Lausanne’s Manifestation: How the Anti-Fascist Carnival Kept the Peace – An On-the-Ground Report
Saturday afternoon 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 a sea of colorful costumes, the beat of drums, and the unmistakable smell of roasted almonds. This day could have turned out very differently. Rumors about a possible manifestation in Lausanne—specifically, right-wing marches—had the city on edge all week. You’d hear whispers in the bistros, see worried looks from shop owners in the Flon district. But what I’m seeing now is a city that refuses to be defeated. A sense of “defiance” you could almost touch.
A Carnival with Conviction
This is the anti-fascist carnival, a local tradition. You could also call it the loudest, most colorful, and most explicit 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 organizers made it clear beforehand that they weren’t shying away from provocation, but also didn’t want any violence. They talked about an event that would be “joyful and rainy”—that’s what the local previews said 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 a completely different topic—was also taking place in the city this week. But while researchers were exchanging ideas on the latest advances in regenerative medicine in the lecture halls at EPFL, what was happening out on the streets was a different kind of “coming together.” A social biomaterial, if you will. Because if not in moments of shared expression like this, what else holds a society together?
The Expected Confrontation Never Came
Beforehand, there was a lot of talk about “risks.” About potential clashes between the far right and the left-wing scene. The police were present, no question. But they stayed in the background. What struck me: the people here weren’t gathered out of fear, but out of conviction. An older man with a homemade papier-mâché head that looked like a police commissioner winked at me and said, “They just want us to stay home. But we *are* the city.”
That’s the spirit that defines this carnival. It’s not just about celebrating. It’s about a manifestation in Lausanne that shows public space won’t be left to those who sow hatred. I saw a lot of young people today, but also families with children. It was a real cross-section of society. And as the parades wound their way through the old town, it was surprisingly peaceful. A few intense discussions on the sidelines, a few muted whistles—nothing more. The “Carnaval antifasciste” prevailed over all the naysayers.
- Atmosphere: Spirited and determined despite the rain. The bands played with full force.
- Security situation: Large police presence, but no notable incidents. De-escalation was the name of the game.
- Political message: A clear rejection of any form of extremism. Many banners addressed current social issues.
- The crowd: A diverse mix—from the alternative left scene to curious tourists and long-time Vaud locals.
Lausanne Remains Vigilant
As the parade slowly wound down toward evening and the first bands played their final chords on the small stages at Flon, it became clear: this day was a success for everyone who lives here. The city showed that it’s open to the world not just on paper, but in its heart. The fear that was stoked beforehand didn’t materialize.
I’ll stay at the bar a little longer, watching the crowd as the day winds down. The air now smells of wet clothes and mulled wine. A little 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 isn’t in confrontation, but in the ability to come together—even when it’s raining. And to that, I’ll raise a glass.