From the WSJ Opinion Archives
NOT SANTA CLAUS
On the Prowl
In Austria, going on the rampage is a Christmas tradition.
SALZBURG, Austria--The holiday season has arrived in Salzburg with its quaint Christmas markets, cheery brass ensembles, steaming mugs of Gluhwein, and, of course, the perennial Krampus debate, which, when stripped of cultural nuance, can be summarized as follows: Should inebriated young men in oversized gorilla suits, with grotesquely carved, horned visages the size of a buffalo head and clanging cowbells strapped to their midrift, be allowed to assault women in public with impunity, generally to the merriment of crowds of onlookers, except, of course, for those who are shrieking or fleeing in terror?
The Krampus is to Salzburg what the bull is to Pamplona, an oversized beast that sends an adrenaline rush of terror through the cobblestone streets of the old town, all in the name of cultural heritage. For a full week during the start of the holiday season, scores of Krampuses stalk the cobbled ways of Salzburg and its surrounding villages. The Krampus is a hybrid-beast of pagan origins that has been affixed to the Christmas season and looks like he stepped out of the pages of Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are." Only instead of inviting young boys for midnight monster romps, they stalk young women, fondling them, throwing them over their shoulders and whipping them with wooden switches until their shins and thighs are black and blue. They prowl the streets, wander onto public buses, and storm downtown restaurants where, after assaulting female patrons, they are treated to free schnapps to fuel their further fury. The anonymity provided by the Krampus mask combined with increasing amounts of alcohol consumption is not only feeding the violence but also a debate about this bizarre pagan holdover from a less civilized era.
This year the Krampus debate intensified when a nine-year-old was set upon by three young Krampuses and so was so traumatized that she was reportedly afraid to return to school. The three offending Krampuses were identified, reprimanded by the school's principal and told that if they did such a thing again they would be banned from future Krampus antics. The incident has heated the annual Krampus debate, with each camp growing increasingly shrill. One side holds that the "Krampus runs," as the random assaults are called, are good clean fun, the sort of local color that makes Salzburg charming and quaint, that Krampuses can be avoided by keeping off the streets between four and eight p.m., and that, in fact, most women enjoy being knocked around a bit by these burly beasts. The other side decries these assaults as blatantly sexist, misogynist exercises that have no place in modern society. "It is the only place in Europe where it is acceptable to beat women in public," a Salzburg women told me.
This year, my wife and 10-year-old daughter brought the Krampus debate into our house. On their way to the grocery store, they unexpectedly found themselves in a nightmare monster romp of epic and demonic proportions, with more than 200 Krampuses raging through the streets, stopping traffic, clanging their cow bells and snatching young girls from the crowd. My wife returned home feeling shaken and violated, her ankles stinging from the Krampus switches. My 10-year-old daughter had been spared the switches but had been snatched and carried, screaming and shrieking and loving every minute of it.
Mr. Ryback is a writer living in Salzburg.
