Swiss Watching

by Diccon Bewes

  Incidentally, for German speakers there’s a clear distinction between voting in a referendum (abstimmen) and voting in an election (wählen). For once, English lacks the fine distinction in meaning. Then again, voting is much simpler in other countries – because if you thought the referendum was complicated, wait until you try to work out the Swiss voting system (see the Swiss Watching Tip at the end of this chapter).

  GOVERNMENT BY COMMITTEE

  With the people being asked to decide everything at every level every few months, it might feel like there’s no actual government running the country. The Swiss system of communities and referenda does skew power towards the bottom (the electorate), but that doesn’t mean there is no top. However, this being Switzerland, the top also has a unique structure, one which exemplifies the Swiss attitude to politics: no one person is in charge.

  Switzerland is run by committee. Thanks to proportional representation and multiple parties, almost every ruling council at every level is a coalition of some sort. Each canton has its own rules about the size and make-up of its own parliament and council, so let’s look at the federal structure to see how government by compromise actually works.

  The government itself is known as the Bundesrat, or Federal Council. It consists of seven members and is a permanent coalition, with no one party or person ever in control. Each Federal Councillor is in charge of a department of state, such as Finance or Foreign Affairs or (my personal favourite) Defence, Civil Protection and Sports; Switzerland is possibly the only country to have a Defence Minister responsible for PE. The Councillors take it in turns to be president for a year, while still running their own department. Not that the President has any more power, but someone has to shake hands with visiting leaders and make a speech on 1 August.

  The Bundesrat is elected every four years by parliament, not by a popular vote13 – the one time in Swiss politics when the people do not have a direct say. This is supposed to prevent party, linguistic or cantonal loyalties affecting the result, to deter presidential-style campaigns, and to define the Bundesrat as a consensual body above the political fray. It also made things boring and predictable, at least until 2003. Before that, a ‘magic formula’ was used so that the Bundesrat as a whole represented the four main political parties and reflected the different regions. And since Federal Councillors generally stay, and are re-elected, for years until they retire, resign or die, parliament was often little more than a rubber stamp. Then the general election of 2003 left the right-wing Swiss People’s Party (known as SVP, or Schweizerische Volkspartei, in German) as the strongest party. It used its extra seats in parliament to oust a sitting Federal Councillor and elect its leader, Christoph Blocher, instead. Such a coup hadn’t happened since 1872;14 suddenly Swiss politics was interesting.

  However, the best was yet to come. After the 2007 general election (Swiss elections are as regular as clockwork, every four years in October) the centre and left-wing parties combined to exact their revenge in the parliamentary Bundesrat vote. Blocher lost and was not a happy bunny, ranting like a boy who’d lost his toys. The SVP stormed out of the government and, for the first time in decades, Switzerland had an Opposition, a powerful party not in the Bundesrat. For a nation not used to party politics on this scale, the shock was palpable. Welcome to the real world!

  Neither the parties nor the people seemed to know quite how to deal with this new-fangled confrontational politics; all that shouting and disagreement just wasn’t Swiss. And the SVP discovered that being in opposition wasn’t much fun, so when the Defence (and PE) Minister resigned from the Bundesrat in 2008, his replacement was an SVP man. Compromise politics was back – cue collective sighs of relief from Swiss people everywhere.

  Even though the government, in the form of the Bundesrat, is made up of the largest parliamentary parties, that doesn’t mean it has a free hand passing legislation. Parliament acts, in effect, as the opposition, counterbalancing the government. It can and does reject or reform legislation, as well as initiate its own, and of course it has the ultimate power in electing the Bundesrat. But parliament is also a creature of compromise. It’s divided between left, right and centre, but eleven parties have at least one seat, so loyalties and alliances are constantly shifting. Of course party politics is a major influence, but simply because no one party is in control, any legislation has to be the result of concession and debate. If it isn’t, then it risks being rejected by the people at the next referendum. Despite the numerous parties and diffusion of power, Switzerland hasn’t suffered the revolving door of governments seen in countries like Italy and Israel. The national desire for stability and Konkordanz, or consensus, is stronger than the parties or the system itself, and the Swiss would never let their politicians threaten the country’s prosperity.

