact, they had just pledged a ceasefire with Israel, and Israel had recently issued 27,000 new daily work permits to enable Gazans to enter Israel, where they could earn a better wage. October 7 was not a “reaction.” It was just the latest episode in a multi-millenary history of attacks on Jews. It was a declaration of intent, of ideology, and of a civilizational fault line that many in the West have spent decades refusing to see.

  A pogrom or a jihad is not defined by a map; it is defined by a mindset: the idea that Jews may be hunted as such—women, children, the elderly—because their very existence is deemed illegitimate. That is why I titled my 2025 film Pogrom(s). Hamas did not attack military targets to “end an occupation.” It attacked families to affirm an old doctrine: the Jew is not an opponent; the Jew is a problem to be erased.

  If you want to understand October 7, forget the comforting story of “desperation turning violent.” Pogroms are not born from desperation; they are born from permission—social, religious, political permission to commit the unthinkable and feel righteous doing it.

  What happened that day also exposed the West’s moral confusion. Many people looked at videos of barbarity and still rushed to “contextualize,” rationalize, excuse. This reflex is precisely what keeps pogroms returning throughout history: the world’s temptation to treat Jewish blood as a negotiable detail in a political narrative.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you relate the birth and development of the anti-Israel movie industry, especially after the film Exodus portrayed Israelis as heroic?

  Pierre Rehov: It may have started after the alleged death of a young Arab boy, Muhammad al-Durrah, in 2000. Israel was accused of shooting him to death even though in film clips there was no blood to be seen, and after his supposed death, he can be seen lifting a hand to look out from under it. The episode became a turning point. The images, broadcast worldwide, showed a child allegedly shot deliberately by Israeli soldiers. The narrative was immediate, emotional, definitive. Israel was guilty. End of story.

  The case was never as clear as presented. Serious doubts emerged about the staging, the angles of fire, the editing, the absence of forensic transparency. Whether one believes the child was killed in crossfire or not, what mattered is that the footage became a weapon before it became a fact.

  More importantly, it revived something ancient: the blood libel—the accusation that Jews murder children. This medieval myth, responsible for countless pogroms, was simply updated for the satellite era.

  The term “Pallywood“—anti-Israel films, frequently built on falsehoods, and masquerading as pro-Palestinian—is not about denying suffering. It is about exposing the systematic staging, scripting, and amplification of imagery designed to fit a predetermined accusation.

  You could see this machinery yourself in any investigation of the Battle of Jenin in 2002. At the time, international headlines were speaking of a “massacre.” Hundreds killed. Entire neighborhoods razed. The emotional narrative was already fixed.

  There, I encountered individuals presenting themselves as medical authorities and witnesses. One of them, Dr. Abu Raley, claimed that the Israeli army had destroyed a building belonging to his hospital. He described it in dramatic detail. The story was powerful. It was ready for cameras.

  There was only one problem: the building was intact. Standing. Undamaged. The alleged ruin simply did not exist.

  In the Battle of Jenin, there was never any “confusion in the fog of war.” The story that part of a hospital had been destroyed was a total fabrication. It revealed something essential: a good story has priority over reality.

  Anti-Israel films are a method: a communication strategy in which scenes are rehearsed, ambulances are summoned for choreography, children are positioned for optimum publicity, and Western journalists—sometimes naive, sometimes ideologically predisposed—broadcast it without verification.

The genius of the system is psychological. Once the image circulates, correction becomes irrelevant. The emotional verdict has already been delivered.

  In modern warfare, the camera is no longer documenting the battle. It is part of the battlefield. The objective is not only to accuse Israel. It is to morally disarm the West. If you can persuade democratic societies that defending themselves equals murdering children, you have already won half the war.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Are the Israelis fighting only for themselves? Or are they fighting, besides, for the whole of the Western civilization?

  Pierre Rehov: Israel is fighting—obviously—for its survival, but not only that. Israel is fighting to preserve Western civilization, and at a frontier the West prefers not to name: Islamic extremism and its call for global political control. Hamas, Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, and the Iranian regime do not hate Israel for what it does. They hate Israel for what it is: an infidel state—and in their midst. If Israel were a Christian state, the same problem would exist. Just look at the genocide in Nigeria—with more than 52,000 Christians killed in just 14 years—in a free society, which is a visible rejection of the Islamic totalitarian dream.

  The Palestinian project is not a “two-state solution” or “a better border.” The project is a world where religious and political absolutism rules, where minorities submit or vanish, where women are controlled, where dissent is crushed. Israel is the laboratory target. If the West rewards October 7 with political gains, it teaches a lesson to every violent movement on earth: massacre pays. So yes—Israel is defending itself, and in doing so, it is also defending the principle that civilization cannot survive if it negotiates with barbarity as if it were a partner who is misunderstood.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You raised the Nazi and Soviet origins of Islamism—and of the so-called Palestinian cause. How do you retrace those origins?

  Pierre Rehov: Let’s be precise: Political Islam was not “created” by Nazis or Soviets. It has its own religious roots. Modern jihadist politics borrowed heavily from 20th-century totalitarian toolkits—Nazi and Soviet alike: mass indoctrination, the cult of death, scapegoating, manipulating crowds through grievance and myth. Historically, there has also been direct contact and ideological cross-pollination. The Mufti of Jerusalem, Haj Amin al-Husseini, collaborated with Nazi Germany. He met with Hitler in 1941—an emblematic moment showing that radical anti-Jewish mobilization in the region was not only “local,” but plugged into Europe’s genocidal imagination.

  As for the “Palestinian cause” as a modern political brand, the Soviet model of the USSR perfected exporting “liberation” narratives, packaging conflicts into revolutionary frames, and the use of proxy groups for strategic warfare. When Russia’s leaders saw that Israel had no interest in adopting its brand of socialism or communism, it seems to have turned its attention to supporting Israel’s opponents. PLO and Palestinian Authority leader Yasser Arafat first, and later the Palestinian Authority’s current President Mahmoud Abbas—now in the 21st year of his four-year term—were groomed in Moscow by the KGB and its satellites. A lieutenant general in the Socialist Republic of Romania’s Securitate, the secret police, Ion Mihai Pacepa, who defected to the West in 1978, wrote: “In March 1978 I secretly brought Arafat to Bucharest for final instructions on how to behave in Washington. “You simply have to keep on pretending that you’ll break with terrorism and that you’ll recognize Israel—over, and over, and over,” Ceausescu told him for the umpteenth time. Ceauşescu was euphoric over the prospect that both Arafat and he might be able to snag a Nobel Peace Prize with their fake displays of the olive branch.”

  Whether through training, arms flows, or propaganda doctrine, the Cold War era shaped a whole ecosystem in which anti-Western agitation could be sold as virtue. The result is what we see today: a hybrid ideology—religious absolutism wearing the clothes of revolutionary victimhood—distributed to Western audiences through media and academia.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You studied the esoteric dimension of Nazism. What are your findings on that issue?

  Pierre Rehov: Nazism was not merely political; it aspired to be metaphysical. It tried to replace Judaism and Christianity with a racial religion—an occultized worldview in which blood becomes sacred, cruelty becomes purification, and conquest becomes destiny. The religious flavor of Nazism served two functions: it offered a mythic justification for domination, and it insulated followers from moral reality. When you turn history into myth, you no longer need ethics—you only need obedience to the “mission.”

  While I was writing The Third Testament, a novel published in English, it became clear that Hitler regularly consulted mediums. Even more striking was Heinrich Himmler’s obsession with magic, witches and demons. Recently, his personal library was found in a warehouse near Prague. It contained more than 6,000 esoteric works, including rare volumes on witchcraft. The initiation ritual required to become a member of the SS drew directly from these occult beliefs. Many Nazi symbols—the SS runes, the Nazi salute, the swastika—were rooted in “esoteric” symbolism. This dimension of Nazism is often minimized, yet it reveals that the regime did not see itself merely as a political movement, but as a quasi-religious order claiming spiritual legitimacy for its crimes.

  That is why the Nazi project felt to many like a perverse religion or spiritual movement: it provided meaning, ritual, identity, and a transcendent excuse for the worst crimes.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How does that esoteric thought that led to Nazism differ from that esoteric thought that can be called Judeo-Christian?[i]

  Pierre Rehov: The difference is enormous, of course. Nazi “religiosity” basically promotes anti-ethics that masquerade as transcendence. It is essentially racial pagan mysticism that glorifies force, status and “purity.” It dissolves the individual into the tribe and turns the “other” into a dangerous contaminant. Judeo-Christian spiritual traditions—even when they explore mysteries, symbols and initiations—remain anchored in the dignity of the individual person, moral responsibility, and the idea that facts are inseparable from conscience. Christian thinkers are usually not about exterminating imperfection; they are about elevating the human being—fallible, free and accountable. In the Nazi vision and in many Middle Eastern interpretations of religion, it exists to justify domination. In the Judeo-Christian vision, religion exists to deepen humility and love.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: From the Évian Accords to the recognition of the Palestinian state, how do you assess the Arab policy of the French Fifth Republic?

  Pierre Rehov: France’s Arab policy under the Fifth Republic has seemed to oscillate between grandeur and blindness. From President Charles de Gaulle onward, there was a strategic aim: to cultivate oil as energy and diplomatic leverage, to secure influence in the Arab world, which during the 1975 “oil crisis” looked as if it had most of the world’s oil, and to position France as a mediator distinct from Washington. Too often, however, this stance became a reflex of moral equivalence—treating democracies and terror movements as two symmetrical parties in a “conflict,” rather than distinguishing defense from aggression.

  The culmination is the contemporary temptation to adopt diplomatic gestures that may flatter French self-image but can also reward intransigence, disinformation and terrorism. France’s announcement that it recognized a non-existent Palestinian state in July 2025 is a prime example: a move presented as “peace” that instead rewards terror and confirms that “terrorism works, so let’s keep on doing it!”—thereby encouraging actors who see concessions as weakness and what they are doing as delivering success. It reinforces the sales pitch that jihad and terrorism are the fastest ways to get what you want. France could have been a voice for realism and the values of civilization. Instead, it keeps choosing the comfort of theatrical posing.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Trump’s foreign policy is centered on dealmaking and punctual, short-run military intervention. Do you fear that those factors may prevent the USA and Israel from settling, for good, the Hamas or mullahs issue?

  Pierre Rehov: I do not fear “dealmaking” as such. I fear deals that confuse calm with peace. If a deal buys time for the “wrong” side, it is not a deal—it is an extension of the threat. Hamas and the Iranian regime have proven that they interpret restraint as opportunity. So, the question is not whether America prefers short operations or long wars. The question is whether America draws lines that are credible, and whether it enforces them. As for domestic political constraints, every administration has them. The point is that Israel cannot outsource its survival, and the United States cannot pretend that totalitarian jihadism can be “managed” indefinitely. Either you dismantle the infrastructure of terror, or it regrows.

  Yes, Vice President JD Vance represents a strand of American skepticism toward foreign entanglements. That is a legitimate debate. Israel’s enemies, however, are not about “entanglements.” They are imposing a war on civilization.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: If a diplomatic solution were to be found to the Ukrainian issue, would it be beneficial to the West?

  Pierre Rehov: Diplomacy is beneficial only if it restores deterrence. A settlement that rewards aggression teaches the world that borders are temporary and violence is profitable. Such a lesson would not stay in Eastern Europe; it would travel—into the Middle East, into Asia, into every contested frontier. So yes, a diplomatic outcome can be good—if it protects sovereignty, if it prevents repetition, and if it signals strength rather than fatigue. Peace that is built on amnesia is not peace; it is a pause before the next war.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Thank you for your time. Would you like to add anything else?

  Pierre Rehov: We are living through a war of reality. Weapons kill bodies. Propaganda kills judgment. When judgment collapses, democracies begin to hate themselves, to doubt their right to defend their citizens, and to romanticize forces that would destroy them.

  My work is not about “taking sides” in a political quarrel. It is about refusing the lie—because when the lie wins, the innocent pay, and history repeats its darkest chapters with updated slogans.   The West will not be defeated by lack of power. It will be defeated—if it is defeated—by the refusal to oppose danger when they see it.


[i] Judeo-Christian esotericism encompasses Christian Kabbalah (Pico della Mirandola), the Élus Coëns (Martinez de Pasqually), Christian theosophy (Louis-Claude de Saint-Martin), Christian Masonry (Jean-Baptiste Willermoz), or Orthodox Christian Existentialism (Nikolai Berdyaev).


That conversation was originally published on Gatestone Institute’s website, in March 2026

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Donald Trump, Grégoire Canlorbe, Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Judeo-Christian esotericism, Nazism, October 7, Pierre Rehov, Ukraine

A conversation with Jean-Pierre Talbot, for BulletProof Action

A conversation with Jean-Pierre Talbot, for BulletProof Action

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Jan 20, 2026

  Jean-Pierre Talbot is Belgian. A teacher and then school principal, he is known for being the only real-life Tintin. Discovered as a teenager for his resemblance to Hergé’s hero and for his considerable athletic abilities, he was selected from thousands of candidates for this challenge. He acted in two live-action films: Tintin and the Golden Fleece (1961), directed by Jean-Jacques Vierne, and Tintin and the Blue Oranges (1964), directed by Philippe Condroyer. He recounted this experience in the book I Was Tintin in Film.

Grégoire Canlorbe: How does the world of Tintin differ from ours?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: That’s a tricky question. Hergé was always a witness of his time: if he were to redo Tintin in the Congo today, he would certainly start with a completely different scenario. At the time, he was criticized for the image of the “good little white man” educating the docile and kind “little black man”… and, in this logic, many gags would obviously no longer exist. Hergé would still be a witness of his time, but with a different sensitivity. He would likely highlight current realities, like the fate of child soldiers, and Tintin would seek to help them free themselves from wars in Africa.

