Traditions are part of our identity. The two influence each other. SRG recently examined how we understand our identity. Some of the results are surprising.

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When girls were suddenly allowed to take part in the traditional Chalandamarz procession this year, it made headlines beyond the country's borders. There was even more talk about gender-appropriate Jass cards and the question of whether this Swiss cultural asset would need an update in 2023. So do traditions have to adapt to keep up with the times, or do we give up a bit of our identity when we change it too much?

It is worth taking a look at one of the largest surveys ever conducted in Switzerland. This spring, the GFS Bern research institute surveyed more than 57,000 people on behalf of SRG, among other things on Swiss identity. The answers show: According to a clear majority of respondents, Swiss identity does not only consist of things rooted in tradition. It is something that can move with the times and adapt to new conditions.

Thus, a majority thinks that it is not decisive for Swiss identity whether one was born here. 54 percent think this is rather to very unimportant. Much more important than their origin is how people behave: Respecting Swiss institutions and laws or speaking a national language are considered very or rather important for Swiss identity by 96 and 95 percent respectively.

Also should know something about culture and history, says a majority. Whether one belongs to a national religion, on the other hand, is relevant for just 25 percent of respondents in order for someone to have a Swiss identity in their opinion.

When asked how important the place of birth is for Swiss identity, there is a stark contrast between Italian-speaking and French-speaking Switzerland: in Ticino, 34% consider the place of birth to be very important for Swiss identity, compared to just 9% in French-speaking Switzerland. In German-speaking Switzerland, 21 percent consider this to be very important.

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In the eyes of the respondents, direct democracy, one of the country's great political traditions, plays a decisive role in Swiss identity. 98 percent think it is of central importance for Swiss identity. On the other hand, 64 percent also agree with the statement that immigrants could retain their values and still be Swiss.

If you ask people what their own identity is like, the picture is clear: three quarters describe themselves as fairly to completely Swiss. On the other hand, hardly anyone says they are "un-Swiss".

In this context, it may also come as no surprise that 76 percent of respondents agree with the statement: "Switzerland is the best country in the world to live in!"

Who are we?

August 1 rituals: how national myths are built and maintained

Nation states cannot shake off the power of religion even if they draw a radical separation between the church and the state – as they also depend on rituals and faith.

Zurich religious scholar David Atwood talks about bonfires, lanterns and the oath of office taken by new members of the Swiss government. 

SWI swissinfo.ch: On August 1 every year, people all over Switzerland light big bonfires and pay tribute to the nation. There is something archaic about this. As a religious scholar, does it not also make you think of a witches’ sabbath on Walpurgis Night? 

David Atwood: No, I don’t really see it as an occult ritual. But yes, fires have probably been an important part of rituals since the Stone Age.

SWI: How did the August 1 bonfires originate? 

D.A.: When August 1 was enshrined as Swiss National Day as a ‘reinvention’ at the end of the 19th century, various things were combined. The models for the August 1 bonfires were probably the fires that have a centuries-old tradition in the Alps. Lanterns were added later, as an import from Asia. Traditions are so often the creative result of cultural borrowing.

SWI: What was the purpose of the original bonfires? 

D.A.: On the one hand, they were used for communication. People lit them to show other small, related groups where they were and if there was any danger. 

SWI: So they were a means of communication for tribal communities? 

D.A.: Exactly. But they also had a protective function and were intended to drive away evil spirits. However, any conclusions about this early phase of humanity can only be speculative, and there are also other theories about their origin. 

SWI: In addition to the bonfires, on August 1 people wave flags with the Swiss cross. Has the white cross on a red background now lost all religious meaning?  

D.A.: It is a Christian symbol that has been turned into a national symbol.  

SWI: In the early days of the Confederation, the Swiss liked to compare themselves with the people of Israel as described in the Bible, in the Book of Genesis. The Swiss also saw themselves as a chosen people. What role has this idea played in building national identity?  

D.A.: It was a very successful idea in the modern era. The Zurich reformer Heinrich Bullinger also claimed that the Swiss were God’s chosen people. They saw themselves as the ones who had Christianised the mountainous regions and thus the intersection between northern and southern Europe, thereby paving the way for the Vatican to the Germanic-pagan north. Intellectuals in the surrounding countries disputed this divine status of the Swiss people – but Switzerland was not the only country to proclaim this. 

In the United States, chosenness is still part of the national rhetoric. In Switzerland, the idea more or less disappeared in the 17th century. 

