By: Kristen Anderson
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They say we all have a dark side. A shadow self, a yin to our yang. So it is with old Saint Nick, who, in my opinion, is so repressed in his role as Santa Claus that Krampus is a materialized thought-form of his own perfectly natural darkness. Think of Krampus as a tulpa (a being or an object that is created through mental powers) that has gotten completely out of control and has become a Baphomet-esque creature who terrifies the very children he’s meant to delight.
Or maybe he’s just a freaky-fun creation of Austrian folklore with Pagan roots. Whatevs.
Either way, he’s kind of a bad boy Christmas icon. Krampus is often depicted as a goat-like creature with huge horns, a forked tongue, one hoof, and one human foot, carrying a sack. But why he’s connected to Christmas at all may be a bit more of a mystery.
Starting in the 17th century, parts of Europe celebrated Christmas, known as The Feast of St. Nicholas, on December 6th, making December 5th their Christmas Eve. December 5th was the night that children looked forward to Santa coming through with his big bag of toys—but also, with Krampus in tow, hauling a sack of his own.
Rather than simply give out disappointing lumps of coal, Santa and Krampus had a good-cop-bad-cop thing going back then. Santa rewardied well-behaved children with presents, while Krampus would throw them in his sack to potentially torture or eat them. This led the night to be known as Krampusnacht, or Krampus Night, really putting the spotlight on the scary stuff where it belongs.
Like the boogeyman or any number of other folkloric creatures, the story of Krampus seems to have been conjured up as a deterrent to bad behavior. Rather than going with a, “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake'' cutesy approach, children were told that Krampus would beat them with birch twigs if they acted up. To really drive the point home, it was common practice for families to hang birch twigs on their walls year-round, as a reminder that Krampusnacht was coming. It would be time to pay the piper if they didn’t behave.
Starting in the 1890s, Krampus even started taking over the Christmas card market in Europe. Contrasting with the disturbingly rosy, cherubic cheeks of Santa giving a wink, Krampus cards included violent depictions of the demon doing his thing. Popular designs included Krampus stuffing naughty kids into his sack, beating them with sticks, or even leading them away in chains. There was a cheeky line of lady-centric Krampus cards in the early 1900s, showing a feminized version of Krampus hitting men and putting them in their sack. There were also cards showing Krampus trying to make good with the gals by proposing to them, but it doesn’t seem like they took too kindly to it.
It turns out, the greeting cards were crucial to the worldwide popularization of Krampus as a Christmas figure. His recognition in the United States can be attributed to graphic designer Monte Beauchamp, who published a book of Krampus Christmas cards and then had an art show to support them. From there, Krampus fever spread stateside.
But it’s not all stories and greeting cards. There was also an Austrian event known as Krampuslauf, which translates to “Krampus Run,” which seemed to be an excuse for people to dress up like Krampus, get wasted, and run through the streets. Modern people have brought back this tradition in recent years, because of course they have, turning it into Santa Con’s demonic cousin.
In 2014, American writer Michael Karas visited multiple Krampuslauf celebrations in Austria and wrote about the experience. He described them as an unholy mashup between Halloween and Christmas celebrations. At one location, Christmas trees hung upside down overhead, a physical symbol of this perversion of the happy holiday. The traditional Austrian Krampuslauf seems to function as a weird parade, with people choosing to dress as Krampus and onlookers on the sidelines, sometimes behind barricades, sometimes not, and the Krampusse (plural of Krampus) getting in the faces of whoever catches their eye.
Onlookers can tell they’re coming by the ominous ring of the cowbells they carry and the flash of their torches and flame-throwers. It’s all part of the charm (?), but bystanders brace for the Krampusse to strike out, aggressively rearing up on them and flogging them with branches. (By all accounts, these sting, but the Krampusse seem to routinely go for the meat of the legs, which can theoretically handle it).
The entire article is worth a read, but this account of a teenager getting his just desserts is a standout:
“When the Krampusse descended on the crowd, we saw people run and hide while others eagerly joined the melee. These Krampusse, who were accompanied by a St. Nicholas, were considerably more aggressive than those in Graz. They were particularly brutal to anyone who taunted them or tried to retaliate. A particularly large and frightening Krampus chased down an offending teenager, threw him on the ground and sat on his chest. The boy looked terrified and near tears at the time. But shortly after the Krampus let him go, he was joyfully telling his friends about his ordeal.”
Of course, not all Krampusnachts are quite so rowdy. Although different this year, the annual Krampus Asbury Park event thrown by Paranormal Books and Curiosities in New Jersey is a monster-y winter celebration. There are safe scares like photo opportunities with Krampus and Yeti statues, a Monsters of the Yule walking tour with owner Kathy Kelly, and a non-whippy Krampuslauf.
We may not be able to gather right now, for hardcore Krampus celebrations or for nicer ones, but don’t let the physical distance between you and Agents of Krampus lull you into a false sense of security. As long as there is Santa, there is Krampus, ready to punish the wicked and take them away in his anti-Santa sack. So be good, for goodness sake.