When power shifts, thinking is recalibrated. We can observe this in the world order that is currently being rearranged: Alongside the rise of new powers, interest in Chinese and Indian philosophy and spirituality is growing. However, Brazil is even more successful, claiming a seat at the table of the greats and, in a way, exporting its own theoretical products as a soft-power accompaniment. Brazilian thought is booming at Western universities. Historian Timo Luks even speaks of a 'Brazilianization of theory,' which inherits glorious intellectual formations such as 'French Theory' from the 1960s and 70s and 'Italian Theory' from the turn of the millennium. Indobrazilian Cannibalism According to Luks, two themes are central: anthropophagy and a new relationship with nature. The former goes back to Brazilian writer Oswald de Andrade, who in the 1920s advocated for a cannibalistic approach to Europe's dominance: The 'foreign' should not be 'pushed away,' but 'eaten.' Well digested, it can be beneficial to one's own organism: European rigidity, scientificity, and the "desire for difference" are devoured by "tropical overgrowth," by "appropriation, naivety, wildness, and poetry." The image goes back to the artist Tarsila do Amaral, who painted a work titled Apaporú in 1928. In the language of the Tupí, it means "cannibal." Especially in the field of ethnology, the term has had a significant career. Claude Lévi-Strauss, who knew Andrade personally, traveled for many years through Brazil to explore indigenous cultures in Mato Grosso. His report on the "Sad Tropics" is among the most influential books of the 20th century. Eduardo Viveiros de Castro is his successor on the ethnologist throne. He became known for Cannibal Metaphysics and an "Indian perspectivism" that attempts to see the world through the eyes of the Araweté. This touches on the second point of Brazilian Theory: the new relationship with nature. This arises from the indigenous perspective, which considers the environment and animals to be animated. Mountains and rivers, tapirs, jaguars, and piranhas are co-inhabitants of humanity. Unlike in the West, he enjoys no special status in indigenous cosmologies. He is one among many jungle beings. Moreover, he is connected to other beings. The soul of the jaguar corresponds to his own, and whoever harms a tree also inflicts pain on him. It is no wonder that this jungle animism has attracted interest in the West, where for several years people have been grappling with ecological crises and narcissistic injuries from neuroscience, which suggest the conclusion: Humans are not that special after all. Where they still believe it, they tend to make mistakes that destroy both themselves and the planet. Premodern thinking seems to fit better with a postmodernity that breaks the human subject monopoly. This new humility can be well learned in Brazil. Nevertheless, there remains the impression that Luks and other Brazil enthusiasts think of the country in indigenous terms – and design Brazilian Theory as ethnology. Are they not, in turn, falling prey to an informed but idealized romanticism that turns Brazil into a "land of Indians"? In reality, it is far from being an indigenous country. The population share is much higher in Bolivia and Peru, as well as in Mexico. There, cosmologies can be explored not only ethnologically but also archaeologically through the many Maya, Inca, and Aztec sites. This would create a better environment for the development of an indigenous theory. What is special about Brazil is something different and should also be part of a "Brazilian Theory," namely the influence of Europe and Africa. This can be pinpointed by two numbers: 37 percent and the year 1808. Euro-Brazilian objectivity In 1807, Napoleon invaded the Iberian Peninsula. The Portuguese royal family decided to flee to Rio de Janeiro, which became the seat of government in 1808 and the capital of Portugal in 1815. It is the first and only case of a hyper-emancipation of the colony from the motherland, which reversed the circumstances: The periphery became the center. This development fostered a self-awareness that soon led to independence, with Brazil even being established as an empire. Its upper class maintained close contact with Europe, which appeared not only as an occupier but also as a junior partner in the form of Portugal. Brazil was the actual center of the Lusitanian world and interacted with France and England on equal terms. Thus, the unrestrained import of ideas was easier. The positivism of Auguste Comte, for example, still provides the state motto: "Ordem e progresso," order and progress, is the rationalist credo of the Republic from 1889. In the 20th century, Brazil even surpassed Europe in terms of rationalism. Francisco Pereira Passos, the city prefect of Rio, had parts of the old town demolished in 1903 to make way for a new objectivity. Le Corbusier admired this "second Haussmann," who drew straight avenues through the old colonial city. This also inspired the exiled Stefan Zweig to dream in 1941: "But with all its beauty, one thing is symbolic: that sitting or standing on this beach, one actually has Brazil at their back. For this one avenue looks – indeed over an entire ocean – towards Europe." And Europe looked back. Progressive intellectuals were enraptured by the sight of Brazilian objectivity. In his travel report Brazilian Intelligence. In a Cartesian reflection, the Stuttgart philosopher Max Bense raved about the bold architecture, the concrete poetry of the avant-garde, and the São Paulo Art Biennial – since the 1950s, the most important in the world alongside Venice. All of this appeared to him as a soothing antidote to the "metaphysical coziness" of the Bonn Republic. In particular, he was captivated by the new capital Brasília. It was