Switzerland is a bottom-up creation. Unlike other countries that were founded more in a top-down manner, through territorial conquest or dynastic intermarriage, the basic values and mechanisms of Swiss democracy are cooperation, small-scale government and participatory democracy. That is also why for many observers, Swiss politics has something archaic, outdated, medieval. Indeed, two of the most important institutions, federalism and direct democracy, can draw on an almost uninterrupted legacy spanning centuries. The legendary foedus or pact sworn on the Rütli meadow in Central Switzerland epitomises pre-modern liberation struggles from imperial rule, while some of the equally medieval citizen assemblies have functioned to this day.

Yet albeit somewhat old-fashioned and simple in design, Switzerland is also profoundly postmodern and complex. It has largely achieved the peaceful living-together of different cultures as postulated by Kymlicka (1995). Its civic nationalism resembles ideas of Jürgen Habermas’ (1992) Verfassungspatriotismus. The Swiss polity emphasises democracy as a process of deliberation among co-equal citizens (Barber 1984), and its consensus democracy in many ways approximates the theoretical ideal-type (Lijphart 2012). Complexity, in turn, arrives in the form of dynamic interactions between different institutional elements. Federalism, direct democracy and power-sharing reinforce each other in multiple ways. For instance, citizens can directly vote on policies and elect their representative at the local, regional and national levels. But there are also tensions, such as when the territorial and popular majorities collide or when certain regions, parties and groups feel excluded from and neglected by the government for too long.

In some ways, this book thus describes a ‘deviant case’ of democracy: one where citizens participate not only in the election of their parliament and government, but also vote on and ratify parliamentary decisions of major importance. Since this type of direct democracy has remained unique, it runs the risk of a double misunderstanding: rejected by some and glorified by others. The main goal of this book, therefore, is to critically discuss Swiss democracy and avoid both fallacies. Our hope is also that some aspects of Swiss democracy can stimulate creative thinking elsewhere.

However, it is important to keep in mind that probably nobody in her right mind would today invent something like Switzerland. To divide a small country with only 8.5 million inhabitants into 26 cantons and over 2000 municipalities? Even Germany, with over 80 million inhabitants, only has 16 Länder. Moreover, not only does this mean that, on average, a mere 330,000 people inhabit a canton. But every canton also has its own constitution, government, parliament, courts, flag and anthem. In reality, cantons differ widely in size, from Appenzell Inner-Rhodes with just 16,000 to Zurich with over 1.5 million inhabitants. The number of municipalities varies enormously, too, from Glarus and Basel with three each to Bern with 346 (Fig. 1.1). On top of all that, the country also recognises four different national languages—and not just any, but those of its big neighbouring countries, Italy, France and Germany. If at least linguistic and cantonal diversity overlapped, it would all make sense. But no, not really: 17 cantons are officially German- and four French-speaking, three are bilingual (two with French, one with German as the majority language), one is Italian-speaking and one trilingual (German, Italian and Romansh). Logic was definitely not part of decision-making when this was all called to life.

Fig. 1.1
A map of Switzerland. It highlights the 26 cantons with their respective flags.

The 26 cantons of Switzerland

Full size image

Or, rather: logic was very well present, just not in the form of a single, grand design imposed by somebody from above or the outside. The great fortune of the Swiss has been that with only one or two exceptions, they were always masters of their own destiny. At the same time, it was understood early on that with freedom also comes responsibility, with rights also duties. So rather than Cartesian, it was through trial and error, mutual learning and an almost instinctive scepticism towards anything new that today’s institutions slowly took shape. Like a child that needs to fall over to learn the laws of gravity, the Swiss have had their painful military defeats and civil wars, too.

