A few weeks ago, I was standing next to what is arguably one of the more contested monuments in Europe today: the Equestrian Statue of Leopold II (1835-1909), at la Place du Trône in Brussels. The bronze statue is banal in its familiar form, yet masterfully sculpted by Thomas Vinçotte in 1914. The king holds his head high, his gaze is directed forward and up to the left, and he sits with both commanding and relaxed posture on a muscular horse that bends its neck elegantly, signaling submission to its rider. This is power and control embodied. When the sculpture was erected in 1926, the king had been dead for 17 years, and the country had emerged from the horrors of World War I with the iconic Western Front trenches cutting across its territories. The German occupation forced many Belgians to become refugees, while others were conscripted into forced labor, or killed for suspected resistance and sabotage or simply as the outcome of collective punishment. Germany viewed the Flemish as an oppressed people and made efforts to support their cause, which risked undermining the cohesion of the young nation. The project to raise the statue had been in the making since the death of the king in 1909, and even included a successful public fundraising effort, but had been put on hold during the war. When it finally was erected in 1926 it commemorated the king as builder and colonizer, but probably also as a national hero and a unifying symbol of a Belgian past – happy, prosperous, and united.