Rudy Van Giel (72) lives with his husband in a house in the Oud-Begijnhof Sint-Elisabeth in Ghent. In the attic, a plaster statue of Jesus stares at the compass and square screwed into a wooden beam. “I don’t like secrecy. I am openly a Freemason,” says Van Giel. “That is also because of what I experienced in the eighties and nineties.”
Until the age of 65, he was a general practitioner in the working-class neighborhoods of Ghent. In this capacity, he helped found Espero in the 1990s, a shelter for dying AIDS patients in Rooigem (Ghent). That gentrification district in the northwest of the city center is often mentioned in the same breath as the Brugse Poort. “HIV took a special place in my life in those years,” says the GP. “Because of my work, but also because of the many acquaintances and friends who were affected by HIV. I woke up with it and went to sleep with it. AIDS was literally everywhere.”
When did you notice that the disease was advancing in Ghent?
“I was a general practitioner in a working-class neighborhood. My practice had 86 nationalities registered, but I also had many homosexual patients. I have always been very open about my orientation and that got around. Doctors referred their homosexual patients to me.
Homosexuality was something that people preferred to avoid at that time. This worsened with the emergence of HIV. When the first reports appeared in the early 1980s about a new disease among gays in San Francisco, I initially minimized it. I didn’t want there to be any more stigma. But at a certain point there was also a lot of concern in Flanders when the first patients appeared. Doctors were also afraid of becoming infected.
AIDS was also a disease about which very little was known. In that respect it is very similar to what happened in 2020 with Covid. There was a lot of panic about it in the beginning. Things got a little better from 1985 onwards, because we were then able to test. From then on, I received people in my practice every day who were looking for reassurance through a test, or were simply looking for information. They had no choice: AIDS was kept quiet and people were terrified. That reinforced each other. In 1991, Freddie Mercury died of AIDS, 25 hours after he announced he was HIV-positive.”
Even the term was taboo.
“In the beginning people talked about it Gay-Related Immunodeficiency or GRID. From the beginning of the epidemic, HIV was labeled as a gay disease, which later turned out to be unjustified.
Marc Van Ranst spoke about a progressive insight during Covid, but that was also the case with HIV. Nemand knew well what it was or how to deal with it. After a while we discovered that HIV was caused by a virus and could be sexually transmitted. The symptoms also became known. There were the typical spots on the face and the rest of the body, but there were also mysterious symptoms that I have never been able to place. For example, I had a patient who no longer knew his way around his own house. He recognized me, but could no longer find his toilet at home. In some patients the disease spread to their brain.
The explosion came in the late 1980s. At that time, everyone in the gay community knew someone who was HIV-positive. Patients died and that could happen very quickly. But there was no clear line to be drawn. During those years I have also known people to test positive, who are still there. Of course, there is now treatment.”
Do you remember your first patient?
“The first person I knew about it was an acquaintance from the gay community. He was very open about his infection, but he had no choice because of the Kaposi spots on his cheeks. The gay scene back then was not what it is today. We met in bars where you had to ring the front doorbell. I was afraid he would be excluded from the community. That’s why I went up to him one evening to give him a kiss, so that I could show others that they shouldn’t be afraid. But I have to admit that I also had a small heart.”
Were you afraid of becoming infected yourself?
“I had a steady partner and I wasn’t worried about that. But I did injure myself twice when I stabbed a patient. Then I also underwent a test myself. That was exciting.”
In 1994 you helped found a non-profit organization for terminal AIDS patients. Were there so many people standing alone?
“There was a cordon sanitary around HIV. The physical characteristics of the disease increased the disgust. People literally kept their distance from HIV patients. Espero was created to give people some time to recover after their diagnosis, but what happened was that they stayed because there was no safety net left. We were also there for people who were not in order with their health insurance, who could not afford the medical costs, but also for addicts and dropouts…
“The great thing was that the non-profit organization was located in a civilian house, in the row between other houses. I thought that was important to avoid labeling them. We had six rooms where some patients stayed temporarily, some longer. Initially, I was simply called in as a doctor for assistance. I only ended up on the board of directors later.”
Was it difficult to find volunteers to work with terminal AIDS patients?