  The scene where Tintin shoots a rifle and kills all the gazelles, or the one where he blows up a rhinoceros with dynamite: today, Hergé would not draw those either.

  At its core, the world of Tintin is primarily about friendship; there’s a bit of humor too. Something dynamic, but without excess: intrepid, yes, but not reckless; cautious nonetheless. That’s how I see the Tintin universe. Friendship is central and very strong, as we see with Tchang in The Blue Lotus or in Tintin in Tibet.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you react to the message—in favor of GMOs—of the second film?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I experienced the filming as an adventure happening to me, without ever philosophizing about it.

  Regarding GMOs: first, it’s not really a script by Hergé, it’s a script by André Barret, who is also a co-producer. The story is by Goscinny, Philippe Condroyer, Rémo Forlani, and Barret, based on Hergé’s work.

  The hunger in the world was indeed set against the backdrop of the plot, but the idea was mainly to fuel the adventure. A colleague of Calculus [in French: Tournesol] presents an invention: inedible oranges, but capable of growing in the desert. Essentially, it’s not so much a story about GMOs as it is a story of scientists seeking a solution to combat hunger and, in a way, “save the world.”

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You filmed in Turkey and Greece for the first film; then, for the second film, in Spain.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: The old quarters of Istanbul are wonderful. At times, I felt a bit like I was in the Middle Ages—in a good way. We didn’t have much contact with the locals: the residents were mostly there, watching us shoot. Tintin—Tenten—is, by the way, very popular in Turkey.

  I also have a memorable experience of Greece. I love sports, already… and as someone who did athletics, I felt like I was “taking the start” in stone starting blocks at the Olympic stadium.

  In Spain, however, the atmosphere was entirely different. When I filmed there, it was the Civil Guard, and I was constantly reminded: “Don’t put a foot out of line. The Civil Guard, you do what they say, right away.” It was the time of Franco.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You played alongside two successive actors for Haddock, as well as for Calculus. What comparison do you make?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Yes, almost all the actors were different from one production to the next. Between the two films, there were hardly anyone left except for Milou and me.

  For Haddock, there was, first, Georges Wilson. He was lively, with a huge presence: he could almost have pushed himself in front of the camera, taken all the space, and made Tintin a secondary character. He had a wonderful presence; he was a marvelous actor… but he was really showy. I was sixteen at the time, and after two days of shooting, I told him, “Hey, Georges… the star is Tintin!” He said, “Huh? What?” And the producer told him, “Yes, Georges, keep it up…” Then he added, “Jean-Pierre is right.” It wasn’t to elevate me: it was to prevent him from “eating” the character of Tintin. In the end, it went very well.

  Besides, I didn’t like to rehearse. He, on the contrary, needed to rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. He had directed the national theater at the Palais de Chaillot, succeeded Jean Vilar at the Théâtre national populaire… so, naturally, rehearsal was part of his method: the more he rehearsed, the better he was. Whereas for me, the more I rehearsed, the more it became linear, flat. It was really in the first take that I was just right.

  Then, there was Jean Bouise. With him, it was much more intimate: more philosophical, more humorous, simpler, perhaps. He might have lacked a bit of presence and liveliness, but I believe the combination of the two would have produced an exceptional Haddock. That said, both of them played their roles very well. We got along well; we worked well together.

  In the first film, The Golden Fleece, Professor Calculus was very endearing: he was a true “clown,” the oldest clown in France. Georges Loriot, very lively, a magnificent character. And there were also Charles Vanel, Marcel Bozzuffi, Darío Moreno… In short, quite a dazzling cast. In The Blue Oranges, Félix Fernández was just as extraordinary in his portrayal of Calculus.

  The Golden Fleece and The Blue Oranges were heavily criticized by so-called « intellectual » critics and Parisian hipsters: “It’s bad, everyone is bad,” and so on. While the public responded enthusiastically.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You acted for two distinct directors: what do you take away from their respective methods?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: We shot while being witnesses to what was happening, as if it were live, real. And yet, it was still cinema: a lot of waiting. Waiting for everything to settle, waiting for things to come together, waiting for it to happen.

  If one of the two directors had techniques that the other didn’t, I didn’t really notice. I wasn’t a technician. What I can say is that both films were shot in the same way.

  What is quite surprising is that at the end of both shoots, I would have been incapable of recounting the story from beginning to end. However, I could recount each sequence, each scene, each passage in detail. Simply because we don’t shoot in order: we shoot by locations. We arrive at a place and film what’s happening there, whether it’s the end of the film, the beginning, or the middle. We don’t follow the chronology.

  And everything was outdoors, which was very pleasant. The interiors were done in the studio—but very little. Fifteen days, three weeks maximum. I remember fifteen days in Boulogne-Billancourt.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: A third film, it seems to me, almost happened, and it was supposed to be set in India.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I heard that the third film was supposed to take place in India, with horses, etc., but I don’t really remember it. In fact, I never read the script.

  This third film didn’t happen for several reasons. First, the producer had made a very good living: we had almost as many admissions as La Grande Vadrouille. It was the era of neighborhood cinemas, with endless lines on the sidewalks for each screening, every two hours. It was very impressive. In short, he had made his business.

  Since he wasn’t a full-time producer, he also had another life. Thanks to the films, he was able to acquire a nice little château on the Loire—not Cheverny, but a sober, very decent château. At one point, he simply said, “Okay, that’s enough.”

  On my side, after the first film, I completed my studies and then I started teaching. I then shot the second film. I set a very clear framework: “I am free from the beginning of the Easter holidays until the end of the summer holidays. If the film is ready, that’s six months: we can make it.” If I had these requirements, it was because I was a teacher. Parents entrusted me with their children; they didn’t want to see me clowning in front of a camera afterward. This created difficulties for the making of the third film.   Television came to the classroom, journalists came too, and the children were often on screen. They had their photos in many newspapers. In their own way, my students had become stars.

Jean-Pierre Talbot (on the right) and Grégoire Canlorbe (on the left)

Grégoire Canlorbe: Did you take part in the writing of “your” two Tintin movies?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Not at all. On the other hand, I knew Tintin much better than the producer who wrote the script. How many times did I not say, “But Tintin would never do that!” I was answered, “Yes, but it’s in the movie.” Okay… then we discussed it with the director and the producer: “What would Tintin do then?” “Well, simply this.” And every time, my opinion held authority.

  Moreover, in the second film, it was I who suggested abandoning the blue sweater for the yellow polo, because it fit Tintin better. I also added little details that I had noticed in the albums. For example, at the moment when we think we’ve found the gold from The Golden Fleece, I improvised a little Russian dance: in the albums, when Tintin is happy, he often does this kind of little dance. These are details, but they matter.

  And above all, I brought a lot of atmosphere, a lot of momentum: “Come on, let’s go!” I added rhythm, pushed the energy, and tried to give movement to the whole.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: As a teacher who has written your memoirs, what difference do you see between the art of writing a narrative (whether autobiographical), the art of writing a comic book, and the art of writing a film?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I am not an intellectual—not to that extent. For me, whether one is working on a narrative, a comic, or a screenplay, there has to be a framework first. Then, this framework gets dressed up, builds itself, as long as you have a clear line, a line that carries the story.

  I wouldn’t really know how to explain it better, but comic books are a bit like cinema—except that you have time to build it. You can modify, adjust, go back, refine. But without a solid base—a good story foundation, a good script—I don’t see how one could make an excellent film.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you explain the explosion of creativity that occurred in Belgian comic books from the 1930s to the 1980s?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Belgium, at the time, was a real hub: they saw each other, laughed together, supported each other, engaged, and drew everywhere. There was a very strong sense of camaraderie. You could find that spirit in France as well.

  For example, François Walthéry—the artist of Natacha, still very well known today, and a good buddy—worked for Peyo, he also worked for Franquin. At that time, they all worked for each other. That’s what made the scene thrive.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: As a teacher and school principal, have you noticed a decline in standards?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I have indeed noticed a decline in standards, but not during the time I was teaching: I have been retired for a long time. I stopped at 58, and I am 82 today… I am an old man, on the edge of the abyss.

  If we talk about spelling or grammar—which includes our direct object—I can tell you that when I had a sixth-grade class, the last year of primary school, the children wrote. They really wrote. Today, they have pre-made sheets, they do nothing: everything is told to them.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Did Tintin character have a particular importance for you before you became him onscreen?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Of course. I should say that I was born in 1943: I learned to read around 1949, in the early 50s. On Saint Nicholas Day, all the little Belgians received a Tintin album, a Dinky Toys car, a marzipan pig, two or three Nik Naks, and a tangerine. That was the ritual.

  So naturally, I knew Tintin very well. We had newspapers, we didn’t read much else, and television didn’t exist. Thanks to the albums, I discovered that there were animals in Africa, skyscrapers in New York, Inca civilization, China… In short, we discovered the world through Tintin.

  And then there were beautiful adventures. There was a real bond of friendship, a certain rigor, politeness, decorum. There was also a lot of humor—sometimes with a little excess, especially because of Captain Haddock and his only “small defects.”

  Deep down, I was truly immersed in the world of Tintin, without being an obsessive fan. Tintin was simply part of my life, as it was for many. That’s why older generations remain so attached to it, even today: they grew up with Tintin.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How did you so easily get into the character’s shoes?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I never “got into the skin” of Tintin. I acted as if the adventure was happening to me, and ultimately, it matched up. Besides, before all this, no one had ever told me I looked like Tintin: neither my friends, nor my family, no one.

  And then, it’s important to understand one thing: Tintin’s face, in reality, does not exist. It’s an oval, an ear drawn like a cup handle, two black circles for eyes, a little bit of a nose, a mouth reduced to a dot or a line… no eyebrows. So, in the end, no one really looks like Tintin.

  It all started on the beach in Ostend. Someone approached me and asked: “Do you know Tintin?” Of course I knew Tintin: everyone knew him. I replied: “Yes… are we making a film? What a great idea!” I thought they were going to ask if I had someone among my friends who could fit the role. But no: they asked if I would accept.

  I had no idea what it represented… except that, in my heart, I was already there. A photo was sent to Paris to the producer. I was then called for a first audition. Apparently, they had been searching for three years, through the press, etc. Many well-known actors had come forward, and even—apparently—a little Japanese boy who said: “Me, I am Tintin!” I never felt like Tintin. Yet, they took me on this adventure.

  It was during the school holidays, around August. I was a sports instructor on a beach in Ostend because I was aiming for teaching and I did a lot of sports. My two “areas” were kids and physical activity: helping the little ones not to be afraid of the water and to dare to put their heads underwater, organizing races, games, high jumps, long jumps… sports, basically.

  Ten days after school started, I was called to Paris to do a screen test. They put me in pants: “But come on, this is not Tintin’s pants! Look how thick it is! And the color… it’s too brown!” I knew Tintin better than they did. They stuck a “Mohawk” tuft on me: it’s true that it sometimes goes like that, but everyone knows it’s mainly parallel to the forehead… And then they took me to a set where they were filming La Princesse de Clèves with Marina Vlady and Jean Marais.

  I was sure they wouldn’t choose me. I was just discovering a film studio: it was already a wonderful experience. I never saw Jean Marais or Marina Vlady: there was a well of light, technicians around, twenty or thirty people. I was behind all that, and suddenly I hear: “Cut!” Then: “Oh no, no, no, the camera is rolling! Come on Jean-Pierre, move forward. The camera is rolling, do what you want!” So I thought: Tintin is someone nice, sporty… I’m going to be nice and I’m going to do sports. It was smarter for me than reciting a fable from La Fontaine that I didn’t master, and anyway, I didn’t want to “give myself up” as an actor. I was opening up where I felt best.

  And I made everyone laugh. I started with acrobatic sequences—what we called a “cumulet,” forward-backward—then a front somersault, a back somersault. I had no space, no momentum, so I attempted a flip. No risky moves: I would have needed momentum and someone to protect me. Everyone was laughing. And to finish, I did an asymmetrical bump: you act like a puppet, arms and legs in the same direction, then suddenly the legs continue on one side and the arms go off the other. We did that several times, there was even a technician who tried… I created a lively atmosphere, that’s it. What do you want me to do else? They put me back on the train: “Thank you Jean-Pierre, that was very good.”

  A week later, they called me again. This time, they said: “Jean-Pierre, it’s going to be more difficult, you will really have to act.” Okay. They dressed me up as Tintin. They had changed the pants: the fabric was no longer thick, on the contrary, it was too thin, it looked like a veil, something that floats… in short, ridiculous. I put on the one I preferred and they took me to the surroundings of Paris, to a small villa with a garden. And there, I spotted two or three boys, further away, dressed as Tintin. And I also saw someone dressed as Captain Haddock.

  Later, I understood: the ‘Haddock’ was Georges Wilson. He had already signed on. And I suppose the producer had told him: “Take a look, Georges, see if we can do something with that kid there.” They made me do a simple scene: Snowy [in French: Milou] under my arm, bandits behind me, hiding behind a tree and observing. It wasn’t difficult, but I found it amusing.

  Then, I was chosen. From then on, I stayed in Paris for four or five months. They wanted me to do a whole bunch of things, including acting classes. I didn’t want to: first because I was lazy, and mainly because I didn’t want to learn lines that didn’t interest me. On the other hand, I was observing. I watched how it all happened. I picked up details, looks, I understood things. I also went to see rehearsals at the Théâtre national, at the Palais de Chaillot, and I learned a lot—not by doing, but by watching.

