14 hours ago
- Politics
- National Geographic
No polls, no machines, just hands in the air—here's how one Swiss town votes
Each spring, citizens of Glarus, Switzerland gather to vote by a show of hands in the Landsgemeinde, one of the last remaining public assemblies of its kind in the world. Photograph by Davide Monteleone Photographs by Davide Monteleone
For most of the year, big crowds are unusual in the Swiss town of Glarus. At the base of a dramatic point in the Alps called the Glärnisch ridge, the hamlet is tranquil, largely undisturbed by the tourists who descend on the region's picturesque areas. But every year there is one day—usually the first Sunday in May—where citizens of the canton gather en masse in the town square for a tradition that's over 700 years old. Questions are boomed over the loudspeakers and thousands of people raise their hands in response. This is the Landsgemeinde—one of the world's oldest forms of direct democracy still in practice.
Meaning 'cantonal community assembly' in German, the Landsgemeinde dates back to medieval times. Glarus, with its population of around 41,000 people, is one of only two Swiss cantons left with the voting system. It's the forum wherein canton citizens decide on local laws—not by voting booth or mail-in ballot but a show of hands. From the wooden podium, the chief magistrate, known as the Landammann, visually assesses how many people are supporting each proposal and whether the measure has passed. Prior to voting, the townspeople of Glarus gather at the start of the day to enjoy a parade.
This May, thousands of eligible voters were undeterred by scattered patches of heavy rain as they gathered in the square. Under low clouds that misted beneath the mountains, they voted on 10 items, including amendments to the police act, setting the tax rate, and limitation of road traffic.
'It's really nice that your opinion counts and that you have the choice to speak on certain topics, that you have the chance to be heard,' says Matteo Tamborino, a 24-year-old bank clerk who voted at the Landsgemeinde for the first time this year. 'It feels great to have an option to vote. If you don't want to, you don't have to show up, it's not mandatory.'
(How to take the ultimate Swiss road trip ) Beat Mahler, director of the Glarus National Archive, inspects old photographs and documents about the Landsgemeinde.
The chance to submit an initiative—or 'memorial motion'—to the canton is the right of every citizen of Glarus eligible to vote. So long as the motion doesn't violate the law, the cantonal parliament will discuss the idea, and if at least 10 out of 60 parliament members think the topic is worth further debate, they prepare a proposal for the next Landsgemeinde.
While most democracies in the world allow voters' ballot decisions to remain private, the Landsgemeinde offers total transparency, with citizens voting openly: their raised hands are visible for all to see.
'It's OK if people know how I'm voting, because I want to be respected the way I am,' says 28-year-old Eva-Marie Kreis, a member of the Gemeinde Glarus council and vice-president of the Green Party. 'And that's the DNA of our political and democratic system, that everyone is respected the way he or she is.'
Kreis considers Glarus' voting system to be key to why the town has become a center of progressive politics. 'When people know what you're doing,' she says, 'they vote more in favor of what works for everyone.' Peter Schätti, an usher for the voting process. Diana Domenici Lehmann, voter Time lapse of voting at Glarus' main square.
In 2007, citizens of Glarus voted at the Landsgemeinde to lower the voting age from 18 to 16, making it the only canton in Switzerland that allows citizens to vote before the age of 18. In 2021, the cantonal parliament tightened the Energy Act, banning the installation of fossil-fuel heating systems in new buildings and making the canton's energy law one of the most progressive in Switzerland.
But while it might be tempting to tie Glarus' unique voting style to progressive politics, it's perhaps not so simple: Appenzell Innerrhoden, the only other place where the Landsgemeinde is practiced, has a more conservative political bent. In 1991, a full 20 years after Switzerland granted women the federal right to vote, Appenzell Innerrhoden finally allowed women to vote in cantonal elections—and only after a federal court ruling forced the town to comply. (Glarus granted women cantonal voting rights in 1971, along with most of the rest of the country.) Appenzell Innerrhode was also the canton with the lowest support (50.8 percent) in the 2021 Swiss same-sex marriage referendum, which passed federally. Women gained the right to participate in 1971—over six centuries after the first assemblies—the Landsgemeinde continues to evolve, balancing historical ritual with democratic innovation. Glarus is the only Swiss canton where 16-year-olds can vote, and where citizens may introduce or amend legislation directly.
(The essential travel guide to Switzerland) The art of compromise
For Kaspar Becker, the Landammann of Glarus who administers the Landsgemeinde, direct democracy is less about what is decided so much as how it fosters tolerance and the centrality of compromise in society. 'This system is very special, but it's in our culture, and I think in this culture we've accepted that you might have your opinion and can vote for your opinion and you won't have a war with someone else,' he says. 'We stand for our opinion, show them, and this is accepted.'
Yet no democracy is perfect, and the Landsgemeinde has its limitations. The visual counting of raised hands theoretically leaves room for error in close votes. And less than 20 percent of the canton is estimated to participate in the vote. Perhaps most significantly, not everyone who speaks has enough time to get their point across.
At the Landsgemeinde this year, Nils Landolt, a 36-year-old educator at the Schulwandel Foundation who lives in the municipality of Filzbach, experienced both the power and limitations of the forum. Speaking in favor of the creation of education vouchers, he was interrupted before finishing for being over time. The amendment was ultimately voted down. With origins in the 13th century, this form of direct democracy once defined many Swiss rural cantons but now survives only in Glarus and Appenzell Innerrhoden.
"It was an incredible feeling to be in front of all these people, standing for what's important to you. But then I was interrupted. It felt ridiculing, in a way,' he recalls. "Though speaking today was an incredible feeling because the issue was so important to me. This kind of voting system is a great chance that people can accomplish something.'
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On the day of Landsgemeinde, festivities fill the center of town and markets selling everything from hammocks to cheap toys for children spring up around the assembly. The day before, there is a flea market where locals sell treasures like old wooden furniture and watches. The evening of the vote, people gather in bars and restaurants, discussing politics and the day's events. It's a convivial atmosphere that dignifies the idea of democracy as communal, even fun. And yet, there is little thought among Glarus' citizens that such a system as the Landsgemeinde could be exported abroad, just as there is widespread recognition that it works precisely because of its small scale.
'It's a culture that has gone through hundreds of years,' says Becker. 'The only thing people can learn is to be more open to finding solutions that are a little bit OK for everyone and a little bit not OK with everyone. We have to look for compromise, and this should be the first step.'
