Pastoral Nostalgia and Ruined Ice Cream in St. Gallen

Every autumn, the wealthy helvetic enclave likes to remind itself of its dirt-under-the-fingernails roots. The 83rd Olma in St. Gallen has just drawn 335,000 visitors to wander among livestock, local produce, and 650 exhibitors—a comfortably predictable ritual of self-affirmation. This year, however, the federal executive could not resist double-dipping into the nostalgia. For the first time in the fair’s history, two sitting members of the Federal Council graced the same edition.

Federal President Guy Parmelin inaugurated the proceedings, describing the agricultural gathering as “almost a Switzerland in miniature.” Later in the week, Finance Minister Karin Keller-Sutter arrived to celebrate Schwyz, the guest canton that flooded downtown St. Gallen with 1,300 parade participants under the modest slogan of Schwyz delivers. Some 25,000 onlookers lined the streets to watch, treated to mini-cave exhibits and cinematic portraits of rural life. It is the sort of cozy, well-funded provincial vanity that only a nation entirely unbothered by broader European anxieties can truly afford.

Yet even in this pastoral sanctuary, state messaging managed to provoke rare discord. Armed forces chief Benedikt Roos dropped by to support a high-profile Swiss Army exhibition. Marketed as a bridge between the military and the civilian population, the display quickly drew sharp criticism from politicians. Opponents questioned the showcase’s inflated costs, excessive footprint, and video-game-style glitz—a moment of pushback against the defense establishment’s attempt to glamorize its role to a crowd that had primarily come for cheese samples.

Where hundreds of thousands gather, human nature inevitably reasserts itself. Local law enforcement reported a mostly peaceful event, but the underlying statistics reveal the mild chaos beneath the polished surface. Officers intervened 21 times for aggressive behavior and 14 times for physical assaults, including one brawl that left a man with a skull fracture. Vandalism also saw an unwelcome surge. Unknown perpetrators inflicted tens of thousands of francs in damage, toppling an ice cream stand and severing power lines to two others, forcing vendors to throw away spoiled stock.

If there was a victory for civic discipline, it occurred in the most unexpected domain. Public urination fines dropped precipitously from 46 last year to just eleven this season, while police handed out a predictable 295 parking tickets. Switzerland can rest easy knowing that while its youth may trash an ice cream stand or play war games with the defense forces, its public bladders remain rigorously controlled.

Written by Martina Kirchner martina.kirchner@alpineweekly.com