  They also wanted to “create” Tintin: how he walks, how he treads the ground, how he moves his heel, his arm… They told me: “Be Tintin.” But if I walked like that, it didn’t work. I had to take mime classes: I became a puppet, it was ridiculous.

  Then, I was taught judo. There, however, I was truly in my element. Two years later, I had a black belt, pre-selected for the Belgian national team, among the top five Belgians. I was very sporty: at fifteen, I was a finalist in the Belgian 100-meter championship, running in 11”5–11”6. And at that time, there wasn’t any track surface: it was cinder, sometimes wet… anyway, it didn’t matter. I felt good when moving.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: What role did Hergé play in your training?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: What really boosted me was the first time I met Hergé.

  I had an appointment that ended earlier. Like a good little boy, I returned to the production to ask what I needed to do. And on that day, Hergé was in Paris. He hadn’t announced himself: he was there for a reason that concerned no one. No matter. He thought: “Well, I have a bit of time, I’ll drop by to say hello to the production.” As a result, we arrived at the same time. To production: “Hergé, Jean-Pierre is here.” And to me: “Jean-Pierre, Hergé is here.”

  I wondered what he would say. In reality, I hardly cared: whether they found me a good or bad actor, that wasn’t the main thing. They had been looking for three years, I was doing them a favor, and I was just having fun making a film, that was it. But I still had a mission. I knew Tintin, I had grown up with him, and I really didn’t want to disappoint the children. So what Hergé would think when he saw me… I was inevitably a bit apprehensive.

  I suppose he had already seen the photo. And then he said it himself: “It’s not my film.” But if it strayed too far, he could also say: “No, this is ridiculous: this is no longer Tintin, we need to change the title.” Basically: it’s not his film, okay, but if we keep the name Tintin, we need to stay within the framework.

  Barret had warned me: “You will either be boosted or completely annihilated.” Barret introduced me: “Jean-Pierre, Hergé.” And there… there was a silence. It seemed to last an eternity, when in fact it was only a few fractions of a second. Hergé placed his hand on my shoulder—I remember it as if it were yesterday—tilted his head, very paternal, and said to the producer, with a smile… He didn’t say: “You made a good choice,” nor “He looks like him, he’ll do.” He simply said: “It’s him.”

  And that, really, boosted me. The next day, since Hergé was still there, I was dressed for the first time as Tintin “in full”. They took me to rue Mouffetard in Paris. Paris Match was there. Hergé was there. And I walked, wondering what was going to happen. And then, suddenly: “Tintin! Tintin!” Five, ten, fifteen, twenty… thirty, fifty… a hundred people around me, little by little. And they asked me for autographs. It was very strange, almost embarrassing. I signed: “Sincerely, Jean-Pierre Talbot.” And then no: I was no longer Jean-Pierre Talbot. People wanted Tintin. Tintin.

  So I looked at Hergé, a bit lost. And he made me understand: “But yes, Jean-Pierre, you must.” He recognized me as Tintin. He allowed me—and even invited me—to sign as Tintin. And since then, I sign as Tintin because the public wishes it. But I always add my name, Jean-Pierre Talbot: not to make myself known, simply out of respect for Hergé.

  And what is incredible is that I still receive mail today. Not from twenty-year-olds, of course, but from those who are fifty, sixty… For them, the first time they see me, they get goosebumps, tears in their eyes. They don’t know how to address me: “Mr. Tintin… Jean-Pierre…” And they say to me: ‘You made me dream.’ That really means something.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Do you have a particular interest in Bécassine character, which inspired Tintin?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: No, I have never had a particular interest in the character of Bécassine. I simply know that Joseph Pinchon drew the original albums, and that Béja draws the new Bécassine.

  I have been involved for a long time in organizing sporting events. I went from tennis to skiing, and then I dedicated myself to canicross. I am practically the founder of canicross in Belgium: I was the president of the Belgian federation, I created the International Federation, and I am still a member of the board of directors. I also launched a race that is now in its 25th edition—next year, it will therefore be the 26th. This makes it the oldest canicross in the world in a relatively recent discipline: some events may have existed earlier, but none have lasted as long.

  For the 25th edition, everyone knows who I am—Tintin—and we thought we would emphasize Tintin a bit to mark this anniversary. So I set up an exhibition with old canicross-related objects—old bibs, posters, photos—but also pieces related to Tintin: my golf pants, the blue orange, the helm from the Golden Fleece, drawings—notably by Hergé—and other souvenirs.

  For the occasion, we even replaced the traditional medals given to winners on the podiums with a drawing. And this year, a drawing of Bécassine will be offered.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Would you say that the character of Tintin changes throughout the albums, becoming, for example, a bit more relaxed (like when he does yoga in Tintin and the Picaros)?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I don’t find that he changes much, no. He is—and remains—very active. At the time, he did yoga to relax; today, he would probably go jogging. By the way, in The Golden Fleece, I’m the one who said Tintin should go jogging in the morning, with Snowy, in the garden of Moulinsart.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Over the course of the two films, do you think the character evolves?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: No, the character remains the same. Apart from the golf pants and the trait, the character hasn’t changed either in the drawn stories. At the very beginning of the character, there is a more abstract drawing, in the style of Art Nouveau: he doesn’t really have the look of Tintin, he has, for example, a coat that is askew.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Would you agree to play an aged version of Tintin?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Tintin does not age. I knew that a third film was possible. But I had made a clear condition: my priority was to shoot between the beginning of the Easter holidays and the end of the summer holidays. If it wasn’t feasible in that time slot, then it wouldn’t happen.

  And then, I found myself at thirty. At that point, I said to myself: if they offer me the film now, I will say no. I won’t run as fast anymore, I won’t be as lively, I will be older… I won’t be Tintin anymore. That’s all.

  I actually talked about it with Hergé. I asked him: “But how old is Tintin?” I already knew what he was going to say. He told me: “For me, he is between sixteen and eighteen years old.” “But come on, that’s not possible: he no longer lives with his parents, he has a driving license, an apartment, he ‘works’…” “Yes, I know, but for me, Tintin remains in that age range.”

  Grégoire Canlorbe: What would you think of a film adaptation of Tintin and the Alph-Art, which would propose an ending to the story left unfinished by Hergé?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I agree that there should be no other drawn stories of Tintin. A film adaptation of Tintin and the Alph-Art that invents an ending, why not.

  There are, however, talented artists capable of pastiching Tintin and imagining a coherent conclusion to this story. I know one, a Canadian, who created a pastiche of Tintin and the Alph-Art proposing an ending—Yves Rodier. He does not have permission to sell this album. There is also a French, Harry Edwood, whose style is very close to Hergé’s.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you see the evolution of filmmaking between your Tintin movies and Spielberg’s?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Before, it was a studio camera: long like this, wide like this, tall like this, and soundproofed. We shot on film, and it was expensive. Today, you can almost shoot with a camera.

  For Spielberg, there are parts that I loved… and others that horrified me. Overall, I like the script: the mix of three stories is felt, and it complements quite well, I think. There are very nice visual discoveries: for example, the dunes by the sea, those dunes that become waves, and those in the desert that also transform into waves—it’s really beautiful.

  The battle of the ancestors on the Unicorn is superb. The idea of the descendants then fighting with cranes is very clever… but the fight lasts half an hour: after a while, you get bored. Cranes doing this, then doing that, and doing that again… it’s padding, it’s ridiculous.

  On the other hand, the scene with the sidecar chasing the parchment carried by the bird is magnificent: that’s really Tintin. But once again, it lasts too long. He should have shortened it, saved some time. And with that time, he had plenty to add Calculus’s submarine.

  There is one thing that horrifies me: Hergé would never have let that pass. He would have forbidden it. In the scene with the yellow plane in Africa, out of fuel, Haddock makes a reference—supposedly a whiff of alcohol—to restart a dry engine… But it’s vulgar! How could such a passage be allowed? That’s not Tintin. Period.

  So yes, the film remains close in places, and there are really very beautiful, even genius parts. But who am I, a little schoolteacher, to dare criticize the great Spielberg?

  Grégoire Canlorbe: What do you think of Jamie Bell’s performance?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: He moves wonderfully. I admired him in the film Billy Elliot. By the way, they all acted (moved) very well.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You performed the stunts for the role of Tintin yourself.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I did everything except pilot the helicopter. I shot in the studio for the scenes where I pretended to pilot, but it was interspersed with shots of a real pilot.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: The tower scene is iconic for the character of Tintin, and for your stunts.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: The descent from the tower: that day, I had a blast.

  I arrive on site: the tower was about twenty meters tall—maybe 20, 25, even 30—and it was also placed on a small hill, which further accentuated the feeling of height. I was really happy because this kind of scene pleased me. In contrast, when I had a day with lines to say, I didn’t enjoy it at all.

  And then I see two guys dressed as Tintin. I wonder, “What are they doing here?” I’m told: “Well, Jean-Pierre, you see… it’s too dangerous, the insurance prohibits it. You’re not going to do it.” So I protest: “No, no, no! Going down is easy. Climbing might be harder, but going down, there’s no difficulty. And it’s my scene!”

  Especially since I was equipped: under my sweater, I had a fireman’s belt, with a rope and carabineers. There wasn’t a net, true, but if I got into trouble, I could clip myself. Well… if I clipped myself, someone would obviously have to come and get me.

  Honestly, the descent is quite easy. Even today, I think I could do it again. So I insist, and they let me do it. And it’s true that the only moment I had a shock was when I straddled; I thought, “Oh my, I can’t believe it.” But once I launched, there was nothing left to do but go for it.

  I was there, both hands almost in the void. But really, everyone is capable of holding onto a bar: whether there’s a void below or just fifty centimeters, the gesture is the same.

  We did it in one take, with three cameras. Finished.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: The scene of the dive and of the chest’s retrieval is equally iconic.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: A good half-hour in the pool, to empty the mask! However, it wasn’t deep—no more than seven meters.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Let’s also mention the scene with the rope in the well, the chase scene in the market, or the various fight scenes.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: Climbing the rope in the well was just as enjoyable an experience as descending along the tower.

  The market scene was great: we had a lot of fun. There was a carriage, Haddock was getting agitated… I didn’t have a ton of things to do, but it was really very fun.

  As for the fight scenes, I prepared them with my judo instructor, and they were equally fun.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Of the two castles used as a backdrop for the scenes set in Moulinsart, namely Villette for The Golden Fleece and Écully for The Blue Oranges, which do you find most akin to Moulinsart?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I find that Écully has no relation to Moulinsart, at least for the outside. That said, you don’t see much of it from the outside anyway. The interior? We filmed indoors, there you go. Whether it’s there or elsewhere, in the end, it’s the same.

  In contrast, Villette resembles Moulinsart much more, if only because of the park and the surroundings: the color, the volume, the general appearance. But over there, we didn’t film inside. We had nothing to do there: everything happened outside.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: The Château de Cheverny, the inspiration for Moulinsart, hosts a permanent exhibition about Tintin.

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I’m going to do a signing at Cheverny in June. The permanent exhibition is a bit small; I would like the Marine room to be much more extensive. I haven’t seen the exhibition in a few years, but I will see it again, then.

  So we say: see you at the Tintinophile meeting!

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Thank you for your time. Would you like to add a few words?

  Jean-Pierre Talbot: I’ve had a wonderful life with my family. It’s been 61 years of marriage… or 62, I’m not even sure anymore. My daughter lives here, right below, with my son-in-law. We see each other often; we always spend the holidays together. My three grandchildren are very close: I took them skiing, tennis, etc. They are having a great career, both in sports and studies.

  And then, there were my sports. I have been European champion several times; I could even have been world champion, but I was already 60 years old and competing against “kids” of 30. I also played national division tennis, in veterans—50, 55, 60, 65—with players who had played in the Davis Cup. I took care of athletics, then canicross.

  I have many friends too. We’ve done a lot of silly things together, often around sports, sometimes even a bit dangerously.

  And my school? I was the principal. My teachers were also my friends. I’ve never had problems with them: in meetings, they always voted for what I wanted. But I prepared things: I explained, discussed, had a sidebar two weeks before with an older or younger teacher, depending on the case… in short, I anticipated.

  And then, above all, my life has been brightened by the world of Tintin, which allowed me to meet loads of fascinating people. I’ve closely associated with practically all the cartoonists—including Hergé, of course, very often.

  In a watercolor that Hergé gave me for my wedding, he wrote: “To Jean-Pierre and Diana Talbot. Mr. and Mrs. Tintin.” This is the second time he recognizes me as Tintin—and, once again, in a sublime way. He was already old, and I was already 40 or 45 years old, I’m not sure anymore. He must have been at least 65… or 75, sorry—I mix up the numbers a bit.   He once told me, “Jean-Pierre, it’s wonderful: you’ve never demystified my character.”


That conversation was originally published on BulletProof Action, in January 2026

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Grégoire Canlorbe, Hergé, Jean-Pierre Talbot, Steven Spielberg, Tintin, Tintin and the Blue Oranges, Tintin and the Golden Fleece

A conversation with Melchior Wathelet Jr., for The Postil Magazine

A conversation with Melchior Wathelet Jr., for The Postil Magazine

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Jan 19, 2026

Melchior Wathelet Jr. is a Belgian lawyer and entrepreneur, former politician. After a career in the cdH as a federal deputy, then Secretary of State and Minister (Budget, Family, Environment, Energy, Mobility, then Interior), he gradually left politics in the mid-2010s. He then held several executive positions in the private sector, including as CEO of Xperthis (Zorgi) and then CCO of the NRB group, which he left before becoming the majority shareholder and co-CEO of Nexus Communication, a Liège-based company specializing in B2B communication around fleet management and mobility.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you move from politics to business?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: It wasn’t “written in the stars.” I have always liked politics; I really had a great time and enjoyed it a lot. But at some point, there were a series of signals, an alignment of planets, somewhere. We were about to go into opposition, and I always said that I wouldn’t be in politics my whole life.