SWI: The French Revolution stood in clear defiance of religion. The word “saint” was removed from street names, for instance. To what extent is this rivalry between state and religion fundamental to democratic states? 

D.A.: This rivalry was already set forth in the writings of the Church Fathers. As early as the fourth century AD, Augustine spoke of two kingdoms. He asked: How should Christians act towards the Roman state? What should be given to the emperor, and what to God? Similar questions arose during the Thirty Years’ War, which started as a religious conflict. 

Yet in the French Revolution, parts of the state itself were described as sacred for the first time. So not only were saints removed from street names, but churches were turned into “temples to the Goddess of Reason”. 

SWI: The Geneva philosopher Jean Jacques Rousseau called this a “civil religion”. What did he mean by this? 

D.A.: At the end of his reflections on the social contract, Rousseau questions how individuals manage to come together to form a community, despite their many different views. How is this possible? Rousseau saw a religion of the citizens as the answer. Everyone must share certain beliefs. 

D.A.: Faith in the constitution. In Rousseau’s view, this also stands above individual religion. Citizens should first of all be believers in the constitution, and only then have a religious affiliation.  

SWI: Can there be too much civil religion?  

D.A.: States can certainly become totalitarian and force their citizens to believe and endorse certain things, cultivating a unified identity beyond the rule of law. By this I do not mean theocratic states like Iran, which become totalitarian in the name of a particular religion. I mean regimes like Germany under National Socialism, where state myths and rituals were assigned a huge role. The torch-lit marches of the Nazis are an example of this – and here we have fire again. 

I think it is important to realise that this civil-religious element is present somewhere in all states. The rivalry between religion and state has closed our eyes to the fact that religion is not only found in churches but also within the state. But this does not suddenly mean that all politicians are pastors. 

SWI: Where do you see this civil religion in Switzerland? 

D.A.: In the August 1 speeches, for instance. Each year, politicians answer the questions: Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going? They build a national myth – not in the sense of a false history, but the image of the Switzerland we want to live in. This also makes counter-designs possible, like that put forward by the Institute New Switzerland: what is a post-migrant Switzerland? 

D.A.: If we understand religion as the social formation of myths through rituals, then yes. Even in nation states, ceremonies are needed in order to create legitimacy and credibility. Ideas take on a more powerful effect when we stand together in a crowded square; it helps us feel we are part of a community. Societies need staged moments like this in order to thrive. 

D.A.: Take a look at the swearing-in of Swiss Federal Councillors. They have to take an oath, and by so doing they gain a new legal status, as members of the government. This must be accompanied by a ritual.  

The Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben said that every oath, every vow, is a religious act in which we testify that what we are about to say is true. If I lie now, I can be punished for it. Oaths are a typical example of this legal-religious mix. The Swiss Confederation moreover calls itself, in German, an Eidgenossenschaft – that is, an “oath commonwealth”, in reference to the pacts signed between the different cantons when the country was formed.

Rituals on August 1 

Gender bells, gender bells, ringing in the Alps

The Swiss children’s book Schellen-Ursli (A Bell for Ursli) made the traditional spring festival of “Chalandamarz” world-famous. Now, controversy is simmering in the Swiss Alps, as even the custom’s last strongholds have allowed girls to join in. SWI swissinfo.ch visited Zuoz, a village torn between tradition and gender issues.

It’s the typical Swiss mountain village as pictured by foreigners. Massive stone houses with elaborately painted walls line the streets of Zuoz, a village in the high valley region of Engadine in the eastern Swiss Alps. A fountain decorated with flowers stands in the main square, with its schoolhouse and town hall. And overlooking the village is the internationally renowned boarding school, the Lyceum Alpinum.

But the idyll is deceptive. For nearly a year, the Alpine village has been riven with strife. The cause is a culture war between tradition and gender politics – a conflict that is taking place around the globe. In Zuoz, it’s about nothing less than the Engadine region’s best-known custom, Chalandamarz, a procession held each year on March 1 in which the local boys go around the village, ringing bells and singing, in order to drive out the winter.

Just the boys – until today, that is. And therein lay the problem.

Chalandamarz became known to a global audience thanks to the illustrated children’s book A Bell for Ursli. Published immediately after the Second World War, in 1945, the story with its iconic imagery has, over the decades, become Switzerland’s second-most successful children’s book – eclipsed only by Heidi. It has been translated into eight languages, including English, Japanese and Chinese.

