Three Times Left is Right: Interview with Miguel and Julian

Three Times Left is Right is een project van Studio Julian Hetzel, in coproductie met Wiener Festwochen en Schauspiel Leipzig.
De première vindt plaats op 17.05.2025 tijdens Wiener Festwochen.

Lees hier meer over het project.

Q: I’d like to begin with a question about the origins of this piece?

Julian: A big part of the inspiration comes from a couple—Caroline Sommerfeld and Helmut Lethen. They are both intellectuals and writers. Helmut Lethen is a sociologist and an excellent writer whose books we’ve referenced in previous works. I think it was in 2017 that I read Der Schatten des Fotografen (The Shadow of the Photographer). Then, as we dug deeper into his biography, we understood that his partner is also a writer and intellectual, but someone who represents a radically different ideological stance. She has moved from a leftist position to one on the extreme right. Caroline Sommerfeld was—maybe still is—one of the leading intellectual figures of the new right movement in Germany and Austria. They also have three children together. And we thought: that’s an interesting situation. 

It felt like a metaphor for Europe—this dynamic within a family, inside a home, mirrors the political landscape of many governments. People with highly different, even opposing views sit around the same table to discuss the future—whether that’s of their country or, in this case, their children. We became really curious: How do they manage to do that? How do you coexist with someone with a radically different worldview, values, or ideology? How do you make decisions about raising your children?  In this sense, the family becomes a magnifying glass for the rupture points in society. So we asked ourselves: What can we learn from this couple? Can we scale from this situation up—from the family to a city, to a nation, to a society at large? What lesson can we draw?

Miguel: There was also an article in The New York Times that focused on this couple. It portrayed them as a case study in polarization: a family navigating profound ideological differences under one roof. As Julian said, they became a kind of model, an example of how political oppositions might coexist in close proximity, even within an intimate relationship.

What I find particularly compelling is how their story contrasts with the way politics functions at large. In public discourse, polarization is often used as a strategic tool—one side frames the other as an enemy. But this couple exposes that framing as a fallacy. Their situation forces us to consider the consequences of treating ideological differences as irreconcilable.

When democracy starts to feel insufficient or compromised, we begin to question it. Do we turn toward alternatives—anarchy, feudalism, oligarchy, which in many ways we’re already seeing take shape? Or do we commit to the difficult work of upholding democratic coexistence, even when it’s messy, imperfect, and full of contradiction?

This couple brought us to think about how political representation and division are constructed—and negotiated—within intimate spaces.

Q: And how is it different? Is the couple the same as society? Is living together the same as love? 

J: I think when you look at the role of emotion in politics, you enter a crucial part of the research that we’ve been doing. For instance, we had conversations at De Balie about how politics is connected to emotions, and how emotion is being used and amplified politically.  In our age of social media, politics is increasingly emotionalized. The structure of platforms like X or Instagram prioritizes brevity and provocation, which fuels emotional reactions and populism. These formats encourage a communication style that triggers emotional engagement more than critical reflection.

We also listened to Bart Brandsma, an expert on polarization. He noted that every major political movement tends to have a specific medium tied to its rise: the book press for example accelerated a religious shift for the Protestant Reformation. The Nazis had the radio, the Volksamtsänger. At the moment, populist movements thrive on the internet and social media. 

But going back to your question about love and emotions. I think love is a mystery that we try to crack. That’s why we chose to work with a real couple in the piece: Kristien De Proost and Josse De Pauw. They are both brilliant performers and a real-life couple. They are lovers. We thought it was important, even essential, to bring real love as an ingredient to work within this project.

Q: Let’s talk about the title—Three Times Left is Right. The piece starts from the observation of a polarized society, but the title suggests a shift—a kind of Möbius strip. Has something flipped?

M: Yes, the title reflects our observation that polarization isn’t driven only by the right. Certain tendencies within the left have also contributed—often unintentionally—to this climate. As progressive movements embraced inclusive language, symbolic politics, or public forms of accountability, they sometimes ended up creating new exclusions.