  Having survived the complexities of people power and government by committee, you’ll be pleased to learn that the simplest part of Swiss politics is parliament itself.

  PART-TIME POLITICIANS

  Like so many parliaments around the world, the Swiss Federal Assembly consists of two houses of equal status, both directly elected by popular vote every four years. In the Ständerat, or Council of States, every canton has two seats, with the six half-cantons logically getting only one each. This gives the smaller cantons a greater voice in the 46-seat chamber and prevents them from always being outvoted. The 200 seats in the Nationalrat, or National Council, are also allocated by canton, but based on their population: the largest, Zurich, gets 34 seats while six have the minimum one seat.15 Parliament was modelled on the US Congress, but with two big differences: in Switzerland it’s both houses of parliament together that elect the Bundesrat (and one of its members as President), not the people. And secondly, there aren’t just two parties and a couple of independents; Swiss parliament is an alphabet soup.

  As well as the aforementioned SVP, there’s the CVP, FDP, BDP, EVP, GLP etc., etc. And that’s just in German – for example, in French the SVP is the UDC, short for Union Démocratique du Centre, a laughable name considering its right-wing policies. This multiplicity of parties is one result of proportional representation, introduced following the General Strike of 1918. That was the one moment in recent history when Switzerland verged on collapse, with the government paralysed and the army used against its own people. Nevertheless, this was no Russia or Germany, and it ended in a very Swiss way, with all-party talks and consensus. There were then 90 years with few strikes, lots of coalitions and countless parties. It’s all too much for an outsider used to the two-and-half party politics in Britain. Perhaps the only way to get to grips with the system is to visit parliament itself, which offers free guided tours when not in session; that is, most of the year.

  As capital cities go, Bern is one of the prettiest around. Set on a high cliff, it sits on a long, thin tongue of land, surrounded on three sides by the river Aare. At first glance the only hints of modernity in the pedestrianised old town are the shop signs and trams, since all the trappings of twenty-first-century consumerism are hidden within the arcades that line most of the main streets. These arcades – there are 6 kilometres in total – make Bern a pedestrian delight. Sheltered from rain and snow, and the summer sun, shoppers pack the arcades, reducing movement to a funeral pace. It was no surprise to the Bernese that in 2007 their city was rated one of the world’s slowest for pedestrians.16 Nothing happens quickly. Perhaps that’s why Albert Einstein came up with the Theory of Relativity while he was living and working here; he had all the time in the world to contemplate the speed of light.

  For the most part, politics also happens at a leisurely pace in the Swiss capital. It’s quite common to see a Federal Councillor waiting for a bus, with no security in sight. That’s of course assuming that you’d recognise him or her. Swiss politicians have a noticeably lower profile than their counterparts in other countries, with policies generally more important than people. Many of my Swiss friends struggle to name all seven Councillors and, as the President changes every year
, it’s hard to keep track of whose turn it is. Parliament itself is a part-time affair, sitting for only 12 weeks a year, in four three-week sessions. The Bundesrat aside, there are few full-time politicians, with most having day jobs as lawyers, teachers, police officers or doctors. Swiss MPs don’t get a salary but receive an allowance for days spent on parliamentary duties. There’s no money for secretaries or assistants, let alone second homes, and gravy trains are perhaps the only sort of locomotive you can’t find in Switzerland. It’s all very low key and low cost, in stark contrast to the building itself, which clearly cost a packet to build after Bern became the capital in 1848.