The story is about little Ursli, who has been given only a tiny goat’s bell for Chalandamarz. The other boys in the village make fun of him because of this. As a result, Ursli will have to walk at the back of the cowbell procession – an ignominy he cannot accept. So he fights his way through the deep snow to the family’s Alpine hut, where a huge cowbell hangs. He returns to the village with it the next day, and is now allowed to lead the procession because he has the biggest bell.

It’s an emancipation story with a male cast. Ursli also has a sister, Flurina, but, like all the other girls in the village, she is not allowed to join in the procession. This gender division probably didn’t bother anyone in the 1940s. In Zuoz, which for years left the tradition untouched, the issue has now sparked controversy.

What set it all off was an initiative by the municipal council to open up the custom. The idea was that the girls should be treated completely equally – that is, also take part in the procession, sing along and wear blue peasant smocks and red tassel hats, just like the boys.

This is required not least by the principle of equality enshrined in the Federal Constitution, which is binding on all schools in Switzerland. In Zuoz, which takes the tradition more seriously than almost any other village in the Engadine, Chalandamarz is a compulsory part of the school year.

But the revolution met with resistance. The voting at the municipal assembly last June revealed the deep rift running through the village. While many women, in particular, spoke out in favour of girls’ participation, one voter declared that for him Chalandamarz would no longer be the same. Someone else suggested involving the girls in a different way: “They could decorate the festival hall, for instance.”

The mayor felt compelled to make a spontaneous move and withdrew the proposal for reconsideration. However, the controversy remained. It was a topic best avoided at family mealtimes, one resident confided during a visit by SWI swissinfo.ch late summer 2022. She herself was in favour of the revision, she said. Others meanwhile, including some women, just shook their heads. It was unthinkable that Engadine customs should be overturned by gender activists from the lowlands, they said.

Mischa Gallati, cultural scientist and lecturer at the University of Zurich, is not surprised by the scepticism reigning in Zuoz. The tradition originated at a time when society was clearly organised along gender lines. If the ritual were changed, then this duality would also be called into question. “It’s linked to fears. There’s a defensiveness, a falling back on traditional patterns,” he says.

But this is only one aspect of the dispute, according to Gallati. The discord within the municipal assembly showed that the whole issue was also a proxy debate. “Customs have their dark side. They are always also about exclusion, about who has power, and who belongs.”

As in many Swiss mountain villages, locals and newcomers stand opposed in Zuoz. This confrontation is exacerbated because the language spoken here is Romansh, a Swiss national language spoken by about 50,000 people. Many of the newcomers make no attempt to learn it.

Despite the resistance, however, Gallati takes it for granted that the custom will change, as has already happened in other nearby villages. Customs are an instrument of self-affirmation, he explains. Chalandamarz dates back to an agrarian society, where the passing of the seasons was central. “These rituals were built around this, and now they are being charged with new content,” he says.

Andrea Könz takes a more critical view of the change. She is the widow of Steivan Liun Könz, son of the author of A Bell for Ursli. Of course, traditions have to evolve, she agrees, “but my main criticism of the modernisation is that the symbolism behind the custom is no longer understood”. Chalandamarz is a fertility cycle, she explains, and the big bells have phallic connotations. “So does it make sense to put them on the girls?”

Könz also sees a culture clash in the Zuoz debate. It was mothers from the lowlands who pressured for equal rights in the mountain villages, she says. “They didn’t see why their daughters should be left out.” It is all their demands as a whole that bother Könz. Her daughter also wanted to take part in Chalandamarz in the village of Guarda, where they lived for a long time and where A Bell for Ursli is also set.

That was back in the 1990s. Like other Engadine communities, Guarda discussed whether to include girls several years ago. “But the gender debate wasn’t as crazy back then as it is today,” Könz says.

Diversity, she believes, is too often linked to outward appearance, and equality is confused with uniformity. In many villages, girls had their own role in the ritual. This is where she sees a potential for renewing the custom without betraying it. “It’s then a matter of not simply devaluing the role of girls as insignificant, but of giving it equal attention,” she says.

Zuoz chose a way out of the dilemma that is both Swiss and un-Swiss. In 2023, girls took part in the procession for the first time, dressed in the same way as the boys, but without carrying bells.

A committee, tasked by the municipal council with resolving the issue, reached this compromise on its own. The decision was not brought before the community, which was instead presented with facts on the ground – uncharacteristically for Switzerland, which functions as a direct democracy.