  In politics, life doesn’t truly belong to you anymore. All these elements told me it might be good to do something else. So I left, quite simply, and decided to move more towards the business world.

  I believe it is good, both in personal life and professional life, to multiply experiences. Rather than recommending it to others, I started applying it to myself.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Would you say your father has been your mentor, both in politics and in business?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: I don’t think my father determined everything, no. Of course, as he is also in politics, he played an important role: I carry his first name, I have the same last name, we have a lot in common, and moreover, we often think the same way.

  It’s clear that at the time I started, being “his son” was a huge asset. After that, it is also important to show your own touch, your own personality in continuity.

  In the business world, it’s different. We talk a lot, of course, but my father was never in business. There, the relationship is more of a father-son relationship, more traditional, and not the same type of relationship as in the political world, where his experience and career helped me a lot.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Tell us about your experience within the NRB group.

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: After my work in politics, I first took over a software development company active in the healthcare sector, called Xperthis. We transformed it into Zorgi, through a series of mergers and acquisitions. Each time, these are very specific journeys, but above all, human journeys. In companies, the most fantastic – and most complicated – element is almost always the human factor: people need to understand what you want to do, they must agree with what you want to change, and at some point, they need to accept to change and evolve themselves, which is never easy. I think we truly succeeded in doing this within Xperthis/Zorgi.

  Gradually, as the main shareholder, NRB needed to strengthen its teams, I became increasingly involved in the management of the group: coordinating subsidiaries, seeking synergies between them, until becoming a member of the management committee. Then I had a moment of stepping back: I no longer felt completely aligned with the company’s strategy and, moreover, several people with whom I had traveled a long way and whom I enjoyed working with were no longer there. I told myself, once again, that it was time to change my life.

  All in all, I moved from politics to an appointed CEO position; from appointed CEO to consultancy; and from consultancy to buying my own company, Nexus, of which I am today the main shareholder. Each time, these are challenges in very different sectors: politics, healthcare, and IT, and now fleet management. And, each time too, in roles and functions that change profoundly.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you find yourself as the majority shareholder and co-CEO of Nexus Communication?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: It’s really, once again, a story of women and men. It all started with a relationship with the former owner of the company and his wife, Caroline Thonnon and Thierry Degives.

  Initially, it was just a simple shared meal, which extended into a bar, then into another restaurant where the discussion went further. Little by little, the conjunction of our positions and mutual interests brought forth an obvious conclusion: we wanted to work together, and they wanted someone to take over the company.

  I wasn’t actively looking at that moment; I wasn’t in that mindset. But the opportunity arose, and I seized it.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: What development strategies do you have in mind for the company?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: I would say there are several things.

  The first is that today we are at the heart of a sector, fleet management—the management of automobile fleets and light commercial vehicles—which is undergoing profound questioning.

  Why? Because of the electrification, sustainability issues, cost pressures, and a changing mobility landscape: we are gradually transitioning from a car ownership mindset to a broader mobility mindset. Added to this are shifting taxation and regulations, which vary and are sometimes difficult to follow depending on the country, the emergence of new players like Chinese manufacturers, and everything related to telematics and embedded IT. We now have data that we didn’t have before, which needs to be collected, managed, and made useful.

  Fleet managers, who are somewhat the buyers within companies, are continuously confronted with manufacturers seeking their new relationship model, leasing companies reorganizing, and telematics players reinventing themselves. All of this creates an enormous need for optimization and support in a sector and community that are truly at a turning point.

  Fundamentally, our role is to help this community. How? In several ways.

  First, by strengthening and evolving our various platforms: IT tools, communication channels, media, events, content production… All of this needs to continue to develop, with an increasing role for technology and artificial intelligence.

  Next, by massively reinvesting in the educational aspect: how to better train, better share expertise, and uplift the skills within the fleet management ecosystem.

  Finally, by continuing our geographical and sectoral development. In Europe, we are already very well positioned in a very mature market. We have invested in the Asia-Pacific region, in Latin America, and we must continue: this year, for example, we are returning to Turkey, and we are also expanding our community to include everything related to the second life of vehicles.

  We remain a small structure; we are not a multinational with unlimited resources. But thanks to the quality of our work, our credibility, our independence, and our expertise, we are truly able to grow and provide new perspectives for Nexus.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You are the president, if I’m not mistaken, of the Spa-Francorchamps circuit.

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: It’s a position I accepted as a great motorsport enthusiast. In 2017, when they were looking for a president for the circuit and for F1 in Belgium, they wanted someone with a certain knowledge of the political world but who was no longer in politics, someone who speaks several languages and is interested in the business of motorsport.

  I was therefore offered the presidency of both structures, which I accepted with immense pleasure and that I continue to assume today. Concretely, this means that a good part of my weekends is now rhythmically filled with motorsport, which is quite pleasant when you can link one of your passions to a professional activity.

  I remain president, so I’m somewhat withdrawn on a daily basis, but I try to support the teams. And I must say that the teams of the circuit and F1 are doing an exceptional job: energizing the circuit, optimizing its business model, enhancing its visibility in the region… We are really in an extremely positive dynamic.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you promote the circuit to the American public and, generally, to foreigners?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: I think there is first an essential element, which, in the end, we don’t have much to do with: Spa-Francorchamps is, very clearly, the most beautiful circuit in the world. No one disputes it. It belongs to the mythical circuits, but this one is particularly so, and its beauty is a huge asset that allows us to be both strong and recognized.

  Beyond this status as the most beautiful circuit, there is mainly the evolution it has undergone. In terms of attractiveness for the public, entertainment, safety, quality of food and service, shops and merchandising, infrastructures in general, the circuit has made tremendous progress in recent years. As I often say: we have always been the most beautiful, and that is something no one has ever taken from us. It’s an enormous advantage. But today, in addition to being the most beautiful, we are also among the best because we have been able to evolve across all the dimensions that a modern circuit must offer while capitalizing on our mythical side, this jewel that we must cherish.

  When I say that it’s the most beautiful, it’s not just Belgian chauvinism: it’s also the opinion of the majority of Formula 1 drivers, which I think is quite a serious criterion. Of course, beauty has an element of irrationality, and I willingly acknowledge that other mythical circuits like Silverstone, Suzuka, Monza, or Monaco are magnificent. But what makes these circuits mythical—and ours perhaps even a little more so—is primarily their history. They are tracks that have existed since the beginning, that carry within them the very DNA of motor racing.

  Spa also has the luck of being nestled in the heart of a beautiful, hilly region, with elevation changes, changes in rhythm, and uncertain weather that adds an element of unpredictability. It’s a circuit that can be a bit frightening: it is demanding, potentially dangerous, on the edge, and you must know how to juggle all these parameters to win there.

  And then, we have the most beautiful corner in the world: the Raidillon. When, in Brad Pitt’s latest film, he has to name a corner to illustrate just how audacious you have to be to be a Formula 1 driver, he chooses only one, and it’s ours. This corner concentrates a part of the myth of Spa: that’s also why, at its core, our circuit is the most beautiful.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: What are your other favorite circuits?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: Obviously, Monza: I was fortunate enough to witness a Ferrari victory there once. The combination of Italy–Monza–“temple of speed”–Ferrari is simply legendary.

  Silverstone as well, of course: the love of the English for motorsport is completely crazy, almost delirious, and absolutely exceptional. It is an immense privilege to have been there.

  And then, perhaps the one that, in terms of design, curves, and pure layout, is the most exceptional in my eyes: Suzuka. It is also where Senna built a large part of his legend.

  We very often associate the magic of circuits with stories, with specific moments. That’s why historical circuits always maintain this additional dimension, this specificity that sets them apart.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Thank you for your time. What, in your opinion, should be the avenues to explore to make Wallonia more attractive to investors?

  Melchior Wathelet Jr.: This is obviously a vast question and a real debate, extremely broad.

  Today, it is clear that Wallonia suffers from a deficit, whether in terms of attractiveness, workforce, or image. There is a real need to regain pride, to dare more investment, venture capital, to accept that there can be failures, while maintaining a capacity for self-criticism and questioning what needs to be questioned.

  We are facing a very complicated financial situation, with significant unemployment and attractiveness challenges. Therefore, in terms of mindset, we need to regain not only the pride that is still lacking, but also a more assertive ambition and a capacity to invest that is not sufficiently present.

  So far, we have mainly acted through subsidies and public support. I believe there are many other levers to activate: reducing administrative burdens, adapting public procurement rules, improving the status of research and innovation… All these avenues can, beyond the question of mindset, increase the investment and innovation capacity of companies. And we have a vital need for this because if we want to recreate wealth, it will primarily pass through the economy; there are not thirty-six thousand solutions.   Therefore, for me, we need to combine two dimensions: a resurgence of pride, attitude, ambition, and in parallel, a series of very concrete measures. These measures exist; we just need the courage to implement them.


That conversation was originally published in The Postil Magazine, in January 2026

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Formula One, Grégoire Canlorbe, Melchior Wathelet Jr., Nexus Communication, Raidillon, Spa-Francorchamps

A conversation with David Salucci, for BulletProof Action

A conversation with David Salucci, for BulletProof Action

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Déc 19, 2025

David Salucci is a French martial artist, strength coach, actor, and writer.
A 6th-dan black belt in Shotokan karate and a World and European Champion in semi-contact kickboxing, he has spent more than four decades pursuing a path where the body becomes an extension of the mind. Holder of eighteen federal certifications in coaching, martial arts, and physical conditioning, he also trained in Mexico with the Tepic Federal Police, where he obtained his international APR licence.

  His artistic journey follows the same inner discipline: he appears in The Shepherd Code: Lapierre (IMDb), the final chapter of Alan Delabie’s trilogy, bringing to the screen the same intensity he has long cultivated on the tatami.

  Author of Philosophical Treatise, The Path of Integrity (Amazon), David Salucci explores in his writings the bond between strength and righteousness, the dialogue between physical rigor and the clarity of the soul. On his personal blog (davidsalucci.blogspot.com), he extends this reflection, weaving together spirituality, introspection, and a lucid perspective on the contemporary world.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Please tell us about your collaboration with Alan Delabie.

  David Salucci: Alan and I have known each other for about six years. He is a former martial artist, shaped by the stage and by the art of the nunchaku, his trademark discipline, but also by everything the martial path demands: mastery, rigor, and humility. As for me, I am a pure product of karate. Naturally, that gave us common ground from the very beginning.

  At that time, Alan was steadily gaining momentum, project after project, climbing the ranks of a field as demanding as it is fascinating. Through our conversations, we discovered a shared set of values, a similar relationship to discipline, loyalty, and effort. The bond formed without calculation. What began as simple exchanges turned into daily conversations, and from those conversations emerged a genuine friendship. Something strong, almost fraternal.

  The Lapierre project brought us together without premeditation. At first, neither of us imagined we would ever collaborate in a cinematic context. What connected us above all were the martial arts. I come from that world body and soul, and he too trained alongside prominent French karate masters. Those bridges, invisible at first, eventually shaped a common path.

  What amuses me today is the parallel between our trajectories. Alan threw himself into cinema with absolute passion, his inner fire, his calling. I spent many years navigating the media world, but always through the lens of martial arts: magazine covers, reports, interviews… Two different roads, yet fueled by the same driving force. And it is undoubtedly this convergence of energy that led us to Lapierre, filmed recently, a project now “in the can,” but above all, a profoundly meaningful human adventure.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Perhaps a word about the character you portray in The Shepherd Code: Lapierre?

  David Salucci: In Lapierre, I play a mercenary still in active service, a killer much like Alex Lapierre himself. My character moves in the shadows, in that zone where decisions are made without spectacle, far from the light. He is the one summoned when everything begins to collapse, when a mission drags on, when the boundary between order and chaos grows thin and unstable.

  I appear at several pivotal moments in the film with a presence that is discreet, almost spectral, yet undeniably decisive. My character is named Joey “Cobra” Silver, a choice weighted with symbolism. The serpent does not act in turmoil; it watches, waits, then strikes with surgical precision. That is the very essence of Joey, a silent threat, an unpredictable ally, a raw instinct concealed beneath an eerily serene exterior.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Are you satisfied with your performance?

  David Salucci: To be completely honest, Lapierre is for me a first immersion, a kind of initiation. My role remains discreet; I appear for perhaps ten minutes in a film that runs just over an hour and twenty. The editing is complete, but the film has not yet been released, so I have only seen a handful of excerpts, fragments, flashes of scenes. And yet, for a first experience, I was genuinely satisfied with the result.

  I see this experience as a first step, a way of setting things in motion, of testing my footing in a new world. I needed to feel what it was like, not from the outside but from within: the rhythm, the camera, the silence between takes. And above all, the strange sensation of watching your own performance projected on a screen.

  The entire shoot was done in English, which is not insignificant. Even though I speak the language, acting in an idiom that is not your own creates a subtle shift. It is as if you become another version of yourself, one with a slightly different sensibility. Words in a foreign language do not rise from the same place; they impose a distance, a form of restraint. It makes the acting more technical, but also more deliberate.

  In the end, I experienced it as an exercise in style, demanding yet profoundly instructive. I know there are a thousand things to refine, but for a first attempt, I believe I managed rather well. What mattered most was having the courage to step through the door.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You studied Claude Goetz’s method in the training of the young Jean-Claude Van Damme: there was even talk, if I am not mistaken, of a book on that subject.

