The Project in Contrast to the New Right

In recent years, there has been much talk about “new thinkers”: Alexander Dugin, Martin Sellner, Benedikt Kaiser—representatives of a metapolitical Right that refer to philosophy to shape politics. Their texts seem sophisticated, their rhetoric disciplined, their self-image that of an intellectual avant-garde against an allegedly decadent modernity.

But what often appears as philosophy here is, in truth, a strategy. Not open movements of thought, but closed systems. Not questions, but affirmations. Not anthropology—but mythology. The terms they use—identity, order, sovereignty—are not meant as questions but as answers. As dogmas, not as pathways.

The project stands in opposition—not as a counterstrike, but as an alternative. It begins with the individual—not with the nation. With relationships—not with borders. It is open, tentative, alive. It does not aim to go back but to understand what is now. And it asks what can be tomorrow if we meet today with honesty.

The so-called New Right reads authors like Ernst Jünger, Carl Schmitt, Heidegger—but they strip them of their inner conflicts. Their texts appear like steel, yet philosophy is no armor. Philosophy begins with humility—with the willingness to question oneself instead of dominating others. Within the project, the individual does not doubt out of weakness but out of strength. They do not seek to assert themselves but to bear witness.

Where right-wing thinkers see the world as a battlefield, the project sees it as a resonance space. Where they aim to achieve clarity through power, the project seeks clarity without the pursuit of power. The difference is crucial: the project is not a theory of superiority but an attitude of pause. It does not aim to restore, but to strengthen the human in humanity—even and especially in uncertainty.

Philosophy, when taken seriously, makes one vulnerable. It demands closeness to reality, not escape into concepts. The project remains vulnerable because it stays open. And that is its greatest value: it does not need enemy images to understand itself. It does not suffice itself, but it does not disguise itself either. It speaks because it wants to listen.

In a world full of programs, perhaps it is precisely this: an invitation to think again. Not to triumph. But to live.