According to Ramun Ratti, vice-president and interim mayor of Zuoz, the “vast majority of community members” were in agreement that girls should also participate. So now, with the custom’s new look, peace should return to the village.

Chalandamarz is important for cohesion and identification, Ratti stresses. He also feels pressure from the lowlands. “If you look at the big picture, we’re in the minority.” 

Ratti strongly believes that the gender debate must be addressed. “But it’s important to develop the tradition carefully.” This has always been the case, he explains. “The blue smocks and red hats were only added on in Zuoz after the war.”

Moreover, the whole purpose of the tradition has changed, he says. “In the past, there was a link with mercenaries: as well as driving away the winter, it was an occasion for the boys to present themselves in the village.”

Today, he says, the event is mainly for children. This is perhaps what influenced his thinking most. “My daughter was really looking forward to taking part,” he says.

"Gender bells, gender bells"

"We're calling them machos now. It's a shame."

Claire Micallef

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At the beginning of January 2022, the Payerne Target Shooters' Society refused to allow women to join. But this is not the only non-mixed society or association. Is this a problem at a time when we are talking more and more about equality? A report from the RTS programme 15 minutes.

The subject caused quite a stir in the Vaud town of Payerne in early 2022. With 440 no and 203 yes votes, the members of this historic society refused to allow women access. Within the Fédération des Abbayes Vaudoises, this brotherhood is one of 81 that are still exclusively male, compared to 94 that are mixed.

In a local restaurant, the subject is the talk of the town. For this member, the problem is not the shooting, but rather the party that follows. "We get together with the guys. It only happens once a year. Don't you like getting together with your mates?"

"Shooting is just an excuse. I've got nothing against girls who shoot. There are some who shoot much better than me." One of his friends adds, "women would be a real buzzkull". When contacted, the society's abbot-president declined to comment on the vote.

Some opinions are more difficult to gather. Like this man, who is in favour of co-education but doesn't want to get into trouble. "I'm outraged. We're calling them machos now. It's a shame", says a woman from Payerne, who also feels that the girls may not have brought up the subject "very diplomatically".

Behind this integration initiative is a group of 17 women from the region: the Adélaïdes. "It's tough to tell yourself you're not allowed in, just because you're a woman", explains Salomé Barth, 21, who is part of the collective.

In Payerne, the subject also divides the women. The "filles de la Jeunesse" have publicly distanced themselves from the Adélaïdes. "Let them be. It's the only thing left for the guys", says a local woman who is married to a member of the society. She doesn't think women will be integrated for another ten years or so: "Besides, they don't need women to fill the rooms. There are enough members." The society now has almost a thousand members.

There are also groups of women who decide to keep to themselves. In Neuchâtel, not far from the University, you'll find the Hétaïra premises. This is a 100% female student association. "The founders wanted a society with their own rules, rather than being part of a male society", explains Vanessa Fernandes, the current president.

But why create an women-only society? "We're creating a safe space. A climate of trust. We talk freely about women's issues. The downside is not having a male point of view."

"Inevitably, we're now asking ourselves whether Zofingue should adapt to this social change. I think we're going to open up to women in the future", explains society member Scott Greinig.

"There's a real difference between the younger generation and the older one", says Vincent Pheulpin, president of the Vieux-Zofingiens from Neuchâtel. He is concerned that the diversity will call into question many traditions. "Men don't behave the same way if there's a woman present. We'd lose our spontaneity." Both agree that the members are not yet ready to accept women.

"We're calling them machos now"

The best raclette cheese comes from Valais and Obwalden

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The aroma of raclette enveloped Morgins this weekend. The Valais resort hosted the first Raclette World Championships, during which 87 cheeses were tasted. The winners were announced on Sunday.

In the category of raclette made from raw alpine milk, there was a three-way battle. The winner was the cheese from Alp Tanay in Vouvry (VS). In the raw milk cheese category, the title went to the Le Pont cheese dairy in Champéry (VS). Finally, in the category "other cheeses", the winner was the cheese factory Seiler Sélection by Wyssmüller Maître Fromager from Giswil in the canton of Obwalden.

"For a cheese to get the label 'Alp', the milk must be produced and processed on the alp. If one of the conditions is not met, it loses the indication of origin," says Laurent Ecoeur, farmer and cheese maker in Val-d'Illiez (VS) and co-organiser of the competition.

Among the 87 producers present, most of whom came from Valais, there were also 16 from Val d'Illiez. "This shows that there is real support for the event", says Christophe Berra, head of the organising committee for this first edition.