The purpose of this book is not to heap but praise on the Swiss way of doing politics and try to ‘sell’ its democracy. No system is perfect, even if some do seem a little less imperfect. For despite the many advantages and mechanisms that make Switzerland appear as a success story, there remains room for improvement. For the progressive left, campaign and party funding should be made more transparent. For the conservative right, integration into European-wide affairs, notably by subscribing to the free movement of persons, has gone too far and needs to be rolled back. Yet for all their cultural and political differences, Swiss citizens want the exact same things as those of other countries: good jobs, healthy lives, sustainable economies and a solidary society. Switzerland, in that sense, is nothing special. All that is different is the political structure in which these same goals are pursued. If ever there was one general lesson to be drawn from the Swiss case, it is probably that finding the right institutional structure takes time and will never be finished once and for all.

Chapter 2 explains how, indeed, it was not abstract logic but pure necessity and pragmatics that dictated the terms of Swiss state-building. What is more, nation-building occurred in parallel to state-building—neither was fully present when modern Switzerland was founded in 1848, after a brief civil war. This circumstance, coupled with the observed cultural diversity, gives Swiss nationhood its distinct political, that is, ‘civic’ flavour. This is very different from mono-cultural, ‘ethnic’ nations. Swiss history can thus be read as gradually achieving the participation of the most important minority groups and the different social classes through proportional representation. Proportionality is the first and most important element of power-sharing, the common notion comparative political scientists use to describe the characteristics of democracies that renounce majority and ‘winner takes all’ rules (e.g. Lijphart 2012).

In Chap. 3, we focus on Swiss federalism. Federalism allows the division of power between one central and many regional governments and is therefore a widely used institutional arrangement in multicultural societies. But rather than just focusing on autonomy and differences, Swiss federalism also allows for participation and coming-together for the purpose of joint problem-solving. As Denis de Rougemont (2012 [1947], 88) explained using the very Swiss case:

As it happens, the words federalism and federation are understood in two very different ways in [the German- and French-speaking parts of] Switzerland. In German, Confederation means Bund, which means union, evoking especially the idea of centralisation. In Swiss Romande, on the contrary, those who profess federalism are actually the jealous defenders of cantonal autonomy against centralisation. For some, therefore, to federate simply means to unite. For others, to be federalist simply means to protect freedom at home. Both are wrong, because each is only half right. True federalism consists neither only in the union of the cantons, nor only in their complete autonomy. It consists in the continuously adjusted balance between the autonomy of the regions and their union. It consists in the perpetual combination of these two opposing yet mutually reinforcing forces.

If federalism thus understood and practised has helped bridge the gap between different cultural communities, direct democracy contributed to avoiding one developing between the political elite and ordinary citizens. Chapter 4 discusses the emergence and operation of Swiss direct democracy and assesses its effects on power-sharing. Contrary to what many theorists have claimed, it is not too demanding for people in a highly developed industrial society. Just as with other elements of Swiss democracy, abundance is not an obstacle but key to success: the fact that citizens get to have a direct say up to four times a year at federal level, in addition to frequent referendums at cantonal and local levels, makes voting almost a routine exercise. It also allows today’s losers to become tomorrow’s winners—and vice versa, thus fostering mutual respect and cooperation. But contrary also to what some revolutionaries had hoped for, it has not led to radical change either. Instead, direct democracy has above all led to political conservatism, be that regarding welfare policies, defence or European integration. Most importantly, the Swiss Constitution and with it the entire development of the modern state is the direct result of dozens of popular votes.

Chapter 5 takes yet another step into the Swiss ‘labyrinth’ (Lane 2001) by unpacking the notion of power-sharing. Many other countries use a variety of institutional forms of plebiscite, referenda and popular initiatives to influence or complement parliamentary and governmental policies. Switzerland, however, is the only country where direct democracy has become an important—perhaps also the most constraining—element of power-sharing. In fact, the referendum has enabled different minorities to successfully challenge parliamentary proposals that did not take into account their group interests. Consequently, law-making in Switzerland has become impossible without the participation of various interest groups at early stages of drafting already. The referendum has profoundly changed the Swiss governmental system, which initially intended to follow the winner-takes-all pattern of Anglo-American democracy. Instead, it has developed into broad-based political pluralism. In its structures of consociational democracy, all important political parties and interest groups are permanently represented in the political institutions, and legislating has become a process of negotiation and mutual adjustment involving different political forces.