  Inside, it’s all very Victorian (to my English eyes) with bombastic murals of Swiss history, neo-Gothic chandeliers and acres of carved wood. A vast stone statue of the three Rütli oath takers dominates the main entrance, though they look suspiciously like extras from The Lord of the Rings. Above their heads, the stained-glass dome shows the Swiss cross and coats of arms of all cantons at the time parliament was inaugurated (1902). That means Jura is an afterthought, stuck off to one side, much as it is in many Swiss people’s minds. The overall effect is surprisingly un-Swiss: overblown, triumphant, nationalistic. Then again, it was built when new-found nationalism was all the rage, and even the Swiss succumbed to bigging things up. They may be Swiss but they are human too, not Vulcans.

  Our guide tells us everything you could possibly want to know, such as that each member has his, or her, own seat and desk, not like the bum fight in the House of Commons. In the National Council they are grouped by faction, or political leaning, while in the smaller Council of States the two members for each canton sit together. So sweet. And the speaker of the National Council is the highest-ranked person in the country. The President really is just a handshaking figurehead.

  The weirdest part is when we are shown a ceiling mural depicting Swiss tourism in the nineteenth century. Three cherubs are dressed stereotypically to represent the three main markets: a blond boy in lederhosen for Germany, a black-haired boy in a stripy top for France, and a red-haired boy in shorts for Britain; for many Swiss, those stereotypes still hold. The guide then points out me and my sister (over from England for a while), both of us red-haired, and says: ‘As we can see from our two English guests, the Swiss cliché of British people having red hair is as true today as it was then.’

  Everyone else finds that funny, particularly the Swiss in the group. Red hair is something we Brits tend to associate with Celtic roots, but for the Swiss it simply means Britain in general. Where that stereotype came from nobody knows, but it’s stuck. To the Swiss, the British are all well-spoken, redheaded tea drinkers who make funny films and good music but can’t cook or deal with snow. Switzerland is largely an Anglophile nation that sees Britain as a kindred spirit, even if it persists in having a monarch as head of state – and she is usually referred to as ‘Die Queen’, as if there were only one in Europe.

  In Switzerland, parliament inspires more confidence in the population than in many other countries. A 2011 Swiss survey rated the National Council highly in terms of most trusted institutions, below the police and courts, and equal with the government.17 In contrast, political parties came bottom (along with the European Union), showing that the Swiss can see a clear distinction between parliament and politics. As part-time politicians, Swiss MPs remain relatively normal and don’t get carried away with their own importance. In Swiss eyes that’s an essential trait in public life, where parliament is about serving the people not yourself. The good of the country is the only thing that matters, even if that means that a minority may suffer.

  ONE IN FIVE

  Politics, especially at election time, is usually concerned with tax and spend. British parties promise tax cuts and spending increases, while Bill Clinton won with ‘It’s the economy, stupid’. Swiss politics is different. Money is important, but as any tax changes or spending plans might face a referendum, they’re not such a big deal. Promises usually become compromises, so the parties rarely come up with anything new, only to see it sacrificed for the sake of consensus. However, on one issue Switzerland is the same as most other democracies: immigration and integration.

  Switzerland loves its statistics. Just about everything is counted, tabulated, assessed and published. Every town and canton has a website full of stats, imparting really useful stuff like how many people own their own homes or what percentage of the population speaks Albanian. But in a land full of statistics, one of the most surprising is that 22.4 per cent of Switzerland’s population is not actually Swiss.18 That’s 1.7 million people, including me – I am a statistic, or at least part of one. It’s almost unbelievable for a country to have one in five inhabitants not actually citizens; in Britain that would be 12 million people, or roughly the population of London, the West Midlands and Greater Manchester combined. In the US it would be California and Texas together. A lot of people.