  David Salucci: In truth, Goetz is more than an acquaintance; he is a friend. We spent many years in each other’s orbit. I entered his world after writing a biography devoted to Jean-Claude Van Damme, a one-hundred-sixty-five-page manuscript that he himself read and approved. I remained in contact with JCVD for a little over two years. He is a fascinating man, but also extraordinarily complex. What the public sees on television is a softened version. In reality, he is even more intense, more unpredictable. Working with him is a unique experience, at times exhilarating, and at times exhausting. He is a man difficult to contain, a free spirit, elusive and mercurial.

  Even before that period, I was already passionate about the biomechanics of the full side split. I began karate in 1986, and I have never stopped practicing. This meticulous work, the technique of the split, the subtle muscular tension—became my true calling card. It was precisely this point of convergence that drew me closer to Claude Goetz, who also attached tremendous importance to that dimension of the body.

  I have led countless seminars, trained numerous students, always around stretching, physical preparation, and the pursuit of precise, intelligent movement. It was on this shared ground that our friendship took root. Beyond the tatami, we shared many meals, long conversations, often in the company of his wife, who became very close to mine. The human bond grew naturally from the martial one.

  As for JCVD, everything began because Claude dreamed of publishing a book that would reveal him from a different angle, that of the true martial artist. Since I had already authored several works, he entrusted me with the writing. The aim was ambitious: to unveil a lesser-known Van Damme, far from the glitter, more introspective, more authentic. The book was nearly complete: more than two hundred and thirty unpublished photographs waiting to be included, gathered with meticulous care, training sessions, behind-the-scenes moments, suspended instants. JCVD himself had approved them. The project was part archival document, part intimate portrait.

  But at the last moment, everything stalled. The family intervened. His mother, his sister… old tensions resurfaced. JCVD found himself caught in the crossfire, torn between loyalty and affection. We chose to pause everything. That familial duality is well-known, an open secret in the milieu. The project ended there, without drama and without resentment. I simply decided not to force fate. Sometimes, one must accept that certain things are meant to remain in the shadows.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: A book that seems far closer to a thesis on martial arts, or even psychomotor science, than to a simple biography.

  David Salucci: Yes, it was an immense amount of work, ultimately for nothing. Writing a book is an undertaking that devours time, hours of research, cross-checking, interviews. For this one, I was in contact with people who had known JCVD since his youth. It was a plunge into the origins of a myth, but also a craftsman’s labour.

  With hindsight, I believe the project belonged more to the realm of the thesis than to that of the biography. It is my natural terrain. I have always had a strong inclination toward philosophy, and the construction of a thesis, with its rigor, its architecture, its demonstration, has become my way of thinking the world. Between 1999 and 2012, I must have written nearly two thousand of them at the federal level. I revisited every advanced kata, re-explained each kick through its intimate mechanics, its muscular insertions, its levers. The aim was to render movement intelligible, to translate into words the invisible logic of the martial gesture.

  I also undertook to rewrite traditional karate, to reorganise it, to purify it of what time had eroded. It is fundamental work, almost a quest. I write constantly, sometimes for myself, often for others.

  But I harbour no regret. In this milieu, that is simply how things are. In return, other doors opened, other opportunities emerged. I am not ungrateful, I simply acknowledge the customs of a world in which everyone strives to exist.

  When you rise in any field, whether sport, cinema, or business, you quickly understand that merit alone is not enough. You must work, certainly, but also strategise, because positions are few and fiercely contested. Some will not hesitate to step on you, to abandon what I call the fundamentals. To survive at that level, you must be armed, technically, mentally, morally. Without that, you do not last.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: In a way, you crossed to the other side of the mirror, into the reality of show business beyond the glitter and the bling.

  David Salucci: On paper, show business makes you dream, it is a world of light, of promises, of brilliance. But once you step through the mirror, the reality is entirely different. Since 2007, I have moved among what I call the stars up close, that gilded circle which shines from afar yet, seen from within, has nothing celestial about it. I spent many years in that environment, surrounded by actors and public figures, evenings, appearances, smiles, photographs, and behind it all, an immense void.

  Because this milieu, despite its seductive veneer, runs on a machinery of pretence. People greet you with open arms, shower you with promises, assure you of wonders, and then, nothing. When the curtain falls, only your work and your integrity remain. In that world, true help never comes from those you expect; it is almost never an actor or a star who opens a door for you. It is sometimes a stranger, an unexpected encounter, a look that believes in you, a gesture offered without interest, rare, almost anachronistic.

  Today, the world has sunk into a vortex where values dissolve. Ethics, loyalty, a given word, all of that seems to belong to another age. People have traded integrity for opportunism. And for someone like me, shaped in a world where a word was a vow, the shock is violent.

  In the 1980s, in the dojos I knew, there were no borders, no differences. We were two hundred and fifty per club, from every origin, every colour. No one looked at another with suspicion. We trained together, we fell together, we rose together. If someone needed help, everyone rushed in. It was a time when fraternity was not a slogan but a practice, when friendship carried weight and nobility.

  Today, everything has fractured. You are judged, classified, labelled. People betray each other for a trivial advantage, for a moment of attention. Some would sell their loyalty for the promise of immediacy. It is a moral ugliness that revolts me, because it denies what makes a man worthy, constancy, integrity, a hand extended when needed.

  I have also seen this world from another angle, the vantage point of close protection. I have accompanied important individuals, sometimes in delicate situations, and those experiences opened my eyes. They taught me to read faces, to sense intentions behind smiles. Cinema, seen from the outside, is a dream; from the inside, it is an elegant jungle. It fascinates, yet it devours. It is one of the toughest, cruellest worlds, and also one of the most vibrant. A perfect paradox, like light itself, dazzling, yet blinding.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Many are those who will always prefer remaining in denial to giving up the comfort false promises: those who will always choose the illusion of the easy path rather than face the shock of reality.

  David Salucci: Many still live with that hope of effortless glory, that stubborn illusion that believing hard enough is all it takes to succeed. Yet there is a fundamental truth: talent cannot be bought. It is forged slowly, in contact with rigor, doubt, and time.

  It is the same in martial arts and in everything that gravitates around them. In the past, some would say: I love karate, I’m a green belt, I’m going to do magazines, covers. In theory, everyone has the right to try. But the moment you choose to enter that world, you become a product. And a product, if it is to be visible, must be identifiable. Your image, your physique, your attitude, everything matters. Behind that façade lies a true process of construction.

  If you want to appear in magazines, you need substance, something concrete, a real trajectory. Even a black belt is not enough. To appear on a cover, you must justify your presence. When I found myself in DOJO FIGHT Mag, next to figures like Jon Jones, I knew I had to belong there, that I needed something to say, to embody, to defend. At that level, there is no cheating.

  With time, you learn not to confuse dreams with mirages. You cannot promise the impossible to everyone. Among novices, illusion still works; you can make them believe they’ve struck gold. But among insiders, it no longer holds. Maturity is understanding that a film, a career, a project, all of it rests on reality. And reality is that everything has a cost.

  When you embark on a first project, even with talent, you must stay lucid. This environment is open to all, certainly, but once you enter it, you too become a product. And that product must be coherent. The image you present must match your means, your world, your identity.

  If, for instance, you want to shoot a futuristic movie, a hostage situation in a spaceship with zero budget, you will inevitably fall into kitsch. The final result will never hold up. It is far wiser to build a solid story, human and embodied, without special effects, but with depth, tension, and truth. A clever script, even a modest one, will always have more impact than a blockbuster fantasy without resources.

  That is the most common mistake: trying to compete with Hollywood with an empty bank account. Cinema, like life, demands realism. Believing you can build cathedrals out of matchsticks is the surest way to watch everything burn.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you present your philosophical treatise and its purpose?

  David Salucci: The Philosophical Treatise was not originally conceived as a major work but rather as a booklet, a small, simple format in which I laid down a few essential markers, a kind of philosophical compass meant to recall fundamentals and outline a few paths of reflection. I touched on many themes, without any claim to exhaustiveness; it was intentionally concise, almost stripped down. The format required a certain restraint, it was impossible to delve too deeply without unsettling the balance.

  I therefore limited myself to sketching the main lines, the central ideas, without weighing down the writing. It was a first approach, an outline, a way to transmit anchor points to those who, like myself, seek to understand the link between thought and action.

  Today, my approach has evolved. With the blog I recently launched, I have found a freer, more dynamic space. There, I develop my reflections without constraint, I expand on the subjects, I dig more deeply into the philosophical roots that underpin the martial gesture. What I appreciate is the possibility of following an idea to its end, of pushing it, of confronting it with reality.

  And what is fascinating is that, regardless of the theme I explore, everything eventually converges. Philosophy, discipline, spirituality, martial arts, all obey the same logic, that of the closing circle, the perpetual movement in which every reflection, every experience, leads back to the essential: self-knowledge.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: A chapter of your treatise is dedicated to platonic love. How do you summarize your analysis on that topic?

  David Salucci: When I revisit the notion of platonic love today, I do so in the light of my own journey. Nothing replaces experience, it alone shapes and refines our certainties. With time, you realise that your stance shifts, that maturity is this slow transition toward the choices that truly matter, especially in love.

  In this realm, I believe one should attach oneself only to what is real. Everything else is illusion. When two people meet, man, woman, it makes no difference, everything almost always begins with the physical, a raw, instinctive, animal attraction. We let ourselves be captured by the form while forgetting the substance. But sooner or later, you understand that the body, however perfect, cannot sustain anything over the long term. If there is no soul behind it, no conversation, no depth, beauty crumbles and the bond empties of meaning.

  You can walk beside the most beautiful woman in the neighbourhood, feel the glances turning, enjoy the social flattery, but in the end, beauty alone does not hold. If she has nothing to offer beyond her reflection, you eventually lose yourself in it. Love is not a trophy, nor a display window, it is a daily construction, an endurance carried by two.

  This is why I distrust purely fantasised love, the kind that exists only on the surface of an image. Everything that is overdone or artificial eventually cracks. In life as in love, you must build on something solid, not on glitter. The person who shares your existence must become your refuge, your mirror, your truth. When you are fortunate enough to meet that person, the one who understands you, helps you, accompanies you without conditions, love takes on another dimension, it becomes sacred.

  Look at the world of celebrities, how many parade partners chosen for appearance, for the façade? It is a perpetual performance. Take Schwarzenegger, for example. He embodied absolute success, the body, the cinema, power, glory. His wife came from the Kennedy family, beautiful, tall, brilliant, almost aristocratic. Yet his most sincere love story, his most authentic one, he lived with a woman entirely different, an employee, Mexican, simple, slightly round, with whom he had a child. She was the one who, without knowing it, resembled him the most.

  That example says everything. Even at the summit, surrounded by spotlights and pretence, humans end up seeking what is real. You can lie to yourself for a time, display success, play the role of perfection, but you never deceive your own heart. What you run from always catches up with you. And often, it is in simplicity that you rediscover what you had lost, the truth of love, the kind that does not show itself but is lived.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: How do you assess Plato’s remark that “the art of gymnastics” pertains to “the body,” and “the art of music,” for its part, to “the soul”?

  David Salucci: It is fundamentally true, and even more true than true.

  When we reread the great philosophers, we have to picture what they truly were, men seated face to face, in silence, capable of conversing for hours, far from the modern noise, far from screens, notifications, the constant distractions that today erode our attention. They were whole minds, beings who had turned reflection into a way of life. Some quite literally signed their lives with their ideas, to the point of becoming universal landmarks, torches in the history of humanity.

  So yes, criticising Plato today would be an absurd form of recklessness. These men were giants of thought, craftsmen of truth, builders of ideas. They had neither the tools nor the technological means we possess, but they had what we have lost, inner availability.

  Look around you, minds scatter, consciousness frays. Few people read anymore, few linger over a deep analysis. Information is consumed rather than assimilated. People no longer seek to understand, only to appear. The world has grown accustomed to ease, to the comfort of intellectual laziness, and this drift saddens me.

  I no longer recognise myself in it. This world no longer resembles me. My finest years are behind me, and I say it without bitterness. I had the immense privilege of living ten lives in one, of knowing passion, sweat, loyalty, the slowness of things done well. Today everything moves too fast. Young people no longer take the time to live, they scroll through their existence the way one flips through an advertisement.

  In the past, seduction came through words, through a glance, through a handwritten letter. One took the time to choose each phrase, to place a feeling on paper, to wait for the reply. There was in all that a gentle gravity, a modesty, a depth. Today everything is instantaneous and therefore everything is replaceable. Perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of our age, having confused speed with life.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: The virtual world, while it can help meaningful interactions and meetings to happen, has also erected a barrier between individuals.

  David Salucci: We have been completely desocialised, and it was no accident. It was intended, planned, orchestrated. And they have executed it perfectly.

  Step into any waiting room and you will see it instantly: no glances, no words. Twenty people seated side by side, each locked inside a digital bubble. Perhaps a timid “hello,” torn from the politeness of another era, but nothing more. Faces have closed, gazes have dimmed. Humanity has dissolved into distraction.

  Everywhere, the spectacle is identical. On a terrace under the sun, no one contemplates the horizon, no one savours the moment. People sit motionless, eyes fixed on their phones, scrolling through lives that are not their own. We no longer speak, we no longer listen, we no longer observe.