In Chap. 6, we develop three comparative perspectives that look beyond the Swiss case. Beginning with direct democracy, we discuss how it is not a definitive concept, but one which changes with the passage of time. Thus, enhancing the direct participation of people as in Switzerland—considered revolutionary in the nineteenth century—may still be regarded a progressive form of democracy. But can the principle of the maximum participation of the greatest possible number of people be applied to the whole spectrum of political issues and decision-making? And are increased political rights, offering the people not only a voice in electing their representatives but also a chance to decide major decisions directly, really an efficient way to improve democracy?

The second perspective deals with federalism. Traditionally, it has been understood as a means for the vertical division of power within states. But can it also play a role for the supranational division of power and the participation of minorities? Despite the fact that federalism is a venerable and well-known institutional recipe, it seems that still not all of its possibilities are fully exploited today. The last section of Chap. 6 places political power-sharing in a context of conflict resolution, especially concerning multicultural societies. We end by stressing that power-sharing is not just an institutional arrangement, but that it also has to be based on the specific culture of a society that intends to practice it.

The book concludes, in Chap. 7, with a look at Switzerland in Europe and the world. Why are the Swiss, while profiting from globalisation, not a member of the EU? And how come that Switzerland, by means of a series of bilateral treaties with Brussels, adopts a good part of the economic regulations enacted by that same EU? We analyse the reasons and political consequences of this selective participation without membership and try to answer the question whether or not ‘bilateralism’ is a sustainable strategy for the Swiss preference: utmost economic integration and least political loss of national autonomy.

What about Switzerland in the world? Contrary to the hopes of Francis Fukuyama’s (1992) ‘end of history’ thesis, we do not live in an age of worldwide democracy. Instead, democracy is barely consolidated in many countries and even at risk of disappearing (Levitsky and Ziblatt 2018). No wonder that we observe a growing interest in the institutions of Swiss democracy from abroad, be it in questions of decentralisation, direct democracy or political power-sharing. Can Swiss democracy be exported? We do not regard such ‘export’ ideas as appropriate. Instead, we propose an alternative: the ‘dialogue model’ which, as a discourse between equals, seems to be a more promising way. In this approach, others can draw from the ‘Swiss experience’ as a base for autochthonal developments of their institutions. And the Swiss can be inspired in turn.

Let us conclude this introductory note with an emphasis on one of the main Swiss paradoxes: its democracy both maximises stability and institutionalises openness. How is that possible? Stability happens by letting all important groups participate in collective decisions, either through political parties and governmental or parliamentary representation; interest groups voicing their concerns in the pre-parliamentary phase; social movements building up pressure from the street or cantonal and local governments running their own show. At the same time, the system is incredibly open: a good idea, a determined organisation, some resources and maybe fortunate circumstances allow almost anyone to change the Constitution or bring the entire political and economic elite to its knees.

The country is small, elite members know each other and important issues and projects are regularly discussed in the media, at work, in associations and of course online. But despite all that, surprises still happen and political change occurs. Suffice it to look at the October 2019 federal elections, which produced massive gains for the Greens and Green-Liberals at the expense of all four government parties. Of course, one should not read too much into just one election. But 2019 was also the year that saw the biggest ever ‘Women’s Strike’ (Frauenstreik) take place, on 14 June, with hundreds of thousands of women (and some men) demanding full equality. And as if to top that—as some say—biggest political demonstration in 100 years, three weeks before the parliamentary elections a further 100,000 people took to the streets in Bern to call for a sustainable climate policy.

Welcome to Switzerland, a country that spent decades creating a system possibly devoid of one grand design but replete with specific answers to specific problems of all sorts of groups. A place where you can not only vote for people and parties but also decide all important policies directly, at three meaningful levels of government—and still feel ignored, neglected and as losing out from globalisation. At the heart of Europe, the masters of federalism, home to a civic community of willing members—yet not in the EU, the other grand project of uniting different communities to the benefit of all.