There were also loaves from Fribourg, Vaud, Neuchâtel and German-speaking Switzerland. Others arrived from France, Italy, Belgium and, more surprisingly, from Romania, Canada and the UK.

The organisers had also hoped to attract Japan, Brazil and Argentina, but administrative complications and tight deadlines thwarted their plans. "There will be another edition," assures the head of the organising committee.

A jury of 50 experts and consumers skimmed the cheese offer and shortlisted 20%. This selection was then judged by eight internationally renowned jurors: Laetitia Gaborit and Bernard Mure-Ravaud from France, Philippe Moreau from Belgium and Eddy Baillifard, François Raemy, Roger Dubosson, Andréas Leibundgut and Edith Beutler from Switzerland.

Colour, body, texture, strength, aroma: nothing was left to chance. "The tasting is similar to a wine tasting", says Christophe Berra.

"We don't judge the cheese, we judge the raclette. Since the cheeses come from all over the world, they are vacuum-packed. Therefore, we cannot judge the external appearance of the cheese", says Laurent Ecoeur. He adds: "The evaluation grid includes the first impression the raclette makes on the plate and the overall impression. And then there's the texture: it has to be smooth."

A dozen scrapers were busy backstage, in a separate room invisible to the public. These volunteers had the tough task of making perfect raclettes, especially at the right temperature and without any burnt spots. A total of 250 people volunteered to help with this event.

The experts were not the only ones to enjoy the cheese. The general public could also participate in tastings, workshops and other activities.

The budget for this first edition of the event was CHF 450,000, financed by the municipalities of the valley, the Dents du Midi region and sponsors.

Raclette World Championship

Podcast - Why do the Swiss love cheese so much?

In Switzerland, we love cheese. The most popular ones are called Appenzeller, Tilsiter, Tête de Moine, Emmentaler... and not forgetting raclette and fondue, cherished both in Switzerland and abroad. When the US judiciary dared to say that our Gruyère cheese doesn't have to be made in Switzerland, the reactions were strong. But why do the Swiss love cheese so much?

Swiss cheese is popular. In 2020, per capita consumption in Switzerland increased by 5.5% to an average of 23.1 kilograms. Like chocolate and watches, cheese is also exported in large quantities: 77,000 tonnes were sold abroad, representing a market of around CHF 694 million. Proof, if any needed, of the Swiss love for their cheeses is the outcry over the recent decision by a US federal judge who ruled that the term Gruyère had become "generic" in the United States and was therefore no longer reserved for products originating in Switzerland.

In the RTS programme Le Point J, Jérémie Forney, an anthropologist and lecturer at the University of Neuchâtel, who is specialised in agricultural and food systems and has done extensive research on dairy products, explains the reasons for this unconditional love of cheese in Switzerland, which lies between respect for an ancestral heritage and belonging to a national identity.

The love between Switzerland and cheese has a long history, due to its climate and topography, but also to social, cultural and historical reasons

Swiss cheese and idyllic representation of alpine pastures

"Switzerland's climate and topography make it an ideal place for dairy production", explains Jérémie Forney. But he believes that the love between Switzerland and cheese is also based on social, cultural and historical aspects. And despite the vegan trend or the issues related to animal keeping, "a vast majority of people still associate the image of Swiss cheeses with the idyllic image of alpine pastures and happy, free cows in the meadows". Even from abroad, the image of Switzerland remains associated with cheese thanks to the marketing and tourist activities developed around these products in many regions of the country.

Today, there are more than 1500 different types of cheese in Switzerland, according to Dominik Flammer, journalist, writer, specialist in the history of local products and author of the book Fromages Suisses published by Glénat in 2010. In this episode, he also lists the best cheese types. And the list is long, because the reputation of Swiss cheese is based on its outstanding quality.

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Why do we love cheese so much?

Evolution of traditions: threat or necessity?

The winner gets a bull: animal rights activists criticise this custom


In "schwingen" - a form of wrestling - it is a tradition that the winners take home an animal. Animal rights activists consider this to be cruelty.



Matthias Hug

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The bull "Magnus" is the main prize at the ESAF (Federal Wrestling and Alpine Games Festival or "Schwingfest") in Pratteln. An imposing, powerful appearance. It weighs around one ton, is 1.80 metres tall and well worth CHF 30,000.



Among Swiss wrestlers, called "schwinger", it's a special honour to win such an impressive animal: "For most, it is a childhood dream to celebrate one's victory with a bull. It is an honour to be able to win such a powerful, strong animal", says wrestler Marcel Räbsamen. At the Federal Wrestling and Alpine Games Festival in Pratteln, a total of eleven so-called live prizes are available for the winners.



