Surrounded by people who think differently: this is what life is like in the stronghold of your political opponent

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SVP city councilor Stefan Urech still regards the passerby walking to his campaign stand on Limmatplatz in Zurich as an interested citizen. But then the young man takes out his weapon – a felt-tip pen – and starts scribbling on the election poster of one of Urech’s party members. When he finishes his work, he smiles and continues walking. The poster features a swastika in black ink, directly on the SVP candidate’s forehead. “To me, that was worse than any threat of violence,” Urech says.

The compromise is as Swiss as chocolate and the Alps. Above all, it is an important part of our country’s politics. For example, with counter-proposals – two weeks of paternity leave instead of four or bilateral agreements instead of joining the EU. These allay concerns, but often do not go as far as the initiators would like. The magic formula in the Federal Council is also a middle ground between the parties, which is based only on an agreement and not on a law.

But now precisely this willingness to compromise seems to be in danger: according to studies, Switzerland is one of the most polarized countries in Europe, political scientist Silja Häusermann said in an interview with the magazine SonntagsBlick last week. The 2019 Selects election survey from the University of Lausanne also points to increasing divisions in society. It shows that since 1979, fewer and fewer voters have identified themselves as belonging to the political center, but there are more and more people who consider themselves ‘left’ or ‘right’.

This worries the Swiss people: according to the SRG’s current election barometer, increasing polarization is one of the biggest annoyances in the country for 42 percent of voters. Only the CS crisis, the climate stickers and the gender debate cause even more discomfort.

In minority

What really is the tolerance level for the opposing party’s attitude? What about respect for views that are far from your own? We met a politician who both deals with people who think differently on a daily basis and wanted to know how they experience polarization.

44-year-old Nadja Stadelmann is vice-chairman of the SP in the canton of Lucerne and comes from the municipality of Werthenstein LU in Entlebuch. There she sits on the Civil Rights Commission, among other things. In the 2023 cantonal elections, 47 percent of the population in Werthenstein voted for the SVP. The two left-wing parties, the Greens and the SP, received only just over 10 percent of the votes, with the rest going mainly to the FDP and the center.

Her right-wing counterpart is 36-year-old city councilor Stefan Urech, who lives in Zurich’s constituencies 4 and 5. In last year’s cantonal elections, 64 percent voted for the Greens, the SP or one of the smaller left-wing parties. In no other municipality in Switzerland does the left reach such high values. Switzerland’s largest party, the SVP, won a meager 7 percent of the vote in Zurich’s entertainment district.

Men’s rounds and thigh blows

In Wolhusen-Markt, one of the three towns in the municipality of Werthenstein, we meet Nadja Stadelmann in front of the Krone restaurant. “I prefer to drink my coffee there near the benches,” says the politician, looking at the pub. “Or in the language café for people with a migration background.” The social worker runs this herself. She rarely goes to the Krone because her family eats vegetarian: “That means that we can often only eat the side dishes or just a dessert here.”

In everyday life, Stadelmann notices that she is a minority in Werthenstein: at the general meeting of the neighborhood association, she is the only one who is bothered when only men have the floor, and when it comes to thigh-slapping, she is the only person who not smiling. “Interaction with me is almost always respectful,” says the politician. Only once was she treated with hostility by someone from her community: a young man repeatedly insulted her on social media during her candidacy for the canton council in 2019: “The basic tenor was that the left did not work and was lazy, just like me.”

The politician’s house is easily recognizable thanks to the red SP election poster on the balcony. The garden is slightly wilder than that of the neighboring houses. Stadelmann lives here with her family. The children are also confronted with the mother’s political commitment. A farmer’s son accused her daughter at school: “If we have to slaughter our cows, it’s your mother’s fault.” He was referring to the SP-backed drinking water initiative, which was intended to make the use of antibiotics in agriculture more difficult. “It takes some courage to swim against the current,” says Stadelmann.

“You don’t belong here”

Stefan Urech also uses the same language. “In a circle where everything pulls to the left, it is worth swimming upstream,” he writes on his website. We meet him at the Hardturmbrache, the remains of the old stadium of the Grasshopper Club Zurich. The area will be used by a non-commercial club until a new stadium is built. He manages the public garden in the green part of the complex, with a pizza oven and an open kitchen.