  Swiss nationality is seen as a privilege not a right, and as such is hard to get hold of. Being born in Switzerland doesn’t count (unless at least one parent is Swiss): second-generation immigrants, known as Secondos, are still classed as foreigners, as are their children and grandchildren, and altogether they account for nearly a quarter of the 1.7 million.19 That’s 350,000 people who were born and grew up in Switzerland but are not Swiss. Many go on to become naturalised citizens, as shown by the 13 Secondos in the Swiss team that won football’s Under-17 World Cup in 2009. However, naturalisation (becoming a Swiss citizen) is a lengthy, expensive process, involving applying, and paying, for citizenship at community, cantonal and federal level. You can apply once you have lived in Switzerland for 12 years20 (compared to five in the UK21) and even then it can take up to two years, and cost thousands of francs, to become Swiss.

  Nearly all the resident foreigners are European, and a look at the Eurovision Song Contest voting shows where many came from: in 2008 (the last year with a popular televote and no juries), the Swiss vote gave douze points to Serbia, ten to Portugal and eight to Albania.22 In fact, the two largest immigrant groups are from Italy and Germany, but since Italy has only recently returned to Eurovision and no one Swiss would vote for something German, neither country got a look in. Ironically, Eurovision is about the only time foreigners can vote in Switzerland. Is that a real example of democracy in action? Or are the Swiss right to exclude so many residents from the political process? Who knows.

  What is certain is that the Swiss economy depends on foreigners to an unsettling degree – nearly a quarter of wage earners in Switzerland are not Swiss,23 but who else would do all the jobs the Swiss don’t want to do? Just like in Britain and America, it’s usually immigrants who clean houses, pick fruit, sweep streets and sell burgers. Without them, Switzerland would be dirty and its people hungry. This is a fact of life that many Swiss are unwilling to accept or face up to, until they are forced to.

  THE BLACK SHEEP OF EUROPE?

  To see how fundamental the immigration debate is to modern Switzerland, we need only look at two votes: the 2007 general election and the 2009 minaret referendum. In that election the right-wing SVP effectively reduced its campaign to two issues – its leader and immigration – surprising the other parties and making headlines round the world. Posters of Christoph Blocher appeared everywhere, even though he was in the Bundesrat. Its members are supposed to be above party politics and so traditionally stay out of elections and rarely campaign openly. Blocher changed that.

  Far more explosive was the SVP’s other poster, a cartoon showing three white sheep standing on a Swiss flag and kicking a black sheep over the border. For some, it wasn’t just the image that offended but also the colours; red, white and black were the colours of the Nazi flag. Defaced by the left but defended by the right, the posters led to violent clashes on the streets of Bern, condemnation from the UN and British headlines24 like: ‘Has Switzerland become Europe’s Heart of Darkness?’ It was all quite a shock to most Swiss, who are used to their elections going unnoticed by
the outside world. Sadly, the poster worked. The SVP won 29 per cent of the vote,25 the highest ever for any party since the introduction of proportional representation. The silver lining for the other parties was that Blocher later lost his Bundesrat seat. Tall poppies don’t live long in Switzerland.

  That now infamous sheep poster may have been racist but it worked because it tapped into a wider feeling of xenophobia. It’s not necessarily black foreigners who are the problem for many Swiss people, just foreigners in general, and especially ones from the former Yugoslavia. Often dismissed as ‘Yugos’, they face discrimination when applying for jobs, flats or even car insurance. And many of them are Muslim, a crucial factor in the minaret vote of November 2009. It didn’t matter that Switzerland had only four decorative minarets, the SVP launched a popular initiative with the goal of changing the constitution so that no more could be built.

  And the party hit gold again with another aggressive poster in the same colours. This time the Swiss flag was covered in black minarets that looked just like WMDs, or Weapons of Muslim Destruction. Plus, for good measure, a woman clad in a black burka – nothing to do with minarets but great for giving voters the willies. Racist, xenophobic and inflammatory, but ultimately successful in winning a clear majority in favour of a ban.26 It was a case of a far-right party winning a national vote by playing on people’s fears of a religious minority. Sound familiar? Ironically, since only 12 per cent of Muslims living in Switzerland are actually Swiss,27 most of them couldn’t vote on an issue that affected them directly.