This is a a lot of stress for the animals. You can't prepare them for this.

Julika Fitzi-Rathgen from the organisation Swiss Animal Protection has no understanding for this tradition. "This is a lot of stress for the animals. You can't prepare them for the noise and the situation in the arena", says the head of the veterinary advice centre at Swiss Animal Protection.



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Live prizes are simply no longer appropriate. "There are also pregnant animals among them. If we juxtapose animal welfare and tradition, it's a no-go." This is already animal cruelty, says Fitzi-Rathgen. "Basically, in my opinion, live animals should not be gifts."



Urs Schneider doesn't want to accept this criticism. He is responsible for the live prizes at the ESAF. "Anyone observing the animals here at the ESAF will notice straight away that they are not stressed. They eat, lie down, chew their food. A stressed animal would behave differently", says Schneider.



Anyone observing the animals here at the ESAF will notice straight away that they are not stressed.

He is aware of his responsibility towards the animals and does everything for their well-being. They are being looked after around the clock by five people, Schneider says and emphasises that the live prizes are an important part of the ESAF: "We're convinced that this is not an old thing, but a living and beautiful tradition that is several hundred years old."



In Switzerland, living prizes are largely symbolic nowadays. Not even 10% of them are actually handed over in the end. Since the wrestlers hardly work as farmers anymore, they prefer to take the equivalent value as money.



For example, Christian Stucki, "Schwingerkönig" at the ESAF 2019 in Zug, did not take home the winning bull "Kolin". Nevertheless, the tradition is popular among the wrestlers.



Nevertheless, this is a very nice and important tradition that we should continue to cultivate.

"Most of the time, the winners dip the live prize in exchange for money. Nevertheless, this is a very nice and important tradition that we should continue to cultivate", says for example wrestler Kilian von Weissenfluh. Fellow wrestler Severin Schwander has a similar view: "It's nice for everyone to get a live prize. Even if it's just prestige and most of them end up taking the money."






A bull for the winner

How Halloween became part of Swiss culture

The Swiss calendar is packed with bizarre and often alarming traditions. Is there room for Halloween? Yes, say delighted children and pumpkin-sellers. Some neighbours and cultural purists are less sure.

“Süsses oder Saures!” “Des bonbons ou un sort!” Thirty years ago, most Swiss wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on if they had opened their front door to find a couple of eight-year-olds, high on sugar and dressed as witches or skeletons, shrieking “trick or treat!”.

Since the mid-1990s, Halloween has embedded itself, albeit weakly, in Swiss cultural life. “Like Oktoberfests, which now also intoxicate town and country in Switzerland,” wrote the St. Galler Tagblatt, referring to German beer festivals.

“Cultural pessimists see domestic customs threatened,” it continued. "And evangelical Christians in particular reject Halloween because it’s about occultism and Satanism – regardless of the fact that the event has long since ceased to have any serious religious traits and is largely commercialised. Folklorists rather than theologians are responsible for Halloween, and marketing experts and event organisers for its spread in our country.”

The evolution of Halloween is murky, but in a simplified nutshell, it is thought to have originated with pagan Celtic traditions, such as the ancient Gaelic festival of Samhain, when people would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts.

In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III designated November 1 as a day to honour all saints. Soon, All Saints’ Day incorporated some of the traditions of Samhain. The evening before was known as All Hallows’ Eve, and later Halloween.  

Mass Irish and Scottish emigration in the 19th century resulted in Halloween taking off in the United States, eventually being celebrated by people of all social, racial and religious backgrounds. By the late 20th and early 21st century, through US cultural influence, Halloween had spread to many regions around the world, including to mainland Europe.

The tradition crept into French-speaking Switzerland from France, and then into German-speaking Switzerland, according to folklorist Konrad Kuhn, who confirmed that Halloween wasn’t an issue in Switzerland before the mid-1990s.

It took a few years for the larger retailers and the media to get interested, but what really gave Halloween a boost in Switzerland was farmers’ discovery, at the same time, of the pumpkin as a new source of income, Kuhn wrote in Kürbis, Kommerz und Kult: Halloween und Kürbisfest zwischen Gegenwartsbrauch und Marketing (Pumpkin, commerce and cult: Halloween and the pumpkin festival between contemporary custom and marketing), published in “Folklore Suisse” in 2010.

