Letters from Tomis

Twelfth in a series of reflections on my thoughts after reading What is Marxism: An Introduction into Marxist Theory by Rob Sewell and Alan Woods. The thoughts, opinions, and any errors are mine alone.

The idea that history repeats itself has been proclaimed, debated, and parroted by schoolmasters, political pundits, and doomsayers throughout the ages. “Those who cannot remember the past,” warned Santayana, “are condemned to repeat it.” Nietzsche pontificated on “Eternal Reoccurrence.” And yet, one cannot help but feel that these axioms, for all their pithiness, are a rather convenient half-truth—one that allows us to romanticize the lessons of history while avoiding the more difficult task of confronting its complexities.

If history were to repeat itself, it would be the gravest insult to the human intellect and imagination. After all, what is the purpose of our accumulated knowledge, of philosophy, literature, science, and the arts, if not to carve new paths and avoid the fatal follies of our predecessors? To believe in the mechanical repetition of history is to reduce humanity to automatons, marching in a loop, incapable of learning, adapting, or creating. This, I daresay, is a proposition that insults not only our intelligence but also our moral agency.

And yet, one must admit there are patterns, echoes, and uncanny parallels. Wars, for instance, seem to arise with a grim regularity, often for the same banal reasons: territorial greed, resource control, or the insatiable egos of leaders. Empires rise, flourish, and decay in what appears to be an inevitable rhythm, as predictable as the changing of the seasons. Revolutions—whether French, Russian, or digital—burn brightly and then consume themselves, leaving behind a new status quo remarkably similar to the old one.

But to call this “repetition” is to misunderstand both the nature of history and the nature of human beings. History is not a circle; it is a spiral. Events may bear a resemblance to those of the past, but they unfold in new contexts, with different actors and consequences. The Second World War, for example, is often described as a continuation of the First, yet it was a profoundly different conflict, shaped by ideological extremism, technological advancements, and the horrifying realization of industrialized genocide.

What we mistake for repetition is often our failure to learn the right lessons. It is not that history repeats itself, but that we repeat our errors. We continue to believe in the illusion of invulnerability, the myth of exceptionalism, and the seductive promise of quick solutions to complex problems. Leaders misread history not because it is inscrutable, but because it is inconvenient. How many times have we heard that “this time is different,” only to watch the same hubris play out, from the financial markets to foreign invasions?

There is also a certain vanity in the notion of repetition, as if history is merely a stage for us to play out eternal dramas. But history is not a script—it is a vast, chaotic, and often absurd theater, shaped by countless forces: economics, geography, chance, and the capriciousness of human nature. To imagine that we are doomed to reenact past events is to absolve ourselves of responsibility. It is far easier to shrug and say, “history repeats,” than to grapple with the uncomfortable truth that we, as individuals and societies, make choices that shape the future.

Yet there is hope in this, too. If history does not truly repeat itself, then it can be changed. We can choose not to follow the well-worn path to war, exploitation, and decline. We can learn—not merely to avoid the mistakes of the past but to imagine new possibilities. This, I believe, is the true task of history: not to provide a mirror but a map, not to doom us to repetition but to guide us toward progress.

So, does history repeat itself? Only if we let it. Only if we refuse to learn, to act, and to change. The past may echo, but it does not dictate. The pen is still in our hands, and the page remains unwritten. To believe otherwise is to surrender to fatalism, a lazy refuge for those who lack the courage to confront the future. Let us leave repetition to the metronome and the mantra, and let history be the story of humanity’s ascent, not its treadmill. A better world is possible!