Conclusion

Abstract

Speaking at an event in Liège to mark the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War on 4 August 2014, German President Joachim Gauck noted grimly that ‘the destruction of the world famous library in Leuven became a symbol that spread fear, shock and rage far and wide’ and wondered ruefully ‘what had become of the community of scholars and artists? What had happened to the civilization called Europe?’¹ The destruction of the university library at Louvain has retained a strong and long-lived resonance in popular memory; it was a line in the sand, a cultural atrocity that encapsulated the transition from the old form of warfare typical of the nineteenth century to the wars of the twentieth century where ideas became combatants and the distinction between soldiers and non-combatants became increasingly blurred. The destruction of a university library, traditionally seen as the home of knowledge that was both non-political and supposedly of universal benefit, still retains shock value. Now, as then, Louvain serves as a visceral example of the excesses of modern warfare, although it would pale in comparison with what followed later in both the war and the twentieth century.