  It is not only sad, it is tragic. Because behind this illusion of connection, there is no true bond. We have traded the warmth of voices for the coldness of screens. And this collective silence, this vast modern muteness, is perhaps the greatest victory of emptiness over speech.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Another remark by Plato to which I believe it is worth returning: submitting oneself to “gymnastics” and “regimens” is a way to intensify “moral ardor,” and not merely “physical strength.”

  David Salucci: It is undeniable that training with regularity and intensity elevates you, physically of course, but above all inwardly.

  When you truly commit yourself, with a clear objective, almost an existential one, you begin a metamorphosis. You change skin, change gaze, change nature. The person I was at seventeen could never have imagined the man I would become. Everything was built through will, discipline, work, and resilience. Nothing came by chance, I shaped myself, quite literally, through sweat and effort.

  The stronger your mind becomes, the more you rise above ambient comfort. Someone who sits across from you without ever having faced effort, without having tasted rigor or the solitude of pushing beyond one’s limits, cannot understand. Courage is not a gift, it is a conquest.

  I remember the 2010 kickboxing world championships. I would go running at night, in the suburbs, around two in the morning. Hood pulled tight over my head, “karate contact” sweater on my back, I slipped into the empty streets. I was even stopped by the police once or twice, puzzled to see someone running at that hour. What they could not imagine was that this run was not just training, it was a ritual, a way of forging my mind, hardening myself, reaching for the version of me that did not yet exist.

  Very few people know what it is to run alone, in the cold, through silent neighbourhoods, under weary streetlights. Those are the moments that carve your mind, that make you into someone different. Elevation never springs from comfort, it is born from friction with difficulty, from the confrontation with pain.

  Because life does not wait for you. You can train, give everything you have, but you must also manage your work, your family, your responsibilities. It is within that constant tension between all the things you carry that true strength is forged.

  And by repeatedly stepping out of your comfort zone, voluntarily placing yourself in danger, crossing fatigue and doubt, something within you sharpens. You become more solid, more lucid, more grounded. In the end, what remains is not the performance, but the being. And it is that being, forged in night and sweat, who keeps moving forward when everything else collapses.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: There is a difference between being and playing at being: confusion on this point is characteristic of children and of those who refuse to grow up.

  David Salucci: Let me tell you something, the one who pretends to be tough never lasts. In life as elsewhere, you cannot cheat for long. When you invent a persona, when you try to make others believe you are someone you are not, sooner or later reality catches up with you.

  Social media, at the beginning, had meaning. It was a window into who you truly were, a way to share your work, to pass on experience, perhaps to inspire. When I opened my Facebook account, my intention was simple: to spread a martial message, a philosophy of life, a certain vision of discipline.

  Today, all of that has been corrupted. The game has taken over.

  In 2004, in Lorraine, I was the first fitness coach. At the time, the very word “coach” made people smile; it was an American term, unfamiliar here. I trained dozens of people over eighteen years, people from all walks of life, lawyers, entrepreneurs, athletes from every horizon. If it lasted that long, it was because the work was real, because the results were there.

  Then the word became fashionable. Coaching became a label, a consumer product. Everyone proclaimed themselves a fitness coach without background, without training, without experience. Zero expertise, zero legitimacy, but an Instagram account and a retouched photo. And today the same drift is happening in the world of cinema: everyone is an actor, a stuntman, a screenwriter. Nothing is checked anymore, nothing is validated.

  On platforms like YouTube or Facebook, anyone can invent a career, give themselves titles, list achievements, without anyone verifying anything. It has become alarming. The line between truth and illusion has vanished.

  As for me, everything I say is traceable, verifiable. I have eighteen federal certifications, each with its official registration number. I am 3rd dan in contact karate with the FFKDA, 6th dan Shotokan with the UNVS, these are facts, not marketing tricks.

  What disturbs me is not other people’s success, it is the imposture that has become the norm. The fact that people can fabricate a past, award themselves titles, and everyone simply accepts it. We have normalised deceit. And when falsehood becomes the rule, when legitimacy no longer counts, we condemn an entire generation to illusion.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: Thank you for your time. How would you describe the respective ways in which Asia and Europe approach the body and the martial arts, particularly karate?

  David Salucci: Today, I condemn a Europe that has profoundly forgotten where karate comes from. Its roots are above all traditional, spiritual, almost sacred. When I began, we drew kihon lines across entire halls. We repeated, again and again, until the movement became truth. It was a pure karate, rough, demanding, a martial art in its strictest sense.

  In the 1980s, karate was hard, at times brutal. Knockouts were allowed, gi jackets often ended stained with red. But it was a school of life. You emerged stronger, more dignified. You learned to shape yourself through pain, respect, and the search for balance. It was an art in the deepest sense of the word, a discipline that forged men before producing athletes.

  Today, karate has been européanisé. It has become a sport, a spectacle, a showcase. And that saddens me. Karate was never designed to flatter crowds, but to elevate the spirit. It has lost its philosophical dimension, its nobility, its essence. The body still moves, but the soul has grown silent.

  That is why many masters, like Roland Habersetzer, chose to step aside, to turn away from the noise of sport-karate and return to the original path, the path of tradition, silence, and inner quest. And I understand them. Because that return is a return to the source, to the truth of movement and of heart.

  For me, modern karate has faded, weakened, emptied of meaning. It has turned into a product, when it was once a school of life. And perhaps that is the greatest struggle of our era, to learn again to be martial before being visible, to become true before being seen.

“What I have learned over the years is that you do not triumph by seeking the light, but by learning to walk in the shadows without ever betraying your own path.”


That conversation was originally published on BulletProof Action, in November 2025

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Alan Delabie, David Salucci, Grégoire Canlorbe, Philosophical Treatise: The Path of Integrity, Plato, The Shepherd Code: Lapierre

A conversation with Alain Destexhe, for Gatestone Institute

A conversation with Alain Destexhe, for Gatestone Institute

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Déc 19, 2025

Pictured: Alain Destexhe pictured during a press conference in Brussels, Belgium, on February 20, 2019. (Photo by Paul-Henri Verlooy/AFP via Getty Images)

Alain Destexhe (MD), an honorary senator in Belgium, is a former secretary general of Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), former president of the International Crisis Group, and former president of the Parliamentary Network on the World Bank & IMF. He has written 15 books on Belgian politics and international issues including Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century. He is a regular contributor to Gatestone, Le Figaro and several media outlets in France. He also practices medicine in France and overseas.

  Canlorbe: As someone who studied the genocide in Rwanda, would you say that a genocide is also underway in Gaza?

  Destexhe: A genocide targets a particular group—ethnic, racial, or religious. We can speak of genocide in Rwanda because the extermination targeted the Tutsis as a group: men, women, and children. Certainly, some Hutu opponents were also killed, but they were not targeted as members of a group.

  The legal definition of genocide is probably secondary. What matters is the political definition and the historical signification: the extermination of a group. In the Middle East, the attempts at crime against humanity for more than 70 years, have been targeted at Jews. Defending oneself by responding after a major massacre is not a genocide. If you do not want your people killed, do not attack your neighbor. The October 7, 2023 massacre itself was probably intended as a genocide if Lebanon and Iran had joined in. Israel found itself attacked for the past two years on seven fronts: Gaza, Lebanon, the West Bank, Yemen, Syria, Iraq and Iran. That looks more like a genocide. In Rwanda, all Tutsis, men, women and children had to be killed; when Hutu political opponents were targeted, their wives and children were spared. They were killed by others Hutus as political opponents, not like the Tutsis for their supposed ethnicity.

  As for Gaza, there is no genocide: there is no intention from Israel to exterminate the Palestinians, and women and children are not specifically targeted, even though there are, obviously, civilian casualties. What is targeted is the destruction of a terrorist group, Hamas, and its fighters. With the Tutsis in Rwanda, genocide is absolutely undeniable; in the case of Gaza, the accusation is totally unfounded.

  Canlorbe: Are you concerned that the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023 is a foretaste of what awaits Europeans?

  Destexhe: Yes: there exists, in a part of Islam, a fierce hostility towards the West. When Muslims become the majority in a society, it undergoes profound transformation. Other citizens—Christians, secularists, or others—then become, in a way, second-class tolerated citizens, dhimmi.

  We even see this in relatively open countries such as Malaysia or Indonesia, where it is no longer so simple today not to be Muslim. These are places where Islam tends to assert itself through sharia, the Islamic legal code, even if it is not officially applied in the country.

  Between Islamist fanaticism—that of Hamas, among others—and the West, Israel occupies a particular place in this region of the world. What the terrorists did to Israel on October 7, is just part of what radical Islam would seemingly like to extend to the West. They do not have the means to do so at the moment, but if they had, I am convinced they would act accordingly. In this regard, we are extremely naïve to think that this will not happen. For Europe, this prospect remains distant, but demographic upheavals could accelerate the threat.

  Canlorbe: Is Islam really at fault in the hatred that Islamists express towards the West? Or does religion simply serve as a pretext to legitimate a certain slant?

  Destexhe: Hard to say. I am neither an anthropologist, nor a psychologist, nor a sociologist. But yes, I believe there is what René Girard called “mimetic desire,” a wish to copy others. Overall, the populations of Belgian origin remain more affluent, as they benefit from a century of wealth accumulation: Belgian prosperity was not created overnight, it is the result of previous generations, of workers, entrepreneurs, and economic actors who enabled the prosperity of the West.

  Thus, a form of jealousy or envy might arise: an immigrant who arrives without having participated in this construction benefits from social allowances but remains, on average, less wealthy than others. Yes, I believe there is a mimetic element at play here. That is why the left constantly talks about “taxing the rich”: “I want what you have, so you should give it to me.”

  Canlorbe: You raised the correlation between the ethnic composition of the 2025 graduating class of the Faculty of Law at the Free University of Brussels and the decision of that graduating class to choose Rima Hassan, a French jurist and politician of Palestinian origin who has proposed a one-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as their sponsor. Do you see in this tribute to Hassan a sign of radicalism or capitulation?

  Destexhe: The reality is more complex. In the choice of Rima Hassan as class sponsor, two factors came into play. The Arab-Muslim students—to put it simply—are now extremely numerous. There seems to be an Arab-Muslim circle comprising about 8,000 members out of around 30,000 students: that is considerable. This component appears to have played a role in the choice of the graduating class.

  The radicalized European “far-left” also appears to have had an influence—it is even likely that they initiated the choice of Hassan. Overall, this choice looks as if it resulted from the conjunction of this far-left and the now very numerous Arab-Muslim students at the university.

  Canlorbe: Regarding these currents of Islam which are open to interpretation and doubt, why do they prosper so little in Western universities?

  Destexhe: Those seem to be minority currents that are sometimes persecuted by the dominant Islamic currents. I fundamentally believe that the crux of the problem lies in the idea of submission—Islam means “submission” to Allah and His Word, as stated in the Quran and the Hadiths. From there, the sacred text is no longer up for discussion. Whatever one may say, this text is quite harsh: the will to convert the entire world to Islam, apostasy punishable by death, Jews and Christians presented as dhimmis, “tolerated,” second-class citizens, or as people to be fined or converted. There is, in the very text of the Quran, a totalitarian aspect.

  Thus, a majority of Muslims can always say: “it’s written in the Quran”—meaning said by the Almighty, like the Ten Commandments in the Bible—and consider that any other reading must therefore be erroneous. It appears to me that what poses problem is the totalizing nature of the text. Since it is not permissible in the Muslim world to contest—or even to discuss—the Quran, one always returns to the letter. Apostasy is central and regarded as punishable by death. One might reply that, in practice, the implementation differs according to Muslim people; yet, for those who refer to it literally, “it is written,” thus it is The Truth.

  Canlorbe: How do you explain the hostility that most Belgian or French media have towards Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu? It is said that Trump forced Netanyahu’s hand to reach the peace agreement and the release of the last remaining hostages still alive.

  Destexhe: I must say that this discourse leaves me perplexed. To what extent could Netanyahu have been “forced”? After all, he also wanted the hostages released, subscribed to the Trump plan and had an interest in trying to conclude the war—even though it does not seem over.

  With Israel, there always has to be a “bad guy”. The European left regrets the “good old days” of the Labor Party—Yitzhak Rabin, Shimon Peres, etc.—which coincided with the dominance of social democracy both in Europe and in Israel. It was this group that brought Israel the Oslo Accords, which only succeeded in legitimizing the Palestinian Authority and its ongoing “pay-for-slay” terrorism. For the past twenty to thirty years in Israel, Likud has become, almost continuously, the leading party in the country. Therefore, because Likud embodies the Israeli right, it is despised by the media and the Western “left” and designated as the scapegoat. It appears that these circles have never accepted that the Israeli majority has turned away from the “peace now” narrative put forth by Rabin and Peres, or that it has rejected the idea of a Palestinian state, although since the attacks of October 7, 2023, the idea of a Palestinian State next to Israel appears over for everyone.

  In this context, Netanyahu takes on the role of the “villain”, while he is, objectively, a major statesman. He holds the record for longevity as Israeli Prime Minister, and he recently led the country in a simultaneous confrontation with several actors—Iran, Hezbollah, Syria, the Houthis from Yemen, Hamas. Even if nothing is truly over in Lebanon or with Hamas, and the Houthis retain a capacity to cause harm, Netanyahu’s track record at the helm of Israel remains positive and remarkable.

  Canlorbe: What do you say in response to the discourse that assigns responsibility for October 7 to Netanyahu?

  Destexhe: That is, forgive my expression, pure bullshit. What is fundamentally reproached to Netanyahu is having tolerated Qatar’s financing of Hamas—those planes filled with cash, transiting through Israel, ended up in the pockets of the movement. Netanyahu made a misjudgment—he is not the only one—in thinking that at some point Hamas would choose peace, the development of Gaza, and renounce the war against Israel. That was a mistake, period. However, this does not mean that the policy of financial injections into Gaza was intrinsically bad: it was a bet that turned out to be lost. It was a mistake because Hamas used that money to prepare and wage war. But no one really protested, certainly not even the EU, which was aware that Hamas received funds from Qatar.