A pioneering role was played by the publicity-savvy Jucker brothers in canton Zurich, whose farm soon became known throughout Switzerland for pumping out pumpkins and holding events such as competitions for the biggest pumpkin pyramid, the biggest pumpkin soup, the heaviest pumpkin and so on. The media lapped this up, and countless farmers followed their example and flooded Switzerland with pumpkins, which until then had been eaten sparingly but which now filled home kitchens and restaurants.

In 1991, 230 tonnes of pumpkins were sold in Switzerland. By 2000, it was around 10,000 tonnes, according to this SWI swissinfo.ch article from 2001.

“The Juckers took advantage of the traditional November gap in the event sector, so that in addition to the major retailers, amusement parks, catering establishments and costume shops also showed interest and achieved high sales,” Kuhn said.

However, it appears that Halloween then took a slight hit. Halloween sales at the country’s two biggest supermarkets, Migros and Coop, plummeted in 2007.

At the same time, media coverage of Halloween changed, Kuhn said. “While earlier there had been favourable reports and Halloween had even made it onto daytime television, now the focus was mainly on the damage to property committed during the night by prowling youths”.

In 2021, Lausanne newspaperLe Matin said the police were well aware that little monsters for one evening can really be just that: little monsters.

“In recent years, more and more people have had the unpleasant surprise of finding eggs thrown at the front of their house or windows,” it said. “While the threat of ‘trick or treat’ is supposed to be no more than a threat, some children really do take revenge on those who don’t give them anything or open the door for them.”

The police pointed out that participation in Halloween “is not compulsory” and that refusal shouldn’t lead to reprisals, “however harmless they may seem”.

Today, October 31 means Swiss department stores offering “Halloween deals”, restaurants still throwing pumpkin into everything, and cinemas showing classic horror films.

“Playing with spooky things is catching on in ever wider circles,” reckoned the St. Galler Tagblatt on Tuesday. “Many people have fun with it, organising Halloween parties where they walk through the living room dressed up as zombies with a glass of blood-coloured liquid and dip tortilla chips into guacamole ‘vomited up’ from a pumpkin.”

While Halloween in Switzerland is still far from the massive national celebration it is in the United States, those Swiss who celebrate it really go for it, with adults seemingly trying to outdo each other with impressively gory make-up.

Costumes in the US are generally more humorous or satirical, but the Swiss have a chance to do satire during the carnival season. It should also be pointed out that the Swiss are no strangers to eyebrow-raising customs, such as decapitating a dead goose or holding down young girls and putting blackface on them:

And as Kuhn noted, elements of Halloween can be found in other customs that are widespread in Switzerland, such as the carved turnip with a candle as in the Räbeliechtli procession, asking for something at the front door as in carol singing, or the elements of commemorating the dead on All Saints’ Day.

As for whether Halloween is gaining or losing popularity in Switzerland, it’s hard to say. Some neighbourhoods put on well-organised parties for adults and are teeming with skeletons and witches. Social media enables parents to create maps of which houses are tricking or treating. Other streets are dead.

But Kuhn was confident that the tradition would continue in some form. “The need for a yearly cycle shaped by highlights continues, so it can be assumed that Halloween [...] will be innovatively integrated into the existing customs landscape”.

The pumpkin, he added, also seems to have found its place beyond Halloween parties by being carved as a family and then put on display: “a family custom during the dark season”.

Is Halloween part of Swiss culture?

Tapping into Swiss sweet-toothed nostalgia

It is not always easy for the Swiss abroad to find their favourite childhood chocolate bars or other specialist products like Rivella or Ovomaltine when they are thousands of miles from home. The Huber brothers, Dominik and Manuel, claim to offer an online solution.

“For me nothing beats sipping a Rivella [soft drink] or munching on Swiss sweets to help feel less home sick,” declares Verena, who lives in California, United States.

A growing number of nostalgic Swiss like Verena, seeking to indulge a sweet tooth or stay in touch with their homeland via Swiss food products, use the services of Swiss Food Box and My Swiss World.

The two small online companies were founded in 2015 by brothers Dominik and Manuel Huber. At the time, Dominik was living in Colombia, where he was studying economics and on the look-out for a new business idea.

As a regular customer at Lindt chocolate shops in the capital Bogota, he realised that other Swiss abroad probably had cravings for Swiss chocolate and other well-known childhood goodies.

After carrying out research and discovering that no such firms existed, he decided to launch Swiss Food Box together with his brother, who is an IT expert.

