Manifestation Lausanne: How the anti-fascist carnival kept the peace – A local perspective
Saturday lunchtime in Lausanne. Rain is hammering down on the cobblestones of Rue de la Mercerie, but the mood is anything but gloomy. I'm standing among colourful costumes, the beat of drums, and the unmistakable smell of roasted almonds. This day could have turned out very differently. Rumours of a possible Manifestation Lausanne – more specifically, of far-right marches – had kept the city on edge all week. You could hear whispers in the bistros, see worried looks from shop owners down by Flon. But what I'm seeing now is a city that refuses to be brought down. A defiant spirit you could almost reach out and touch.
A carnival with conviction
This is the anti-fascist carnival, a local tradition. You could also call it the loudest, most colourful, and at the same time most direct political statement Lausanne has to offer. I remember years when these parades were smaller, almost a family affair. But today? Today, Place de la Riponne is packed. The organisers made it clear beforehand they weren't shying away from provocation, but they also didn't want violence. They talked about an event that was meant to be "joyful and rainy" – that's what they said in the local preview last week. And that's exactly what it is.
The "Proceedings of the 14th Interdisciplinary Research Conference on Biomaterials" – yes, I know, that title initially sounds like it's about something completely different – was also in town this week. But while researchers were exchanging the latest in regenerative medicine in EPFL lecture halls, what was happening out here on the streets was another kind of "cohesion". A kind of social biomaterial, if you will. Because what holds a society together if not moments of shared expression like this?
The predicted escalation didn't happen
There was a lot of talk about "risks" beforehand. About potential confrontations between the far right and the left-wing scene. The police were present, no question. But they stayed in the background. What struck me was that people weren't here out of fear, but out of conviction. An older man with a homemade papier-mâché head that looked like a police commissioner gave me a wink: "They want us to stay home. But we *are* this city."
That's the spirit of this carnival. It's not just about celebrating. It's about a Manifestation Lausanne that shows public space won't be left to those sowing hatred. I saw a lot of young people today, but also families with kids. It was a cross-section of society. And as the parades made their way through the Old Town, it remained surprisingly peaceful. A few heated conversations at the edges, a few muted whistles – that was about it. The "Carnaval antifasciste" defied the naysayers.
- Atmosphere: Despite the rain, exuberant and determined. The bands played with full force.
- Security situation: A large police presence, but no significant incidents. De-escalation was the order of the day.
- Political message: A clear rejection of any form of extremism. Many banners addressed current social issues.
- Crowd: A diverse mix – from the left-alternative scene to curious tourists and long-time Vaud locals.
Lausanne remains vigilant
As the procession slowly wound down towards evening and the first bands played their last chords on the small stages by Flon, it became clear: this day was a win for everyone who lives here. The city showed that its cosmopolitan spirit isn't just on paper, but in its heart. The fear that had been stoked beforehand proved unfounded.
I'll stay at the bar for a while longer, watching people as the day winds down. Now it smells of wet clothes and mulled wine. A little boy in a Superman costume is dragging his tired father behind him. The streetlights cast long shadows on the wet pavement. It was a good day for Lausanne. A day that shows the city's greatest strength isn't in confrontation, but in its ability to come together – even when it's raining. And to that, I'll raise a glass.