  I have been to Gaza twice, a long time ago. Gaza could resemble Tel Aviv. The territory is large enough, there is water, agricultural potential, and access to the sea. With peace, recognition of the State of Israel, and massive investments, Gaza could become prosperous. Saying that “Gaza could be Singapore” is not absurd; at the very least, let’s say Tel Aviv. Two million inhabitants is not insurmountable. But Hamas chose war and the misery of the Palestinian people, fully knowing that Israel would retaliate.

  In Gaza, the maps of the region only show one Palestinian state: Israel was not included. In reality, Palestinians, not just Hamas, have never admitted the existence of the State of Israel. The PLO continues to claim the right of return for “refugee” Palestinians to the lands of 1948, which would mean the end of the State of Israel. By the way, after 77 years, they are no longer refugees; it is the UN that perpetuates this myth.

  So I do not blame Netanyahu at all for October 7. The major failure was that of Israeli intelligence—reputed to be excellent—which saw nothing coming. The problem is having mistakenly believed, in hindsight, that Hamas could be appeased. This obviously does not make Netanyahu responsible for the attacks of October 7. That accusation is absurd.

  Canlorbe: What is your assessment of how Doctors Without Borders [MSF, Médecins Sans Frontières] engages with Hamas in the context of its humanitarian interventions in Gaza?

  Destexhe: I spent a total of twelve years at Doctors Without Borders (MSF) in various roles, and I am sad at what MSF has become. In Gaza, MSF is working with a totalitarian organization. Working in Gaza means working with—and under the control of—Hamas. Therefore, in my view, Doctors Without Borders has become complicit with Hamas throughout the war and should have withdrawn, stating: “We do not operate alongside a totalitarian movement and regime.” Hamas controls Gaza.

  This complicity of Doctors Without Borders is inexplicable—perhaps a serious mistake that calls into question the charter of neutrality and impartiality of Doctors Without Borders. Furthermore, Doctors Without Borders’ presence did not appear essential on the ground: many Arab or Muslim organizations—Turkey, Pakistan, Indonesia, other countries in the region—could send doctors, nurses, and supplies. Muslim countries are eager to help the people of Gaza. Doctors Without Borders’s added value is zero: others could do the job. Not only has the organization found itself, willingly or not, in a situation of complicity with Hamas, but it has also endorsed the idea of a “genocide.” It has echoed, almost word for word, the campaign we led in 1994 in Rwanda—“You don’t stop a genocide with doctors”—a slogan I still saw displayed recently at Doctors Without Borders’s headquarters in Brussels.

  Doctors Without Borders seems to have shifted from a neutral and independent humanitarian organization to a leftist activist organization. Gaza has not been the first signal; there were also the rescue operations in the Mediterranean, which fuel the engine of illegal immigration. Desperate people know that NGOs, including Doctors Without Borders, will pick them up at sea; despite the tragedies, the crossing remains perceived as possible, and indeed is still possible. Doctors Without Borders thus contributes to this flow towards Europe—and this is, in my view, sad and regrettable.

  It is difficult, however, to take on Doctors Without Borders: it is a sacred cow in the West. A Nobel Peace Prize laureate—which I also received, as a member of Doctors Without Borders—the organization enjoys such prestige that neither the media nor even right-wing parties dare to criticize it. The role of Hamas’s accomplice that Doctors Without Borders has played in this affair has, in my opinion, not been sufficiently highlighted.

  Canlorbe: Can we accuse Doctors Without Borders of covering for Hamas when it diverts humanitarian aid?

  Destexhe: Yes, of course: they cover everything Hamas does. They not only condone the diversion of humanitarian aid but also the conduct of the war. All Doctors Without Borders’ posts on X regarding the conflict target Israel, I have not seen one clear call for the release of hostages. However, the release of the hostages was key to ending the conflict: the war would have stopped much earlier if Hamas had agreed to release them. Doctors Without Borders did not ask for this because the organization operates under Hamas’s control: calling for the release of hostages would have risked confronting them.

  We must not forget that the Doctors Without Borders staff in Gaza is predominantly Palestinian. In a report written at the end of 2023, we showed that Doctors Without Borders members in Gaza actually celebrated the attack on October 7 and that many of them posted messages on Facebook applauding Hamas that day. Therefore, this is not just a problem of diversion of aid: it is a global complicity with what happened, and above all, an incomprehensible refusal—in my eyes—to insist on the decisive element that the release of hostages represented. They could have said: “Stop bombing civilians and release the hostages.” But no, that requirement was never emphasized. This is very serious. Unfortunately, the few criticisms—including mine—have been little publicized. Overall, if Doctors Without Borders’s image has not been tarnished by this affair, so they will not change.

  Canlorbe: Do Doctors Without Borders or other similar organizations, in your opinion, care about all persecuted or allegedly persecuted populations? Or do they, so to speak, offer humanitarian aid à la carte, which would sidestep, for example, the Uyghurs?

  Destexhe: The problem is that you first need access to the ground to be able to denounce a situation. The organization seems not to have access in China. Doctors Without Borders’s communication about Gaza is much more significant than about crises that are perhaps more serious but much less publicized, such as in Yemen or Sudan. “Palestine” has always held a special place for NGOs and the left.

  Canlorbe: Are you sympathetic to Trump’s efforts to get Russia and Ukraine to conclude a peace agreement?

  Destexhe: It is an old, wise principle in foreign policy, dear to Kissinger and Nixon, that The United States should never have as an enemy more than one nuclear power at a time. With the war in Ukraine, particularly under the Biden administration, a solid alliance has formed between Moscow and Beijing. The West, accordingly, is now in potential geopolitical confrontation with two nuclear powers. So, yes, I am sympathetic to Trump’s efforts to get a “deal” for peace in Ukraine and, from there, restore good relations between Washington and Moscow and break the alliance that has formed between Moscow and Beijing. The task, admittedly, is extremely difficult: the Russo-Chinese axis is now quite solid—although perhaps not definitive, considering a long common border, diverging demographics, and interests.

  Canlorbe: According to you, the security and sovereignty of Taiwan are of utmost importance for the West. Could you elaborate on this subject?

  Destexhe: The annexation of the island by mainland China would be a serious setback for the United States, destabilize the entire Pacific region, and undermine the trust of America’s allies. In reality, in 1895, after the Treaty of Shimonoseki, Taiwan became a Japanese colony. From 1895 to 1945, and then, from 1949 until today, Beijing has exercised no effective control over the island.

  That the 23 million inhabitants of Taiwan are treated as pariahs in international representation—without an embassy in the classic sense, without a seat at the UN, and even deprived of normal participation in the work of the World Health Organization (WHO)—constitutes a major anomaly. Among the “new Asian tigers” (excluding Australia and New Zealand), Taiwan possesses the most advanced democracy: a free press, regular elections, and political alternation since 2000 (the first direct presidential elections took place in 1996). Taiwan actually ranks alongside European countries in democratic assessments. Supporting Taiwan and its 23 million inhabitants is therefore a geopolitical, strategic, and democratic imperative.

  Taiwan is a stable state that renounced acquiring nuclear weapons in the 1970s. If Taiwan—hypothetically—had them today, Beijing’s policy would obviously be affected, and there would likely be no risk of invasion, according to the logic of “deterrence from the weak to the strong,” which General de Gaulle favored for France.

  Canlorbe: How do you assess the attitude of Belgium’s current Prime Minister, Bart De Wever, on the Ukrainian issue? It seems that De Wever, ever since his term began in February 2025, has repeatedly assured Zelensky of his support while committing to Trump to dedicate 5% of Belgium’s GDP to defense spending. De Wever recently expressed, nonetheless, his opposition to the idea of using frozen Russian assets in Belgium to finance Ukraine.

  Destexhe: I do not know what Bart De Wever thinks personally about the Ukrainian issue, but there is a constant: Belgium does not take positions that deviate from the European or Atlantic consensus because it derives significant economic advantages from hosting both the NATO headquarters and that of the European Union. In other words, its room for maneuver remains limited: it will always align with the consensus of the European Union and NATO, without distinguishing itself. In reality, Bart De Wever aligns with this line because he has little choice.

  On the issue of frozen assets, De Wever is completely right. This seizure would be illegal. Even President Roosevelt did not seize Japanese assets in the United States during World War II. The European Union is desperate because it does not have the money to finance Ukraine, and the United States no longer wants to do so. Hence this proposal to seize Russian assets. But these are primarily held in Belgium. So it is Belgium alone that would suffer an incredible shock with the withdrawal of billions in investment from Belgium—it could be regarded as a lack of confidence in the Belgian banking system. Other European countries are much less affected and, tellingly, they do not propose to seize Russian assets in their own countries! Belgium could potentially be exposed as having to reimburse the amount of the confiscated sums, and confidence in the euro would risk being permanently shaken. That proposal is simply madness, but there is nothing surprising coming from the European Commission under Ursula von der Leyen.

  Canlorbe: Brussels, which was sung about by Rimbaud and Verhaeren, now evokes less poetry. How would you summarize what has happened to the Belgian capital?

  Destexhe: It is painful for the inhabitants. A few years ago, Donald Trump caused a scandal by calling Brussels a “hellhole.” In the early 2000s, Belgium—and much of Europe—adopted a series of disastrous laws that led to uncontrolled migration flows, particularly from Muslim countries. First, tens of thousands of people were admitted, creating a powerful incentive to come to Belgium. Then came an extremely permissive family reunification policy: it was possible to bring in one’s ancestors—parents and, in fact, grandparents—as well as children from a previous marriage. This welcome mat was compounded by one of the most lenient asylum policies in Europe: obtaining status of a political refugee was relatively simple, even based on false documents and hard-to-verify humanitarian arguments. Finally, access to Belgian nationality was particularly easy: three years of residence—two for refugees—with few requirements for linguistic, cultural, or economic integration. All of this has produced a spectacular demographic transformation of the country.

  Regarding urban cleanliness, I also see a cultural dimension. Not all neighborhoods have the same problems. I often go to Rwanda; Kigali is cleaner than Brussels, so it is also a question of political will.

  Canlorbe: Does justice play its role in the face of assaults, attacks, and shootings?

  Destexhe: There is a certain “culture of excuse,” as we say in French: blaming others, avoiding responsibility, finding social roots to violence. Belgium also suffers from a lack of effective judicial tools. Unlike France, there is no immediate appearance before a judge. As a result, several months, even years, can go by between an assault and a judgment. This is a major problem because the penalty loses its effectiveness as an example. Added to this problem are prison overcrowding and insufficient prison places. In a small, densely populated country, it is difficult to build new prisons: local residents often oppose them. The result: crime is exploding in Brussels, particularly related to drug trafficking. Additionally, a situation that was once non-existent—weekly shootings—has emerged in just a few years. In Brussels, in many aspects, a general laxity has settled in. Just as there are “failed states,” Brussels is becoming a “failed city” or a “narco city”. In 2013, I wrote a small book, Brussels, A Clockwork Orange. The media mocked it. Today, statistics show that our capital is one of the three most crime-ridden cities in Europe.

  Canlorbe: Regarding restoring order in Brussels, would you support a measure equivalent to Trump’s decision to send the National Guard to Washington, Los Angeles, or Portland?

  Destexhe: No, I do not believe in such a miracle. The army could, of course, restore a certain calm in some neighborhoods, but the problem is deeper and structural. Fundamentally, it would not change much: the drift has gone too far, and with the current demographic composition of Brussels and its political fragmentation, it would be very difficult to turn back.

  Canlorbe: Could you elaborate on the situation in Mayotte, a French island in the Indian Ocean, where you worked as a doctor and which you describe in your book Mayotte: How Immigration Destroys a Society (2025) as being at the forefront of the harms caused by uncontrolled immigration?

  Destexhe: Mayotte is a French department, the department being the administrative division of France; it is the 101st, the most recent since 2011. The island has an estimated immigrant population of nearly 50%. Immigration is out of control and exploding there. The Mahoran society—French—is profoundly shaken: a climate of generalized insecurity has overtaken the place. At sunset, around 6:30 PM, the streets empty out, including in the capital, which becomes deserted—a condition that had never happened before. Public services are overwhelmed in the name of the principle of equal access: healthcare and education are offered under the same conditions to Mahorans and immigrants, leading to the saturation of health facilities and a degrading quality of services for Mahorans. Schools face the same pressure: a fourteen-year-old adolescent who arrives from Comoros or Madagascar without speaking French is placed in a class with peers his age, which lowers the overall level and places demands on the teacher to support those who are struggling. The administration is also inundated: laws—urban planning, environmental protection, turtle protection, and so on—are poorly enforced due to a lack of resources and the scale of the situation. Probably nothing can be resolved without a radical halt to migration flows. Mayotte thus experiences a harmful triptych: generalized lack of security, dislocation of cultural harmony, and exponentially deteriorating public services (healthcare, education, administration).

  What I observed in Mayotte seems, to varying degrees, already at work in Belgium. When the proportion of immigrants becomes too high, the quality of education and healthcare decreases for locals. In Brussels, for example, hospitals see thousands of patients of foreign origin, most of whom have not contributed to social security. In a saturated public system, waiting times lengthen: sometimes one has to wait more than a year, to get an appointment with a specialist. This deterioration is a consequence of mass immigration that is rarely discussed. For the Belgians, the quality of public services declines. In a way, Mayotte played the role of a forerunner for what awaits us. The trend already exists, in Brussels as in certain French cities.