“It was mainly fellow sufferers who came to help in Espero, but there was a high turnover. Most volunteers had a very difficult time being confronted with the suffering that awaited them. The process of deterioration was terrible. People couldn’t get out of bed anymore. They became very thin, think of the picture of famine in Ethiopia. They got fungi in their mouths that made it impossible for them to swallow and they could no longer hold their stools. Volunteers who signed up did so with the intention of helping. But I remember that at such a moment a patient said to a volunteer: ‘You will be here too in a few months’. It never came back. It was very taxing. Because it was a fatal disease, we were actually providing palliative care.”
The euthanasia law did not yet exist. But were there also people who said they wanted to die?
“No, or I don’t remember that.”
Espero was a Christian-inspired non-profit organization. How was the non-profit organization connected to the Brothers of Charity?
“The building in Appelstraat was rented by the Brothers, but otherwise that was not so clear. Looking back, I find that very disturbing. I actually didn’t know where I had gotten in. I initially became involved with the non-profit organization because I was called upon when medical problems arose with the residents. I joined the board of directors in 1996. Only then did I notice that there were also a Jesuit and a Dominican who were destroying the church.
The strange thing was that some people started to see an industry in AIDS. In Ghent, where the religious pillar controlled the lion’s share of medical institutions, the university hospital had taken care of this fast-growing market. In Antwerp, the guidance of people with HIV was provided by the Tropical Institute, in Brussels by the liberal VUB and ULB. The Catholic network was initially not involved. I always had the impression that the Brothers wanted to get involved, especially when they noticed that the epidemic was spreading explosively and was not limited to gays.”
Is that a problem?
“Yes, when it comes to profiteering, lust for power and an attempt to maintain their dominance over the ethical principles of the country. It was clear to me that the congregation of the Brothers of Charity had focused on AIDS as a new golden vein. If you thought ahead to what the reception of terminal patients in the fold of its institutions could bring them, it was clear to me what it was about.”
Can you prove that?
“At one point I was shown a flyer with an account number into which donations can be deposited. That was the account number of the Brothers of Charity. An explanation has been given that it would be more interesting from a tax perspective, but I found that all very suspicious. The accounting also disappeared and suddenly reappeared with someone who had a connection with the basilica of Oostakker. That’s all strange. I have no problem at all with what people believe, but with being dishonest and manipulating: I did have a problem with that.”
You write in your book that you had the feeling that you were being thwarted, that people were being taken to hospital behind your back.
“As a doctor, I had advised at a certain point that a patient could stay in Espero, but suddenly that person had disappeared. It was a completely weakened patient who could never have left there on his own. We got a bad name because of stories like that. Gossip was also spread about abuse. At a certain point, the University Hospital decided to no longer send patients to us. They carried out a strategy of corruption within our non-profit organization: unnoticed men were placed who leaked the contents of internal meetings. There were more and more problems: with the expense report for cigarettes, but also with the building in Appelstraat. I had the feeling that the non-profit organization was never given a fair chance, that everything was done to sabotage us. And we succeeded: two years later the non-profit organization was closed down.”
What did the Brothers have to gain from this?
“Espero was a tryout. The Brothers subsequently wanted to start a parallel initiative in Ronse, in the former monastery of the Arme Klaren, for which they were able to obtain subsidies. By outsourcing the treatment of patients, the Catholic authorities lost some of their control. It was made less easy for them to put their moralistic stamp on the policy line that the political world was developing in this regard.”
Hadn’t the work grown beyond the non-profit organization’s head? You describe an incident of a Zairean man who smeared his room with vomit and feces.
“That could be. But why wasn’t that said? While preparing my book, I found a letter from Jo Eerens, the Jesuit who headed the basilica in Oostakker, who wrote how they appreciated the initiative and that it should certainly be continued. And yet they withdrew. It’s that hypocrisy and mysteriousness that I have trouble with. And that goes hand in hand with the church.”
Freemasonry is also not a beacon of openness.
“Espero is separate from Freemasonry. By the way, I think there should be more openness about what the Freemasons do. That’s not so special at all. We hold meetings, just like the Rotary Club does. Only we start our meetings with a ritual. I like that because it brings people together. It gives me energy because it allows me to talk to people I would not otherwise meet.”
Hope, brothers without love, Rudy Van Giel, Uitgeverij Ertsberg.
