INTERVIEW - Benedikt Weibel on his reading adventures: "Reading Simone de Beauvoir was magical; Hans Magnus Enzensberger cured me of all illusions."

Benedikt Weibel hasn't been CEO of SBB for almost twenty years. But he's probably still one of the best experts on the Swiss railway network and its neighboring countries. The 78-year-old continues to travel a lot—or even more so these days. Only station catering doesn't seem to be his specialty. We had arranged to meet at the brasserie in Zurich Central Station and, quite naturally, meant the Brasserie Federal—neither of us knowing that there's also a Brasserie South. The result: He waits in the South, I wait at the Federal. The misunderstanding is quickly cleared up, and as loyal federalists, we agree on the "Federal."

Mr. Weibel, you've just published a book about your reading adventures. In it, you present one hundred books that have particularly touched you. Are you a bookworm?

Yes, I am. Books are the first constant in my life; they've been with me since my early youth.

What's currently on your nightstand?

A book from 1920 that I bought in 1984 and never read: Robert Grimm's "A History of Switzerland in Its Class Struggles." He was one of the leaders of the 1918 national strike and was subsequently sentenced to six months in prison. He wrote the book while imprisoned in Blankenburg Fortress. I find his life story fascinating: He later became a government councilor and ultimately served as director of the Bern-Lötschberg-Simplon Railway. He was a Social Democrat like me, and the railway also connects us.

Why did you pick up the book now, forty years after you bought it?

I stumbled across it by chance and thought now was the time to read it. Also on my bedside table are Herfried Münkler's study of the Thirty Years' War and Oswald Spengler's "The Decline of the West."

It was published in 1918 and, like the books by Grimm and Münkler, illuminates a turning point in world history. It looks like you're preparing for a crisis.

Since I buy a lot of books, I can't read them all right away. Some have to wait a long time until chance brings them back to me.

Are such books something like an emergency supply or a medicine cabinet for difficult times?

The beauty of a large library is that it's also a library of unread books. I see some books again and again. And suddenly I know now is the time to read them.

Are you looking for answers to today’s questions in these books?

Huntington's "Clash of Civilizations" was a highly controversial book in the late 1990s, and with its analysis of the present, it remains one of the most important prognostic studies for the 21st century. Reading it today, after Russia's invasion of Ukraine, I see Huntington's prophetic gift. This is one of the reasons why I picked up Spengler's "The Decline of the West" again. He, too, had written something similar to Huntington after the First World War: that our Eurocentric world is gradually becoming obsolete.

In your book about your reading adventures, you provide a brief synopsis of each of the hundred books you've read, describing your reading impressions and, occasionally, your biographical background. Occasionally, your reflections also culminate in a brief, diagnostic reflection on the times. This sometimes gives the impression that you tend toward pessimism and skepticism, especially with regard to the technological developments of the time.

I'm an emotional optimist and intellectually more of a pessimist. And yes, it's true, I'm not particularly optimistic about the immediate future. In his dystopian thriller "The Circle," Dave Eggers anticipated some of the technological innovations we're currently experiencing. What he presents as a peaceful utopia of total transparency is, in reality, a malicious satire on the totalitarian tendencies of digitalization. Regarding the present, I'm a skeptical empiricist. I want to see things with my own eyes.

This desire to see everything with your own eyes and then interpret it is also part of your passion for reading. Do you relate to the world differently when you read and look at the present through someone else's eyes?

I'm convinced that books are a kind of school of life. Books trigger enormous projections. We use them to train our imagination. Stefan Zweig's "Schachnovelle" is a prime example. It completely blew my mind back then; I suddenly realized that you can play chess in your head; I could see the chess pieces in front of me.

In one of the most beautiful texts in your book, you write about Simone de Beauvoir's memoir, "In Her Prime." Was that also a pivotal moment where you learned more about life and yourself through a book?

The book sat on my bookshelf for forty years. A book about the existentialists gave me the impetus to finally read it. I picked it up and was completely captivated. Her long hikes in the mountains, her notes from the war, where she suddenly realizes that she had lived in a completely different, detached world until then, then her partnership with Sartre and their incredible mutual respect—all of that touched me enormously. It opened my eyes to Simone de Beauvoir. In books like these, I rediscover myself. These are magical moments. Something happens to me.

Can you describe what happens to you in such moments?

Books can change you. You gain insights from them, but they can also heal you from misconceptions. Hans Magnus Enzensberger's "The Short Summer of Anarchy" freed me from all my illusions. At the time, I was still to the left of the Social Democrats, close to the Poch (the German Social Democratic Party), but Enzensberger's story, which he calls a "novel," of the Spanish Civil War was an eye-opener. The book shaped me politically like no other.

Besides reading, you have a second passion: mountains. You've been climbing your whole life. What fascinates you about mountains and climbing? The risk?

It's a virus with addictive potential. My father was already a mountaineer and took us children with him at an early age. In 1961, I made my first difficult climb; five years ago, my wife and I threw away the ropes. I climbed for sixty years, I dreamed of it, and even after dangerous moments, I couldn't let it go. I can't explain it. There's something aesthetic and dance-like about it, too. And of course, I was always at the point where I had to decide: turn back and admit defeat? Or keep going? Even if the fall height and the danger increased with every step?

Was that also a kind of life lesson? Did you practice dealing with defeat there?

Of course, turning back is a defeat, but it can also be a sign of strength because you acknowledge your limitations. This builds mental strength. You have to understand two things: Without stress, there is no growth. And without recovery, there is no growth either.

You were head of the Swiss Federal Railways (SBB) from 1993 to 2006. Did mountaineering or reading prepare you for this role?

In the rocks, I learned to focus. And books taught me a general art of living. Niccolò Machiavelli says that a prince can only prove his capabilities when he gets into trouble.

As head of the railway, you've run into trouble several times. Do you remember June 22, 2005, when a power outage shut down the entire Swiss railway network?

As if it were yesterday. But I remember March 8, 1994, even more. That was the day that changed my life completely. The train explosion in Zurich Affoltern. They drove me to the scene with blue lights flashing, then I saw what was going on. The burning train, smoke everywhere, damaged buildings. I thought, that's what war is like. On June 22, 2005, I was pretty relaxed because I knew it wasn't a matter of life and death. But 1994 was a terrible year. Thirteen days after the accident in Zurich Affoltern, a train in Däniken was ripped open by a construction crane. Nine people died. I was driven to the scene again, coffins were carried out, and then I had to appear before the media and give information. And just three months later, the next accident happened. On June 29, a train carrying highly toxic epichlorohydrin derailed at Lausanne station. The chemical is lethal when combined with water. The entire city center of Lausanne had to be evacuated. This series was absolutely horrific.

That must have been a huge emotional blow for you. Did you seek help at the time?

Yes, my wife. But I was also lucky. I have a strong constitution, and it didn't let me down in moments of extreme stress.

When you look back on your life, would you say it was a fulfilling and successful life?

I look back with gratitude. Because it was luck and coincidence that helped me incredibly in those crucial moments. I came to SBB by chance, I came to writing by chance, and it was luck that I found fulfilling work even after my time at SBB: as a Federal Council delegate at the 2008 European Football Championship, as a member of the supervisory board of SNCF. I can therefore say that in this respect, I am a very lucky person.

Benedikt Weibel: The Adventures of Reading. One Hundred Sources of Pleasure and Insight. Edition Exodus, Lucerne 2025. 527 pp., CHF 46.90.