Their business concept is simple. Customers pay a monthly subscription, ranging from CHF19.95 ($21.87) to CHF59.95 ($65.70), for one of three different food boxes (Swiss chocolate pack, Swiss sweets or a classic Swiss food box). A customised selection is also possible.

In 2020, the brothers launched a second online company and site, My Swiss World, which offers Swiss specialities but without a monthly subscription.

For several days a month, Dominik Huber’s flat is packed to the ceiling with boxes and food products.

“That’s why I don’t have much furniture,” he jokes.

The company sends around 300 monthly orders from Winterthur in northeast Switzerland. At Christmas 2021, they smashed the 500-mark. Around 60 individual food parcels (average CHF90) are also sent out each month.

Half of their customers live in the United States, while Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Britain represent around 30% of their market. The remaining 20% are based mainly in Europe.

“Initially, most of the communication with customers was in English. These countries have the largest communities of Swiss abroad,” explains Dominik. “The further away from Switzerland you live, the harder it is to find these products.”

Swiss Food Box and My Swiss World do not have partnership deals with food brands or distribution firms. Dominik buys the products in specialist shops or directly from manufacturers. He also takes advantage of special offers in supermarkets.

“Sometimes staff look at me slightly strangely when they see me emptying the shelves of crisps or chocolate,” he says.

Their online stores do not offer meat or alcohol as it is forbidden to import them into many countries. Imported cheese must also be made using pasteurised milk.

“You have to be careful with expiry dates,” adds Dominik.

Since their launch, the business has become a success and the young entrepreneurs have many loyal customers.

“One woman who lives in Chicago has been signed up since the first month we started the food boxes,” says Dominik.

Over time, he has got to know many of their customers, like a woman in the US who regularly orders Ovomaltine products.

The most popular products ordered are mustard, paprika crisps, Cailler chocolate bars and mayonnaise.

“For over a year, one of our customers in Canada ordered just mayonnaise – six or seven tubes a month – via our personalised service,” says Dominik.

The Swiss manages to live solely from the online business. His brother has another job as a consultant. But they get help from their father, who is retired.

“Swiss Food Box has become a small family company – 100% DIY,” says Dominik.

This is probably one of the reasons for its success – a small, flexible firm that knows its customers well. Swiss Food Box doesn’t rent offices or storeroom space and it uses social media for targeted advertising.

And as for the competition, Dominik doesn’t seem too worried.

“We are working in a market that is too small for the big operators,” he says, referring to Swiss Post’s Swiss Authentic Shop, an online store for the Swiss abroad that closed after only nine months.

Swiss abroad's sweet-toothed nostalgia

From "Fuckbrett" to Techno: Swiss folk music 2.0

Swiss folk music, once considered dusty, has been on the rise for years. In 2007, the yodel club Wiesenberg and pop singer Francine Jordi landed the hit "Das Feyr Vo Dr Sehnsucht". In 2021, the family trio "Tüüfner Gruess" won the TV show "Stadt, Land Talent". In the Swiss album charts, the yodel group "Heimweh" and the "Ländlertrio Rusch-Bueblä" occupy top positions.

At the same time, a fresh wind is blowing through the scene. More and more often, modern music is being played with instruments or instrumentations known from folk music.

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In addition, forgotten instruments once common in Swiss folklore are rediscovered. For example, do you know what a Hanottere is?

For many, folk music still is the soundtrack of the Swiss People's Party.

Dieter Ringli, folk song researcher and musician, has written a standard work on Swiss folk music. He explains that the supposed original form - the Ländler with hand organ - is relatively young. After a boom in the 1930s and 40s, the Ländler did not develop any further. Ringli's conclusion: "For many, folk music still is the soundtrack of the Swiss People's Party."

Musicians who know how modern folk music works

But stagnation in the Swiss folk music scene is a thing of the past. Various personalities from the Swiss music scene are proving this.

Markus Flückiger is an important composer of contemporary folk music. With his Schwyzerörgeli, the virtuoso has been breaking new musical ground again and again for years. His melodies do not sound like times past, but also appeal to younger listeners.

Another exponent of new folk music is Andreas Gabriel. The violinist explores the boundaries of folk music with his trio "Ambäck". Characteristic of Gabriel's playing: horrendous speed.

"Ambäck" bassist Pirmin Huber embodies the new openness of Swiss folk music. He says: "Techno and folk music are very close to each other." Proof is provided by his formation "Stereo Kulisse".

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