Swiss ease mandates for nuclear shelters, scuttle bike brigade

GENEVA -- Lisa Cirieco-Ohlman grimaces at the piles of books, strollers and dusty wine bottles, and apologizes for the litterbox stench. The fallout shelter doubles as storeroom and cat's bathroom, she explains while trying to stop her 16-month-old son from butting the concrete and steel door.

Like all Swiss homeowners, the Ciriecos were obliged by law to build the shelter in their cellar, complete with air generator and bunk beds, under a Cold War doctrine of providing bunker space for everyone.

"Switzerland is a world leader when it comes to bunkers," said Christoph Flury of the Civil Defense Department.

But, subject to voter approval in a referendum Sunday, the Alpine country is ready to ease away from its bunker mentality.

Having nearly achieved the goal of having shelter space for all 7.3 million inhabitants, Switzerland's government decided in October to drop a requirement that all new buildings have bomb shelters. Instead, people in areas with enough spaces would be able to pay for a spot in a communal bunker.

The proposal is part of a wider reform package to reorganize the civil defense system by focusing attention on natural catastrophes rather than war and making it easier for conscripts to opt for civil defense than for army duty.

The four-party coalition government also wants to trim and professionalize the armed forces. Savings on manpower would go to more sophisticated weaponry and communications, although all reservists would still be allowed to keep their weapons -- an estimated 500,000 of them -- in a closet at home.

A prominent victim of the high-tech push is Switzerland's fabled bicycle brigade -- the world's last remaining combat cyclist regiment. This is slated to be disbanded, much to the regret of traditionalists who say the 3,000 cycling militiamen are fast, efficient and cheap.

The proposed changes are being challenged by die-hard defenders of Swiss armed neutrality who gathered 50,000 signatures to force Sunday's referendum.

In an eclectic mix of issues, the 4.5 million voters also are deciding on proposals for scrapping or freezing nuclear power as well as measures covering apprentice training, rents, health insurance and access for disabled people.

Opponents of the defense reforms say they are out of tune with traditional Swiss neutrality and would weaken Switzerland's ability to react to an attack with anthrax, the botulism toxin or smallpox.

Government officials dismiss the arguments.

"There is no question of getting rid of the shelters," said Flury, the civil defense official. "We are reducing them in some cases but being more flexible. If we think of nuclear, biological or chemical terror, then at least we have a network of shelters which can be put into use relatively quickly."

For years, the Swiss have taken a pragmatic approach to their bunkers. The shelters are inspected for structural soundness every five years, but otherwise anything goes. Most people use them for storage, although some enterprising families reportedly have installed saunas and even pizza ovens.

The larger communal shelters are ideal for brass band practice or noisy school activities. They housed refugees during the 1998 Kosovo crisis and passengers stranded by the grounding of Swissair flights in October 2001. They also are used to accommodate hapless tourists who arrive without hotel reservations during big conventions or conferences.

"It would be complete madness to leave these rooms empty," said Flury -- although he added that in theory all shelters must be ready for use within 24 hours and should contain a three-day supply of food and water.

The bunk beds being used as shelves in the Cirieco shelter do contain a jumble of provisions -- potato chips, spaghetti, rice, tomato puree and pickles.

Mrs. Cirieco, a 39-year-old American who has spent most of her life in Geneva, describes the bunker's chemical toilet as the "piece de resistance," although she admits that it's never been out of the box and that she doesn't have a clue how it works.

The small room is meant to accommodate 13 people -- the Ciriecos and their three sons as well as neighbors who had to split the bunker bill when their adjoining houses were built three years ago.

Asked if the bunker is necessary, Mrs. Cirieco is unequivocal.

"Absolutely not," she says. "The only good thing about it is that it keeps the wine at the right temperature."