People who once felt aligned with leftist values can now feel alienated—especially when progressive discourse is shaped by highly educated, urban circles. Ironically, while promoting inclusion, the left has at times overlooked broader material concerns like labor, housing, or healthcare. When those who feel left behind voice their discomfort, they’re often quickly labeled as conservative or out of touch.

We’ve described this as a kind of cultural gentrification—where progressive discourse becomes a language game not everyone can access. When the left keeps moving further left, it risks circling back and closing in on itself.

So Three Times Left is Right is both a provocation and a warning. It points to the risk of ideological loops—where extreme positions, whether left or right, can begin to resemble each other in their rigidity.

J: Many of our works have titles that function as a compass, something that keeps on speaking to us at different moments in the process. This title has resonated with various stages of the research process. What fascinates me in particular is how the right-wing thinkers today are appropriating strategies from the left. At some point, I stopped reading about right-wing movements and started reading their actual texts. And you see a very deliberate, strategic appropriation of leftist ideas. They have copied the mechanisms, the attitude, the language, and the overall spirit of the left.

They’ve adopted tactics of the ‘68 movement: the idea that cultural revolution is more powerful than street protest. Instead of occupying buildings or institutions, they occupy language. They reframe terms like “freedom of speech,” “alternative,” or “oppression,” and use them to position themselves as the new underdogs. 

Today, they are the ones that are fighting for their rights, to speak and live the way they want to live. Even if that means we go back to the Middle Ages and forbid abortion or any other democratic social values and civil rights. It’s chilling how effectively they co-opt the language and spirit of the left—turning it inside out.

When I look at this couple—he is in his 80s, she’s in her late 40s, early 50s—I appreciate this generational shift. How one generation digests, transforms, and appropriates the values of the previous one. It’s tragic because the left now seems caught between a crisis of imagination and an identity crisis. At the same time, the populist and reactionary right, for all its flaws, seems to have a bolder imagination. 

Q: Can you elaborate on that? What do you mean by a crisis of imagination on the left?

J: I think the left lacks the kind of radical, visionary energy that the right currently has. The right has launched what you could call a cultural revolution. They’re more inventive, more radical, more willing to take risks.  Look at the U.S., at Europe—Trump, Musk, and their whole neo-feudal Trupp, as we say in German. Meanwhile, the left stumbles, fragmented and unsure, often not even managing to mount a proper response.

M: And to connect with what Julian was saying: in Germany, for example, the AfD calls itself the alternative. And that’s part of what’s so dangerous. There’s a new energy coming from the right, slicker, more confident, and often more emotionally engaging—especially to young people.

In Spain, where I came from, the far-right TikTok accounts have more followers than all other parties combined. That’s terrifying. They’re planting the seeds for the next generation—particularly among young men—through humor, memes, and slogans about personal freedom, masculinity, national pride.

Meanwhile, the left often communicates through frameworks of critique—of privilege, history, and structural injustice. These are important conversations, but they can also come across as heavy or moralizing. Young people feel caught between two cultural messages: “You should feel guilty” versus “Be proud of who you are.” The latter is winning—not necessarily on truth, but on tone. It’s bolder, funnier, and feels more like rebellion. In that landscape, pride often outperforms trauma.

J: Right now, I think we’re in a historical moment when the last generation that literally eyewitnessed the Holocaust is dying.W e can read about it, speak about it, study about it, but soon we will not be able to have a conversation with people who witnessed it first-hand—people who could warn us because they recognize the signs reappearing. That’s something we also address in the piece: the danger of normalization.The normalization of violence, of language, of ideology. How long does it take for a society to change the reference framework that we normalize things? Months, a few years, perhaps a couple of tweets? That’s the question. What once seemed unthinkable becomes acceptable, and then normal. It starts with language., When refugees are described as natural disasters—”waves,” “floods,” “swarms”—those metaphors attach a sense of threat or danger to human beings. They provoke fear. And once that framing is established, it becomes easier to justify other actions—like boycotting businesses, limiting rights. The question becomes: what comes next?