“The squatters from the Koch area are here,” says Urech, pointing to a few cars parked on the vacant lot. The wasteland of Hardturm is a thorn in his side. He is a GC fan and often went to the stadium as a teenager. “So I am a double minority here,” he jokes, because districts 4 and 5 are now FCZ areas. Like many other football fans, he demands that a new stadium be finally built. The voters said yes. The project was repeatedly delayed by objections from residents and environmental organizations.

Urech notices that there are few politically like-minded people in his neighborhood: “Every time I meet new people, I think twice about coming out as an SVP member.” People are often shocked, he explains. “For most people this is something completely new; they usually only interact with people who think like themselves.” They wouldn’t even know how to respond.

Urech and his fellow party members feel this most during stand actions in the neighborhood. The swastika scribble four years ago was a shock. However, he has now become accustomed to insults such as ‘son of a bitch’ or ‘fascist’; these exist every time. “A lot of people tell us we don’t belong here.” You had to call the police twice because someone threatened violence. “The flyers were also knocked out of my hands.”

That’s pretty heavy. “I’m glad I don’t work here,” says Urech. He is a high school teacher in Mettmenstetten, a rural community in the canton. Many party members are afraid that people from the neighborhood will know that they support the SVP. The most difficult thing is drawing up a list for the municipal elections. “The majority of members no longer want to be on the list, which then ends up in every household in our area,” says Urech. Craftsmen would feel that the city would then no longer give them orders. “Many fear they will face social or professional consequences.” Urech notes that he cannot confirm whether this is actually the case.

Rural love

In the municipality of Werthenstein, Nadja Stadelmann sits at the regular table of Krone – she makes an exception for our conversation. Behind her is a statue of two wrestlers, approximately one meter high. The purple feminist strike pins on the politician’s bag do not match the atmosphere of the rural restaurant.

Stadelmann never intended to leave Wolhusen. Even after she failed to reach the canton council for the second time in the 2023 elections: “Of course, if I lived in the city or just two villages away, it would be easier to get elected as a leftist.” But it is important for her to set an example and bring about change in her community.

But Stadelmann has more than just political reasons for staying in Werthenstein: “It’s just beautiful here, I love nature.” You know everyone, look out for each other and treat each other kindly, says the politician. “Almost the entire neighborhood came to my daughter’s baptism.” That affected her very much. Even when things get political again, people discuss things on an equal footing. She also feels a development since she stood as a candidate for the canton council four years ago: “People treat me with more tolerance than before.” Still, she would like to see more leftists in her community and has therefore revived the SP Wolhusen, which has not been really active for a long time.

A real city person

Stefan Urech is also aware that a step would make sense for electoral reasons: the next step in his political career would also be easier for him elsewhere, after all, he would have to be elected to the canton council by his constituency. But he would like to ‘provide some headwind in this left-wing one-way district’. He is also a real city person: he has a bicycle instead of a car, carries a Friday bag and works for the state. He would like to have more right-wing people in his neighborhood, but he likes the culinary diversity, the greenery and the old industrial buildings.

But he appreciates his room for another reason. It was good for him to be surrounded by people who think differently: “You learn to question yourself.” In District 5, no one patted him on the back for his views, so he had to clarify his arguments again and again.

Social glue

Ivo Scherrer (35), head of ‘Let’s talk’ at Pro Futuris, also describes this advantage of contact with people who think differently: “This prevents us from being satisfied with simple enemy images and stereotypes.” His project aims to bring people with different views into conversation and thus slow down polarization.

Just like the conversations on ‘Let’s talk’, Nadja Stadelmann and Stefan Urech also ensure mutual understanding among the population. “Especially in politically homogeneous places, people representing political minorities ideally create more empathy by making alternative perspectives visible to the majority,” Scherrer explains.

Even though some consider the two provocateurs, they take on an important task: through them the ‘enemy’ becomes an approachable person. The courage and necessary integrity not to wave the flag in the wind is paying off for all of Switzerland.

Source:Blick