  Canlorbe: Can we say that Wallonia—and, broadly, Belgium—are, in a way similar to Mayotte, a laboratory for leftist policies that are destroying Western Europe?

  Destexhe: Absolutely. Belgium—although primarily Brussels—serves as a laboratory for what Europe might face tomorrow: drug trafficking, insecurity, a weakened state, electoral clientelism, deterioration of public services, widespread dissatisfaction, housing shortages, political impotence, … All indicators show that in Brussels the national cohesion is eroding. The myth of a “Brussels citizen” who no longer exists is perpetuated: Moroccan, Turkish, Pakistani, French, Italian, Polish communities coexist along with the people of Belgian origin, who now represent only 23% of the population. Politics has been reduced to catering to fragmented communities based on religion and on national origin (Turks, Moroccans, …) and its corollary, client-ism. During elections, Turkish candidates, for example, scour the voter lists, identify Turkish names, and target only those voters.

  What do I have in common, for instance, with a Muslim woman who lives according to strict religious norms, does not work, speaks little or no French—and has never contributed to social security? This is another major issue: in hospitals, courts, and school appointments, we see people arriving with translators, due to a lack of proficiency in a national language. When looking for electoral assessors or jurors for criminal trials, many are disqualified because they do not speak either French or Dutch. Ultimately, what do we truly share with these people even if we have the same papers and political and social rights?

  There was, for me, an extremely revealing moment that the Belgian media ignored. During a Belgium-Morocco match, won by Morocco, Brussels was filled that evening with Belgian-Moroccans, most of whom had dual nationality, who were celebrating Morocco’s victory loudly. That evening, it was evident to everyone that they felt more Moroccan than Belgian. Normally, having lived for a long time, or even having been born in Belgium, they should have felt both Belgian and Moroccan; clearly, that was not the case.

  Canlorbe: Regarding the Turks settled in Belgium, particularly in Brussels, do they live according to the secular morals advocated by Atatürk for his people? Or do they, on average, turn towards Islamism?

  Destexhe: They are increasingly turning towards Islamism because they remain much more Turkish than Belgian. It is as simple as that. Atatürk’s secularism is increasingly belonging to the past, even though much of Turkish society has tried to resist Islamization. The secular policies of Atatürk persist in part of the population, but the original identity remains a major factor of belonging: a Turk will (almost) always be more Turkish than Belgian, a Moroccan more Moroccan than Belgian.

  During Turkish elections, for instance, Turks in Belgium are more likely to support Erdoğan and his Justice and Development Party [AK Party] than are voters living in Turkey, with a gap of about 10 to 20 points in favor of Erdoğan at each election. This practice also exists in France, but it is even more pronounced in Belgium—seemingly striking evidence of the primacy of original identity.

  Canlorbe: Do you still hope that Belgium will recover in the long term?

Destexhe: In politics, I act like a doctor. I start by making a diagnosis: here, population change. Then I propose a treatment: here, measures such as drastically reducing family reunification and asylum. Can we still mitigate the population change even with such strong measures? In Brussels, demographic evolution is practically irreversible, especially since the Belgian middle classes continue to leave the city: this situation is only amplifying. I still have some hope for Wallonia and Flanders.


That conversation was originally published on Gatestone Institute, in November 2025

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: 7 September attack, Alain Destexhe, Benjamin Netanyahu, Brussels, Donald Trump, Gaza, Grégoire Canlorbe, Islam, Wallonia

A conversation with Drieu Godefridi, for Gatestone Institute

A conversation with Drieu Godefridi, for Gatestone Institute

by Grégoire Canlorbe · Déc 19, 2025

Drieu Godefridi is a jurist (University Saint-Louis, University of Louvain), philosopher (University Saint-Louis, University of Louvain) and PhD in legal theory (Paris IV-Sorbonne). He is an entrepreneur, CEO of a European private education group and director of PAN Medias Group. The author of The Green Reich (2020), he is a fellow traveler of the N-VA [Nieuw-Vlaamse Alliantie—New Flemish Alliance], a conservative, nationalist party.

  Grégoire Canlorbe: You were a list leader for the conservative party N-VA in 2024 Belgian federal election. How do you sum up what this party can bring to the Belgians and, in particular, the Walloons?

  Drieu Godefridi: The N-VA’s primary strength lies in its seriousness. This is what convinced me to carry its colors in Wallonia, despite the priority objective set out in its statutes—the independence of Flanders—which actually does not evoke much enthusiasm from the Walloons. This is seriousness in the best sense of the term: the leaders of the N-VA have a perfect grasp of the workings of the Belgian system, in all its layers and details. When they propose reforms, they are not empty words.

  Belgium operates under a proportional system that requires the formation of multi-party coalitions, in the tradition of Italy, the Netherlands, or Israel, and the electoral landscape is structured into two blocs—Francophone and Dutch-speaking. Nevertheless, their program systematically addresses the major ills of Belgian political life, starting with the abyssal debt that threatens our financial balance.

  Next comes the issue of creeping Islamization, fueled by powerful Islamist networks, particularly in Brussels, and to a lesser extent in Antwerp. In my view, no Francophone party has until now offered such determination or clarity of analysis on the Islamisation of our societies and the crushing tax burden on citizens. The Reform Movement, MR, seems today to be embarking on a similar path, being a major partner of the N-VA at the federal level. The N-VA takes its inspiration from the Irish philosopher Edmund Burke and defends the market economy. 

  Belgium is virtually bankrupt; its debt and budget deficit are out of control. This is mission No. 1 for the N-VA: to get public finances back on track. The success of this mission determines everything else. 

  Canlorbe: The N-VA is reproached for lumping all Muslims together and thereby justifying all sorts of alleged persecutions against Muslims, both domestically (such as to prohibit the veil) and in foreign policy (such as supporting supposedly indiscriminate bombings in Gaza). What do you reply to those criticisms?

  Godefridi: The N-VA claims to have an inclusive nationalism, as opposed to Vlaams Belang, whose nationalism is still strongly tinged with references to the white race. There are Muslims among the members, staff and voters of the N-VA. The N-VA has never—in word, writing or deed—adopted a position of rejecting Muslims, even if the party does claim the right to criticize and reject Islam as a political doctrine—which is my position on the subject.

  Some parties that unreservedly welcome Islamists do not hesitate to accuse us of lumping Islamists together with the whole Muslim community. I am particularly thinking of the Communist Party (PTB), and Écolo—which are on the far left—and, more unfortunately, the Brussels Socialist Party (PS). For them, any criticism of Islam—which, please recall, is not a race, but a political doctrine—automatically falls into the categories of Islamophobia and racism.  Islam, as a political ideology, refers to the use of the principles, values or texts of Islam—in particular the Koran, the Sunnah and the Hadith—to structure a system of governance, laws and public policies.

  Having closely worked with the N-VA and regularly exchanged views with numerous party representatives, I have never encountered a single person who could be described as racist. This even includes controversial figures such as Theo Francken, whom Écolo had the audacity to caricature as a SS officer, which is profoundly disgraceful.

  The N-VA wants to ban the veil in public administration, and in schools—that is all. For the rest, freedom remains the order of the day. Regarding Gaza, on October 8, 2023 Bart De Wever clearly expressed his solidarity with Israel, but since then, has continued to deplore the supposed heavy-handedness of the Israelis in Gaza, even though Israel has reportedly done « more than any other military in history to minimize civilian casualties » in a place where every inch above ground  appears to have been booby-trapped for violence—including schools, UN facilities and mosques. 

  The representatives of the N-VA seem distinguished by their intelligence and their sense of state, far removed from the crude racism on the far left, where individuals are judged by the color of their skin. That is a perverse form of racism, allied with a new anti-Semitism, unfortunately, re-emerging on the left with a worrying severity. When a far-left “comedian”, Herman Brusselmans, writes that he wants to slit the throats of every Jew he meets in the street, what is funny? Is that humour or a call to murder?

  Canlorbe: Please tell us about Prime Minister Bart de Wever. What distinguishes him from—or makes him similar to—his counterparts such as Georgia Meloni in Italy, or Emmanuel Macron in France?

  Godefridi: In today’s current political landscape in Europe, one finds mostly grand speeches; Wever, coming from a small country, a small region—Flanders—embodies exceptional stature. He possesses a depth of thought. “Philosopher-king, » in his case, takes on its full meaning: a historian by training, he analyzes the field of possibilities based on a solid historical perspective, a fine knowledge of the Flemish political landscape, and a sharp sense of strategy.

  Since he became the Prime Minister of Belgium, his interventions—both in the Chamber and in the media—testify to a rare quality, both in form and substance. His moderation and sense of measure stand in contrast to the constant exaggeration observed in many parties, especially on the left. He seems to be a personality of exceptional stature at the Belgian level. 

  On the European scene, he is like Meloni. She has been criticized as “Mussolinian, » condemned for her supposed lack of competence, but she has proven to be one of the best Italian political figures of the post-war era, and is achieving remarkable results. Today, she is the preferred interlocutor of the United States in Europe. She never shows any animosity toward Ursula von der Leyen. Simply put, she is more effective. 

  The comparison with Emmanuel Macron is, alas, the opposite: welcomed with open arms by the French press and the state apparatus, which had sidelined François Fillon, his main competitor, his term has only exacerbated a decline that was already underway before he came to power. This decline, present in economic, social, and technological terms, affects all domains; France, once embodied by General de Gaulle as a visionary power at the forefront of modernity, can no longer regain its former stature. The political quagmire in which the country has been mired since the last dissolution is a sad illustration of this. Having written my thesis at the Sorbonne, it is even more painful seeing a great country sink like that.

  Canlorbe: A few days prior to Trump’s reelection, you released a Facebook video [https://www.facebook.com/drieu.philippe/videos/420568421103166] in which, along with Alain Destexhe, you confided your opinion that Trump’s return would be some good news for the Europeans. Is your hope satisfied?

  Godefridi: The good news with Trump’s return, for us Europeans, is that Trump’s return forces us finally to take on our responsibilities, whether in military, geopolitical, or economic terms. It signifies the end of a Europe that spends its time legislating for the world, creating countless regulatory cathedrals meant to govern the entire world: General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), competition, carbon tax, GAFAs, freedom of expression (not), REACH, … All this under a constant infusion of money, directly or indirectly American, which is now obviously over. For 20 years, Europe has been under-investing in its military capabilities and relying on the American umbrella. For the past 20 years, America’s taxpayers have been funding European defense on a massive scale.

 From this perspective, Europe is sent back to its geopolitical reality—lesser than what, until recently, some European politicians may have fantasized. Europe is also sent back and to its financial and economic reality, which, unfortunately, is that of an aging continent bearing the yoke of an ideology that is a mix of extreme environmentalism and socialism, with wide-open doors to millions of Islamist newcomers. Today the main problem of Europe appears to be the European Union—apart from the Common Market, a practical necessity. European law, sadly, has become an instrument that prevents economic development.

 The cost of energy, for instance, is today three to five times higher in Europe than in most countries of the world, especially the United States. No industry can withstand such a differential for very long. The cost of this energy, however, is entirely the result of policies decided at the level of the European Union. 

  So yes, the resurgence of Trump is good news for Europe, but only in the sense that it forces Europeans finally to take their economic and military responsibilities seriously, especially now in Ukraine.

  Canlorbe: You regularly travel to Paris, Brussels, or Amsterdam for your activities as an entrepreneur. How do you assess the “business climate” there?

  Godefridi: Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam—these are cities in distress, often for the same reasons: a migratory surge and a management that is primarily socialist. Paris and Brussels are dirty, saturated with aggression, and everywhere you go you encounter asylum seekers who have been denied asylum and have no right to reside in the country but remain there nonetheless because they are supposedly “undeportable”. The police try to do their job but are constantly sabotaged by left- and far-left judges who, under various pretexts, release the worst rapists, thugs, and criminals and rapists. of all kinds, under various pretexts.  

  Admittedly, Dutch management far surpasses that of Belgium or France. In the Netherlands, public debt represents 50% of GDP, compared to 106% and 114% in Belgium and France. A country can ensure budgetary rigor and prosperity if it wants to.

  Our cities, nevertheless, like the rest of Western Europe, are buckling under the yoke of all sorts of regulations, the source of which is the European Union. There is no longer a real business climate and European law acts as an instrument of economic castration. Take energy: its cost is five to seven times higher in Europe than in the United States—no industry can sustainably withstand such a differential.

  By contrast, Switzerland remains a paradise: for the last decade, its industrial production has grown by about 40%, while that of Germany has fallen. Despite significant migration and a few small Islamist enclaves, Switzerland offers light taxation, a higher standard of living, and a commitment to the civil tradition that encourages entrepreneurship without bombarding it with countless regulations or resorting to arbitrary administrative interventions.

  My American entrepreneurs friends peer at us Western Europeans as once West Germans looked at East Germans: cousins, brothers, but on a totally opposed trajectory. With the exception of Switzerland, Western Europe is mired in economic, financial, and civilizational backwardness.   It is high time to draw inspiration from this model, without copying it servilely, to put our continent back on the path of growth, creativity, and well-being. Our challenge, of truly civilizational scope, is to restore hope—the possibility for every European family to build a better future for their children—one commensurate with Europe’s great, historical contribution to civilization.


That conversation was originally published on Gatestone Institute, in October 2025

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Alain Destexhe, Bart De Wever, Drieu Godefridi, Emmanuel Macron, Georgia Meloni, Grégoire Canlorbe, New Flemish Alliance, Wallonia

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