Cyril Hafen, an ethnologist from Zurich

While authorities, churches, and social organizations were still helplessly searching for a solution, a cure, or even just a practical test method, Jean and Rolf, who are now in their early sixties, had not yet openly lived their homosexuality. At that time, neither of them could have predicted the profound impact that HIV and AIDS would have on their lives. Both had heard of AIDS and, misled by the media, believed it was a result of homosexuality. They both speak about how the homophobia exacerbated by the AIDS pandemic was a major reason why they did not live openly as gay men.

In the early 1990s, both came out to their friends and found support and love in Zurich's gay scene. Shortly after, Jean's first gay crush and his first gay confidant were diagnosed HIV positive. Despite the positive HIV status, they started a relationship. "You can still be tender in other ways." But soon, his friend died, like many others in his circle.

Jean says today that his death, while tragic, was something he had already come to terms with by the time it occurred. This was often the case. There was a certain fatalism, a coping mechanism shaped by dark humor when dealing with death. "We had sex in the back alleys [...] or at highway rest stops. Of course, you could get infected, but being lonely would have been worse."

Jean responded to this tragedy with activism. He wanted to create a counter-public where HIV and AIDS would no longer be stigmatized, while also promoting behaviors that would help prevent the spread of AIDS. This tension between emancipation efforts and effective AIDS prevention was a key theme in left-wing, gay circles at the time. He campaigned for consistent condom use at Spot25 and in the gay program of Radio LoRa. He took care of patients at the Zurich Lighthouse. Jean wanted to continue loving and being intimate with his loved ones, and he wanted the same for his community.

Meanwhile, Rolf felt most at home in Zurich's leather scene. Condoms were frowned upon there, sex was permissive, hard, and often anonymous, and the topic of AIDS was "simply ignored." Rolf thought little about HIV when his partner—just half a year after coming out—unexpectedly died in bed. The village doctor was wrong; it wasn't glandular fever.

Rolf responded with sexual abstinence. The death of his lover was and still is traumatic. The leather scene was shocked, but the widespread rejection of condom use led to Rolf's exit from the scene. He found support primarily in the Reformed Church, which at the time was undergoing a rapid change in its stance on homosexuality, from condemnation to acceptance. While Jean's experiences with AIDS led to a stronger bond with the queer community, Rolf withdrew for years, dating no one, as the fear of more grief was too great.

What impact did the HIV epidemic have on places of gay desire during its worst phase? Pippo, who has worked in a Zurich gay sauna since the '90s, has a clear answer: hardly any. The demand for anonymous sex never disappeared, because "the human sex drive is powerful. It's basically stronger than the fear of infection." The saunas responded with information campaigns and free condoms. They never lacked guests.

The first hope for those affected came with Retrovir in 1988, the first antiretroviral HIV therapy. "What really changed everything was the advent of HAART in the late '90s," says Rolf. "With the arrival of HAART, I eventually lost the shame and that terrible fear that always accompanied me during sex. I wanted to date again." With HAART, a combination of antiretroviral medications and protease inhibitors, it became possible to reduce the viral load in people with HIV to the point where the virus was no longer detectable in the blood and thus no longer transmissible. This reduced transmissions per year to under a thousand, and AIDS became increasingly treatable.

While Jean and Rolf were eyewitnesses to the hardest times of the epidemic, Tom contracted HIV in this new phase of the pandemic: he was infected at the end of 2003, but being young and still closeted, he knew little about the virus. "The topic was almost not present in the media, and no one in my small village talked about it," he says. The diagnosis triggered panic, but he quickly gained access to HIV therapy and is now undetectable.

Looking back, he is happy with how little HIV has impacted his life thanks to modern therapies. "I lead a completely normal, happy sex life. All my friends know my HIV status and are incredibly supportive." He talks about the great solidarity he has experienced in the gay scene. However, prejudices still exist, and he has often faced hostility when going out. Tom sees an ambivalence in the current approach to HIV: "It's good that HIV is no longer such a big deal. But when you talk about it, you realize that many people are still not or no longer well-informed."

A more recent turning point was PrEP: approved in 2012, it protects HIV-negative people almost completely from infection. In Switzerland, it has been available and popular since 2020. However, Rolf is critical: PrEP could lead to more risk-taking and increase the spread of other sexually transmitted infections. Moreover, PrEP represents a radical shift in the narrative. While in the late '90s, the slogan "Think with your head, no casual sex without a condom" was the order of the day, today the decision process about whether to use a condom or not is more complicated.

The main barrier to PrEP for a long time was the cost—until recently, the daily dose cost around 2500 francs per year. From July 2024, health insurance will cover the costs, which should make it more accessible. However, hurdles remain, especially for undocumented or closeted queers.

Today, HIV is no longer a fatal, but a chronic infection. Thanks to the tireless efforts of the Swiss AIDS Help, the supportive civil society, and the queer community, the epidemiological situation has improved significantly. Future forecasts for society as a whole are positive: the NZZ predicted five years ago the "end of AIDS." The government expects no new infections by 2030, and the long years in which the sexuality of gay men was affected by AIDS may soon be a thing of the past (Hossli & Mora 2012).

Rolf summarizes: "It was a terrible time. We survived it—us as the gay community. And we only managed it because we stuck together and never gave up hope that better days would come."