Not far from the blessed city that gave the world Calvinism, a sign offers a friendly reminder to keep your vestments fastened “under pain of fine.” There’s nothing remarkable about the Swiss threatening penalties for minor offenses – these are people who will happily give you a ticket for locking your bike outside of a designated bike-locking zone. No, what really shows off their righteous zeal was the fact that this sign was not placed anywhere near a beach or other such nudism-inducing site, but rather in a goddam forest at the edge of a canola field – miles from any municipal officer who might be able to administer the fine, or, for that matter, anyone at all who might see your shame. Except, of course, for a vengeful, pre-determinist Protestant God!
The Napoleonic uniforms rank among the more modern features of the Appenzell Innerhoden Landsgemeinde, or public vote. Though it boasts all the privacy of an elementary school popularity contest, the Landsgemeinde was hailed as the pinnacle of democratic evolution by 18th-century philosophes. To succeeding generations of Appenzellers, this seemed like a pretty good reason not to change it ever again. And it was all going along fine until 1991, when one gender – who shall remain nameless – decided they wanted to barge in on the franchise and ruin it for everybody.
Somehow the old traditions have adapted – at least in this half of the canton. In the other (Deborah’s) part, the trauma of 1991 proved too harrowing, and the Landsgemeinde was abolished several years later. This past April, while the men and women of Appenzell Innerhoden raised their hands together, the people of Appenzell Ausserrhoden held a solemn memorial for their murdered democracy.
Also, the voting in Appenzell takes place with the help of swords. Why? Well, just you try and have a half-decent democracy without arming every adult man with a bladed weapon on election day, and don’t blame me when it turns into a childish farce.
A mild spring day. A peaceful bike trail through
