History never repeats, I tell myself before I go to sleep…Don't say the words you might regret,I've lost before; you know I can't forget…‘History never repeats’, Split Enz, 1981
As a child, I drove everyone within earshot crazy singing those lyrics. As an adult, I recognise their ironic truth: history is naught but repetition. A government comes to power, pledging to fulfill its campaign promises, only to claim that the actions of their predecessors limit their ability to do so. A minister of religion loudly condemns the faults of others, only to have their own misdeeds exposed. Cabinet ministers leak documents, deny the leaks and point the finger at others, all while using the leaked information to exonerate their mates and further their own cause. A Hollywood heartthrob publicly declares undying passion for a paramour, leaping on the nearest available couch, only to break up and move on to their next partner. A relative settles into your spare room for the foreseeable future and déjà vu kicks in: conversations circle, actions cycle, and mannerisms revert to those of our childhood years.
As philosopher George Santayana sagely pronounced, ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ Yet that repetition is part of being human. We are creatures of habit and don’t necessarily notice or learn from our thoughts and deeds. Nor do we necessarily want to be made aware of that lack of learning.
There was a girl I used to know.She dealt my love a savage blow.I was so young, too blind to see,But anyway that's history.
Second-wave feminism taught us that the personal is political. That may well be so, but many of us never look beyond our own laughter and pain to see any bigger picture or groundswell of radical change. Our history in family, friendships, romances and other relationships is just that; ours. And yet the same overarching themes of love and betrayal, connection and rejection, joy and grief, run through all our interpersonal unions and separations. While the nature of our lived experience is diverse, our grasp on history — both our own and that of the society we live in — funnels into similar pools of memory and loss.
'We are creatures of habit and don’t necessarily notice or learn from our thoughts and deeds. Nor do we necessarily want to be made aware of that lack of learning.'
Brazilian lyricist Paulo Coelho tellingly suggests that we make our beds by choice,