Lausanne’s Anti-Fascist Carnival: How the City Kept Its Calm – A First-Hand Account

Saturday afternoon in Lausanne. Rain hammers down on the cobblestones of Rue de la Mercerie, but the mood is anything but gloomy. I’m standing amidst a sea of colourful costumes, the beat of drums, and the unmistakable smell of roasted almonds. Truth be told, this day could have turned out very differently. Rumours of possible demonstrations in Lausanne – specifically, marches by far-right groups – had kept the city on edge all week. You’d hear whispers in the bistros, see worried looks from shopkeepers down by Flon. But what I’m seeing now is a city that refuses to be intimidated. An undeniable air of defiance hangs in the air.

A Carnival with Conviction

This is the anti-fascist carnival, a local tradition. You could also call it the loudest, most colourful, and most unapologetically political statement Lausanne has to offer. I remember years when these parades were smaller, almost a family affair. But today? Place de la Riponne is packed. The organisers made it clear beforehand that they weren’t shying away from making a statement, but also that they didn’t want any violence. They spoke of an event that would be "joyful and rainy" – that’s how it was billed 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, the title sounds like it’s from a completely different world – was also happening in the city this week. But while academics were discussing the latest advances in regenerative medicine in the lecture halls of EPFL, what was happening out here on the streets was a different kind of "coming together." A social biomaterial, if you will. Because what binds a society together if not moments like these of shared expression?

The Expected Confrontation Never Came

In the lead-up, there was a lot of talk about "risks." About potential clashes between the far right and the leftist scene. The police were present, no doubt about it. But they kept a low profile. What struck me was this: people weren’t here out of fear, but out of conviction. An older gentleman with a homemade papier-mâché head, resembling a police commissioner, winked at me. "They want us to stay home," he said. "But we *are* the city."

That’s the spirit of this carnival. It’s not just about celebrating. It’s about a demonstration in Lausanne that shows public space won’t be ceded to those who sow hatred. I saw a lot of young people today, but also families with children. It was a genuine cross-section of society. And as the parades wound their way through the old town, it remained surprisingly peaceful. A few intense discussions at the edges, a few muted whistles – nothing more. The "Carnaval antifasciste" succeeded against all the naysayers.

• Atmosphere: Spirited and determined, despite the rain. The bands played with full energy.
• Security: A large police presence, but no significant incidents. De-escalation was the order of the day.
• Political Message: A clear rejection of all forms of extremism. Many banners addressed current social issues.
• The Crowd: A vibrant mix – from the alternative left scene to curious tourists and long-time Vaudois locals.

Lausanne Remains Vigilant

As the procession slowly wound down towards evening and the first bands played their final chords on the small stages at Flon, it became clear: this day was a win for everyone who calls this city home. Lausanne showed that it’s not just cosmopolitan on paper, but at heart. The fear that was stoked beforehand proved unfounded.

I’ll stay a while longer at the bar, watching the evening wind down. The air now smells of wet clothes and mulled wine. A young boy in a Superman costume is dragging his tired father along 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 lies not in confrontation, but in its ability to come together – even when it’s raining. And that, I’ll raise a glass to.