designed by Oscar Niemeyer, a student of Le Corbusier and one of the most important architects of the 20th century. He built not only in his home country, which he left in 1966 due to the military dictatorship, but also in Le Havre, Milan, Turin, Algiers, and Leipzig. Europe was already Brazilian when it was still uninterested in cannibalism and Amazon tribes. The most interesting product of the Euro-Brazilian synthesis is probably the philosopher Vilém Flusser, who fled from the Nazis to Brazil in 1939 as a Jewish Prague native. Here, he developed into one of the most original thinkers of the century, working in the fields of semiotics, cultural theory, philosophy of history, and media studies. In the 1980s, he became known in Germany as a computer philosopher. Flusser spent his entire life engaging with Brazilian identity, which actually does not exist. For Brazil is, as he wrote in a series of articles for FAZ in the 1960s, constantly in search. It never arrives at itself, changes incessantly, and is precisely in this the "land of the future." Populated by "nomads" streaming in from all continents to work on a new culture, it could become the "first non-prejudiced civilization of the West" – thus pushing the idea of the West to its limits. However, therein lies the danger. Openness is related to "excess," to the "exaggerated" and the "irresponsible." Using the example of the capital Brasília, Flusser illustrates the turning point: Brasília, "perhaps the greatest cultural work of recent decades," was supposed to be a city of the future, "the dwelling place of the new human," who "has overcome alienation through technology and to whom technology now offers unprecedented possibilities": But it turned out differently: "The colorless bureaucrat, the housewife crammed into tiny squares, the geometrically walled-in child raised in backyards," are not what one had envisioned. Thus, Brasília may indeed be the capital of the new human, but this human leads a terrible life. The Brazilian enthusiasm for progress went too far for Flusser. So far that he left the country in 1972 to live in tranquil Europe, where rationalism was handled with moderation. Afro-Brazilian improvisation But he might have also drawn on a Brazilian element for this. For Brazil is not a province of Europe or its spearhead, but a different creature. And here comes the second important number into play: 37 percent of all slaves shipped to America were brought to Brazil and have left deep cultural traces. From Capoeira to the national dish Feijoada to syncretic religions like Candomblé, Macumba, or Umbanda, the influence of Africa is unmistakable. This is also evident in the thinking that owes two strands to Afro-Brazilian tradition: critique and improvisation. Flusser's praise of "prejudice-free" would likely be dissected as a myth by Afro-Brazilian theorists like Djamila Ribeiro. They emphasize the racism that simmers beneath the surface of the progressive state doctrine. Yes, perhaps it is even greater than ever since Brazil engaged in globalization. While this has brought the country an upturn and a middle class, there is now also something to lose – and millions of people who have yet to enjoy the new prosperity and are gradually becoming restless. Thus, tensions are growing, often manifesting in racialized ways. The mitigation carries the intensification of conflicts within it. We must likely understand Jair Bolsonaro's electoral success as a disturbing sign of a time of discord. To grasp this, it is advisable to look into the works of two Afro-Brazilian writers: the poet Carolina Maria de Jesus described the brutality and beauty of the favelas. "Oh São Paulo, vain queen, you flaunt the golden crown of your skyscrapers, wear velvet and silk, yet at your feet, patched cotton stockings, the favelas," she writes in her diary of poverty – the best-selling book in the country in 1960. Shortly thereafter, feminist theorist Lélia Gonzalez, Brazil's Angela Davis, positioned the idea of amefricanidade against the white hegemony that still exists in America and Brazil. This could be achieved through "Quilombismo." This is a concept by artist Abdias Nascimento, which originally referred to a way of life of freed slaves. They worked together and made decisions collectively. Quilombismo differs from conventional socialism through its existential dimension: one must believe in equality in order to live it; institutions come afterward. The belief itself: it may not move mountains, but it can imbue meaning. The perspective of many Afro-Brazilian religions on objects and environments aims at animating the seemingly inanimate. What European ideological criticism dismisses as hocus pocus is regarded in Candomblé as an honorable "fetish" relationship with the world. It thrives on the addition of the subject, thus being as creative as European cosmologies. However, creation does not occur externally but within the subject. Nothing is stamped out of the ground—as Westerners prefer—but rather repurposed. Nature does not need to be plowed to prove one's existence. One only needs to change the use, the relationship with the world and the self. Presumably, the Brazilian improvisational genius has its roots here. For example, it managed to escape the planning zeal of the state class by retreating from the vast Avenidas that traverse modern Rio to the beach. Here, the gaze did not turn towards Europe, as Zweig longingly noted, but towards Africa. Today, the beach is the true center of Rio. Presumably, this would also be the solution to the rationality problem that Flusser identified in Brasília. The unlivable city would need to be imbued with meaning, appropriated, repurposed, in order to lead a decent life in the ruins of the sealed-off modernity. Only this addition makes Brazil a model for humanity.