Fasnacht in Switzerland: From Pagan Winter Rituals to Wild Modern Rites of Passage

I know, I know—I’m late. Carneval, or Fasnacht, as we call it in the Swiss‑German part of the country, has already been underway for a while. Still, since this is a celebration with deep pagan roots, of course I had to write about it. Nowadays, Carneval has changed quite a lot. The festivities have become more modern, and here in Switzerland, how it’s celebrated can even differ from one town to another.

Chesslette and Lätschete: A Week‑Long Ritual of Noise, Ghost‑Chasing, and Farewell to Winter

In the region where I grew up, our Fasnacht unfolds across a week of ritual noise, masks, and symbolic confrontation with winter’s lingering spirits. Two of the most distinctive traditions in this cycle are Chesslette and Lätschete — bookends of a communal rite that releases what is old and opens space for what is new.

The carnival begins not with confetti but with sound. Early one morning, villagers take to the streets carrying kitchen utensils — spoons, lids, pots, pans — sometimes homemade rattles or wooden clappers. This is the Chesslette. Traditionally, people rise before dawn and loudly beat their metal and wood implements, creating clamor that ripples through lanes and courtyards. The purpose is simple and ancient: make noise to awaken the world and startle away the ghosts and chilly shadows of winter.

In pre‑modern times, sound was believed to have power. Bells rang to drive off malevolent spirits, drums beat to call the seasons, and shouting into the cold air was a way to disturb stagnation. The Chesslette tradition carries this impulse — a communal exorcism of cold, sleep, and hibernation. House by house, yard by yard, the clatter rises until the village itself seems to shake off its winter slumber. Young and old participate, laughing, shouting, echoing across fields, waking the earth.

Once Chesslette has opened the week, the noise continues. Costumes and masks reappear throughout the days that follow — loud horns, bells, raucous laughter, and animated processions fill the streets. In this stretch between Chesslette and Lätschete, disguises and sounds serve the same symbolic function as the ancient pagan rites of the Alps: to confront and chase away winter’s remnants, to unsettle the mundane, and to release the old before the new can arrive.

Then comes the Lätschete: the symbolic end‑point of our local Fasnacht. At the culmination of the week, the “prince of Carneval” — a figure representing the old winter spirit — meets his end. He is ritually burned, and his ashes or remains are set adrift on the Rhine. In this act, winter is not just banished from the village; it is returned to the river’s flow, carried away from home and hearth. With this burning and water‑sending, the cycle closes — ghosts are released, winter’s spirit dissolved, and spring’s emergence welcomed.

This sequence — Chesslette to Lätschete — is more than spectacle. It is a ritual arc that echoes the turning seasons and the psychological cycles within ourselves: awakening, confrontation, release. The clamor of Chesslette shakes us awake; the masks of the week remind us of what we hide and contain; and the burning of the Lätschete prince lets us say goodbye to what has ended.

One of the oldest and most “preserved” traditions of Swiss Carneval, however, can be found in the Valais: the so‑called Tschäggättä. We will have a closer look at this tradition as well but first, let's dive into the ancient roots of Fasnacht.

The Ancient Roots of Fasnacht: A Rite to Banish Winter

Long before we had Instagram filters and party floats, the rhythms of life were set by nature’s cycles—and Fasnacht was one of the oldest ways humans marked the shift from darkness into light. The festival sits in the weeks before Lent, a pre‑Christian and pre‑modern time of preparation for spring. In many Alpine regions, people used masks, noise, fires, bells, and disguises to chase away the lingering spirits of winter, making space for new life and abundance.

While the word carnival itself comes from a Latin phrase meaning “farewell to meat” (carnem levare) and connects to the Christian calendar, the Fasnacht/Fasnet traditions in Alemannic regions like Switzerland have even deeper layers connected to ancient seasonal rites, fertility symbolism, and community catharsis. Across different regions, these rites take unique shapes: loud music and drums to scare off winter spirits, lavish floats to celebrate social satire, and symbolic burnings of winter figures to mark death and rebirth.

Enter the Tschäggättä — Faces of the Wild Winter Spirit

Nowhere is this primal spirit more vividly alive than in the high valley of the Lötschental in the Canton of Valais. Here, Tschäggättä are the signature carnival figures: wild, fearsome, and unforgettable. You won’t find them on glossy postcards — these are carved wooden masks with exaggerated, often grotesque features, set into coats of sheepskin or goatskin, with large cowbells rumbling at their waists.

The tradition goes back generations, rooted in the valley’s isolated history and its old seasonal rites. Originally, these figures roamed the lanes during Fasnacht, aiming to frighten winter’s remnants out of their homes. During the 18th–19th centuries, the custom was tied to young, unmarried men — a kind of wild courtship ritual mixed with folk beliefs about spirits and seasonal change.  Today, though the tradition has shifted and expanded (with women, children, and whole communities joining in), the Tschäggättä still embody a primal, liminal energy — the space between winter’s end and spring’s beginning.

Seen up close, their movements aren’t just about scares — they represent an encounter with the “wild self,” the part of us that is raw, unconscious, untamed by everyday social masks. They remind us that fear, shadow, and transformation are part of the same cycle that brings new life.

Ritual as Metaphor: What Fasnacht Teaches Us Today

In our modern, fast‑paced lives, rites like Fasnacht still matter — even if we’re no longer burning winter princes or roaming villages with cowbells. They speak to an inner truth that remains unchanged:we need transitional spaces — rituals that help us mark endings, confront shadows, and consciously step into new beginnings.

In the Christian calendar, Fasnacht leads into Lent, a time of reflection and letting go before Easter. Pagan ancestors intuited a similar necessity: before sowing and growth, there must be a clearing. Before joy, there must be release. Before spring, there must be the last echo of winter’s wildness.

Modern celebrations — from the graceful processions in Basel (Basler Fasnacht) to the wild nights of Tschäggättä — carry this ancient impulse forward. They let us laugh, sing, dress up, play, and become someone else for a brief time. They remind us that beneath the routines of daily life, something deeper stirs — a cycle of death and rebirth that keeps returning every year, and inside each of us.

So What If You Missed the Parade?

You can still honor the Fasnacht spirit:

• Release a symbol of what you’re letting go of — write it down and burn it (safely and mindfully).

• Wear a mask for a night — not to hide, but to explore the parts of yourself usually unseen.

• Make noise — drums, bells, singing, yelling into the open air — to shake off stagnation.

• Gather in community — feasting, dancing, and celebrating the turning of the year.

In the end, Fasnacht is more than confetti and costumes — it’s a reminder that transformation isn’t tidy. It is loud, strange, playful, and sometimes a little frightening. And yet, from that wild threshold between what was and what will be, spring always arrives.