Why a visit to Switzerland always runs like clockwork
Aside from mountains, chocolate and a policy of neutrality, what makes the Swiss so Swiss? Amanda Hyde tries to follow the rules
Toblerone is categorically not moving mountains. After shifting some of its chocolate production to Slovakia, the brand can no longer put the Matterhorn on its packaging due to the 2017 “Swissness” law, which forbids the use of national symbols on milk-based products not wholly produced in Switzerland. While the illustration in question may look like a generic peak to a non-Swiss chocolate muncher, it represents one of the country’s most famous landmarks – and the Swiss want to keep it for themselves.
In fact, they like to keep most things for themselves. Unlike their
French neighbours, the Swiss don’t shout about their decent wine, only exporting about one per cent of the stuff. Cailler, the best chocolate brand on the country’s supermarket shelves, is a national secret, too (and it leaves Toblerone in the dust).
A lack of outward projection may be responsible for the pervading stereotype of Swissness, garnered from what the country has chosen to show the outside world: bankers, punctuality and Heidi. Despite this, Swiss citizens have enviable amounts of national pride: a 2012 Credit Suisse survey found that 86 per cent of them felt good about where they came from.
On the ground, this is demonstrated by the number of people indulging in traditional pastimes: for every UK morris dancer, you’ll find a Swiss alpine horn player, boulder thrower and yodel choir. Switzerland’s high standard of living is also rightly celebrated. Even taking into account the cost of everything (a pint is about £5.50 and a supermarket sandwich around £6), the Swiss have the highest wealth per adult in the world.
One thing in particular makes Swissness more nuanced than it might at first seem: four national languages, tied to distinct identities (German, French, Italian and Romansh, a Gallo-Romance language largely spoken in the south-east of the country). The French- and German-speaking Swiss traditionally treated Italian speakers with scorn. An online essay from the Federal Department of Home Affairs – written with typical candour – admits that, as recently as the 1970s, “they were belittled as intruders with no place in Swiss society”.
However, two universal truths unite the country. One is its famous neutrality, official since 1815, and the other is a dogged need to make and follow rules.
There are rules on how to tie your recycling together, how to park your car in a space and even – if you live in an apartment block – when to do your washing (never on a Sunday). It makes the country run like clockwork and helps keep the environment spotless.
With this in mind, you can see why Swissness isn’t dished out to any old brand of chocolate. Or, indeed, any old resident – citizenship is notoriously hard to get (foreigners generally have to have lived there for 10 years and speak one of the official languages fluently before even trying).
Challenging the status quo isn’t something the Swiss embrace. Shops are still closed on Sundays, and smoking in restaurants was only banned in enclosed public places in 2010, thanks, in part, to direct democracy, which makes law changes arduously slow.
As you might imagine, the rules, regulations and lack of rebellion mean people need to let off steam occasionally – and when the Swiss let go, they really let go. Among the country’s most hedonistic celebrations is Zurich’s Street Parade, the world’s largest techno party, which brings scantily clad dancers, DJ stages and crowds to the cobbled streets in what was devised as a demonstration of love, tolerance and freedom. That’s the thing about the Swiss: sometimes they really surprise you.