“Re-written… Self-censored… One thousand and one times have I rephrased some sections of this story… And I really hope I’ll be able to collaborate and evolve in the future in such a world, where this level of censorship is no longer necessary.”
The thing that drove me to leave Switzerland was mainly the lack of a grip on the real world. Having the impression of being stuck with a low-income job, in an overpopulated country where everything has been bought by the richest and where nothing is accessible any more, because even the poor with no income are ruined by the minimal costs of health insurance, TV national tax, and, above all, price of rents. A word of advice: if you come to live in Switzerland, don’t try to ask yourself how much it costs to take a breath of Swiss air: it will take your breath away. The feeling of being lower down the social ladder than an economic migrant or a seasonal worker, because those accept a miserable wage that we Swiss wouldn’t accept, and so they get the open position. In a time marked by shootings in Paris or in Nice (Charlie Hebdo, Bataclan, etc.), as the Eastern half of Europe was starting to have enough of that situation, as the governments, notably in Hungary and shortly afterwards in Italy, began to reinforce their borders, here at home, they were all asking for more of them. More climate refugees on the left, more cheap labour force on the right. They were praised everywhere, on the radio, in advertisements, in films; in all forms of communication, people felt sorry for them. Reception centres sprang up like mushrooms, while creches, schools, hospitals, trains and motorways were already saturated for the local population. Whilst I could only live, with my low salary, in unpleasant neighbourhoods where drugs were already a problemy, there are still towns and regions that are a bit shady and attract a certain type of disreputable population). What’s more, current events in France – the killings and attacks, the powerlessness or lack of will to curb the phenomenon, and the relatively similar political opinion between their people and mine – made me fear that the wave of insecurity, “mad trucks” and “knives of peace” would soon be arriving in our French-speaking mountains. Insecurity that has not yet reached such a level at the time of writing: let’s knock on wood to keep it that way.
In this context, I reached out to two groups which, let’s not kid ourselves, were not friends of political correctness: the first was a Swiss group active in real life, making cultural or meta-political activites; let’s call it here the Alpe Suisse (Swiss Alp). The second group was a more international French-speaking online forum, which we will call Village Gaulois (Gaulish Village). The Village Gaulois forum offered solutions to men abandoned by a progressive society that no longer wanted them. Expatriation to still-traditional societies in Central and Eastern Europe was one of the solutions proposed; I’ll come back to this point later. There weren’t many Swiss members on the Village Gaulois forum, but there were enough for three or four of us to meet up, go hiking, or snowshoeing from time to time.
Once again, I will avoid giving the real names of these groups because, due to some rather unruly members, the outcomes of all this were not always very flattering. Moreover, the original forum I’ve called Village Gaulois no longer exists, and the group I’ve called Alpe Suisse is, as far as I know, almost inactive—additional reasons not to dwell on them.
Today, continuations of these groups still exist in the underground; they have shed their toxic elements and become high-quality discussion and support groups. They welcome new members through word of mouth or chance encounters and meet regularly. There are now families and children. Small Villages Gaulois now exist in many countries across Europe, serving as French-speaking discussion groups without taboo topics or hypocrisy. To those who knew me in these groups and recognize themselves while reading these lines, I greet you warmly. The existence of Alpe Suisse and Village Gaulois, and the events we organized, were vital for my mental health and that of many compatriots.
