The War and Us

Editor Viviane L. Tuvera

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Switzerland likes to portray itself as neutral. The exhibition “Us and the War” at the Swiss National Museum shows just how deeply war is nevertheless embedded in our history.

Growing up in Switzerland, one often feels that war is something viewed from a safe distance. Through news images, school textbooks or political debates. War is something that happens elsewhere. In other countries, in other family histories, in other history books. The exhibition ‘Us and the War’ challenges this perception. Not because it suddenly declares Switzerland a theatre of war, but because it shows just how much wars have shaped society, politics, the economy and our self-image here too. What does it mean to visit an exhibition about war in Switzerland – a country that historically likes to define itself through the narrative of neutrality?

Right at the start of the exhibition hangs a yellow sign: ‘Take care of yourself.’ It is not a typical greeting at an exhibition. Rather, it is a small preparation for the fact that ‘We and the War’ does not treat war as a distant historical event, but as something that reaches right into Switzerland through images, voices, objects and political questions. The title itself is a challenge: who is this ‘we’ when it comes to war?

The exhibition at the National Museum spans from the late Middle Ages to the present day, covering everything from founding myths, mercenary activities, general strikes, the arms trade, peace policy and flight to drones and AI. Even the early sections show how closely Swiss self-images are linked to narratives and myths: the Rütli Oath, William Tell, Winkelried. What often appears as the origin story of national freedom is closely linked to notions of independence, defence and neutrality.

Throughout the exhibition, visitors are repeatedly confronted with questions. This is particularly evident in the Neutrality Compass, which invites visitors to take a stance and choose between answers: What does neutrality actually mean? A fundamental rule of state, a political stance, a moral principle?

This ties in with the section on privatised military force. Today, states, companies and resource corporations commission private security firms and troops for operations, guard duties or territorial security. War thus appears not only as a decision made by states, but also as a business sector. The exhibition asks who profits from war. It is precisely here that it becomes clear how difficult it is to speak of neutrality when money, raw materials, security interests and political responsibility are intertwined.

This is followed by an even more specific question: should a neutral country such as Switzerland continue to export military equipment? Such questions make it clear that neutrality is not merely a historical concept, but an attitude that is being eroded by current issues.

It is precisely these questions that make the exhibition so relevant today. Where does responsibility begin? And who is entitled to protection? One focus, for example, is on asylum policy: whilst many Ukrainian refugees in Switzerland are granted S status, people from Syria or Afghanistan often have to wait a long time for decisions. The Swiss National Museum lays bare such differences without rushing to resolve them – and confronts visitors with them.

There are also moments when major political questions are tied to small objects: to items belonging to refugees, to a headscarf, to everyday objects that tell the story of flight. Or in the traces of resistance in Switzerland – for example, in materials from the GSoA or in the white flag of peace activist Max Dätwyler. They show that the attitude of parts of the Swiss population towards war consists not only of a policy of neutrality, but also of protest, solidarity and civic engagement.

Alongside historical milestones from Switzerland’s founding era and ancient battles of past centuries, Swiss domestic politics also features prominently. Photographs from 1918 recall the national strike in Grenchen, when three strikers were shot dead. At the same time, demands from that era featured on a leaflet – such as the 48-hour working week, old-age and disability insurance, or women’s suffrage – are now part of the country’s political memory. The sound installation at the end of the exhibition is also particularly striking. In the installation ‘Repeat after Me’, Ukrainian refugees evoke the sounds of war by imitating gunfire, artillery fire and sirens with their own voices.

Not every section offers entirely new insights. Much of it may have been heard, read or learnt before. But the strength of the exhibition lies in bringing these facets into view side by side. It shows that war is not simply ‘the war of others’. It continues to have an impact on trade relations, asylum decisions, personal stories, referendums and political self-perceptions. In the end, what remains is perhaps less a clear answer than a shift in perspective. One that shows that wars also leave their mark in Switzerland. Even when they are fought elsewhere.

Keyvisual der Ausstellung «Wir und der Krieg». Foto (Ausschnitt): Christian Schwager, Infanteriebunker Ratenpass

National Museum Zurich

Wars and us

Warfare, past and present, has been a defining element of Switzerland’s history. The exhibition brings together a variety of perspectives, showing how ‒ ...

Permanent exhibition

Published from Viviane L. Tuvera on May 14, 2026.