We have seen all the signs before. I’m German, and I know how fast things can shift. I don’t want to go back to that period. Never again is now—it’s not just an empty slogan, it’s a responsibility. We must recognize the signs and respond. That’s also why we make art. Culture is a form of resistance. It’s our weapon of choice. Theater, specifically, is the tool and the weapon that we have chosen.

This is our medium to speak to society. Maybe it’s not the most efficient tool, or the most direct weapon, but it allows us to create awareness about the mechanisms and ideologies shaping our world. This piece is not overly activist, but I think it has a clear political foundation.

Q: I also wanted to talk about the aspect of theatre. You mentioned in the text that you use theatre as a space for speculation. What does that mean to you?

M: Well, theatre—art in general—functions differently from society, politics, and economics. If we allow it to, it can be a very free space. A space where we can test scenarios, exaggerate processes, and explore situations that—thankfully—we can’t yet explore in real life. Theatre can help us to envision a future we don’t want to happen.

That’s why it’s important to use theatre as a radical playground. A space for speculation, for pushing the limits of reality and fiction. In this piece, we work with a real couple, but we also take a wide range of creative liberties. We stretch the narrative to the point where it becomes a caricature of itself. Hopefully, that stretching allows for reflection—it opens space for new thinking. It’s part of our studio tradition: take a concept or a tension and expand it until it breaks—or reveals something else.

Of course, this can be challenging for some audiences. Not everyone is comfortable with exaggeration, with satire. But we believe this is the moment to take risks. There’s no time left to be too soft or too cautious. We have to dare.

Q: How do you create a piece about polarization, while living in a polarized society. Is it even possible to remain objective?

J: I don’t have the aim to be objective. I don’t claim to represent any objective truth. What we are making is not a documentary. It’s not an accurate portrait of the family. As Miguel said, we work with documentary ingredients—the real-world material, the texts, the situations—but we also exercise artistic freedom. What we create is theatre. It’s a dialogue between reality and imagination. 

Q: Right. You are still confronted with your perspective throughout the process, right?

J: Absolutely. Especially when you spend hours reading texts from the right-wing spectrum. It is really confronting when you realize some of their arguments make sense. This is the uncomfortable part, when you ‘understand’ their position. And the truth is, we’re looking at the same world from completely different perspectives. The way they build their arguments is compelling. And that’s where I have to check myself: What is my position? Because while they haven’t changed my mind, I understand how and why they think the way they do.

It’s not about “us versus them”. It’s about understanding the logic behind different worldviews. That understanding may not lead to agreement, but it does lead to awareness.

For example, one of Caroline Sommerfeld’s central critiques is about the moral authority of the left. She asks: How can the left claim moral superiority while silencing other forms of belief? And that’s a real question. If you suppress other modes of thinking, then this pressure creates the conditions for an explosion.

M: This is the paradox of liberal democracy: we say to be tolerant and inclusive, except towards the intolerant. So, everybody gets a place on the tablet… except the fascist. And we need to protect democracy from those who want to dismantle it. This contradiction sits at the core of where we are. And that’s where things get blurry. But who decides where that line is? The term “fascist” has started to lose precision—it’s used more and more broadly, and that blurriness is dangerous. If we label every dissenting voice as extremist, we risk creating the very polarization we’re trying to resist. Meanwhile, actual far-right figures are no longer on the margins. In the Netherlands, Wilders is part of the government. In the U.S., Trump has returned. These are no longer hypotheticals.

So what happens when moral authority is no longer recognized by those in power? What use is our language of inclusion when those holding office dismiss it altogether? That’s why education and culture keep being targeted. These are the spaces where new generations are taught to think critically, to speak precisely, and to imagine differently. And precisely because of that, they’re seen as dangerous.

J: And so they get dismantled.

M: Or reprogrammed.

J: Free Republic of Vienna.