Swiss Watching: Inside the Land of Milk and Money

by Diccon Bewes

In German, the language of the majority,4 it is Schweizerische Eidgenossenschaft, which is as hard to translate as it is to say. The closest in English is Swiss Confederation, the phraseology also used by French, Italian and Romansh, the other three national languages: Confédération suisse, Confederazione svizzera and confederaziun svizra. In reality Eidgenossenschaft means something more like ‘the brotherhood of men who stood in a field and swore an oath of eternal cooperation and friendship’; confederation is a lot simpler. Eidgenosse is still used by the German-speaking population to refer to the real Swiss, the ones from the original heart of the country.

The name is derived from the Helvetii, one of the local pre-Roman tribes, and the literal English translation is the Helvetic Confederation. But for a country that prides itself on accuracy – and not just in its train timetables – it’s ironic that its official name is technically incorrect. Until a rather civil civil war in 1847, Switzerland was indeed a confederation, or a loose alliance of autonomous states who more or less cooperated with each other. It was barely a country, in the modern sense of the word, but was definitely more than the sum of its parts. The new state created in 1848 was a federation in everything but name. Despite having a shiny new federal government, the Swiss decided to keep their old title. It might have been inaccurate but it made them feel better about the new-fangled structure, which seemed so centralised and therefore very un-Swiss. And, more significantly for the Swiss, using the old name gives them an unbroken link to their past, something which is fundamental to every Swiss person.

But keeping yourself to yourself, either as an individual or as a community, is very Swiss – and it’s all down to the Swiss being a bunch of coconuts.

None of the 16 candidates for the 2009 Miss Switzerland title could put a name to the photo of the Matterhorn9; apparently, winning that crown really is only about looks.

Looking at all that it’s hard to believe that, as the crow flies, it’s only 70 kilometres to Switzerland’s lowest point in Ascona11; that’s equivalent to having a height difference of over 4400 metres between Leeds and Sheffield.

Perhaps it’s this atmospheric disturbance that makes the Föhn an ill wind for the Swiss, blamed for causing migraines, suicides and generally unsettling everyone. More likely it’s just an extrapolation of the Swiss hatred of draughts in any shape or form.

What to you and me is a breath of fresh air to many Swiss is the cause of every illness known to man.

Most houses are hermetically sealed to avoid drau...

Despite that, for a few minutes each day windows are thrown open to let out the stale air; apparently that’s...

As for opening a train window on anything less than the hottest day of t...

It’s late July, the sky is blue, the thermometer is nudging 30°C and the sun is streaming in through the train windows. With the carriage feeling like a mobile sauna, you’re dripping and your neighbours are turning beetroot; there’s no choice but to open a window. You barely manage more than three gulps of mountain air before a Swiss woman comes over and suggests in no uncertain terms that you shut it. She even pulls her scarf tighter round her neck for added effect, though not tight enough for your liking. It seems the draught is annoying her, even though she is sitting four rows in front; must be a mighty strong draught to go against the motion of the train and whoosh across half the carriage. Everyone is watc...

At any gathering in Switzerland, every guest’s first duty is to go round and greet everyone.

As for breaking the ice with a joke, please don’t. Jokes are something to share with friends and family, not for strangers or business meetings. Swiss humour does exist, honestly it does, but like sex and money, it’s something best kept in the privacy of the home.

Bern there’s a physical reminder of his army’s presence: the street signs in the city centre are still in four different colours, a system used to help illiterate French troops find their quarters. In some streets signs are green on one side, yellow on the other; a little historical anomaly that modern tourists barely notice as they take photos.

Switzerland was now a federal state and the new government brought order to the chaos, giving the Swiss what they have wanted ever since: proper rules and regulations. A common market was created by abolishing internal tariffs, a single currency was established, and citizens had the freedom to move to any canton. All rather like what happened within the whole of Europe a century or so later, showing that the Swiss were well ahead of the rest of us.

Soul-searching doesn’t come naturally to them, but at least when they do it, they do it with the same thoroughness as everything else.

Solzhenitsyn is said to have complained that the bureaucracy in Switzerland was worse than Russia.9 It really is that omnipresent, but for the Swiss it’s normal; they’ve been living with it ever since their birth certificate was issued.

Resourcefulness is, ironically, exactly what is needed by a country that has few natural resources of its own.

Penknives and watches may be what the Swiss are most famous for but, as we’ll see in this chapter, everyday things such as toilet ducks and cellophane were invented in Switzerland. It’s typically Swiss to create a world-beating product then not shout about it; modesty in all things. The irony is that this is essentially a conservative country where change is often viewed with suspicion.

Annually, the Swiss travel an average of 2258 kilometres per person by rail,3 by far the highest in the world, and almost three times as high as the British figure.

The Swiss are rich but like to hide it, reserved yet determined to introduce themselves to everyone, innovative but resistant to change, liberal enough to sanction gay partnerships but conservative enough to ban new minarets. And they invented a breakfast cereal that they eat for supper. Privacy is treasured but intrusive state control is tolerated; democracy is king, yet the majority don’t usually vote; honesty is a way of life but a difficult past is reluctantly talked about; and conformity is the norm,

It has been said that a Swiss person only feels Swiss once he leaves the country; until that point his heart belongs to Bern, Schwyz, Ticino or any of the 23 other cantons.

But no matter what language they speak, where they live or who they pray to, what all Swiss have in common is a will to remain Swiss.

But while most Swiss like living in their orderly, controlled environment, some find it simply too restrictive.

They escaped the prison, as Swiss writer Friedrich Dürrenmatt might have put it. He once said that his country was a prison where the prisoners themselves are the guards.

To describe this common desire to pull together, the Swiss rarely use the motto inscribed in the dome of the Federal Parliament: unus pro omnibus omnes pro uno, or one for all, all for one.